Sideshow by Amy Stilgenbauer

Author:Amy Stilgenbauer [Stilgenbauer, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: azw, epub, mobi
Publisher: Interlude Press
Published: 2016-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Torrential rain and muddy fields greeted the caravan in Indiana. Setup had stalled almost immediately with no solid foothold for the rides, booths, or tents. After stepping out and sinking ankle-deep in a murky puddle, Della refused to leave the trailer until the whole of South Bend had dried out—even when Vivian arrived with an extra coat and umbrella.

“What’s the point?” Della asked of the poor girl standing on her trailer steps, huddled as close as she could to the door, trying to stay out of the rain. “There’s nothing in this town except self-important university boys.”

“You can’t stay in this trailer the whole week.”

“If it rains all week, we’ll move on.”

Abby listened, waiting for the right moment to jump in and take the offered umbrella for herself. She wanted to walk somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t Della’s cramped and cluttered trailer. The entire day, she had been pretending to sew clumps of tulle onto a skirt. If Della had taken it, she would have seen nothing but a rather fluffy ball of fabric and haphazard stitches, but Abby wasn’t about to let that happen, at least not until she was able to track down Thomas. Even if they weren’t putting on a show, they would have received some mail.

“At least come play cards with me and the girls. No one else around here knows euchre.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You girls can come here if you’re bored.”

Vivian rolled her eyes and tried to force her way past Della into the trailer.

“Watch it! You’re gonna get water on everything!”

“Then keep the place cleaner!” Vivian cried, sticking the umbrella into the trailer as Della tried to shut the door on her.

“None of your business!” Della pushed hard and cracked a few of the umbrella’s wire arms.

“This is not accomplishing anything,” Abby muttered, but Della did not acknowledge her.

“Stop being so stubborn!”

Abby’s hand slipped, and she jabbed her finger with the sewing needle. She bit back a yelp, but Della and Vivian seemed to have heard it. They ceased their struggle at the door and turned to her. Embarrassed, she shoved the fluffy mess of tulle under her pillow and stood up. “I’m done with this. If you need a fourth, Vivian, I’ll play.”

Vivian glanced at Della with a somewhat satisfied smirk. “You play euchre?”

“I’m not good,” Abby said with a shrug. “But I can’t focus on sewing cooped up in here.”

“You can’t focus on sewing ever,” Della said, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. “I have half a mind to—” but she didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Abby had slipped past her without so much as a word, taken Vivian’s somewhat battered umbrella, and ducked out the door into the rain. Della wasn’t about to follow them.

The bent arms of the umbrella caused water to cascade over Abby’s left shoulder. She tipped it even more, hoping not to get any wetter than necessary or to direct the flow of rainwater toward Vivian.

“I don’t really play, you know,” Abby confessed after they had been walking in dreary silence for a minute.

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