Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
JACE
“We all paint on a face to show the world," Nicholas replies philosophically. "For some of us, that's quite literal.”
L.H. Cosway, Painted Faces
S weat poured down my body underneath my neon yellow clown costume. It was over a hundred degrees outside, the sun mercilessly beating down on me as I set up my clown show in the backyard of Polly freaking Alberton’s house. The sweatband I wore under the rainbow wig was already soaked. My skin had begun to itch a few minutes ago. What the hell was in this makeup?
These were only some of the reasons that Sam, was now a dead man.
Polly already thought I was a pervert before I showed up at her daughter’s birthday party dressed as a clown. If she found out it was me underneath this neon yellow monstrosity, I was almost certainly going to end up in jail. I could only hope Jackson was the officer who was called to the scene. On second thought, I hoped it was anyone but Jackson. He’d be all business, taking my mugshot, fingerprints, the whole deal, and then he’d tell Rae, who’d tell Sienna, and I’d never live it down.
“Are you my magician?”
Turning at the clear, high-pitched voice behind me, I saw Ryla, wearing a giant birthday crown and rainbow dress, complete with rainbows drawn on her cheeks. I took a look around, but besides the imprisoned baby goats, bleating for their lives, no one else seemed to be out here.
I still took a wide step back from Ryla, making it clear to anyone watching that nothing inappropriate was happening.
“You must be the birthday girl! Yes! I’m Kent the Clown, here to amaze you with magic and wonder!”
Unconvinced, the tiny birthday girl in front of me narrowed her eyes. “Prove it.”
I attempted to swallow, though my mouth was already bone-dry after the interaction with her momma earlier.
“Your wish is my command.” I kneeled down as I tried to hide the tiny adjustment I made to my sleeve. “But first, a little present for the birthday girl!” I made a faux flower bouquet appear from my sleeve. I looked at the bouquet, then to Ryla, like, ta-da !
She’d jumped back when the bouquet first appeared, then hesitantly took a step forward to accept it. Tilting her head, she assessed me dubiously, correctly sizing me up as the clown imposter I was.
“Not bad. But can you do real magic?”
I put a hand over my heart. “That was real magic, of course! But yes, only the best tricks for you today. But first, hey! What’s that?”
As soon as I pulled the coin from behind her ear, the next trick in my arsenal, I remembered that I’d done this for her a few days ago. But it was too late. Ryla’s face lit when she first saw the coin, but then her expression turned quickly from suspicious to elated. Her mouth fell open and her eyes went comically wide, like my makeup and wig were stripped off.
“Mr. Jace?” she whispered.
Nervously, I ducked down, darting my head back and forth to check around us, and decided to come clean.
“Yeah, it’s me. I wanted to surprise you on your big day,” I whispered, thankful no one else was around when she launched herself at me, hugging me. She was sturdy for a little thing. I was kneeling and almost fell over. Hugging her back, more to help steady us both, I quickly set her away from me.
“But no one else knows it’s me. I’m tryin’ to break into the clown business,” I lied, feeling horrible. “So if you wouldn’t mind not telling your momma?—”
I heard the patio door open, and my eyes locked with Leah Michaels, who taught third grade at the elementary school. And boy oh boy did she eye me hard. Ryla looked over and waved at Leah, whose face instantly transformed into a sweet smile.
“—or your Auntie Leah,” I added under my breath, “I’d appreciate it.”
Ryla shook her head, laughing. “That’s mommy’s friend, Leah. She’s not my aunt!”
I kept my tone hushed. “Still, if you could keep this between you and me, just for now, I promise I’ll make this the best show ever!”
She made a zipping motion of her lips then ran up the stairs and into the house. Leah gave Ryla a warm smile as she ran past her, then looked at me, her smile dropping instantly. She pointed two fingers to her eyes, then pointed them to me; the I’m watching you message was received loud and clear.
If my mouth hadn’t already been bone-dry, I’d have gulped. I was definitely going to jail.
* * *
“Hiya, kids! I’m Kent the Clown! And I hear there’s a very special birthday today, and I’m here to celebrate with you!”
Crickets.
No wait, bleating. All I could hear was the bleating of the tiny goats who were all staring at me from inside their pen on the lawn.
Shaving his head. Gluing his socks together. Putting water in his gas tank.
All of these retribution options were too tame for my former best friend, the one I texted quickly after finding Sam was missing from the party.
The kids sat silently on the stone stairs in front of me, their parents behind them. All of whom were staring blankly at me. Because people, as a rule, do not like clowns. When Polly first led me through the house to the backyard, one girl screamed and ran away, crying for her momma.
Polly was standing in the back, arms crossed. Her daddy stood to her left, arms also crossed. I stood up straighter. I had a job to do. And I didn’t want to ruin Ryla’s birthday. The show must go on.
“What do I have here?” I held up three raw eggs. The two prop eggs I’d need later were hidden safely in the pouch at my waist. Two hands shot up.
“What do you think, little lady?” I pointed to a girl in a green dress.
“Eggs.”
“Right you are. Here, pass these around, but make sure not to crack them. I want everyone to feel ’em and verify that they are, indeed, real eggs.”
As the eggs were being passed around, I addressed the audience again. “Now can anyone tell me, what we do with eggs?”
A few hands went up. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all. I pointed at another kid. “Eat them!” was his reply as all three eggs were passed back to me.
Nodding I shouted, “That’s right, juggling them!”
A few giggles and startled shouts came from the kids in the front as I began juggling the eggs practically over their heads. They squealed and laughed as I pretended to bobble them.
But I wouldn’t drop them. I’d practiced this bit for over a year starting at age twelve. It didn’t make me many friends, but I could still juggle in my sleep.
I stopped juggling the eggs and held my hand to my ear. “What’s that? Y’all eat your eggs? Well, shoot. I forgot you can eat ’em too. Now, who here thinks these eggs are real?”
Almost every hand shot up, but I pretended not to see them.
“None of you? Really? Alright then, I guess it’s ok for me to do this!” I heard a collective gasp as I brought an egg up high over my head, then quickly smashed it over my little clown cap I’d put on over my wig. The yolk and slimy egg white dripped down my wig and onto the ground.
Actually, the wig came in handy. When I used to do this in my magic show, I did it on my forehead, and the egg would run down my face.
I was delighted at the kids’ happy squeals. Going on with the show, I made a disgusted face.
“Who put a real egg in here?” I pointed at a few kids. “You?” A little girl shook her head furiously, then pointed to a little boy next to her who shook his head, too.
“I guess these are real eggs! Darn it all, now I only have two.” I made a big show of holding up the remaining two eggs for all to see, then exaggeratedly snapped my fingers.
“Hang on a sec, I remember puttin’ a spare somewhere . . . here it is!”
I retrieved one of the two prop eggs from my waist pouch, now holding two real eggs and one prop egg in my hands. As soon as I brought the fake prop egg out, I started to juggle the eggs again, walking near the kids and juggling almost over their heads again. It was then that I noticed the patio door slide open, and a bright blonde head with green eyes peeked out, watching intently.
“Now, where’s the birthday girl?” I asked the crowd, stopping my juggling and making a big show of searching the crowd, even though Ryla was sitting front and center.
“She’s here! Ryla’s right here!” A kid I recognized as Eric stood up and pointed at Ryla excitedly from his spot next to her.
“Come on up here, little lady.”
Smiling, Ryla scrambled up. Her crown had gone a little crooked since I’d last seen her. When she got close to me, she gave me a small wink. I put the two real eggs in my waist pouch and held up the empty prop egg.
“Listen up, folks. For Ryla’s special birthday surprise, we need the contents of this egg to turn into a chick. And you have to help me do it. So, on the count of three, I need you to shout, ‘OOGALY BOOGALY!’”
I had them practice a few times, the kids getting more and more into it with each try.
Glancing at the parents, I saw there weren’t as many frowns, and Polly’s arms were no longer crossed, which I was taking as an absolute win.
I gestured to Ryla. “Now, little miss, you have special birthday magic. On the count of three, I want you to shout, ‘Oogaly boogaly!’ along with everyone else. And you’ll need to wiggle your fingers right at the egg. Can you do that?”
She nodded.
“Alright. One, two, three?—”
“Oogaly boogaly !”
As everyone screamed, I noticed Max, who had started watching us from the patio door earlier, was now standing fully outside, back up against the door.
I shook the egg, pretending that it had worked and was now ready.
“Magnificent!” I cried. “Now, let’s crack this open to see if it worked!”
Gasps filled the crowd as I cracked the prop egg over Ryla’s crown. Then, the gasps turned to clapping and impressed shouts as everyone realized the egg was empty and there were only a few little pieces of shell falling to the ground.
I put on a puzzled expression, eating up the kid’s amazed reactions.
“Huh. That’s funny, I swore I heard fluttering inside this egg.” And then I snapped my fingers and grabbed the other prop egg from my waist pouch, which, unbeknownst to everyone, came complete with a wind-up chick inside.
“Alright, let’s try this again. One, two, three! Oogaly boogaly!”
After I cracked the egg and held up the wind-up chick, Ryla beamed, the crowd clapped, and thank you Jesus and the Holy Goats, Polly was smiling.
* * *
I was zipping my duffel closed as I used the back of my thumb to scratch beneath my wig. My skin had gone past itching to burning before the clown show started. Of course, I’d then stayed to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Ryla, who also asked if Kent the Clown would stick around for cake. My eyes had started to water so badly, I was going to have trouble seeing the road; but I wasn’t going to risk taking off my makeup here.
“Hi! I wanted to catch you before . . . are you alright?” I squinted to see a blurry Leah Michaels in front of me.
I waved her off. “This is my last bag so I’ll be out of here soon. I’ll be alright.” If me being five minutes from having the skin melt off my face was considered alright, so be it.
Leah took a step closer to me. “Jace? Is that you?”
Damn. I’d forgotten to use my clown voice. Ducking my head as I hoisted the bag over my shoulder, I gave a sheepish smile in her direction. “Oh, uh, yeah. Hi, Leah. Just doing a favor for a friend.”
I didn’t want to be rude, but I needed to go or else I was going to start scratching my face so hard it was going to bleed. “I think I’m having a little reaction to the face paint. If you’ll excuse me.” I started to walk off, desperate to get some relief, when Leah jumped in front of me.
“I had no idea it was you! You sure outdid yourself.” Leah paused. “Do you need a bathroom? Or like, a doctor?”
Probably. I shook my head, just wanting to get out of there. “Eh, I’m fine. It could be worse.”
Leah crossed her arms, I think. I was having a hard time seeing her.
“Sure thing, I’ll let you go. But only if you can tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”
I squinted at her fingers.
“Three?” I guessed.
“Four.” She grabbed my forearm and started to pull me toward the house. “Come on, Kent. I’ll show you to a bathroom no one uses. Then you can make a quick getaway in your clown car.”