Vanishing Act ✔️

3

It was an overcast autumn day in mid-October; Saturday October 13th to be exact. Sean was thirteen and, today, of all days, was going to be a good day. He was at the annual North Carolina State Fair and clouds or not the day seemed bright.

Carrie tugged at his arm. "Come on, Sean! I wanna see the show!"

He didn't know to what show she was referring and at that moment he didn't particularly care. Carrie, however, cared a lot. She danced back and forth on the edges of her pink sneakers as she tried to pull Sean forward. There was a loud sucking sound with each ancy shift as her shoes pulled against the suction of the mud.

The rains had begun on Wednesday. Dad said they were bringing a cool front with them, but Sean hadn't noticed. The sun was peaking out from behind the clouds now and it felt warm against his skin. It was a pleasant contrast to the light breeze that danced through his hair.

The rains had been light all day, and had stopped just a few minutes earlier. Carrie had gasped excitedly as she had spotted the mid-day rainbow. In her excitement, she had dropped her Strawberry Shortcake doll into a mud puddle. Having spotted the damage to her prized possession she began to tear up.

That was the last thing Sean had wanted to spoil his day, so he had quickly wiped the mud off the toy, then set about creating a mini show for his sister, dancing with the doll as if she were the fair princess of some Disney cartoon and they were at the grand ball.

Erin Keyes had spotted him, then, swooping Strawberry Shortcake into an exaggerated dip. She had giggled, then left with a gaggle of girls. The popular girls. Watching him dance with a doll. He had shoved the toy back into his sister's arms and stormed off in a pout with her chasing after.

Now he stood in the sunshine, watching a nearby juggler as Carrie shifted from side to side, her shoes sinking in the mud, and begging him to come watch some show of God knows what. She had forgotten the incident with her doll, but Sean was not so quick to forget.

"Hold your horses."

Carrie furrowed her tiny brow, crossed her arms and did her best to look intimidating. In her now mud-stained pink shoes, and her purple and pink polka-dotted sundress, with a dirty Strawberry Shortcake doll tucked under one arm, she failed spectacularly.

Still Sean could feel a smile beginning. He fought it back. He was still mad at her. He'd have to see Erin in class on Monday, her and all of her friends. It was embarrassing. Why did he have to be saddled with his little sister? Why couldn't mom and dad have taken her? Why --

"Ow!"

A sudden pain dashed up his ankle.

"You kicked me," he shouted!

A few gawkers turned their heads, but only in passing. There was plenty of distraction at the fair and a spat between brother and sister held little interest for them. Still, Sean didn't like the way they were looking at him, even if only for a moment. They were blaming him.

They always blame the boy.

Sean stared his sister down. She was still locked in a defiant pout.

"I wanna go to the show."

No apology. Nothing. Just that. No, there was no way Sean was giving in now. But he'd have to keep his voice low. No need to attract unwanted attention. Sean didn't want anyone staring at him, casting their blame. He had no reason to feel guilty. Carrie was the one being a brat. She's the one that kicked him, not the other way around.

"Fine. You want to go, go. I'm busy."

Sean turned away from her. He knew she'd wait. Carrie didn't particularly like crowds, not on her own. She would sulk at his side for a moment, then, maybe, if she behaved, Sean would take her to see her show... if it wasn't too lame. He cast her one sideways glance to make sure that she was there – she was – then resumed watching the juggler.

There wasn't anything particularly amazing about him, nothing that made him stand out. He was dressed fairly simply - no brightly striped pants, no gaudy vest, just a dark pair of slacks held up by suspenders, topped by a cornflower blue shirt. Even his act was bland. Three bowling pins juggled in a traditional arc, with an occasional high toss caught behind the back. He didn't even have any knives or torches. Surely, he'd vary it up, do something to amaze.

But no, he went on with his simple routine, occasionally engaging a bystander and trying to induce some crowd participation. This seemed to meet with little success, and the juggler went back to juggling solo. Sean was watching out of pure stubbornness, now, but even he couldn't deny he was bored.

He scanned the nearby stands. There was a small booth with a line about ten people deep, sporting a white and red striped décor, and a large white sign with big red letters. And those big red letters spelled out his favorite thing about the fair: 'Funnel Cakes.' He could already taste the dough and sugar mingling with that juicy strawberry topping. He had been looking forward to it all week, perhaps even for months. He always came to the fair and each summer, as fall drew closer, so did the thought of funnel cakes.

Yes, he and Carrie could take a couple of minutes, grab a funnel cake to share, and then head to Carrie's lame show. Plus, maybe, he was being an ass, not that he'd ever admit it. Carrie was eight and everything at the fair was still new for her – not first time new, but new enough. Of course she wanted to rush off and do things her way. What eight-year-old thinks of anyone but themselves?

Plus, maybe a sugary bribe would keep Carrie from telling mom and dad later about how big brother wouldn't let her see her show. If she got to whining to them they'd surely take her side. They always did.

"Hey Carrie, let's go grab some..."

Sean stopped short.

"Carrie?"

Carrie was gone.