Read Online The Great Circus Train Robbery by Nancy Means Wright - Free Book Online Page A

at me.”
    “That’s what clowns are for,” Spence said, hugging the wall. “To be laughed at.”
    “Don’t I know it!  If they don’t laugh, I’m scared.  When they do laugh, I’m panicked. I want to run off in the wings. But I can’t. There’s always somebody pushing me back in the ring. That’s what I need you for.”
    “You want me to push you back in when you come out?”
    “Of course! Didn’t Tulip tell you? Now tie my shoes, please. I can’t reach them with this fake belly.” He stuck a floppy foot up on a chair.
    “She said I might help with the trains.” Spence tied one of the ten-foot shoes. The laces were too long so he tied them three times.
    “No-oo-o!” Hackberry cried, his face falling apart. “Only one loose knot. I’m supposed to trip over them. That’s why they’re so long. Can’t you understand that?”
    “Sorry.” Spence stifled a laugh to think of Hackberry tripping over the laces.
    “Don’t laugh at me!”
    “Sorry. So what do you do with all these rail cars?”
    Hackberry gazed into Spence’s face. His eyes with their purple lashes looked like they might sink back into his head and disappear. “I play with them. I trip over them. I get them off the track—and I cry.”
    “Don’t you get face paint in your eyes from that purple stuff?”
    “That’s the whole point! The paint makes me cry. And people laugh when I cry. It’s so cruel!” He covered his face with his hands.  “Oh, I can’t bear it sometimes.  And then the monkey climbs on my back...”
    “You have a monkey?” Spence looked around. Sure enough, a monkey was squatting on the back of a chair in a rear corner of the trailer.
    “Don’t interrupt. I hate it when people interrupt! Now I forgot what I was going to say.”
    “Sorry,” Spence said for the third time. Hackberry reminded him of his Aunt Millie, whom you could never please, no matter what you said. “Look, I don’t think I can help you, I really don’t.” He looked longingly at the door.
    “You can’t leave! Tulip said you wanted to help.  So help.”
    “Hackberry?” a voice yelled. “It’s time. Get your butt over to the tent.”
    “Coming,” Hackberry hollered. “Now listen,” he said, grabbing Spence’s arm. “Number One: if I run off before I’m supposed to, you push me back into the ring. Hear?”
    “But how will I know—”
    “You’ll know. Just do it. Number Two: trains.”
    Spence relaxed a little. He might help with the trains after all.
    “You watch them backstage, see that nobody plays with them.”
    Spence’s heart sank. “That’s all?”
    “I’m the clown, not you! I get to play with them in the ring. Like I said, you guard them out back.  Number Three: take care of Sweet Gum.”
    “Who’s Sweet Gum?”
    “The monkey, of course!”
    “Oh.” The monkey was still on the chair, peeling a banana. It stuck out its pink tongue when it caught Spence’s eye. “That’s all?”
    “For today. I’ll think of something else tomorrow. Variety’s what they like, all those strangers out there. Oh, I don’t know why I do this.” He rapped his forehead with his knuckles. “I die a thousand deaths before I go in the ring.” He rubbed his eyes and the purple paint smeared into the white.  “Wait! There’s one more.”
    Spence waited. And wished he’d stayed home with his own train.
    “Number Four. Number... Oh, never mind.” He waved an arm. “I’ve already forgot. Oh, I’m too old for this business. I’m sixty-three on my next birthday. I should go back into retirement. I did for a year, you know. But then...”
    “You had to come back?” Spence thought of his father who’d “quit” playing in gigs, and then “just had to come back.” Music was a disease, he said.
    “Yes! You’re not so dumb after all. So grab that basket of cars—on the sofa—there, see? And come with me.” When Spence hesitated: “Come, I said! Come, come! You’re holding up the rehearsal. And I’ll get