lying. “She’s already in warm water with Nikolai. One more stroke and she’s out.”
He always messes up phrases like that. Warm water instead of hot. Stroke instead of strike. The fact that his slip ups always sound faintly sexual make me wonder if it’s really an accident. “She’s asleep. I’ll wake her up.”
“Or maybe if she gets into trouble, I can smooth things in for her.” Smooth things out. “You can invite me into your trailer, and you and I, we’ll be good friends.”
“She’ll be in the tent in fifteen minutes.”
“I think you’re bull shooting.” He takes a step forward.
I’ve survived in the carnival for eighteen years. There’s enough instinct built up to slam the door in his face. It catches his arm, his nose. The clatter reverberates through my hands, wrists, arms, as I fight to lock the aluminum door shut.
“Fucking cow,” he bellows, slamming fists on the door.
A dent appears in the middle of the door, and I flinch away from the hallway, backing into my room. He swears some more before stomping away. His shadow passes the window. Blood rushes through my ears, and I’m breathing shallow and fast.
I run a shaking hand over my face. That wasn’t my first close call, and I know it won’t be my last. Adrenaline leaves a metallic taste in my mouth. I pull out my cracked phone and call my mother. It goes straight to voicemail.
She probably is sleeping, but it’s too hard to guess which trailer she’s in. Or maybe she met someone at the carnival last night. She never did come home.
Damn it. Nikolai was pissed at the last town hall when my mom showed up wasted. Too many times the sign outside the tent read, The fortune teller is out. Please come back later.
That means less money for the carnival. And a bad customer experience.
That’s a phrase Nikolai picked up recently. The burnt popcorn was a bad customer experience. The broken carousel was a bad customer experience.
As if we’re freaking Disney World or something.
I press her number again, but it goes straight to voicemail. What to do, what to do. I could go face Nikolai, but he’s only going to swear at me. The only reason he hasn’t fired my mom yet is because she’s really great at getting people to shell out money for extra readings and shit.
And maybe because she says her fortunes with such quiet confidence that even the other carnies wonder if she really has a second sight.
It’s only a matter of time before he realizes some lady in a costume will make more money than an empty tent. Some lady in a costume… like me.
I could be that lady.
It’s not like the other carnies go into the tent.
As long as the money’s coming in, no one cares.
In a second my decision is made. I raid my mom’s closet for a patchwork skirt and teal satin top. I’m liberal with the lipstick and eyeliner so no one wonders why a high school kid is telling them they’re going to be in a car crash tomorrow.
I peek out the front window of the trailer, but the coast is clear. Alexei is long gone.
I’ll stand in for my mother tonight so she won’t get fired, so we still have a home tomorrow. And as a bonus I can use my tips to stock milk and cereal in our empty kitchen. Mom won’t be able to spend the money on rum if I have it.
This is honestly my best idea.
“You will have three children,” I tell the girl with the YOLO pink T-shirt on the date with the goth. They pooled their money together for the reading, so I’m painting a real rosy picture. And honestly, I hope it comes true. They’re both pretty cute in an opposites-attract kind of way. But I’ve lived the carnie life too long to believe in happy endings.
“Three is exactly the number I plan to have,” she says, excitement bright on her face.
Goth boy looks both impressed and worried about this large hypothetical brood he’s going to have. I could have told him that love isn’t real. It’s something Madam Pelletier sells in potion bottles two tents over. The real world is about paying the bills. It’s about survival.
I give them a few more solid guesses. Her dad needs to visit a doctor and have his heart checked out. (What father of a teenage girl doesn’t?) His golden retriever misses him and wants to go on more walks. (Hello, yellow