so tightly, the world went black and he nearly fainted. But he’d make it through that year...somehow.
Long after the brightly colored figures on their silly cars and trikes had passed, Davey finally dared to open his eyes and glare down the street at them.
“One, two, three, four...” He counted below his breath.
He pulled on his mother’s shirt and said aloud,
“Mommy, there are only four of them now...”
“What, Son?”
“Only four clowns now!”
“Uh-huh,” she said and went back to her conversation with her neighbor.
The morning after the day of the clowns, Davey kept glancing at the white phone where it hung on the kitchen wall. It’s going to ring any minute now, he thought, while shovelingspoonful’s of Honeynut Cheerios into his mouth, milk dripping down his chin. Any minute now it will ring with news of another kid missing and we will know for sure that the clowns stole another one. Any minute now...
“Davey, why do you keep glancing over at the phone? Is everything okay with you this morning? Are you are expecting one of your friends to call you...?” His father stared at him from across the small table.
“Um, no,” he answered, as he took a large bite of his toast, followed by a gulp of cocoa.
Three days passed and the phone never rang with bad news about anybody, so Davey began to feel more at ease––okay, they’re right and I am wrong.Clowns don’t steal kids after all. He sighed with relief and went about the business of enjoying the summer.
On the fourth day, Davey came into the kitchen and immediately knew something bad had happened. The Daily News was spread out on the kitchen table with both parents hunched over it, reading together.
“Oh my God! Oh, those poor people! She lived clear cross town.” They went on and on, not noticing their son standing in the doorway with a scared look on his now pale, white face.
“Her father works on the loading dock, but I never got to know him.” Just then, Guy stood up straight and met his son’s eyes from across the room.
In a hoarse voice, barely audible, Davey asked, “Were they at the picnic?”
June swung around, surprised to hear such fear in her son’s voice.
“Davey! I didn’t know you came downstairs. Sit and I’ll make you breakfast.” June tried unsuccessfully to smile and act normal, like it was any other day.
“I don’t want breakfast. I want to know if the girl was at the picnic!”
“That’s no way to speak to your mother, Davey!” His father shot him a stern look. “Now, sit!”
Davey did as he was told. Then he muttered, “Clown got her, too.”
“I do wish you would stop going on and on about those clowns, Davey,” June said as she prepared his breakfast. “Besides, we don’t know if the family attended the annual picnic or not.”
“Bet they did! Bet the clown got her!”
“Hush now, Honey. Enough about the darn clowns!” June placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him.
“It’s your imagination running away with you, son. Like when you complained about being upstairs alone and you dreamed about ghosts and goblins coming up the stairs to ‘get’ you. You know it’s not possible...right, Davey?”
“Right, Dad.” Davey figured it’d be best to agree with them. They will never, in a million years, believe him on this subject.
“Just one thing, though––I bet next year there will only be three clowns in the parade!” He began stuffing his mouth full of the scrambled eggs.
Out of his sightline, June and Guy rolled their eyes to the heavens, their exasperation plainly evident upon their faces.
The whole family attended the little girl’s funeral the next day along with the rest of the company and their families. Davey could not stop shivering, as he walked by the casket.
It got her, it got her, it got her...only this time it killed her...he thought and wouldn’t look at the dead girl’s body as the family passed by. June held tightly onto her small son’s shoulders. Sadness and tears filled every corner of the room.
When fall finally arrived, school began as usual. However, Davey became increasingly quiet and withdrawn. Now in the second grade, his teachers became worried about him, but decided it was just a phase he was going through. His schoolwork didn’t suffer, so they left him alone.
Christmas came and went. Spring drifted by just like the robins in the front yard, as they fluttered from tree to bush. Crows squawked at Davey, who sat morosely on the bench on the