King of the Mutants (2 page)

“Ohhhhh-argh-ahhhh,” came the groan again, this time even louder.

My dog raised his ears in alarm, scampered between my legs, and trembled against my knees so violently my own teeth began to chatter. Then, the gangly, three-legged beast lost his balance and tipped over.

“Please help me—” squeaked a high-pitched boy’s voice. Which really flipped Snaggletooth out. The useless mutt ran as fast as a three-legged dog could and hid in a corner behind a pile of sawdust.

I stood in angry silence and flicked quarter-sized flies away, my patience worn thin. “Whoever you are, you better get your lame butt out here now,” I snarled between clenched teeth.

“I c-c-can’t,” said the voice.

“Why? What’s your problem?”

“Well, for one thing,” he said, wheezing. “I can tell by your tone that you’re ticked off. You may want to go all medieval on me and beat me up.”

He had a point.

“And the other?” I asked.

“I’m stuck under something massive, I’m having trouble breathing, and I think my ribs are breaking.”

Bobo chose that exact moment to go ballistic and shake his cage with manic force.

“W-w-what’s going on out there?” the boy whimpered.

“Uh, yeah, about that…” I said, glaring into the eyes of the crazed, cross-eyed bear. Although he stood over seven feet tall, and his four-inch long claws could rip your throat open in one quick swoop, my fear of the grizzly passed a long time ago. We sort of had this unspoken agreement. I gave him berries. He wouldn’t gouge my eyes out. Plus, “the bumbling-bear-of-a-ballerina” looked ridiculous in the pink tutu and rhinestone-encrusted tiara he always wore.

“In order to get by the grizzly, I have to calm him down,” I explained. “By the way, I’m Maverick. What’s your name?”

“Freddie. Freddie Finch,” he said. “Did you say grizzly?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s harmless unless he hasn’t had his medication or if he’s really irritated.” I handed Bobo a bushel of strawberries through the feeding hatch. “He’s just spazzing out a little now. He’ll be fine in a second.”

Freddie didn’t respond.

“Freddie? Can you hear me?” I asked. “Freddie?”

The pain-in-the-butt perpetrator didn’t utter a sound. My heart jack-hammered against my ribs like swift punches. If something happened to this kid, the blame would be directed at me like a heat-guided missile. Facing Burt’s fiery wrath was the last thing I needed on this scorcher of a day. In an instant, I got down onto all fours. My hands slid across Bobo’s regurgitated strawberry mush and I inched my way in between the side of the tent, into the gap between the canvas and the enclosure. That’s when I saw a tuft of blond, fluffy hair covered in red ooze.

A sickening pit of dread grew in my stomach.

There was too much blood. I was too late and this Freddie kid’s death now weighed down upon my shoulders. Paralyzed with fear, I closed my eyes and did the only thing that came to mind.

“Dear God,” I said. “Please don’t let this chicken-haired kid die. He seems all right, just a little stupid. I guess you did what you could to save him from becoming a First of May at Grumbling’s. But what were you thinking? Why did I have to discover him? I have enough—”

“Nice prayer,” huffed Freddie.

Startled, I bashed my shoulder on a tent pole.

“Sorry, I must have passed out for a second,” he said. “And I totally spaced on your name.”

“I’m Maverick,” I answered, wondering where his body was. Maybe he was a freak like me—like one of the famous ones that didn’t have all their parts? Maybe he was like Johnny Eck, who was born without legs, or Prince Randian, who only had a torso and a head. My imagination was spinning out of control, but I managed to snapback into reality. “Um, Freddie, you can call me Mav, or Maverick. Whatever.”

Freddie’s voice shook when he spoke. “Maverick, I’m not feeling so hot. I’m in a lot of pain and it’s just getting worse. It feels like an elephant is sitting on top of me and something really stinks…bad.”

That didn’t make any sense. All three of our nearly catatonic elephants were shackled to the ground in chains. That was when everything clicked. He wasn’t bleeding; it was just Bobo’s berry spit. And this kid wasn’t even in the animal tent, only his head was. Which meant the rest of his body was either a) outside, under something like a car or b) under something much scarier. If it was b, Freddie’s situation could be deadly. I had to figure out something quick, or else this fluffy chicken-haired kid could be flattened into a pancake.

“Hold on, Freddie, keep breathing. Sit tight, I’ll get you out of this,” I said, trying to sound confident. But if I was being honest, I panicked more with each passing second.

HOW TO BRIBE THE FAT LADY

I dashed out of the menagerie to find a crowd of angry townies blocking my path. They marched up and down the midway carrying large painted signs nailed to wooden slats. Apparently, they wanted Grumbling’s Circus out of their town—a nicer way to say what the signs actually said. I couldn’t blame them. Our lot smelled like one giant porta-potty.

“Hey, Rube!” came the customary battle cry to alert us circus folk a fight was about to break out.

Fights were the daily special at Grumbling’s and the townies wouldn’t stand a chance. I had to get my tail out of there before things really got ugly. Our midgets fought dirty.

I bolted down the midway, past the lame water-gun balloon game; past the stands of watered down lemonade, cotton candy, peanuts, and balloons-on-a-stick; past the small tent where sideshow attractions (like me) performed; past the creepy fortune-teller’s booth; past the stables; and past the pony rides (not ponies, but biting donkeys).

Out of breath, when I got to the other side of the menagerie, my most horrible fears were confirmed. I couldn’t find the rest of Freddie’s body anywhere. Instead, I found another tent. The name on this particular private pavilion was Peaches Supreme. But she was no peach. Far from it.

Imagine, a woman as big as a Mack truck, uglier than a toadfish, and meaner than a gang of vicious pit bulls. Add the extra-long chin hairs she coated with black mascara on her ten or so double chins, and the fact she always smelled like spoiled milk, then you’d have our fatter-than-fat-lady.

Yep, Peaches Supreme was the pits.

It became very clear to me Freddie was stuck in Peaches’ tent. Under what? I didn’t know, but I was going to find out. I pulled the tattered canvas curtain to the side and looked around. Somebody had actually used her old peach-polka-dotted dresses to patch up the rips in the ceiling. Candy wrappings and cigarette ashes littered the floor. Finally, through the piles of empty chocolate boxes I noticed Freddie’s bare feet sticking out from under her creaking bed, twitching ever so slightly.

It was no wonder why Freddie thought an elephant had been sitting on him. Peaches was napping on her bed! It sunk lower every second, moaning and groaning every time she shifted her weight. I could only imagine how Freddie must be feeling. Poor kid! He really needed get out of this predicament fast.

But I couldn’t turn away.

I stood stunned.

I wondered how many pieces of cheese were hidden under those massive folds of flabby skin? How many mice had died trying to seek out her crumbs? How much grime was in her belly button? I didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to guess. I closed the makeshift canvas door and backed away in slow motion. Then I ran so fast my lungs caught on fire.

On the midway, the circus guys were still busy pounding the townies into oblivion. A few of the unlucky rubes tried to crawl away through piles of popcorn and peanuts, but our evil clowns wouldn’t let that happen. Oh no, the zanies dragged them right back into the fight by their ankles.

Somehow, I was able to weave in and out of the flying fists, jump over piles of garbage, and make it through the madness without a single bruise. Once back in the menagerie, I checked to make sure no one else lurked around. Besides Snaggletooth, the coast was clear. “Freddie, first things first. Who the heck are you?” I yelled, needing to clear some things up. Believe it or not, the mean mammoth-sized woman had tons of admirers—including Grumbling himself. “Are you one of Peaches’ boyfriends? Did Burt catch you in her tent?”

“Huh? I don’t know anybody named Peaches or Burt! I’m running away from home. I mean, I was running. Obviously, I’m not now,” he said. “I, uh, hmmm, wanted to join the circus, but the process of becoming a stowaway is kind of new for me.”

Freddie couldn’t see the sneer I had on my face. “You think circus life is glamorous? Trust me, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be, kid.”

“Anything is better than what I’ve been dealing with,” he said.

I rubbed my arm where Burt had hit me earlier. A large purplish welt had already formed—one of many I’d received over the years. “I wouldn’t wish this place on my worst enemy. Why’d you pick Grumbling’s of all places?”

“My foster family was driving down to Miami from New York on the government’s dime. We passed by your circus and I remembered my buddy, Ashby Vanderholt, mentioning it. So while we were pulled over at a gas station, I saw my window of opportunity and I took it.” He gulped. “I couldn’t take their abuse anymore.”

Even though I didn’t know him, I wanted to help the kid out, because if he thought Grumbling’s was his only escape, his life must have been truly horrific. And if we’re really being honest, he kind of gave me that one shred of hope I desperately needed. Maybe, just maybe, this kid could help me run away? If this whiney chicken-haired kid could do it, so could I.

By the sounds Peaches’ sinking bed made through the canvas wall, the time to set everything into motion was now. Either that, or we’d have to scrape Freddie off the floor using a spatula.

I made up my mind.

“Look, I may have an idea of how I can save you,” I said. “But you’re gonna have to follow my directions word for word, or else, you and I will both be lion chum. And you’ve got to keep it down.”

I told Freddie my strategy. Having no other choice, he agreed to do as instructed.

Since nobody wanted the freak of nature as a roommate, I guess you could call me an “exotic” too, considering I bunked up with the animals. Not exactly the most posh of accommodations, but it suited me just fine. Rushing to my enclosure by the elephants, I grabbed what I needed to execute my masterful plan.

Over the past four or so years, I’d saved up twenty dollars a week of my pathetic wages. So I must have had at least five g’s. I figured I could spend a tenner on Freddie because the only way to get Peaches off her bed was to bribe her with food or beer. I wasn’t twenty-one so I couldn’t buy booze, but as luck would have it, there was a Krispy Kreme around the corner from our encampment. That I could handle.

Before I left the menagerie, I reminded Freddie of the most crucial part of the plan. “Freddie, once you’re out from under the bed, I need you to crawl in between the two tents behind Bobo’s cage. My dog, Snaggletooth, will keep you company.”

Freddie grunted in understanding, I threw on my John Lennon-style shades, hung a right, and bolted to the one place that could possibly save Freddie’s life.

When I opened the door to the donut shop, a nice cold slap of air hit me. The sweet smell of sugar permeated the place and I sighed happily, much louder than I’d intended. The townies at the counter turned to face me.

“Hey, kid,” said a large man sporting a red beard, a blond mullet, and an upturned nose. He resembled a steroid-injected, wig-wearing pig. “Why you all dressed up for Halloween in July? You a punk rocker?”

“Probably not dressed up,” said another, pointing at one of Burt’s hand-drawn posters in the window. “Probably one of those damn circus freaks. Can’t wait for that lot to leave town. It just ain’t right.”

“It just ain’t natural,” interrupted a little old lady—just the kind that always had to get her two cents in. “The Devil’s spawn in our donut shop? This is atrocious. Absolutely atrocious.”

Reactions like these I could handle. I just needed to take a chill pill, breathe deeply, and not get all riled up. I knew from experience that the best thing to do in these kinds of situations was not to do or to say anything. So I gritted my teeth and walked up to the counter, straight up to the blue-haired lady running the joint. Her nametag said Flo. She wore pointy pink rhinestone glasses, green polyester stretch pants, and a bright orange, leopard print halter-top. She looked like she had been touring a crayon factory when it exploded.

She eyed me up and down warily, her ruby red lips pressed together in a thin line.

“One dozen glazed, please,” I said, my voice dripping with politeness.

Flo grunted, filled a box, and handed it over. I paid for my purchase and turned to leave, but Red Beard just had to get his last dig in.

“Nature played a cruel joke on you, boy. You lived,” he said. “When I see your kind coming, I wish I had me a hunting license.”

Call it the rebellious streak I got whenever I was away from Grumbling’s. Or maybe it was the need to fight for what little pride I had, but this time, I just couldn’t let it go. This time, he’d made things personal.

“Oh yeah, and what kind am I?” I asked. I stuck my tongue out as far as it would go and shook my head like a mad man, spit flying everywhere. I even put in a few hoogidy-oogidy sounds for good measure.

Red Beard shook in his work boots. Old Blue Hair fainted, and the other customers just stared at me, mouths open wide.

Guess they’d never seen a boy with serrated teeth go mental before.

“That’s what I thought,” I hissed, deciding not to go overboard with my performance. In the past, when I’d gotten a little overly excited, a few people had ended up in the hospital. Not because I’d beat them up or anything like that. No, they’d had heart attacks. I wasn’t in the mood to be questioned by the police again.

Before I slammed the door behind me, a woman gasped, “Oh, save me, Jesus! He’s got a tail! He must be from another planet!”

HOW TO AVOID BECOMING A HUMAN PIÑATA

Look, there are two things that I know. You can’t choose your parents and you can’t choose the features that you’re born with. Once regular people, all the norms out there, take in my traits, they completely flip out.