Vagabonds: Anthology of the Mad Ones Vagabonds Vol. 3 | Page 46

The Carnival
Nancy Gauquier
It's dark, a full moon and stars piercing the sky. A night edged with silver. This
time, I'm leaving for good. I have to be quick and quiet. I'm afraid my mother can hear
my heart beating. I drop the battered old suitcase out the window and crawl out after it, in
the dead of night.
I'll walk down the street and keep walking. Maybe hitch a ride, I have no idea where,
just away.
I notice dark shapes by the baseball field across the street, where the carnival comes
every year. They've started to set up. Some of the rides are already standing. There's the
Octopus, which I never ride, I get too dizzy.
The rides hover in dark space, all unlit, nobody milling about, no screams.
I cross the street. I want a closer look. It seems deserted. The air seems empty
without without the scents of hot dogs, cotton candy, popcorn and soda spilled
everywhere. It's the abracadabra before the moment when life springs into being, out of
the black hat of the night.
“Hey! Hi! Who are you?”
I jump and drop my suitcase. “I'm Anna. I live across the street.”
He holds out his hand, so I take it. A strong hand. He's husky, in his early or mid-
twenties, with light brown hair combed back up in a wave.
“My name's Vin. We just set up. Come on over.” He gives my suitcase a glance. “Is
that heavy?”
“No, it's all right.”
He grabs it anyway, and I follow him to an alcove between two tents. We sit on
crates, joining his friend, and he introduces me.
“This is Anna. She lives across the street.”
They are drinking from cans of beer.
“Jack.”
Tall, dark, and angular, but gorgeous, so I make an effort not to stare. He looks at me
with a surprised smile.
“What are you doing out at this time of night? What's with the suitcase?”
I shrug. “I'm running away.”
He peers at me through the smoke of his cigarette.
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