Chapter 12 #2
Whoever you are, smiling down at me, your sick jokes are getting old.
I wince at the sting on my lip.
It’s 18 minutes past 10 pm, and I’ve been hiding inside the acrobat’s tent since 8. I found a phone on the grass earlier; a moon picture covers the screen, and there’s a frustrating password.
I’ve been trying to decipher it for two hours using the fingerprints left on the screen, but I’m still entering the wrong combinations. It puts me in timeout before the phone is disabled.
If the damn thing unlocks, I can sell it for a couple of hundred bucks. It’s a new model without a single scratch.
“There you are,” Dad’s voice drifts from the entrance. He peeks through the red curtains before entering, baring his teeth with a hint of mischief twinkling in his eyes. Running his fingers through his short hair, he lowers himself beside me on the bench. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Trying to unlock this phone.” I tilt it toward him so he can see the countdown on the screen.
“Less than fifteen minutes, which means you’ve already tried eight times; you have two more tries, but after this one, it will lock you out for sixty minutes if you get it wrong. Thrilling, isn’t it?”
“Can you help?” I give him a sidelong glance. “You’re a con man.”
“Artist,” he corrects. “It takes skill to be that good.”
“That’s why you’re always getting locked up?” I smirk at that because it’s somewhat amusing, and I wish I could use my sense of humor more often.
No one here deserves it, and I prefer to show them my sulky side so they don’t mess with me.
“You’re being a smartass right now.” He’s content, I can tell, even when he tries to hide his smile. He doesn’t know me, and that’s a shame, but he sees how great I am without him. “You should stay in the tents for a few nights. Don’t go to the trailers.”
It’s probably chaos around there.
“Why don’t you and Mom live together anymore?” I remember the first year he stopped coming back. I was nine. Mom was wasted on the couch when he left. When I asked, he said he had to go on a business trip.
A sigh pushes past his lips. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me,” I insist.
“Love is not enough when it comes to addiction.” He rubs his palm against his clean-shaven face. “We made many mistakes together and many on our own. At some point, we had to come to a decision.”
“Am I included in your decisions?”
“You are the decision,” he clarifies with a determined tone. “Your mom chose to stay here with you, and I had to leave.”
“Why? This place is a shit hole.”
“Watch your mouth,” he warns. “It’s better than the alternative. A life on the streets is not a life. You are such a handsome boy. You know so many things I didn’t know about at your age. I have a feeling you will be someone important someday. Do better than me when you get there.”
“Do you think this is better?” I lash out. “I have nothing here. I’m a nobody.”
“Many people start with nothing, just like you and me, and make something of themselves. When opportunity knocks on your door, grab it with both hands. You have nothing to lose.”
“I really have nothing.”
“Give me the phone,” he orders, extending his hands toward me. “Why is your lip busted?” he finally acknowledges that.
I look away and hand him the phone. “The clowns. They get violent when they drink, and they always think I’m their punching bag.”
“Next time, get out of here on their day off. Go around the city like normal kids your age.”
“I can’t,” my eyes narrow at him.
“Why is that?”
“Mom forbade me, she said if child services or the cops find me, they will take me away.” I’m not trading this hell for another.
“She isn’t wrong.” He lowers his gaze to the phone screen as it flashes brightly. “As long as you stay out of trouble, there’s a park down the street where you can eat ice cream and read your comics.”
I study him carefully, examining the sharp curves of his facial muscles, his sparkling blue eyes that look slightly darker than mine, and the small scar above his eye that I have never seen before. We look almost identical, but not quite. I have mom’s eyes.
He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a hundred-dollar bill. “Take it. That’s what I have on me right now.”
“Dad, you said you would take me,” I say, grabbing it anyway because I’m desperate.
“I will.” He types something, and the screen unlocks immediately. “Magic.” He slides the phone into my hand and then stands up.
I stare, dumbfounded. “How did you know the password? I didn’t even tell you what the numbers are.”
“You see, I’m that good.” He steps forward. “I even canceled the password for you.”
I catch up with him and pull his hand back. “Dad.” I watch as he slowly turns to face me. “How did you do that?”
“Don’t sell all your cards at once, Reeve. Keep some of them hidden to surprise the other players.”
“Can you not speak in code?” I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head to the side. I hate it when he does that, as if everything is a game.
He chuckles in amusement. “It’s my phone, son.”
“So why didn’t you say so? Don’t you want it back?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Whoever finds it first gets to keep it. Those are the rules. You must pay the price when you lose something. It’s your responsibility. The world isn’t fair. So don’t play fair. Make a few bucks or keep it.” He winks at me and exits through the curtains.
I linger for a moment.
“Wait, Dad!” I shout, rushing outside to stop him.
Sheets of rain fall from the sky, washing my body anew. Thunderclaps echo in the distance. Through opaque vision, a distant silhouette retreats quickly from the circus grounds.
“Wait,” I shout again. “Dad!”
I wipe my face with defeated movements.
“Did you ever consider taking me with you?” I yell, my voice rising with fury and puncturing my thoughts.
“What are you doing outside?” a woman says behind me as I watch him walk away. “Get in here,” her voice becomes more urgent.
I turn to see the aerial gymnastics lady standing at the entrance of a tent, making rapid hand gestures to enhance her request. My brow hikes up. Maybe I should stay here, get pneumonia, and die in peace.
“Don’t make me come to you and drag you here,” she scolds, yanking the boy who stepped outside back inside. I assume he is her son, as she’s the only employee who doesn’t live in the circus.
I step into the tent before I get a lecture from someone I only exchanged two sentences with. They look up at me as I move closer, but stay a few feet away.
“I’m sorry, Reeve. I heard the loud music and the...” She pauses to look at the boy again, as if she’s uncomfortable saying the word sex around him. “I know they can be inconsiderate.”
I chuckle. That’s an understatement. Her words aren’t meant to be funny, but I find this whole situation ridiculous.
Her eyebrows knit together, giving me that sympathetic look that screams pity. I don’t need her pity. I hate it. It makes me feel as insignificant as an insect.
“That’s my son, Klaus. He’s sixteen. He loves cars and motorcycles.” She shifts the conversation, trying to lighten the mood.
“Mom, he doesn’t need my biography,” Klaus replies nonchalantly, giving her a side-eye and shifting his gaze to me with a twinkle of mischief in his murky eyes.
“And hey.” His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his loose sweats before he pulls one out and runs his fingers through his hair, brown layers falling over each other.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, refocusing on her.
“I forgot my paycheck.” She gulps, fidgeting from one foot to the other. “It was in Dick’s office.”
“He gave it yesterday. I saw you in his office when I came to pick up Mom’s paycheck.”
“Oh, yeah. Right… hmm, there was a mistake, and he needed to fix it.” She quickly explains, looking suspiciously at her son and then at me. Dick is many things, but he is overly cautious and calculated. Everyone knows that, including her. That’s why it doesn’t add up.
If she came here to rob him, I wouldn’t blame her. It’s justice in my eyes.
“We’re forced to hide in here because of the rain. We were on our way out, but it caught us midway,” she explains herself again while her son pulls his phone from his pocket and texts someone.
“My friends want to meet me. I’ve got to go.” Klaus rushes outside the tent.
I seize the opportunity to get out as well.
He runs through the rain while his mom shouts at him to get back.
“Klaus, you can’t just leave.”
“It’s fine. We can’t stay here until morning because you’re afraid to get wet,” he replies playfully as he runs out of the massive wrought-iron gate. “Love you, Mom. I’ll call you later.”
She gasps, unsure of what to say, and sheepishly flicks her gaze at me. She gives me a tense, impatient smile before taking off. “I’d better leave. Take care, Reeve.”
Wet, frustrated, and starving, I watch her leave, too.
I’m all alone.
Again.
Something heavy pounds against my head, and my knees sink into the grass. My hands fall onto it as I attempt to steady myself. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them, but everything becomes blurrier.
Shadows and distant sounds of whimpers, raindrops, and shoes shuffling around me ring in my ears. But I can’t concentrate enough to understand what is happening.
I feel someone’s hands in my pockets before their laughter fades into the distance as I bring my hand to my head. Blood coats my fingers.
The pain in my head feels explosive, as if my skull is cracking open.
I roll onto my back and check my pockets.
Nothing.
They took the phone and the money.
I scream inwardly and take a deep breath.
Paralyzed, I watch the raindrops dance around me mockingly as they cleanse my miserable existence.