Bad Things (22 page)

“Well, yeah.”

“This is just a different kind of ride. It's fun. And it's safer than a roller coaster any day.” Daddy patted his shoulder. “You know your brother can't go on all the rides you can go on, and he'd really like you to go on this one. I think that's nice, and I think it would be nice if you did, don't you?”

It wasn't nice. He wanted to get him on the ride, then scare him or push him out of the car or Ricky didn't know what. Something awful.

“Why don't we all go on the ride?” His mother stepped forward and put her hand on Ricky's shoulder. “This ride scares me, so maybe Ricky can ride with me and you can ride with Robin?”

Robin looked mad, but Daddy nodded. “That sounds like a good plan, don't you think, Rob?”

“Okay.” He smiled so wide that it looked like his face would split in half. “But maybe you should ride with Mommy if she's scared. Then I can still ride with Ricky. That'd be
really
fun. Huh, Ricky?”

But his mother was already leading Ricky toward the ride. “Maybe next time, dear,” she told his twin. She and Dad exchanged glances.

“Rick's riding with your mother, Robin,” Dad said firmly.

Trembling, Ricky allowed Mom to lead him into the next car. It looked like an insect, shiny black with blood-red trim. Just before the screaming darkness swallowed the car, he glanced back. Daddy and Robin were right behind them. Robin grinned at him and slowly drew his finger across his throat.

Quickly Ricky faced forward, and Mom put her arm around him and pulled him close. He muffled his eyes and ears against her body, stuffing his fingers in his ears and squeezing his eyes shut for good measure.

And he endured. After an eternity, she gently pulled his fingers from one ear and told him it was almost over. As they emerged into light, she assured him he didn't look like he'd been afraid at all and told him she was glad he let her hang on to him.

Ricky knew that wasn't how it worked and he knew she knew, but in that moment he loved her so much, it hurt, because she let him keep his dignity.

A little later, they had lunch (corn dogs dipped in French's mustard, and Cokes with tons of crushed ice—the best junk food on earth), then went to a magic show where a man with a curly mustache sawed a lady in half. Ricky hated it, but didn't know why. After that, they saw a show in the big top with clowns in a car and a trapeze act that looked like fun.

When they exited the big top, Ricky spotted a long tent painted with a series of wonderfully weird pictures. A man at the ticket booth was talking about the pictures on a loudspeaker, and Ricky halted, mesmerized by the voice and the pictures. There was one of a cow with part of a second little cow growing out of its side standing by a goat with four eyes, two on each side of its face. Other pictures showed two babies joined at the chest, Siamese twins, he realized; a cocker spaniel with a horn growing out of its forehead; and a man with pins stuck in his skin. The last painting was of a family that didn't look quite right, and the banner over it said
THE SMALL FAMILY! LIVE! DIRECT FROM THE CAVERNS OF CONNEMARA
.

“Can we go in there?” he asked his parents.

His father looked at Robin, then Mom. “I don't think that's such a good idea, Rick.”

“I want to go in too,” Robin said.

Their parents looked at each other for a long time, and finally Dad nodded. “Okay, just for a few minutes, though.” As he bought the tickets, he said, “It's all fake.”

There were all sorts of things in jars, some so goopy you couldn't tell what they were. Maybe some were fake, like the cow—you could see the stitches—and the four-eyed dog didn't look real either. But the Siamese twins, Ricky was sure, had been alive at one time. They floated in formaldehyde in a huge jar, and you could even see the fine hair coating their bodies. They were face-to-face, eyes closed, arms around each other in an eternal embrace. Awestruck, saddened and fascinated, Ricky stood there until a tap on his shoulder made him look up. Robin had craned over to whisper, “Someday I'm gonna put you in a jar, just like that.”

Ricky ignored him, his attention already caught by a sign directing them toward the Small Family—
SEE THEM IN A REPLICA OF THEIR OWN HOME! LIVE
! the sign said. He walked down the short corridor and came into a little room with a stage that looked like a cave—a funny, brightly painted maw with shamrocks and curly-looking kids' furniture. Folding chairs were set up on the floor below the stage.

“Audience,” he heard a man's voice call from behind the stage. “Somebody get out there.”

Embarrassed, Ricky turned to leave—his family hadn't followed him in yet—then a kid's voice said, “Hi.”

He turned back and saw a little girl who was very short and had kind of a large head and long arms. Her long brown hair was tied back with a blue ribbon, and she had big blue eyes. When she smiled, she had dimples.

“We'll have a show in ten minutes,” she said.

“What's your name?” he asked, walking closer.

“Delia Small.” She giggled. “Mr. Masello, the owner, he said we have to be the Small family. Get it? Small?”

“Uh-uh.”

“We're dwarves, you know.” And she whistled a few bars of “Hi ho, Hi ho.” “Dwarves. Freaks.”

Ricky was shocked. “That's a bad word.”

“What is?”

“Freaks. My parents said so. Doesn't it make you mad when you get called that?”

“No.”

“What's your real last name?”

“Minuet. Like a song. I think that's a much better last name than Small, but Papa says Mr. Masello knows what's best.”

“I like your name,” Ricky said.

“What's
your
name?”

“Ricky Piper.”

“Hi, Ricky.”

“Hi, Delia.”

They looked at each other and giggled. Then he whispered, “My brother's a freak, but no one's supposed to call him that.”

“Is he a midget?” she asked.

“No. He's got no legs.”

“He's a half boy?” she asked excitedly.

“Huh?”

“A living torso, but with arms. He has arms?”

“Sure. He walks on his hands.”

“Mr. Masello would kill to get a half boy.”

“I don't think he's for sale,” Ricky said, then paused. Then he grinned. “But I wish he was!”

They giggled. “Is he rotten?” Delia asked conspiratorially.

“He tries to kill me.” He said it like a joke.

“That's pretty rotten,” she said, and Ricky Piper decided he was in love.

“There you are!” Ricky's mom walked up. “Don't wander off like that. I was worried about you.” She turned and called, “He's in here, Frank.”

“This is Delia,” Ricky said.

“Hello, Delia,” Mom said.

“Hi, I gotta go get ready for our show. You'll stay, won't you?”

“Can we, Mom?”

“Sure.”

Delia disappeared behind the set just as Rick's dad came in, Robin in his arms. Other people soon followed, and in a few minutes the chairs were filled. Delia, her parents, and little brother came out and did a skit about mining gold in Ireland. It was silly. At the end, when they took their bows, Delia grinned at him and waved. Next to him Robin leaned over and said, “Your girlfriend's funny-looking,” and without a second thought, Ricky punched him in the stomach.

“Richard Piper!” his mother said. “What on earth?”

Robin was staring at him with a funny look on his face, sort of a cross between amusement and fury.

“He said something bad about Delia.”

“Well,” said his father, “we expect you not to solve your problems with your fists, Rick. Apologize to your brother.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, and it was easy because he felt suddenly brave and knew he wasn't sorry at all.

“That's okay, Ricky,” Robin said like some Goody Two-shoes kid off a TV show. “I had it coming.”

How could he compete with that?

They stood to leave, and as they filed out, he heard his dad tell his mom that it was nice to see he had backbone. He smiled to himself, still shocked that he'd pounded Robin.

Outside the tent, a tall, dark-haired man stopped them, saying to his father, “Hello, sir, did you enjoy the show?”

Frank Piper nodded.

“I'm John Masello. My brother Vince and I own the carnival.” He looked at Robin. “And what's your name, young man?”

“Robin,” he said brightly.

“I bet you can do some pretty neat tricks, huh?”

“Sure.”

“What is it that you want, Mr. Masello?” Dad asked. He sounded angry.

“I noticed that this young man is special and I was wondering if, since you were at the freak show, you might be interested in giving him a better life.”

“What are you talking about?” That came from his mother, and she didn't sound happy either. Delia chose that moment to come out of the tent. She stood next to Ricky and listened intently.

“People with deformities often like to be with their own kind,” Masello said. “This boy could make huge sums of money and have many, many friends who would never judge him by his looks.” The circus man pulled two cigars from his pocket and offered one to Rick's dad, who shook his head. “Forgive me for being forward,” Masello continued, “but would you be interested in letting Robin here travel with our show?”

“I told you he'd do anything for a half boy,” Delia whispered to Ricky. “Those cigars are imported from Cuba!”

Ricky stifled a giggle.

“His contract would be very lucrative,” Masello went on. “He'd make enough for his handsome brother here to go to college, and he could keep the whole family in—”

Say yes, say yes, say yes.
Ricky prayed.

“No,” Dad said with stern finality. “We're not interested.”

“Let me give you my card—”

“No, that won't be necessary.” He turned to his family. “We're going home.”

“Ricky,” Delia said. “Can you come back? Tonight, maybe?”

Go outside at night? For an instant he almost said yes, but common sense set in.

“No, but I live just two blocks from here. Could you sneak over to my house?”

“Ricky, come on,” called Mom.

“Just a second.”

“What's your address?”

“It's 667 Via Matanza. That's—”

“I'll find it. Can you meet me outside?”

“You don't have to sneak. My mom won't mind. How early can you come?”

“Six-thirty?”

“Come to the door at six-thirty. She'll invite you to dinner.”

“Really?”

“She invites everybody to dinner.”

“That sounds great.” She paused. “Will your brother be there?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“What's wrong with him?”

“He was born that way.”

“No, not that. He's . . . I don't know, creepy. No offense,” she added quickly.

“No offense. I think he's creepy too. You're the first person besides me to ever say that, though,” he told her with delight. Maybe Delia would be able to see the greenjacks, too. But even if she couldn't, he could hardly wait to talk to her some more.

“See you tonight,” she said.

“See you.”

 

 

“How about some fresh coffee?” Rick asked, bringing the pot to the table.

“Thanks.” Audrey pushed her cup toward him. “What a romantic story.”

Rick shrugged.

“But I won't let you leave me in suspense. Did your mother invite Delia to dinner?”

“Yes. We had a great time, too. It was the first time I ever felt like I had a real friend my age—you know, the kind who understands things about you that would make other people think you're crazy.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“Anyway, my parents got a kick out of her—Delia was very mature for her age, very feisty—and I wished with all my heart that I could have her for a sister instead of Robin for a brother.”

Audrey smiled. “I thought you said she was your first love.”

“She was. We saw each other every day until the carnival left town, and my mother told her to come back the next year. But Mom and Dad died two months later.”

“So you never got to see her again?”

He gave her a ghost of a smile. “I saw her. We just sneaked around after that first year.”

“Why did you have to sneak?”

“My brother mostly. Plus Aunt Jade and Uncle Howard would have made fun of her.”

She cocked her head. “A while ago you said Delia asked you what was wrong with your brother. What did she mean by that?”

He chose his next words carefully “He hated her from the moment they met. He even called her ‘Troll' to her face. She stayed away from him, but it wasn't because of the name-calling—she could handle that. It was because she didn't trust him. I think she must have sensed his meanness.” He gazed at Audrey, wanting to tell her the whole story, but afraid to.

“Delia had been raised in such a different way than most people,” he ventured. “She really didn't notice physical things: They didn't mean much to her. So I think that because she didn't spend time feeling sorry for Robin or cutting him slack because he had no legs, she could sense his cruelty very easily. She hated his eyes,” he allowed himself to tell Audrey.

“If you were identical twins, weren't they just like yours?”