Chapter 9

Mona hoped she might be able to mingle with the crowd that came to see the evening show, and then slowly ease her way away from the circus. But the members of the sideshow had anticipated everything, and they had insisted on locking her in her compartment on the train. Elmo, the dog-faced dwarf babysat with her. He was tiny, but he was strong, and Mona knew better than to argue with him.

When the show finally ended, the staff closed everything down for the night, and then Jerome, Harry, Oscar the Geek, and Rick, the giant, came for her. None of them looked too freakish, except for Rick's height, and he stooped making himself look like a bent-shouldered giant, but one not much taller than six-and-a-half feet.

Mona was dressed, and she saw the men all wore shirts and slacks, and anyone who didn't know their faces too well would never guess they were members of a carnival sideshow.

As they walked, they were joined by Magda, the snake charmer. Mona had never met Magda, and she had to admit the woman was stunningly beautiful. She had auburn-tinted brown hair done so that the curls were bunched around her neck as Madame DuBarry's wig might have Been. Facially, she had full, round cheeks, a short, tiny, uptilted nose, and a full mouth. To look at her, one would think she had a job in movies, or she was working as some rich millionaire's sugar baby, but one would never guess she had a passion for snakes.

Magda was wearing a simple white blouse and red peasant skirt. She had one arm looped through Jerome's, and another arm looped through Harry's, as if knowing which were the most important men.

The steakhouse was one of those old-fashioned places with muted lighting so that it was impossible for anyone to really recognize their faces. They moved quietly, walking to the back of the large room, sitting in a corner at a long table. When the waitress came and took their orders, she never bothered to look twice at them.

"You see." Harry said to her. "Even freaks can look normal under certain circumstances. You know, Mona, I think you'll learn to not only like us after a while, but love us. You'll find our kind of life totally different from the one you're used to, but by the same token, I think you'll find it rewarding, because eventually you'll be earning a living along with the rest of us."

"Why not now?" Mona shrugged, taking a cigarette from one of the glass holders on the table and lighting it with a pack of matches she found there, as well.

In the light of the match, she looked at the others, and they all looked back at her, their eyes laughing at her as if to say they were neither stupid nor gullible.

"You're not ready now," Harry told her. "You see, you look on the freaks as a group of people afflicted, and at the moment you think of your own trouble as an affliction, an abnormality if you will, never stopping to think it is actually normality where you're concerned. You have to learn to accept yourself before you learn to accept us. When you do that, you'll take your place with us and soon learn this kind of life is far more rewarding than the useless existence you had before.

Mona shrugged, knowing whatever she said would come out wrong. Finally, she told them, "I'd like to go to the ladies' room:"

"Sure," Magda smiled, her Hungarian accent obvious. "Come on, ve go toget'her."

Mona had no choice but to go with Magda. Once in the ladies' room, she noted the back window was too tiny for her to climb out of, anyway. But she felt miserable, because this latest chance to escape from these human monsters had been thwarted.

They returned from the ladies' room and found their steaks on the table. One thing about Nebraska steaks was they were definitely not skimpy. In Florida, most steak houses offered a thirteen ounce cut, calling it a New York cut. In New York, you got a sixteen ounce cut that was called a Texas cut. Texas, like Florida, served New York cuts. But Nebraska didn't have imagine names for their steaks. They were simply sirloin, porterhouse, rib steak, T-bone, shell steak, or tenderloin, all full cuts, many more than sixteen ounces, and through they weren't cheap, they were at least offering a person his or her money's worth.

"Now whose turn is it going to be?" Mona asked sardonically, when they arrived back at the train.

"We're reasonable," Harry replied. "Go get a good night's rest. We'll talk about who's next tomorrow. The time will come when you'll be looking forward to who's next."

"Don't bet on it," she snapped, and once again entered the compartment.

Alone, she sat on the bed and wept, feeling helpless and alone, knowing that unless she made her own opportunity, one would not be forthcoming, and she might indeed be stuck here the rest of her life.

She went to bed filled with trepidation and had a poor night's sleep. In the morning, when she finally did awake after some fitful dreaming, she saw all the hair she had shaved off had grown back, and now there was a hint of a mustache on her upper lip.