LITMIR.BIZ

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He’d lit up the first ciggy as soon as Dad’s car was out of sight, and finished it in the queue. Josie didn’t get smoking at all – she’d had a puff on one once and it had almost made her chuck.

      Dad had made her promise to stay with her brother, but Kim and Bec were only eight too, and she knew their parents didn’t give a monkey’s if they went off on their own. And why should they? What does Dad even think is going to happen?

      She saw Kelly Adams with an ice cream, and waved.

      The circus had been here all week, but tomorrow it was moving on to another town. In fact, there were already patches of discoloured grass, and she guessed some stalls had packed up already. The first few days had been really rainy and there was still the odd muddy puddle on the churned-up ground. The 50p Gran had given Josie was sweaty in her palm. She wondered what it would get her.

      Her brother suddenly stiffened, and Josie saw Helen Smith hanging around with a group of her friends. Everyone said Paul and Helen had done it, and Josie had helped spread the rumour, pretending to know what it was, and feeling slightly special for the respect her brother’s actions conferred upon her. Helen was wearing a denim jacket, and her massive pile of blonde curls spilled over the top.

      Paul threw the cigarette on the ground and twisted the heel of his trainer on top. ‘Come on,’ he said, taking Josie’s hand.

      She resisted. ‘I don’t want to hang round with you and Helen Smith,’ she said.

      Paul hesitated. He looked at his watch. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Meet me back here at three o’clock. And don’t you dare tell Dad I left you.’

      Josie nodded. ‘Wicked.’

      Paul smiled at her. ‘Be careful. And don’t talk to strangers!’

      Josie was already running off to where she’d seen Kim and Bec, but they’d moved on. She thought about jumping on one of the spinning cups – it was 10p a go – but stopped herself. She should check everything out first, and spend her money wisely.

      She wandered slowly through the crowds, passing a load of stalls where you could shoot airguns, or throw tennis balls at coconuts, or fish for prizes with plastic rods. There were kids screaming on the dodgems, smashing into each other. In front of the haunted house, a bored man with grey skin and fake blood painted on the side of his face was taking money from the people queuing. Right in the centre of the field was the big top, a massive red-and-white striped tent with flags across two towers and long ropes fixing it to the ground. Josie made her way over to it. A clown on stilts tottered past.

      There were barriers set up outside the big top for queuing, but the gate was closed across the front. A sign outside read ‘Magic and Mayhem’, and there were shows every three hours, but the next one wasn’t until half two. Josie had heard there was a dog that rode a horse, fire-breathing men, and someone who juggled chainsaws. Apparently, on the opening night, Tom Banks from fourth year had volunteered to be cut in two, even though there was a rumour that someone had died in another town and the circus had covered it up.

      As she walked away from the tent, Josie saw a football stall. That was more like it. She hurried over, hand already searching for her money. You had to stand behind a line and chip the ball through different-sized holes at the far end. The lower ones were big, but the top one was barely larger than the ball itself. Teddy bears and sweets hung on the walls either side, ready to be won. One other boy was playing already. Josie thought he was probably about eight too, maybe a bit younger, and he wore a bright red Liverpool shirt from the new season. She’d asked for one like it for Christmas, much to her brother’s teasing. He said they lived nowhere near Liverpool and she was just a glory supporter like the rest of them. He didn’t care that she could name the entire squad, plus their numbers. In the end, it didn’t matter anyway. Her parents had bought her a Man U shirt by accident. Of course, she’d never worn it.

      Josie watched as the boy kicked the ball. It bounced off the rim of the top hole.

      ‘Bad luck, lad,’ said the man running the stall. He had a funny little beard on the tip of his chin, and a crooked nose. ‘You want another go?’

      The boy shook his head. His ginger hair was cut short and he had lots of freckles. His chin was plump, with a cleft down the centre. He looked like he was ready to cry.

      ‘How much?’ said Josie.

      ‘Hello sweetheart,’ said the man, smiling and showing off a gold tooth. ‘Five pence gets you two balls, ten pence gets you five.’

      Josie handed over her 50p. ‘I’ll have five, please.’

      The man dropped her money into his apron and gave her four ten-pence pieces in return. Then he fetched the ball.

      ‘There you go, sweetheart.’

      Josie placed the ball carefully and took a few steps back. The boy had stayed, and was staring intently.

      Her first chip bounced off the board, not even close, and she tried not to let her disappointment show. From the corner of her eye, she saw the stallholder fold his arms. He didn’t think she could do it – probably because she was a girl. The freckly kid was the same, most likely. She wished he’d get lost.

       I’ll show them …

      Her second shot was even worse, and nearly went over the top. The man tossed the ball back to her.

      ‘Take your time,’ he said.

      Josie knew he was being patronising, so she kicked the ball deliberately quickly. It nearly went through the middle hole! She threw the stallholder a glance to see if he was impressed. He was smiling at her.

      ‘You can do it,’ said the red-headed boy in a small, hopeful voice.

      ‘I know I can,’ she said, and he blushed more than she’d ever seen a person blush before. It was like a switch being flicked that changed the colour of his face completely. For her next shot, she did take it slowly, sucking in a deep breath before she kicked the ball. It arced straight up and dropped through the top ring, barely touching the sides.

      ‘Yes!’ she said, pumping her fist.

      The stallholder was already fetching down one of the huge teddy bears from the top rail of prizes. ‘You could be a pro, I reckon,’ he said. ‘There you go – pretty teddy for a pretty girl.’

      Josie didn’t like the way he said it, or the look on his face.

      ‘I’m with my brother,’ she said, adding, ‘He’s fifteen.’

      She clutched her prize. The stuffed toy was almost as big as she was, and though she was much too old for teddies, that wasn’t the point. She started to walk away.

      ‘Wait up, lass – you’ve got another go.’

      Josie turned back. The stallholder was holding out the ball to her. The ginger boy was hanging back.

      ‘Let him have it,’ she said.

      ‘Thanks!’ called the boy, reddening once more, then eagerly taking the ball.

      Josie stayed and watched as he kicked and missed.

      ‘Tell you what,’ said the stallholder, ‘have a prize anyway.’ He took a lollipop from a jar and handed it over. Josie thought that was very kind.

      Turning away, she spotted Kim and Bec queuing at an ice-cream van and ran over to join them.

      They spent the next hour together. Kim got a Feast, but Bec and Josie went for crushed ice drinks – blue ones, that made their tongues change colour. They tried out the swingboat, throwing their arms in the air as the wind blasted through their hair. Then they went on a bouncy castle, until some bigger boys started being too rough. After a go on the dodgems, and some strawberry sherbets, Josie was down to her last 5p, and there was still an hour before she had to meet her brother again. She wondered if he might give her some more money – even 10p. Paul had a Saturday job helping at a barbers in town and that got him three quid a time. Their

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