By a Charm and a Curse(15)
The sleeve of a plush red velvet jacket calls to me. I want to feel the soft fibers crush between my thumb and forefinger, and though I can see my fingers pinch down, I can barely feel the two layers of cloth, much less tell anything about their actual texture. The fabric twists as my hand clenches into a fist, and…nothing. If I had breath in my body, I’d have just sighed.
I asked Leslie about that. How is it that I’m walking and, more specifically, talking, when my blood moves sluggishly through my veins and I don’t have breath in my body. She said that she didn’t know, that no one knew. The carnival doctor was a former army doc turned clown, and he couldn’t figure it out, either. They hadn’t dared to seek outside help for fear that the original victim would be taken away and tested without end. All they knew was that the cursed was able to think and talk and be a part of the world, while looking like the horrifying offspring of a ventriloquist and his or her dummy.
I’m riffling through a section of clothing that clearly belonged to someone confident enough to parade around in just a complicated set of straps when the springs on the trailer door creak open. A tall blond girl, long lines and sleek muscle, steps inside.
“Hello,” she says, her voice both insubstantial and confident, like she’s a wisp of cloud that refuses to be blown away.
Her hair is pale and slippery, and it hangs down to the middle of her back. Her eyes are dark gray, until she gets closer and then they seem more blue. The way she moves is grace in action, and even standing still I feel awkward and clumsy.
“I was just… Leslie said I could…” I’m not sure why, but I feel like I have to justify my being in the trailer. But the girl walks over and lays what I think is meant to be a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“You’re the new Girl in the Box, aren’t you? My sister and I saw you on your way through the yard last night. And we heard you. It was impossible to do one without the other. I take that back. We definitely heard you before we saw you.”
If I were still capable of it, I would be blushing madly.
“My name is Gin, by the way.”
“Jen? Like short for Jennifer?”
“Sure. Why not,” she says, a small smile picking up the corners of her mouth. “You should hear what they call my sister.”
“And what do they call your sister?”
“Well I call her Wee Tiny Loudmouth,” a brash boy calls from the door, “but I am not they and they call her Whiskey.”
For a second I think of Sidney and his perfectly coifed hair and what had seemed like impeccable clothes, but this boy is not Sidney. His skin is the cool brown of a smoky quartz, not pale like cream. His eyes are wider, his smile smirkier. He’s got on a newsboy cap that’s patterned in a small brown check and a faded Ramones T-shirt under a ratty tweed blazer with corduroy patches at the elbows. He stalks toward us down the thin alley made by the rows of costumes, brushing up against them and sending the hangers swinging. He thrusts out his hand for me to shake.
“I’m Duncan,” he says authoritatively, his hand firm around mine, steadying the twitching. “You are new.” His eyes flutter closed, and though I try to pull my hand away, he holds on. “And if I were you, I’d be crying my eyes out right about now. How are you holding up, darling? I mean, if my first kiss had gone as poorly as yours, I’d be crying into my pillow nonstop. As it is, my first kiss was with some townie girl who didn’t know what the hell she was doing, and, don’t ever tell her I said this, she pretty much firmly cemented the fact that girls are not my bag.”
“Settle down, Duncan,” Gin says absently as she holds up to the light an icy-blue costume that drips with crystals and feathers. “First impressions. A little goes a long way and all that.”
“If it weren’t true, I’d be offended,” Duncan says. He swats at Gin but she sways away at the last second. “I’m one of the carnival’s fortune-tellers. My shtick is romance, which pisses off my twin, Pia, more than you can imagine. She’s good at the numbers, which isn’t nearly as sexy, let’s be honest. Oh! Almost forgot. Leslie told me to keep you occupied for a bit. The cops think you’re a runaway and are searching the grounds.”
Of course they do. I’d asked Leslie why they weren’t just picking up and running away now that they had me. She said it might cause more questions if the carnival left town a night before the end of their promoted engagement when there was an alert out for a missing girl. Better to stay around and be as upfront and helpful as possible in order to throw off suspicion.
I part the clothes hanging in front of the trailer’s windows and peek between the blinds. Two officers in dark blue patrol the alley. Hope flickers in my chest, like a flame to be cupped in a hand. I could step outside and have them by my side in seconds. My fingers are on the door handle when it hits me.
If I go out there now, the cops will take me back home to my dad, and before I know it, I’ll be in front of doctors who want to poke and prod me, though with my petrified skin, who knows how much they’ll even be able to poke and prod. No, what’s going on here isn’t science. It’s something else. Something I’ve never seen or heard about in the world outside. As much as I don’t want to be here—well, here like this—home isn’t going to do me any good right now. The answer to my problem lies somewhere in the perimeter of this little carnival. I know it. The tiny flame gutters and dies.