A Tale of Two Carnies

3 - On The Run

When Mom passed, her doctors assured me her being in prison had nothing to do with her dying. She had cancer long before going to prison, and it was typical how symptoms didn't manifest until later.

I was consumed with guilt. If we had told the truth, Mom could've spent her last months on Earth free and breathing fresh air.

Her death broke me. The Rhineholds did all they could to be supportive, but no way would I stay with them four more years until I turned eighteen. I knew I had to leave St. Michaels if I were to stay sane.

Other kids in their care tried running away. All of them were either caught or returned on their own when the going got tough. I knew my plan to leave would have to include some way of taking care of myself so I wouldn't starve. I knew I'd need a job, but who was going to hire a fourteen-year-old runaway?

The answer came when Mr. Rhinehold asked me to ride my bike to the post office to buy a book of postage stamps. While there, I noticed a colorful handbill tacked to the bulletin board. The St. Michaels volunteer fire company advertised their annual carnival and fund raiser. The bottom of the handbill listed Marcus Green's Traveling Amusements as the carnival name.

I keyed in on the word: Traveling.

My plan was to run away during the final night of the carnival. I'd find someplace to hide among the carnival troupe. They would pull out of St. Michaels the next morning. With a carnival constantly being on the move, it would be difficult for social services to find me.

I had no idea how I could go about joining Marcus Green's Traveling Amusements. I figured a fourteen-year-old couldn't just show up and ask for a job, so I needed a plan.

After dinner on Saturday evening, the last day of the carnival, I asked the Rhineholds if I could ride one of the family bicycles. They agreed since I had been a good kid, having given them little trouble. My original thought was to ride the bike to the carnival grounds and abandon it there. I left with all my savings, a little over twenty dollars in my pocket, and sneaked out with a small backpack stuffed with a change of clothing, my toothbrush, and a Snickers bar.

My devious teen brain realized how eventually the Rhineholds or the police would come looking for me. If they found the bike at carnival grounds, it would be a giveaway as to what I had done. They could find out the carnival route and track me down.

My plan required some calculated misdirection. I rode the bike to the town bus stop and hid it behind a hedge. Someone would eventually find the bike, and the Rhineholds would assume I skipped town by spending my savings on a bus ticket to Baltimore or Washington D.C., two nearby big cities where a kid like me could disappear.

After ditching the bike, I walked four miles to the carnival grounds located on the other side of town.

Looking back, I realized it had been a terrible thing for me to do to the Rhineholds, vanishing without a trace.

The carnival was in full swing when I arrived. The grounds were crowded, which I'm sure the fire company appreciated since this was their biggest annual fundraiser. I wandered around trying to figure out what to do and gravitated toward the food tent.

The big tent held a half dozen food stands and long rows of picnic tables. The smells mixed into a mouthwatering aroma. Fried onions sizzled on a griddle at the stand selling sausage sandwiches. Beside the sandwiches, the scent of hot pizza from the oven had several customers queued up. The barbecue chicken stand also attracted a crowd. Since I had already eaten dinner, I wasn't too hungry, but the sweet scent of caramel popcorn tempted me.

I felt safe and anonymous. Nobody paid attention to me, just another kid among the crowd.

At the far end of the tent, I noticed a souvenir stand operated by a young pre-teen girl. When I got closer, I realized the girl wasn't selling souvenirs but pencil sketches, really nice ones. Lying on the table were sketches of notable St. Michaels landmarks, the firehouse, the high school, scenes from the waterfront, some of them in black and white and some of them in color. The accuracy and detail of the sketches amazed me. From a distance, they looked like photographs.