Carnival of Dead Girls

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  I watched a group of girls toss ping pong balls into tiny glass bowls of goldfish. Poor fish, I thought, smiling despite my mood. I should be having fun too, not chasing some girl that doesn’t even want to be my friend. What would Freya do if she were in my shoes?

  I already knew the answer to that question—Freya would play games or go in the funhouse; she would have fun with or without me. I decided to take a page from her playbook and do exactly that. I’ll just have fun on my own, I thought markedly.

  As though reading my mind, a short chubby kid with a goatee and glasses called out to me.

  “Step right up! All ya have to do is knock over one of these milk bottles! And if you do, you’ll win a stuffed animal!”

  I shook my head no and kept walking, but the kid called out to me again.

  “Your gauges are rad, girl!” The carny kid was the first person all day to even notice my new stretched piercings.

  “Thank you,” I said shyly, walking over to his booth. I pulled out some cash, deciding to play one game.

  After several throws, the bottles were still standing. “Thanks,” I said, nodding politely at the boy. I turned to leave, but then I had a thought.

  “Hey, have you seen a girl with funky colored hair? She’s real pretty, but dressed in all black with weird-colored hair and big chunky clogs? She’s probably carrying around a big satchel and a notebook?”

  “Oh yeah,” the kid said. “It’s hard to miss a hot chick like that, but that’s not why I was watching her. Pockets was checking her out and following her around. And then he walked up to her, and I thought she would be all like ‘Get away from me, loser,’ but instead, she stood there talking to him, and they went into the Big Top together.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, holding up a finger in confusion. “Pockets is the name of a person? Is he one of the carnies…I mean, carnival workers?”

  The kid laughed and said, “It’s all right. We call ourselves carnies too. All you regular folks, we call you guys gillies.”

  I gave him another look that clearly meant for him to get to the point.

  The kid explained, “Pockets is a guy who works in the Big Top.” Seeing the confused look on my face, he further explained, “The Big Top is the big main tent, the one right behind me,” he said, motioning with a jerk of his thumb to the enormous canvas-covered tent that lay behind the midway and was surrounded by a scattered cluster of smaller tents.

  “Like I said, Pockets works in the Big Top. Handles props and shit like that. He’s a douche bag, and a young girl like that, well…she ain’t got no business hanging out with a weirdo like him.”

  Hearing this, I felt a little worried about Freya. It wasn’t unusual for her to make impulsive choices, and I didn’t want some creep to hurt her. I took off jogging toward the Big Top.

  “He’s the one with the craters in his face, caused by acne scars and all that…” the boy called after me, but I was already darting inside the tent.

  Chapter Three

  The Big Top opened into a giant arena. I pushed my way through a thickening crowd, looking around for Freya. There were rows of seats surrounding the stadium. I climbed across the laps of countless patrons, finally collapsing in an uncomfortable royal blue seat.

  I instantly felt ridiculous for coming inside. It was a stupid idea because the place was jam-packed and the chances of seeing Freya in these crowds were slim to none. If she was in some sort of trouble involving that creep “Pockets,” there was little I could do for her here, crammed in the middle of an audience—an audience that had to be numbering in the hundreds by now.

  The once sweet-smelling aroma of fried food and sweets was now replaced with the unmistakable fumes of ammonia, most likely released from animal waste. There were several horses, two elephants, and a camel in the center of the arena, and there were a handful of children in the middle of the ring, taking turns at riding on the animals’ backs.

  A man called out over a loudspeaker, announcing the show was about to begin. I scanned the wide space frantically, trying to find Freya—but no luck. All I could do now was sit back and watch the show, as there was no way I was climbing back through the stands to get out. I looked around for a man that might somehow fit the description of someone nicknamed ‘Pockets,’ but no one in particular stood out.

  Sighing, I tried my best to get comfortable in the seat. It’s going to be a long night, I thought, agitated.

  The start of the show was marked by the grand entrance of several muscle-bound men in showy outfits, riding bareback into the arena. They did several mind-boggling tricks, like standing up on the horses, straddling two horses with only one foot on each animal’s back, and flipping off mid-ride. I’d never seen anything like it, and for a moment, I just watched, spell-bound.

  After the horse tricks, an elephant stood on a tiny pedestal and a tiger jumped through hoops. An extremely muscular man led a huge adult lion out to the center of the floor, then somehow coaxed the lion to do outrageous things, finally stunning the crowd into hushed silence as he used his hands to widen the lion’s enormous mouth. And then he did the unthinkable, actually sticking his head into the wild animal’s mouth. I closed my eyes, unable to watch. Covering my face with my hands, I ventured a peek through my fingers. Surprisingly, the lion didn’t chomp down on the dumbass’s head.

  Next I watched nervously as a trapeze artist flipped through the air, barely catching the grip of her mate’s hands. Several aerialists hung down from the rafters, and one of them was even suspended by her hair! Clowns on unicycles and astonishing magic tricks took up the next hour. When it was all over, I couldn’t help wanting more.

  My only wish was that Freya had been with me to enjoy the show.

  The patrons slowly filed out of the arena, and I found myself once again scanning the crowds for my best friend. I was starting to think she might not want to be my friend anymore, certainly not my best friend. You don’t ditch someone who’s supposed to be your best friend, I thought, chuckling despite the hurtful truth behind the thought.

  I followed the crowds out of the Big Top and noticed that most people seemed to be heading home, either on foot, or out to the exterior parking lot for those who came to the carnival in cars. I planned to do the same.

  Freya had disappointed me again, and I was beginning to think I should just give up on her completely.

  But just ahead, near the funhouse entrance, I caught a glimpse of pale orangish hair and tattered black clothing. “Freya!” I shouted impulsively. The Freya lookalike wasn’t going in the funhouse. Instead she was headed for the ride that looked like a silver spaceship.

  I shouted out again, but she didn’t turn around. I watched her walk into the entrance of the strange-looking ride. Fuck it, I thought, deciding to follow her anyway.

  Other kids were getting on, but as soon as I got to the ride’s entrance, a whiskery old man placed his hand on my chest.

  “Wait your turn. You’ll go with the next group,” he said gruffly.

  “But—”

  “No buts! Either wait, or go!” he half-shouted.

  Ugh. What a douche bag! So, I had no other choice but to wait. I watched the disk go around and around, spinning for what seemed like a thousand turns. I could hear excited squeals and laughter pouring out. Finally, the disk got slower and slower, until it stopped.

  Kids pushed their way through the exit. I waited for Freya to emerge, but she never came out.

  That’s strange. Maybe it really wasn’t her I saw, I thought, just as the grumpy ride operator waved me inside.

  I hesitated. There wasn’t any reason to get on now. “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” the operator shouted, and two young girls behind me were pushing my back.

  I’d expected there to be seats inside, but oddly, there were narrow sections for riders to stand against, and no seatbelts in sight. The sections were arranged in a circle, facing each other. And as soon as I found one to stand against, I spotted Freya on the other side. So, it was her I saw earl
ier. She’d apparently opted to stay on the ride and not get off. Her arms were draped around the neck of a much older man—a man with deep burn scars that looked almost like tiny little pockets in his skin. They were shamelessly kissing, groping each other in a way that grossed me out.

  Yuck. He had to be nearly forty!

  I considered walking over there, but then the floor swayed beneath me as the disk started spinning. I pressed my back against the cushion, bracing myself for the spin. I was expecting to feel off balance or clumsy. But that wasn’t the case—I couldn’t even move. The force of the spin held me pinned to the cushion, and it felt like a giant lying down on my chest, making my breath painful and slow.

  I instantly hated the ride. The other riders’ faces were a blur, but I immediately locked eyes with Freya. She saw me at the same time I looked at her, and her face broke into a smile. I tried to smile back, but my face felt droopy. I interpreted her smile as friendly, but then I realized she was laughing, saying something to her middle-aged date.

  I watched her puffy lips moving, whispering in his ear. They moved slowly, and I tried to read what she was saying. “She acts like she’s in love with me. Like I’m her girlfriend. Like a lesbian. Follows me like a lost little puppy…”

  She giggled, but the man did not. He stared at me blankly, evilly. I tried to look away, my face reddening in shame from Freya’s words, but my face was stuck to the seat. I was forced to stare in their direction, like some sort of sick, cruel joke. They watched me watching them, and laughed. I closed my eyes, waiting for the ride to stop. Waiting to get the hell away from Freya.

  Chapter Four

  The last person I wanted to deal with right now was my stepmom, Candy. But that’s exactly who was waiting for me when I burst through the door at one o’clock in the morning. “Where have you been, Josie?” she demanded. “It’s a school night!”

  “I’m not your daughter!” I screamed, shoving past her and charging up the stairs to my second-floor bedroom.

  I collapsed onto the bed, shoes and all, covering my face with a pillow. I was determined not to cry, but could instantly feel the gunk you get when you cry filling up my nose and throat.

  I’d never felt so unhappy. I’d foolishly thought Freya was different from other girls, and that she wouldn’t laugh at my awkwardness, that she actually wanted to be friends. But I’d been dead wrong, apparently.

  I listened for the sound of my dad or Candy approaching the stairs to my room, but nobody came to check on me or scold me for my rude behavior. Truth is, I felt sort of bad for what I said to Candy, but it wasn’t like I could take it back now.

  When I closed my eyes, I could still see the gleaming lights of the carnival pulsating against the back of my eyelids, just like those treacherous strobe lights inside the spaceship ride. I tried not to picture Freya’s puckered pink lips forming the words that hurt me so much. But the image of pouty lips pressed against the grotesque man named Pockets kept popping up again and again.

  Pockets. What a stupid name, I thought, clenching my teeth in anger. I slid on a pair of lime green headphones, letting the beat of the newest Drake song take me away to another place, far away from the Carnival de Arcanorum—another stupid name. And far away from the thoughts of a girl who broke my heart and crushed my excitement of having a new friend.

  ***

  I didn’t see Freya the next day at school. She wasn’t on the bus and I didn’t spot her in the hallways.

  But not seeing Freya was nothing new; she was known to cut class or just ditch school during the middle of a school day. I didn’t try to look for her either. I walked with my head down, concentrating on my studies, and sketching with intensity whenever I had the chance. I wasn’t big on confrontation, and didn’t plan on “having it out” with Freya when I saw her. If she’d rather kiss ugly freaks at that carnival than hang out with me, so be it.

  The Carnival de Arcanorum was all anybody at school could talk about, much to my dismay. Those who hadn’t been to the carnival yet were planning to go tonight, and the ones who had were planning to go again. Not me, I thought gloomily. I never wanted to see that dreadful place again…

  Instead of boarding the school bus at the end of the day, I decided to walk. The day was bright and sunny, leaves turning orange and red before littering the ground. The gorgeous weather was inconsistent with my black mood. I put my headphones on, secured my bag to my chest, and stared at my feet as I walked home. I mouthed angry lyrics to an Eminem song.

  When I reached Vermont Avenue, I was so caught up in the lyrics of a different song about boulevards of broken dreams that I nearly ran right into a boy on a bicycle.

  “Watch it!” the boy cried out, nearly tumbling off the bike as he swerved to avoid hitting me. When the boy looked up, I recognized him as the kid with the goatee from the game booth. He seemed to recognize me too.

  “Hey,” I said awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “It’s okay,” the boy said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just not in a very good mood.”

  “Shouldn’t you be at the carnival working?” I asked, wondering why the boy was so far away from the midway.

  “I’m on break. My dad works at the carnival too, and he doesn’t like me smoking. So, I’m just sneaking away to get a quick puff, if ya know what I mean. I’m Evan,” he said, sticking out his hand.

  I took his hand in mine. It was warm and chubby, but friendly. “I’m Josie,” I said shyly.

  “You coming back to the carnival tonight?” Evan asked, lighting up a cigarette and puffing deeply on its end.

  “Nah…”

  “Why not?”

  Before I could answer, he said, “You really should come tonight. The freak show finally turned up a day late. All it costs is five bucks and you get to see cool stuff like fire-breathers and two-headed cats. Plus, my dad’s letting me off around nine-thirty, so we could meet up and go through the freak show exhibits together. If ya want to, I mean…”

  Honestly, I had no desire to return to the place of last night’s trauma, but there was something about Evan…He seemed so desperate for a friend, kind of like me…

  “Okay,” I agreed, trying not to smile.

  “How about we meet by the Ferris wheel around nine thirty?”

  My smile grew. I was relieved to have someone who could actually make a set plan, for once.

  “See ya then,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette in a neighbor’s half-barrel of butts.

  “Yeah, I’ll see ya,” I said, surprised to realize that I was kind of looking forward to going to the Carnival de Arcanorum again.

  Chapter Five

  Evan was there at nine thirty sharp, waiting by the Ferris wheel, just like he said he would be.

  “What’s up?” I greeted him. I was dressed in a rosy pink cardigan with paper-thin white leggings. A far cry from Freya’s choice of wardrobes for me.

  “What do you want to do first? I was thinking we could wait until it gets real dark to go to the freak show. You wanna ride the Ferris wheel or the bumper cars?” Evan asked.

  “Let’s skip the Ferris wheel and go straight to the bumper cars,” I suggested, not ready to face my fear of heights just yet.

  “Okay,” Evan agreed, and then we walked over to the ticket booth in the center area of the midway. We bought enough tickets to do the bumper cars and several other rides.

  The bumper cars were a blast, and afterwards we tried our luck at some of the game booths. “All of these games are rigged,” Evan said, laughing. “I shouldn’t say that because you can actually win, it’s just nearly impossible for most of these games.”

  Evan stopped at a concession stand, chatting with a young blonde girl he seemed to know behind the counter. When he turned around he had two free bags of cotton candy and two cans of soda.

  “Thanks.” I popped the top on the can and took a long swig of the drink. “So, tell me about working here. Do you like it?”

  “
Like isn’t the word I’d use, but I’ve gotten used to this lifestyle. I never get to stay in a permanent location for long except for the couple of months we go home…We move from town to town like gypsies, and I’ve never had many friends because of it. My mom works in the Big Top, setting up dressing rooms and props, and my dad is a general laborer. He does a little of everything around here.”

  “I think it sounds kind of cool,” I said, trying to make Evan feel a little bit better about his current predicament. “At least you get to meet different people and enjoy new landscapes.” Evan chuckled.

  “This is my only landscape,” he said, opening his arms wide to indicate the carnival. “This is all I ever really get to see. My mom teaches me what I need to know for my schooling since I don’t get to go like normal kids do, and I rarely do anything that doesn’t involve the carnival in some way.”

  Deciding it was time to change the subject, I said, “Let’s go to the freak show now.”

  Evan nodded and led the way.

  The freak show was located in another large tent behind the Big Top. “All these other tents and campers are our living quarters…the people who work here, I mean…” Evan explained, motioning to the cluster of tents and trailers beyond the attraction tents.

  “Which one is yours?” I looked at the tents curiously.

  “Uh…you can’t see it from here,” Evan answered, and I realized he was embarrassed to show me his home.

  “This is neat,” I said, changing the subject again. I pointed at a creepy, gnarly sign with ‘Freak Show de Arcanorum’ scrawled in blood-red letters.

  There was a small marquee tent that opened into a spacious arena similar to the arena used for the Big Top show, but on a much smaller scale. A black-bearded gentleman with a top hat and tails was taking tickets in the front. He looked from Evan to me, and then nodded at us both, unhooking a thick velvet rope to pass through.