by R. L. Stine
Or … maybe I’d have another knife tossed at my head.
And what about the knife? It had to be Deanna’s knife, the knife she said was missing. Had someone tried to kill me only a few hours after I arrived?
No. No way. That was crazy. I tried to force that thought from my mind. If I didn’t stop thinking this stuff, I’d never get to sleep.
But then there was Clown Street. And the Dunk-A-Klown booth with the clown who seemed to disappear.
So many dark mysteries here. A clown circus is supposed to be a happy place. Why was everyone so tense and mysterious?
I tried sleeping on one side. Then the other. Then on my back. But these troubling thoughts kept me wide awake.
I was finally starting to drift off to sleep when a sound made me sit up, alert again. A whisper. Outside the trailer window.
“Ray … Ray …”
At first, I thought it was the hiss of the trees across from the circus lot. But then I realized it had to be a person, someone whispering my name right outside the trailer.
“Ray … Ray …”
I scrambled to the window, pushed the blinds up, and peered outside. A full moon sent a yellow glow over the grass in front of the trailer.
I didn’t see anyone.
“Who’s there?” I called softly. A waste of time, since the window was closed.
In the cot across from mine, Bingo-Bongo groaned. I didn’t call out again. I didn’t want to wake him.
I peered through the blinds. All I could see was the glowing grass and the trailer across from ours, completely dark.
I turned away from the window. And heard the whispers again:
“Ray … Ray …”
The sound of my own name sent a cold chill to the back of my neck. I scrambled into jeans and a T-shirt and hurried out the trailer door.
“Whoa.” The metal stairs felt cold on my bare feet. I stopped on the first step and glanced all around. The moonlight reflected off the trailers across from me. No one was in sight.
I lowered my foot to the second step — and tripped. Tripped over something hard stretched across the stairs.
I let out a sharp cry as I stumbled. Both hands thrashed the air helplessly as I struggled to regain my balance. But I stumbled and fell, fell facedown into something soft and smelly.
“Oww.” Pain shot through my body. I raised my head quickly. A sick, sour odor invaded my nostrils. I was lying in something disgusting, lumpy, and rotting.
Gagging on the horrible smell, I forced myself to my knees. And saw the pile of fish heads, fish guts, fish bones, and parts. The disgusting stuff stuck to the front of my T-shirt and the legs of my jeans.
I jumped up, brushing frantically with both hands.
Who did this?
I turned and saw the cord stretched across the trailer steps. My stomach lurching, I backed away, my feet squishing over the rotten fish guts.
Someone put that cord there to trip me. Someone scattered the disgusting fish parts in front of the stairs.
Someone wants to scare me. Or hurt me.
I scraped the bottoms of my feet on the grass. I knew I’d smell the putrid fish for days. I had to take a shower. But that wouldn’t remove the sight or the smell from my mind.
I bent and untied the cord. I tossed it across the grass. Then I started up the stairs.
And as I reached the trailer door, I heard a chilling whisper from somewhere behind me:
“Ray … Ray … Ray …”
The next morning in the breakfast tent, Uncle Theo listened to my story. “Who would do that to me?” I demanded. “Why would someone want to hurt me?”
He patted my shoulder. “Circus clowns like to play tricks,” he said. “Especially on newcomers.”
“But, Uncle Theo —” I protested.
“It was smelly and gross,” he said. “But it was just a joke. Don’t take it personally.”
“Huh? Don’t take it personally?” I cried. “I’m going to smell like fish for the rest of my life!”
Uncle Theo had his eye on the tent entrance. “Mr. HahaFace just walked in,” he said. He bumped my arm. “Go ahead. Eat your eggs. Don’t draw his attention.”
I watched the tall ringmaster in his red jacket with gold buttons up and down, and his top hat straight on his head. He wandered along the aisle between the tables. Once again, the food table got quiet.
Deanna Banana was eating breakfast by herself at the far end of a table. Mr. HahaFace sat down across from her, picked up a slice of bacon from her plate, and popped it into his mouth.
Uncle Theo bumped me again. “Come on. Finish your breakfast. We have a lot of rehearsing to do. We have to get you ready for your first show this afternoon.”
I wasn’t very hungry. I finished the scrambled eggs but left the potatoes and sausage on my plate.
I glanced down the table. Tommy Teardrops was sitting across from Bingo-Bongo. My roommate had a ping-pong paddle in his hand and was bouncing a ball against the tabletop.
The clowns were all in costume. It was Mr. HahaFace’s rule that we all had to be in costume from morning to night.
I stood up. “Ready to go,” I said.
Uncle Theo patted the pillow over my stomach. “That costume fits okay, Mr. Belly-Bounce.” He studied me for a long moment. “But you can’t wear those sneakers. Where are the clown shoes I gave you?”
“I forgot them,” I said. “They’re in the trailer. Want me to go back and get them?”
He adjusted the rubber snake around his neck. “No. No problem. We can rehearse without them.”
As we started to leave, he slapped Tommy Teardrops hard on the back. Tommy spit his coffee across the table. Uncle Theo laughed. I could see he was getting into his Murder the Clown character.
I followed him into the show tent. The four men in the trapeze act were already practicing, swinging high, nearly at the top of the tent.
“They call themselves the Flying Fool Brothers,” Uncle Theo said. “They’re right about the Fool part. But they’re not really brothers. They don’t even look alike.”
“Duck!” I heard a shout. “Duck!”
“Huh?” I gasped and ducked my head. I expected another knife to come whirling past me.
But no.
“Duck!” came the cry again. “Duck!”
I turned and saw Billy Laffs chasing a duck across the ring.
The duck honked and flapped its wings. Billy started to honk and flap his arms. The two of them made a complete circle around the ring.
“That’s how he warms up in the morning,” Uncle Theo said in his Murder the Clown voice. “I think the duck has all the talent. Billy Laffs agrees with me. But he says when the act is over, he’s still going to have a roasted duck dinner.”
I laughed. I never knew when Uncle Theo was joking or telling the truth.
The Flying Fool Brothers were shouting overhead as they swung easily from trapeze to trapeze. In the center of the ring, four blue-uniformed workers were checking out the safety net.
Uncle Theo pulled me to a side of the tent where no one was rehearsing. “Okay, Mr. Belly-Bounce. I’m going to come walking toward you, my head in the air, minding my own business. I want you to bump me with your belly. Bump me hard. Make it funny.”
“I’ll try,” I said. Make it funny.
He backed up to the tent entrance. Then he came walking toward me, swinging his arms, his big shoes kicking up the sawdust. His eyes were raised to the tent top, his head tilted back, moving from side to side.
I took a deep breath. Then I stuck my big pillow-belly out, stepped in front of him, and bumped him hard.
“Whooooaaah!” He let out a cry, threw his hands out, and pretended to stagger back. “Murder! That was murder!”
“How was it really?” I said.
“Not bad,” he said. “But not good. Let me show you.”
He backed up. Then he came charging at me. He bumped me with his stomach and sent me stumbling back against the tent wall.
/> “See?” he said. “You lower the pillow and bump up against the other person. Don’t bump sideways. Bump from down to up. It looks funnier.”
“Okay,” I said. I almost understood what he was saying.
“Then, as soon as you’ve bumped me,” he continued, “let out a loud cry and stagger back. You’ve got to be like a ball in a pinball machine. You bounce off me into someone else. You just keep bouncing. People will think it’s a riot.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Let’s try it again,” he said. “And thrash your arms out. Make it look like you’ve completely lost your balance.”
He strode back to the tent entrance, then came walking toward me again. I tried to remember everything he told me. I stepped in front of him and gave him a bump.
But no. Just as I dove forward, he dodged to the side. I missed and fell onto my stomach.
“Haw haw haw!” Murder burst out laughing. “Now that’s funny!”
“You’re about as funny as heat rash!” Billy Laffs told Murder.
“Have you looked in the mirror?” Murder shot back. “I’ve seen better-looking heat rash! Ha-ha!”
Billy Laffs held Murder by the shoulders. “The last time you looked in the mirror, the mirror shouted, ‘I surrender!’”
“Hey, back off,” my uncle said. “I’m trying to teach Mr. Belly-Bounce here how to be funny.”
“That’s like a whale trying to teach someone to fly!” Billy Laffs said.
“Remind me to laugh later,” Murder said. “After I translate it into English!”
At the other side of the ring, I saw Deanna Banana enter. Her blond hair was all crazy around her face. She wore the same costume as when I met her the day before. She waved at me as she stepped into the ring, and I waved back.
She had an assistant with her, a skinny young man in short pants and a sleeveless white T-shirt. As I watched, he stood in front of a portable wall, and she threw knives at him.
He trembled and shook with each throw. That was his role. To shake and quake and shiver and act like he was terrified.
Deanna tossed knife after knife. Each one narrowly missed the shaking guy and sank into the wall behind him.
“Wow. I’m impressed,” I said to Uncle Theo.
He nodded. “Yeah. She’s good.” He poked my belly with a finger. “Get back to work. You don’t have time to stare at girls. You’ve got a lot to learn before the show this afternoon. Right now, you’re like those fish guts you fell in last night. You smell! Ha-ha!”
I shuddered. “Please — don’t remind me.”
We practiced bumping and dodging for about half an hour. Then we practiced falling over backward and forward. By the time we went to the food tent for lunch, I was drenched in sweat right through my makeup.
I ate a big lunch. I’d really worked up an appetite from all that bumping and bouncing and falling down.
After lunch, I headed back to the trailer to rest. I didn’t have much time. The show was at four. And I knew it would take me a long time to shower and do my clown makeup all over again, and get into my full costume.
The time went by in a blur. I guess I was more nervous than I thought I was. “Just have fun,” Uncle Theo told me at lunch. “Just get out there and have fun. Then the audience will have fun, too.”
It seemed like good advice. But I still felt a lot of pressure. I mean, think about it — my first time in a circus ring!
A little after three, Bingo-Bongo was getting dressed at one end of the trailer. And I was pulling on my Mr. Belly-Bounce costume at the other.
“Don’t be nervous, kid,” he said. “Just because hundreds of people will be watching your every move.”
“Thanks a bunch,” I said.
He laughed.
I straightened the red ruffle around my neck. Fixed the pillow in place. Then I bent to pick up my long, red, pointed clown shoes.
“Oh, nooooooo!” I let out a cry.
My clown shoes — someone had sliced them right down the middle.
I picked up the left shoe and examined it. The top of the shoe had been sliced, cut in a straight line. My hand was trembling. I dropped the shoe back to the trailer floor.
“Hey!” I called to Bingo-Bongo. “Is this some kind of joke you play on the new kid?”
He was facing the mirror, painting red circles on his cheeks. “Joke?” he said without turning around. “What kind of joke?”
“M-my shoes,” I stammered. “Did you cut my shoes?”
He spun to face me. “Cut your shoes? Of course not. Why would I do that?”
I held them up to show him. “You didn’t do it?”
He raised his right hand. “I swear to Bozo.”
“Then who else was in our trailer?” My voice came out high and shrill.
He shrugged and turned back to the mirror.
I slid one of the shoes onto my foot. “They’re totally wrecked. How am I going to keep them on?” I said.
“Scotch tape, maybe?”
“You’re a big help,” I muttered. “Don’t you care that someone sneaked into our trailer and sliced up my shoes? Probably the same someone who threw a knife at me and called me out of the trailer last night so I’d fall into a pile of rotting fish guts.”
“That’s crazy. Why would anyone do that to you?” Bingo-Bongo asked.
“That’s what I want to know!” I cried. “Why?”
I stared hard at him. Did he know more than he was letting on?
* * *
The show started in the big tent at four o’clock. Mr. HahaFace strode into the spotlight in the center of the ring and, waving his top hat, he welcomed everyone.
The tent was jammed with hundreds of people. The clowns were all in a small backstage area. I peeked out at the crowd from behind the curtain flap.
My hands were sweaty. I could feel my heart doing acrobat flip-flops in my chest. Uncle Theo put a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be great,” he said softly. “You’ve got the funny bones.”
“I do?” I said. “I’m way nervous. Think I’ll get a laugh if I go out there and puke my guts out?”
“Yes,” he said. “That would kill. That would murder them!” He shook his head. “But you’re not going to puke. You’ll see. As soon as you get in the ring, you’ll forget about being nervous. You’ll only think about being funny.”
He was right. When Mr. HahaFace blew his whistle and we clowns all came running into the ring, I felt a surge of energy shoot through my body. Like an electric shock.
I came roaring out full-speed and bounced off a pole. I heard people laugh — and that was it. I felt great. I bounced bellies with another clown and toppled onto my back. More laughs.
This is fun.
We clowns stood still as Murder the Clown stepped up to the seats. “What are you all staring at?” he bellowed. “I know I’m handsome — but that doesn’t mean you have to stare!”
He grabbed the handle of the axe in his head. “I guess you’re all staring at this, huh? How did I get it? Well, I got into a fight. Did I win the fight? Not really. I guess you’d call it a split decision! Ha-ha-ha!”
Murder asked for a volunteer for a water-spitting contest. “Let’s see who would like a bath today!” he boomed.
He pulled a little redheaded boy from the first row. The boy looked really shy and afraid. Murder took a long drink from a big glass — and spit water all over the boy.
Then the boy surprised everyone. He grabbed the glass from his hand, took a long drink — and spit water all over Murder.
That got a huge roar from the crowd.
“Murder! I’ll murder him!” my uncle bellowed. Murder chased him around the ring, and the boy went running back to his seat. Everyone went wild, cheering and laughing.
Deanna Banana took the center of the ring in her sparkly costume. She wheeled in a table stacked with knives. Once again, I watched her skinny assistant shake and quake as she threw knife after knife at him.
The audience gasped and oohe
d with each knife toss. The crowd loved her act. Each throw came close but missed. They roared with laughter at the end of her act. Her assistant turned around — and he had a knife in his back!
As she went running off, Mr. HahaFace blew his whistle again. That was the signal for the rest of us clowns to do our act, go crazy, fill the ring with stunts and gags.
I could feel the electric shock of excitement return as I darted into the ring, holding my big pillow belly high.
And guess what? That is when disaster struck.
As I neared the center of the ring, I tripped over Bingo-Bongo’s shoes. My ruined clown shoes slipped off my feet. I stumbled — and sailed into Mr. HahaFace. He uttered a startled cry as I knocked him over — and landed heavily, on top of him.
The crowd loved it. But I could see by the scowl on his face that Mr. HahaFace didn’t think it was funny.
I untangled myself from him and picked myself up. I bounced bellies with another clown and staggered around the ring.
For the rest of the performance, I could feel Mr. HahaFace’s eyes on me. As I ran out of the ring at the end of the show, Uncle Theo shouted to me: “Good show! I told you — you’ve got the funny bones!”
But Mr. HahaFace stopped me at the tent flap. “I need to see you, Jack,” he said. “Now!”
Mr. HahaFace grabbed the sleeve of my costume and pulled me from the tent. I nearly slipped out of my shoes again.
His face tight with anger, he led me away from the crowds leaving the tent. They all seemed happy, laughing and joking. It was easy to see that they enjoyed the show.
But the scowl on his face told me that the ringmaster was not happy.
The sun was dipping behind the tall trees across from the lot. A cool breeze felt good on my hot face. Somewhere nearby a cat was yowling.
Mr. HahaFace stopped at the side of the tent. He pressed his hands against his waist and glared at me. He didn’t speak for the longest time. Finally, he said, “Jack, did you think barreling into me and knocking me on my butt was funny?”