Jamie laughed. Random vandalism, not an uncommon teenage hobby in these parts. Why not? "Sure. Let's go get that paper mill."
•
Meanwhile in the clown tent, Gonko threw himself across the mattress, muttering curses.
"Wh—whatsa matter, Gonko?" said Doopy.
"This whole fibbing-to-Jamie gag. For starters, where's JJ? Say what you will about that slimy chickenshit, he could accept a little moral creativity when it came to running a circus. But now I gotta create a train wreck in a few days just to prove these two tricks woulda died if we didn't take 'em."
"Hey, boss, but at least you don't gots to pay the new JJ, he don't even know nothing boss, not even about powder."
"I ain't gonna stiff a clown out of his pay. I'll save Jamie's cut, assuming he earns it when we bring some tricks through. George's first show is tomorrow. I'll head down to keep an eye on it."
"What about the new clown, Gonko? Did you hear, we got us a brand new clown and we done beat him up real bad, and Rufshod's blue coz of no audition."
"Glad you reminded me. Let's go see what this new clown's made of."
•
It was just after dawn when Rufshod and Jamie returned to the campsite. Teenage Jamie and friends would have saluted, had they seen what became of that paper mill. Howling fire trucks were just now starting to arrive and pull into the place. A plume of smoke billowed up in a thick pillar. The pair of them had also "decorated" the nearby train station and police station. They broke into a nearby Woolworths to swipe some supplies—chocolate, candy, as well as balloons and streamers.
Rufshod had said the boss would be pleased with this loot, but when they returned Gonko got Jamie in a headlock. "I thought you said this guy was funny," he said.
Dean was awake. Also, Dean was in perfect health; any lingering trace of the beating was gone. His new clown clothes hung loose and clung tight in places they shouldn't. He blinked around calmly at the others, with not the least sign of fear or alarm on his face. Doopy, Goshy, Rufshod, and Gonko closed in a ring around him. "Joke," Gonko demanded.
"Why did the chicken cross the road?" said Dean, peering through casually lidded eyes as though all this was rather beneath him.
"You go on and tell us why," said Gonko.
"I really don't know. That's why I asked."
"Tell us another," Gonko snarled. "Go on."
"You'll like this one," said Dean. "Knock knock."
"Who's there?" said Jamie when no one else would.
"Nokia."
"Nokia who?"
"Nokia mobile phone."
In the thick silence following Gonko shuddered, twitched. "What the fuck is that supposed to be?" he screamed.
"It's a kind of anti-joke joke," said Dean serenely. "Trust me, bro, the crowd will love it."
"Oh, no," said Gonko. "I am not jolly old Saint Theresa, I admit. But there's no way in hell I would inflict you on an audience."
"Just try and stop me, bro," said Dean.
Quickly Rufshod ran to Gonko (whose face was literally red by now) and whispered in his ear. Gonko looked at Jamie, somehow restrained himself, and staggered away, his whole body shivering.
"Gee-whiz," said Doopy.
"Dean?" said Jamie. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," said Dean. He lay flat and did ten pushups, then twenty, then just kept on going.
"We call him Deeby now," Doopy whispered in Jamie's ear. "Deeby the clown. But . . ." he squirmed, "But Jamie, he's not funny!"
"george!" came Gonko's scream from some distance away. Something broke. Something quite large, by the crash it made, maybe a tree. "georrrge!"
While that went on, Jamie poked his head into Jodi's tent to see how she was holding up. She wasn't there. A quick stroll later he found her sitting at a table with a gypsy woman who, like someone coaxing an animal, looked like she was trying to get Jodi to accept a makeover. Lipstick and a small box of makeup lay before them on the table. Jodi was saying ". . . just want to go home. You people are insane."
"This first, yes, honey?" said the gypsy woman sweetly. "Just make you up a little first? Five minute? Then can go."
"Can go right now," Jodi said. "What will you do if I just get up and walk away? There's a cop shop five minutes away and you've already got assault and abduction. What else you want to try for?"
The gypsy waved this away with long-nailed fingers and a rustling laugh. "I no keep you! You free! But Mr. Gonko, he instruct. Just a little color for you. Such pretty girl! Little color, then you have your ‘cop shop.' Yes?"
It did not look to Jamie that what he'd told her had sunk in. She happened to look up at that moment and their eyes met. Play along, he mouthed at her. She scowled like she'd gladly bite him.
A rough hand pulled Jamie away. It was Doopy, frantically asking if he'd seen his brother—Goshy had gone missing. So he helped Doopy on a half-assed clown hunt through the campsite for a while then went back to Jodi. She sat before a hand mirror while the smiling gypsy braided her hair. "Wow," Jodi kept saying in a dreamy voice. It was the voice of someone deeply in love. The hand mirror obscured her face, but Jamie guessed she'd had her "little color." "Oh wow," Jodi said.
"We call you Emerald now, hm?" said the gypsy. "Emerald, yes? Call you something pretty, Mr. Gonko say. Then you get your own booth in show. Is nice? They all buy your kiss, yes?"
"Pretty," Jodi whispered dreamily.
"Hey, shoo clown," the gypsy snapped at Jamie. She swatted the air, made a spitting noise at him. He shoo'd, went and sat by the river. "Circus magic," he muttered to himself. A remarkable change of heart. Jodi would not be in such a rush to leave anymore, he sensed.
Nor was he, for that matter. He did not quite understand much yet, but he had to admit he was having fun here and experiencing something the normal world would never be able to match. One hell of a mess may well have been accumulating right now back in his old life, just like last time. Maybe he needn't go back and face it at all.
•
Goshy returned to the campsite several hours later, much to everyone's relief, since Doopy's entreaties for help finding him were growing truly insufferable. An emotional reunion took place, ignored by all who could get out of earshot as clown tears of all kinds flew out of three eyeballs (two of Doopy's, one of Goshy's): bouncing tears, colored tears resembling skittles, great fire-hose blasts which half knocked over one of the tents, curled paper streamers and more, until Doopy himself seemed to forget what the fuss was about.
In Goshy's hand was a red clay flowerpot filled with black soil. He set it down outside the tent the clowns slept in, and sickened everyone with his eerily triumphant smile. None bothered to ask questions about it, but over the coming hours the whole melodrama replayed itself exactly: Goshy would vanish, Doopy would panic, Goshy would return with another clay flowerpot, setting it carefully next to the others, and spent much of his time guarding this private treasure.
During the day, the carny folk showed much more concern about being seen by passing cars and those which occasionally pulled into the campsite to set their children loose on the swing set and slide, a long stone's throw from the circus encampment. Circus magic hid them far better in the night. Jamie sometimes watched people stop to stare in their direction, seemingly right at them, but not quite seeming to see. The children in particular seemed to linger their gazes longer in this direction before returning to their games, playing not quite as loud or cheerfully as before. Did they see a group of regular RV caravans? A traveling family taking a break from the road? Just a hint of color perhaps, leaving the afterimage on their closed eyes in light-drawn outlines of what was actually there? They would see it all, Jamie knew, if any of the clowns went to them and called out, in the process inviting them within the illusion. They did not do so, of course, not even to sell a hot dog or some cotton candy, nor—as Gonko might have claimed—to save them from some miserable awaiting fate.