Stan stumbled through the tents of the circus, noises from the crowd surrounding him worsening his headache. His stomach growled, and he noticed several peoples' eyes linger on him, suspicious of his unkempt appearance. He shrugged his jacket closer and drew into himself, trying to hide from the judgemental gazes of strangers. Stan was far too familiar with the point where stares turned into bruises and cuts, and he was not keen on getting into a fight tonight.
Man, I miss the magic of the circus. I remember going as a kid, but now… well I guess I'm just too tired and hungry to find that magic. But maybe I can find some food.
Stan scanned the crowd, looking for anything useful, dropped food or money, looseley-guarded wallets. It took some time, but eventually he found half a soft pretzel on the ground. He darted to pick it up, and made his way quickly to a secluded area between two tents to scarf down the meagre amount of food, the first thing he had managed to eat in days. Once he had eaten it all, he allowed himself a moment to adjust before setting out to find anything else he could get his hands on. Before he stepped out of the shadow, however, a voice came out of the shadows, startling him.
"Well damn, I've never seen anyone scarf down a pretzel so fast. What's the rush?"
"I-I was just hungry, and I eat fast-"
"Don't bother with a full explanation, I saw you pick it up. You still hungry?"
"Uh- Yeah, but why do you care?"
An older man emerged from the shadows, broad-shouldered and tall.
"Let's just say that I've been there, done that. I have plenty of extra food in my trailer, and my performance is done for tonight. I'm willing to share."
"What's the catch?"
"Well, I'm sure we could arrange something. We can always use help with teardown before we move on, if that's agreeable."
"Food in exchange for a bit of work? I've made worse deals. I'll take you up on that."
"My name's Jameson. And yours?"
"Stan."
"Well Stan, follow me. Sandwiches OK?"
"Fine."
In short order, Stan and Jameson found themselves at a small trailer. Jameson was quick to unlock it and turn on the lights.
"Take a seat at the table. I'll get us food. Anything ya don't eat?"
"No, I'll eat anything."
"Alright."
Jameson was quiet as he prepared simple sandwiches, and Stan was not inclined to break the silence. As soon as the sandwich was placed in front of him, he hunched over the plate and ate in large, quick bites. The sandwich was gone in no time, while Jameson slowly worked through his own.
"Been awhile since you've eaten, huh kid?"
"M'not a kid. And yeah."
"How old are you?"
"I'm 18."
"Sorry to break it to ya, but you're a kid compared to me. Say, I can help with the food situation."
"Whaddya mean?"
"Well, I'm getting older. And as much as I hate to admit it, my show depends on a younger, steadier hand. I throw knives. So, I'm willing to teach you how to do what I do."
"Why?"
"Honestly? Bit of a tradition. The knife-thrower before me did the same for me, and the one before that also did the same. Besides, I've been looking for a trainee for awhile now. Whaddya say?"
"There has to be a catch."
"Well, you'd have to stay with the circus. It'd not just be knife throwing either, you'll have to help with set up and tear down at each location, maintaining equipment, and so on. It's grueling work and it doesn't pay a lot, but everyone's needs are cared for. It isn't a stereotype that the circus is a family, it's true."
"That doesn't sound bad. But, can I keep my car? She's important to me."
"Sure. But if you ever get tired of sleeping in it, we have spare cots, we can set you up in a trailer now and then. OK?"
"Ok."
"Well, you up for the job?"
"Yeah, I think so. Can't hurt."
"That's the spirit. We can let the others know tomorrow, and get you started. In the meantime, sleep. You'll need the rest, cause we're going to put you to work bright and early tomorrow."