"Well?" asked Race, nervously twisting his cap in his hands. Jack seemed to
have noticed, for he took the hat out of Race's hands and set it on the
table by the bed.
"He will be all right," replied Doctor Jardin (from a play I was in. I couldn't think of anything else) "However, he did sprain his wrist badly. He will not be able to use it for at least a month." With that said, the doctor picked up his bag and left.
"What are we going to do?" Tenderfoot asked. "The show is in a week, and you can't do the dances because Michael is supposed to lift you up and do stunts and stuff."
"You also can't do the horses because it has to be two people." Michael said from his bed.
"Why can't you guys use one person instead of two?" David asked curiously.
"Because this circus always uses two or more people for everything we do. That's what makes us different from the other circuses. They use one person for horse acrobats, and animal trainers. We always use several people. Then there are more risks and the audience likes it better and is captivated." Chrys explained. " But we can sing probably instead. And we can do some the dances but we will have to rework all of them since they involve some stunt work. But that won't be a problem," Chrys said as she pondered this. "Now I'm going to get some food for you Michael. Since your injured, I don't think Harold would mind if you didn't follow our fruit and veggie diet." She turned around and walked out of the tent. When she came back, she had a half eaten hotdog in her hands. Chrys walked over to Michael's bed and handed him the hotdog. Michael, speechless, could only look at the hotdog, and then look at Chrys, with a raised eyebrow.
"What?! I was hungry. You try not eating a hotdog your holding when you've been eating nothing but fruits and veggies for nine years!" Chrys started to explain.
"Yeah but I'm injured and the only time I get to eat meat, I would like a big one on a bun with no bite marks in it." Michael argued.
"Yeah but it's the thought that counts," Chrys explained lamely. Immediately they both started to laugh uncontrollably. Suddenly, Racetrack walked towards them and cleared his throat.
"Um… I would just like to say… well…" he stuttered.
"Will you just spit it out Race." Chrys said gently shoving him.
"Okay. Listen, I am very sorry about what happened. It wasn't my fault. I swear. And I understand if you never want to talk to me again." Race said with his head bowed down shamefully. Jack thought Race was ready to cry. Almost as soon as he finished his small speech, Chrys ran over to him and hugged him.
"Oh Race!" she said. "It wasn't your fault. We were the ones who made you get on that horse. You didn't do anything at all. We practically forced you to do it"
"You DID force him to do it," muttered Tenderfoot. Chrys turned towards him and growled softly. Tenderfoot immediately backed away and Chrys turned back to Race.
"Really?" Race looked at Chrys and realized that she wasn't lying like she usually does. Chrys nodded and they both hugged. Their embrace was broken apart when their boss Harold walked into the tent.
"I have decided that since Michael is injured, the show must still go on. However, since Chrys here cannot do most of her performances without a partner, I have decided that Racetrack here will become her partner until Michael is healed." Race sat there stunned. 'Him? A horse acrobat and dancer? He couldn't even ride a horse sitting down, let alone standing up and doing those stunts. And dance? That was worst. He remembered when he once went out with some broad at a dance hall. They had a miserable time because Race accidentally stepped on her toe, breaking it, and they had to spend the entire night sitting at a table.'
"Um sir?" Race spoke up.
"Yes boy?" Harold said slowly and softly. Racetrack was about to speak when he noticed Chrys, Michael, and Tenderfoot behind him, shaking their heads, waving their arms and mouthing 'No' over and over again.
"Never mind." Race replied. Harold turned around and left the tent. Immediately, Tenderfoot walked over to him.
"Don't ever disagree with Harold. If you do, he will fire you," he said. Race could only nod. Surely, he thought that Harold wouldn't fire him if he was disobedient. Sure he was mean and strict, but he wouldn't be that mean. Racetrack looked at his fearless friend, Chrys, and noticed that she was nodding, agreeing with Tenderfoot. Apparently, Race was wrong.
"Okay! Let's start practicing! The show is in a week so we better be prepared." Chrys said as she grabbed Racetrack by the wrist and dragged him towards the Big Tent. Trepidation filled Race's body but he knew that Michael's injury was still his fault, no matter what Chrys said. He was determined to right that wrong. All the while, a dark shadow watched him.
Later…
"It's is all in order. We have everything ready."
"Good. You know what to do right Oscar? Morris? Good. Now when you grab him, make sure no one follows you or suspects anything. Understood?
"Yes sir."
"Good. Dismissed."
"Good day Warden Snyder."
As the door was closed, Warden Snyder turned around and looked out the window. A smile formed on his thin lips.
'You are mine Anthony. And when I get you, I will beat you. Beat you exactly like that boy I beat so many years ago. And no one can save you.'
(A/N: Racetrack is going to get kidnapped soon. Just not in this chapter.)
"He will be all right," replied Doctor Jardin (from a play I was in. I couldn't think of anything else) "However, he did sprain his wrist badly. He will not be able to use it for at least a month." With that said, the doctor picked up his bag and left.
"What are we going to do?" Tenderfoot asked. "The show is in a week, and you can't do the dances because Michael is supposed to lift you up and do stunts and stuff."
"You also can't do the horses because it has to be two people." Michael said from his bed.
"Why can't you guys use one person instead of two?" David asked curiously.
"Because this circus always uses two or more people for everything we do. That's what makes us different from the other circuses. They use one person for horse acrobats, and animal trainers. We always use several people. Then there are more risks and the audience likes it better and is captivated." Chrys explained. " But we can sing probably instead. And we can do some the dances but we will have to rework all of them since they involve some stunt work. But that won't be a problem," Chrys said as she pondered this. "Now I'm going to get some food for you Michael. Since your injured, I don't think Harold would mind if you didn't follow our fruit and veggie diet." She turned around and walked out of the tent. When she came back, she had a half eaten hotdog in her hands. Chrys walked over to Michael's bed and handed him the hotdog. Michael, speechless, could only look at the hotdog, and then look at Chrys, with a raised eyebrow.
"What?! I was hungry. You try not eating a hotdog your holding when you've been eating nothing but fruits and veggies for nine years!" Chrys started to explain.
"Yeah but I'm injured and the only time I get to eat meat, I would like a big one on a bun with no bite marks in it." Michael argued.
"Yeah but it's the thought that counts," Chrys explained lamely. Immediately they both started to laugh uncontrollably. Suddenly, Racetrack walked towards them and cleared his throat.
"Um… I would just like to say… well…" he stuttered.
"Will you just spit it out Race." Chrys said gently shoving him.
"Okay. Listen, I am very sorry about what happened. It wasn't my fault. I swear. And I understand if you never want to talk to me again." Race said with his head bowed down shamefully. Jack thought Race was ready to cry. Almost as soon as he finished his small speech, Chrys ran over to him and hugged him.
"Oh Race!" she said. "It wasn't your fault. We were the ones who made you get on that horse. You didn't do anything at all. We practically forced you to do it"
"You DID force him to do it," muttered Tenderfoot. Chrys turned towards him and growled softly. Tenderfoot immediately backed away and Chrys turned back to Race.
"Really?" Race looked at Chrys and realized that she wasn't lying like she usually does. Chrys nodded and they both hugged. Their embrace was broken apart when their boss Harold walked into the tent.
"I have decided that since Michael is injured, the show must still go on. However, since Chrys here cannot do most of her performances without a partner, I have decided that Racetrack here will become her partner until Michael is healed." Race sat there stunned. 'Him? A horse acrobat and dancer? He couldn't even ride a horse sitting down, let alone standing up and doing those stunts. And dance? That was worst. He remembered when he once went out with some broad at a dance hall. They had a miserable time because Race accidentally stepped on her toe, breaking it, and they had to spend the entire night sitting at a table.'
"Um sir?" Race spoke up.
"Yes boy?" Harold said slowly and softly. Racetrack was about to speak when he noticed Chrys, Michael, and Tenderfoot behind him, shaking their heads, waving their arms and mouthing 'No' over and over again.
"Never mind." Race replied. Harold turned around and left the tent. Immediately, Tenderfoot walked over to him.
"Don't ever disagree with Harold. If you do, he will fire you," he said. Race could only nod. Surely, he thought that Harold wouldn't fire him if he was disobedient. Sure he was mean and strict, but he wouldn't be that mean. Racetrack looked at his fearless friend, Chrys, and noticed that she was nodding, agreeing with Tenderfoot. Apparently, Race was wrong.
"Okay! Let's start practicing! The show is in a week so we better be prepared." Chrys said as she grabbed Racetrack by the wrist and dragged him towards the Big Tent. Trepidation filled Race's body but he knew that Michael's injury was still his fault, no matter what Chrys said. He was determined to right that wrong. All the while, a dark shadow watched him.
Later…
"It's is all in order. We have everything ready."
"Good. You know what to do right Oscar? Morris? Good. Now when you grab him, make sure no one follows you or suspects anything. Understood?
"Yes sir."
"Good. Dismissed."
"Good day Warden Snyder."
As the door was closed, Warden Snyder turned around and looked out the window. A smile formed on his thin lips.
'You are mine Anthony. And when I get you, I will beat you. Beat you exactly like that boy I beat so many years ago. And no one can save you.'
(A/N: Racetrack is going to get kidnapped soon. Just not in this chapter.)
