So Over My Head (5 page)

Dolly has plenty of mother experience. She lost her two young daughters many years ago in a car wreck when she was still married to Mickey, my stepdad’s manager. My mom says there’s been a big gaping hole in Dolly’s heart ever since, so I’m sure she’s loving the company at her house.

I startle at the sound of raised voices from the opposite side of the tent.

“I’m through. This place is going under, and I’ve had it.” A man about as tall as my armpit stomps out of a partitioned tent, a clown wig in his fisted hand.

Another guy, who could be his twin, follows close behind. “I can’t make a living here. More and more work—and for what? Less pay!”

They bolt through the exit flap, and Cherry shakes her head. “That’s our fourth employee to walk today. Where in the world are we going to get two clowns on such short notice?”

The Lord parted the Red Sea for the Israelites. Me? He gives a clown job. “I’ll do it.”

Cherry blinks. “Are you serious?”

My fake smile wobbles on my face. “Yeah. I’d love the job.”
What
have I done
? “And my friend Ruthie would too.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m a great worker.” I can’t believe I’m having to convince some-one that I’d be a worthy
clown
for crying out loud. “And Ruthie is so dependable and smart.”

“Is that her?” Cherry points to a far corner where Ruthie McGee lies prostrate on a magician’s table.

A man waves his hands over here. “Abracadabra! Shalla-kazaam! I will now cut you in half, then magically piece you back together.”

“Oh, boy.” Cherry takes off for the couple, and I follow. “Bart!”

He stops, his hand saw held high. Ruthie’s eyes go wide as funnel cakes.

“How many times have I asked you not to touch Alfredo’s props?” Cherry rips the saw out of Bart’s grip. “Especially the sharp ones?”

Ruthie bolts to a seated position. “What? You’re not a magician?”

Cherry rolls her eyes as Bart runs away. “He’s a mechanic.”

“He was going to cut me in half!” Ruthie straightens her biker jacket and sniffs. “I thought something was fishy when he asked me if I had any lug nuts.”

“Cherry, I wanted to ask you a few questions about Betty, if you think you’re up to it.”

She frowns. “I guess.”

“You mentioned that Afredo couldn’t have killed Betty—”

Her answer comes quickly. “Because he loved her.”

“They were a couple? For how long?”

Cherry twirls a piece of her white-blonde hair. “Maybe three months. They had worked together for years, so for them to fall in love was totally out of the blue and unexpected.” Her face stretches into a contented smile. “Betty had never been happier. She’d never really had a lot of attention from the guys because—”

“Her man-beard?”

Cherry shoots an annoyed look at Ruthie. “Because she devoted her life to the circus—then to me.”

“Did she get along with everyone here?” I ask. “Any enemies? Any fights or disagreements lately?”

She considers this. “No, no one. Well, everyone has the occasional fight with Red, so that’s nothing different.”

I perk at this. So Betty didn’t get along with creepy guy. “What problems could there be between Betty and Red?”

Cherry lifts an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?”

Ruthie chortles. “Don’t you know who this is? She’s a famous crime—”

I elbow my friend. “I’m just concerned. If I’m going to be working here and all.” I smile at Ruthie. “By the way, how do you feel about red honking noses and rainbow wigs?”

Ruthie pats her blue hair. “That was so last year.”

“I’ll introduce you to my cousin Stewart.” Cherry motions for us to follow. “He’s in charge of hiring hourly workers.”

She leads us outside to the largest travel trailer on the grounds. This looks like the Hilton on wheels compared to the rest—even Betty’s.

After one knock, Cherry swings open the door. “Stewart?” she yells. “I brought you two clowns.”

I think I might be offended.

We step up into the trailer. It’s much newer than Betty’s—large and spacious. The front half is an office of desks and file cabinets. A TV hangs suspended from the ceiling, showing real-time footage of the big-top grounds.

A tall, lanky guy stands up from one of the two desks. He looks like he’s a few years older than me, and is just as slender as Red is rotund. “And what have you brought me today, dear cousin?” He grabs my hand, shakes it, and holds it longer than necessary. “I don’t get to see too many beautiful girls on the road.” He
tsk
s, his beady eyes darting to Cherry. “The carnival really isn’t for the pretty.”

I draw back my hand. It’s everything I can do not to wipe it on my jeans. Ew.

Stewart turns his attention to Ruthie. His smile falters just a bit, but he recovers. “And you”—his eyes trail up to the tippy top of her hair—“also a vision.” He tries to capture her hand, but Ruthie hides it behind her back.

“You don’t want to shake my hand. I just got over a bad case of the runs.”

“Stewart, these girls would like a job while we’re here in Truman.” Cherry’s voice takes on a different tone as she talks to her older cousin. The voice my mom uses when reading her grocery list. “We just lost two more clowns—the Bingworth twins. So I thought maybe—”

“Of course, we need the help.” Stewart steps closer to me, and prickly chills dance along my arms. “You look familiar.”

“Bella is the one who”—Cherry swallows—“found Betty.”

Stewart tilts his narrow head, sending his black hair falling over his eyes like a curtain. “How terrible that must’ve been for you.” His sigh sounds loud in the metal trailer. “I’m sure this is the last place you would want to work. And we respect that.”

“She wants the job.” Cherry softens her face, and I watch in awe as she steps into a new role. Her full lips push into a pout and her head drops. “I just thought with Betty gone, the woman who was like my mother, it would be nice to have some older girls around to talk to.” She regards him through her lashes. “That way I won’t have to come to you and Uncle Red with my questions about cramps and tampons.”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Stewart holds out a hand. “We’ll give it a trial period, all right?” I feel Stewart’s eyes travel the length of me and resist the urge to shudder. “But I’ll be keeping a close eyes on you two . . . just to make sure that it’s not too much.” He sends a slow wink my way. “Especially you—with all you’ve been through. We wouldn’t want to cause you any further unhappiness.”

“I’ll be fine.” It comes out like a squeak. “I’m pretty tough.” I nudge Ruthie. “Aren’t I?”

My friend nods. “I’ve seen her kill a rattler with her teeth.”

I quickly turn the topic back to our new roles as clowns and get the rundown on the job, which mostly consists of interacting with the audience and assisting the performing clowns. Fifteen minutes later, my head is swimming with information, and I feel like going home and taking a good, long shower to rid myself of Stewart Fritz cooties.

“You Truman High students sure are a helpful bunch,” Stewart says as we step down from his trailer. “All but one of our positions have been filled now. I think things are looking up for us. And don’t forget, Bella—I’ll be keeping a special eye on you.”

I cough to cover up the retching noise. “See you tomorrow.” Pulling Ruthie along, I speed walk away from Stewart.

“Bella,” Ruthie says. “The Lord gifted me with the ability to see things in people that others don’t. So this information may come as a surprise to you, but Stewart Fritz is one spooky dude.”

“Yes, your insight into the human soul is clearly just God-given.”

“I know, right?” Ruthie jerks as I pull her to the left. “Where are we going?”

“I want to check out Alfredo’s trailer. I noticed they took off the police tape.”

“Oh, cool!” Ruthie rubs her hands together. “Are we gonna riffle through some drawers? Dust for any prints the cops might’ve missed? Set up some hidden cameras?”

“No.
I’m
going in. And you’re going to keep watch.”

“That’s lame. My dynamic duo guidebook says I have to make sure you don’t crowd me out of the action.”

“Look, I have not said you’re my partner yet. So consider this like part of your interview—a test. Did that book tell you that being lookout girl is one of the most crucial steps to being a sidekick?”

Ruthie shuffles a rock with her toe. “No. But I’ve only read the pages with pictures on them.”

“Well then.” I scan the area for anyone who might see us. “Stand outside this trailer while I go in. If you see anyone headed this way, I need you to call out ‘good afternoon’ really loud, okay?”

Ruthie chews on her lip, blue with a lipstick that complements her hair. “That’s not very original. How about I sing a few lines from the
Wizard of Oz
?”

“No.”

“And then I could say, ‘The monkeys are coming! The monkeys are coming!’”

“Just stick with my plan.” I look back over my shoulder as I peel open the door. “Consider this phase one of your test.”

“Man, I hate tests. They give me the burps.”

The door gives a little squeak as I shut myself inside.
Dear God,
if there were a breaking and entering prayer, I would so say it right now
.

The shades are pulled, blocking out the afternoon sun. I slip a tiny flashlight out of my purse and shine it around the trailer. Looks like more than one guy lives here. Each side is split into bunk beds. I take it the stripped bed is Alfredo’s. I wave my light around until I see a small chest of drawers on his side. I ease the top drawer open and peer inside. Car magazines, a Snickers, a few pictures. I take one out. Alfredo and a woman. A beardless woman who is definitely not Betty. They’re staring into each other’s eyes and laughing. Extracting my camera, I snap a shot of the front and back of the picture. My heart races as I listen for sounds outside. I have to hurry. The life of crime is really not my thing.

Moving onto the bottom drawer, I find jeans, T-shirts, socks. Nothing out of the ordinary. I can’t imagine having to live with so few belongings. I mean five T-shirts to your name? If Alfredo is guilty of anything, it’s a crime of fashion. I quickly run my fingers over the drawer seams, looking for any sort of hidden compartment. What? It works on TV.

“Somewhere
over
the rainbow!”

Ruthie’s voice from outside jolts me like a cattle prod. I drop my flashlight, and it skitters across the floor, under the far bed. Oh, no—I have to get it! I have to hide! My brain scrambles for a rational thought.
Think, Bella! What do I do
?

I must get that flashlight. It was a present from Luke and has my name on it! I leap for the other side of the trailer and throw my hand under the bed, reaching with my fingers.

“The monkeys are coming! The monkeys are coming!”

I hear the door handle being lifted.

Not much further. Almost got it. I can see the flashlight.

The door groans.

I shoot up to my feet.

Just as Stewart Fritz steps inside.

chapter six

M
iss Kirkwood?”

Fall leaves in Connecticut could not shake harder than I am as I face Stewart Fritz.

He flicks on the lights. “What are you doing?” He takes large steps until he’s but a breath away.

“I—I—” I was trespassing and searching through things that didn’t belong to me. “I was told there was a bathroom in here.” I do a little dip. “It’s kind of an emergency. But I couldn’t find a thing in the dark.” Especially with my flashlight under the bed.

Stewart’s small hazel eyes narrow like a snake. “We have Porta-Potties all over the property.”

I toss my hair and laugh. “Oh, silly, man! I could never use one of those. And since I’m an employee here now—”

“This is one of the men’s trailers you’re in.”

I look around. “Is it? Why I couldn’t tell
what
it was in the pitch black.” I giggle some more.

Stewart stares at me as the seconds tick painfully by.

Finally his face breaks into a sly smile. His voice is a low ebb. “Any time you need some help, you ask for me.”

Gulp. “Thank you. I tend to get lost often. I’m a little bit air-headed at times.”

Stewart rests his hand on my shoulder. “All the more reason for me to keep my eye out for you. I’d hate for you to get hurt out here. The carnival life isn’t always as safe as it looks.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I try to skirt past him, but his body blocks my way.

“How old are you, Bella?” His eyes dip to my chest.

“Seventeen.” If he asks my bra size, I’m knocking him in the teeth.

“I’m twenty-one.” His grin reminds me of the Joker in
Batman
. “Do you like older men?”

I take one step around him. “I really have to get back outside. My friend is waiting on me.”

“The crazy girl who was yelling outside?”

“Yep. That’s the one.” I force a smile and take another step. “She’s not well today. Her, um, antidiarrheal meds are really messing with her head. She can’t be left alone for too long . . . or she could start singing
Rent
any second.” What am I saying?

“Sounds serious.”

He moves just enough that I make a break for it, sliding past him, hissing as my body has to touch his. Finally I reach the door.