Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 05 - Mother Hubbard Has a Corpse in the Cupboard by Fran Rizer

invitation to spend money, but it’s fun. When I was a little girl, Daddy took me to the fair every year and told me, “Everything costs too much. You can’t win the games. The rides and food will give you a belly ache, but it’s so much fun that it’s worth the price. We’re paying for you to have a good time, so just enjoy it, and when we get low on funds, I’ll buy you a hat with your name embroidered on it before we go home.” Then, at the end, when we’d ridden and eaten all we could handle or afford, we’d argue whether to have the person with the sewing machine and that fancy thread that was yellow and blue and pink right after each other on the same spool embroider “Callie” or “Calamine” on my hat that year. I still have some of those hats in a drawer at Daddy’s house.
    I’d want to stay a little longer and go into one of those “Amazing Freaks of Nature” tents, and Daddy would say, “Aw, Calamine, those are all fakes. The babies in jars are made out of rubber, but there are some people in real life who are different. When you do meet someone like that, remember to be kind.” I heard him tell my brother one night after I’d gone to bed that he didn’t want me to ever see those distorted babies in jars because it might make me have deformed babies when I grew up. My daddy looks like a redneck, but sometimes he thinks like a throw-back to some old, superstitious woman.
    By the time I was old enough to go without Daddy, the fair that came to Jade County didn’t have freak shows anymore. The whole idea of anomalies fascinated me, but instead of seeing different people at the fair, I saw them on television’s The Learning Channel, and when I did see or meet people different from me, I treated them just like everyone else, which is a very good way for teachers to be. Jane says the success of our friendship since she moved back to St. Mary from the School for the Blind when we were in our early teens has been because I don’t treat her different because she’s not able to see .
    When I lived in Columbia, I’d gone to the South Carolina State Fair. Different attractions had different areas—kiddy rides like Merry Go Rounds in a designated spot, adult rides like the old Round-Up in another. The games had all been set up in a line between the kiddy rides and the side shows. The Jade County Fair was laid out the same way this year. Patel led us to a row of games.
    At the booth with “Bushel Basket Balls” over it, the man wearing a pocketed apron motioned toward Tyrone from behind the counter.
    “You can win this one. Come on in, and be a winner.
    “That carny wants me to throw balls into the baskets,” Tyrone said and started toward the stand.
    “Game agents,” Patel told him. “There’s nothing wrong with the word ‘carny,’ but they prefer to be called game agents. Come over here a minute.”
    I stepped to the side with him and Tyrone. The game agent continued looking at Tyrone and promising that he could win this one easily and that if he didn’t, he could get all his money back and choose any one of the prizes hanging around the booth. I could see why Tyrone was interested in this game. The usual giant stuffed animals were mixed in with iPads and electric guitars.
    “The Bushel Basket game,” Patel said, “works just like the Tubs of Fun we just passed. He’ll tell you that all you have to do is throw two balls into the basket and have them stay and not bounce out. Don’t aim at the center of the basket. Throw toward the back rim of the basket.”
    “Yes, sir,” Tyrone looked happier than I’d seen him since Maum’s fall.
    We stepped back to the game booth. Patel handed the game agent something—I couldn’t tell—was it rolled up money or a coupon? The man stuffed it into the pocket on his apron.
    “All you have to do is get two balls to stay in the basket,” the agent told us. Tyrone aimed carefully and hit the back rim of the basket. The ball went in and stayed.