A Tale of Two Carnies

5 - The Boy in the Chest

From inside the chest, I recognized Cozbi's voice but had trouble understanding what she said. The man she spoke with had a deep, masculine voice. I assumed it was her father. As they continued speaking, I realized I didn't understand because they spoke a foreign language.

The man seemed to be scolding her. I could only imagine it was because of the sketches not being stowed in the chest and the cushion lying on the floor. Any second now they would open the lid and I'd be screwed.

And that's exactly what happened. The lid opened and I was face-to-face with Cozbi who gasped when she saw me.

She didn't scream or act startled. She gently lowered the lid and switched to English, I assumed for my benefit. "Dad, can I stay in the trailer instead of riding with you up front in the truck?"

"No. Is dangerous. You know this." His accent sounded Russian.

"I think I ate too much syrup with my pancakes. I feel sick. It would be better if I was near the trailer's bathroom. It'll also give me a chance to put things away and catch up on my schoolwork."

At the mention of pancakes, I realized how hungry I was since I hadn't eaten anything yet that day.

He responded in a foreign language.

When Cozbi spoke again, her voice took on a pleading tone. "My belly feels bad."

"You want me to get Ma Adams?"

"No, I'll be fine after I lie down."

They exchanged a few more words in that strange language. The door opened and closed.

Cozbi raised the chest lid and held a finger to her lips. "Stay quiet until Dad starts driving."

A few minutes later, I felt motion as the trailer was being pulled away.

I got out of the chest. "Thank you for not snitching on me."

She looked at me without speaking.

I picked up the cushion, placed it atop the box, and sat on it.

Cozbi continued staring at me and took a step back toward the door. The trailer rocked around, and I worried she might lose her balance. "You don't need to be afraid of me. Sit down before you fall."

She sat in a booth behind a table. "What are you doing in my trailer?"

I told her about my morning and how I came to talk to her father about a job but ended up hiding. When done explaining, I asked, "Do you really feel sick?"

She shook her head and said nothing.

"What language was that you were speaking?"

"Romanian."

"Are you Romanian?"

"My dad is."

I waited for more of an explanation, but she stayed quiet.

"You don't talk much."

"And you're nosy and a sneak. I should've told on you."

"I'm glad you didn't." I sighed. "Look, I'm just trying to make conversation."

She cocked her head. "Why?"

"It's what friends do. They talk to each other, and they help each other like when I helped you sell your sketches last night."

She flashed a smile, but only for a moment. Her defensive wall went back up and her expression turned serious. "You want to be my friend?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. Right now, I don't have any friends."