stranger was tall and lean, maybe ten years older than Joey’s father.
He had coal-black hair, except at the temples, where it was pure
white.
His eyes were so blue that they reminded Joey of the gas flames on the
kitchen stove at home.
As the man approached he said, “You aren’t with the carnival, are you,
son?”
“No,” Joey admitted glumly. “But I’m not getting in anyone’s way.
I’m really not. Someday . . . maybe . . . I’d like to work in the
carnival.
I just want to see how things are done. If you’ll let me stay and
watch for a while–” “Whoa, whoa,” the stranger said. He stopped in
front of the boy and stooped down. “You think I’m going to throw you
out?”
“Aren’t you?”
“My heavens, no!”
“Oh,” Joey said.
“I could tell you weren’t just a gawker,” the man said. “I could see
you were a young man with a genuine interest in the carnival way of
life.”
“You could?”
“Oh, yes. It just shines through,” the stranger said.
“Do you think I could be . . . a carny someday?” Joey asked.
You? Oh, sure. You’ve got the stuff,” the stranger said. “You could
be a carny or just about anything you wanted. That’s why I called out
to you. I could see the right stuff shining in you. I sure could.
Even from up there on the platform.” Well . . . gee,” Joey said,
embarrassed.
“Here,” the stranger said. “Let me give you these.” He reached into a
pocket and withdrew two rectangles of thin, pink cardboard.
“What are those?” Joey asked.
“Two free passes to the fairgrounds.” “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Why give them to me?”
“I told you,” the stranger said. “You have the right stuff. As the
carnies say, you’re with it and for it. Whenever I see someone who’s
with it and for it, someone who’s a carny at heart, I always give them
a couple of free passes. Come any night and bring a friend. Or maybe
your brother.
Do you have a brother?”
No,” Joey said.
“A sister?” “Yeah.”
“What’s her name?”
“Amy.” “What’s your name?”
“Joey.”
“Joey what?”
“Joey Alan Harper.”
“My name’s Conrad. I’ll have to sign the back of the passes.” He
produced a ballpoint pen from another pocket and signed his two names
with a flourish that Joey admired. Then he handed over the free
passes.
“Thanks a lot,” Joey said, beaming. “This is terrific!”
“Enjoy yourself,” the stranger said, grinning. He had very white
teeth. “Maybe someday you will be a carny, and you’ll hand out free
passes to people who are obviously with it and for it.”
“Uh . . . how old do you have to be?” Joey asked.
“To be a carny?”
“Yeah.”
“Any age, just about.”
“Could a kid join up if he was just ten?”
“He could easy enough, if he was an orphan,” Conrad said. “Or if his
parents just didn’t care about him at all. But if he had a family who
gave a hoot, they’d come looking for him, and they’d take him home.”
“Wouldn’t you . . . you carnival people . . . wouldn’t you hide the
kid?” Joey asked. “If the worst thing in the world for him was to be
taken home, wouldn’t you hide him when his folks came looking?”
“Oh, couldn’t do that,” the man said. “Against the law. But if nobody
cared about him, if nobody wanted him, the carnival would take him
in.
It always has, and it always will. What about you? I’ll bet your
folks care about you a lot.” “Not a lot,” Joey said.
“Sure. I’ll bet they care a whole bunch. What about your mother?”
“No,” Joey said.
“Oh, I’ll bet she cares a lot. I’ll bet she’s really proud of a
handsome, intelligent boy like you.”
Joey blushed.
aDo you get your good looks from your mother?” Conrad asked.
“Well . . . yeah . . . I look more like her than like my dad.”
“Those dark eyes, that dark hair?”
“Yeah,” Joey said. aLike Mama’s.” “You know,” Conrad said, “I knew
someone once who looked quite a bit like you.” “Who?” Joey asked.