Chapter 2
Whoop, no reviews yet but who gives a Barbie.
I do not own anything, nothing, Nada, zilch, nil! It all belongs to other people, Darren Shan is an example. No copyright infringement is intended; please don't hurt my fan fiction!
We had Mr Dalton again after lunch, for history. We were studying World War II. I wasn't too keen on it, but Steve thought it was great. He loved anything to do with war, I was a pacifist. He often said he wanted to be a mercenary soldier - one who fought for money - when he grew up - and he meant it!
We had maths after history, and - incredibly - Mr Dalton for a third time! Our usual maths teacher was off sick, so others had been filling in for him best they could all day.
Steve was in seventh heaven. His favourite teacher, three classes in a row! It was the first time we'd had Mr Dalton for maths, so Steve started showing off, telling him where we were in the book, explaining some of the trickier problems as though speaking to a child. Mr Dalton didn't mind. He was used to Steve and knew exactly how to handle him.
Normally Mr Dalton runs a tight ship - his classes are fun but we always come out of them having learned something - but he wasn't very good at maths. He tried but we could tell this was over his head, and while he was busy trying to come to grips with things - his head buried in the maths book, Steve by his side making "helpful" suggestions - the rest of us began to fidget and talk softly to each other and pass notes around.
I sent a note to Alan, asking to see the mysterious piece of paper he'd brought in. He refused at first to pass it around, but I kept sending notes and he finally gave in. Tommy sits just two seats over from him, so he got it first. He opened it up and began studying it. His face lit up and his jaw slowly dropped. When he passed it on to me - having read it three times - I soon saw why.
It was a flyer advertising pamphlet for some sort of travelling circus. There was a picture of a wolf's head at the top. The wolf had its mouth open and saliva was dripping from its teeth, gross. At the bottom were pictures of a spider and a snake, and they looked vicious too.
Just beneath the wolf, in big red capital letters, were the words:
CIRQUE DU FREAK
Underneath that, in smaller writing:
For one week only - Cirque Du Freak!!
See
Sive and Seersa - The twisting twins!
The snake boy! The wolf man! Gertha Teeth!
Larten Crepsley and his performing spider - Madam Octa!
Alexander Ribs! The bearded lady! Hans Hands!
Rhamus Twobellies - Worlds fattest man!
Beneath all that was an address where you could buy tickets and find out where the show was playing. And right at the bottom just above the pictures of the snake and spider:
NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED!
CERTAIN RESERVATIONS APPLY!
"Cirque Du Freak?" I muttered softly to myself. Cirque was French for circus... Circus of Freaks! Was this a freak show?! It looked like it.
I began to read the flier again, immersed in the drawings and descriptions of the performers. In fact, I was so immersed, I forgot about Mr Dalton. I only remembered him when I realised the room was silent. I looked up, and saw Steve standing alone at the head of the class. He stuck out his tongue at me and grinned. Feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, I stared over my shoulder and there was Mr Dalton, standing behind me, reading the flier, lips tight.
"What is this?" he snapped, snatching the paper out of my hands.
"Stupid arse," I murmured under my breath.
"What was that?" he asked
"It's an advert sir" I spat
"Where'd you get it?" he asked. He looked really angry. I'd never seen him this worked up. "Where'd you get it?" he asked again.
I licked my lips nervously. I didn't know how to answer. I wasn't going to drop Alan in the soup - and I knew he wasn't going to own up himself: even Alan's best friends know he's not the bravest in the world - but my brain was stuck in low gear and I couldn't think of a reasonable lie. Luckily, Steve stepped in.
"Sir, it's mine," he said.
"Yours?" Mr Dalton blinked slowly.
"I found it near the bus stop, sir," Steve said. "Some old guy threw it away. I thought it looked interesting, so I picked it up. I was going to show it to you later, at the end of class."
"Oh." Mr Dalton tried not to look flattered but I could tell he was. "That's different. Nothing wrong with an inquisitive mind. Sit down, Steve." Steve sat. Mr Dalton stuck a bit of blu-Tack on the flier and pinned it to the blackboard.
"Long ago," he said, tapping the flier, "there used to be real freak shows. Greedy con men crammed malformed people in cages and-"
"Sir, what's malformed mean?" somebody asked.
"Someone who doesn't look ordinary," Mr Dalton said. "A person with three arms or two noses; somebody with no legs; somebody very short or tall. The con men put these poor people - who were no different to you and me, except in looks - on display and called them freaks. They charged the public to stare at them, and invited them to laugh and tease. They treated the so-called "freaks" like animals. Paid them little, beat them, dressed them in rags, and never allowed them to wash."
"That's cruel, sir," Delania Price - a girl near the front - said.
"Yes," he agreed. "Freak shows were cruel, monstrous creations. That's why I got angry when I saw this." He tore down the flier. "They were banned long ago, but every so often you'll hear they're still going strong."
"Do you think Cirque Du Freak is a real freak show?" I asked.
Mr Dalton studied the flier again, then shook his head. "I doubt it," he said. "Probably just a cruel hoax. Still," he added, "if it was real, I hope nobody here would dream of going."
"Oh, no, sir," we all said quickly.
"Because freak shows were terrible," he said. "They pretended to be like proper circuses but they were cesspits of evil. Anybody who went to one would be just as bad as the people running it."
"You'd have to be really twisted to want to go to one of those, sir." Steve agreed. And then looked at me, winked, and mouthed the words: "We're going!"
Did you love it? Hate it? Not sure, review! It makes the world a better place!
Hugs and kisses
Who am I. I am loved