I’d arrived at the orphanage the previous winter, and had used money for the first time in my life at the funfair. In the beginning, I wasn’t at all sure what to do with it. I’d wandered around aimlessly, watching people. Children happily munched popcorn. Children screamed on the roller coaster. Children ate frankfurters with the intensity of a philosophical conundrum. Children used real coins to try knocking over pins in an attempt to score a ten-pound note.
At last I found the paint booth and went inside.
While selling biscuits, I’d seen people walking around with their faces painted. Soccer balls or colorful fruit, Union Jacks, cute animals and angels covered their cheeks or shoulders. Some people wore full-face makeup like it was Halloween. Like the nail art and costume booths, the face paint got people into the festival mood. I felt like I should do something along those lines. I needed to get used to all this. With that in mind, I went up to the register. A girl with a long-horned goat painted on her cheek smiled at me and asked what I wanted.
Full or half-face paint cost a pretty penny and seemed like a bit much. It was all I could do to ask for the cheapest and smallest. She put a little foundation on my left cheek, the first makeup I’d ever worn. She added a bonus one on my right cheek, then a little blush. Her brush danced, quickly filling out the thing I’d asked for: Agnella, my name, with a brown bull lying on top of it. When she showed me in the mirror, my heart beat wildly. The blood rushed to my face, and it felt like it was on fire. She laughed, saying most people just ask for cats or dogs. But, hey, she had a goat herself.
Then I went and used my first tokens. I remember looking at the ticket collector’s hand and trembling, afraid he’d get suspicious and arrest me. I remember how beautiful the view looked from the—rather small—Ferris wheel. I remember the night sky, our orphanage tiny in the distance.
What should I do this year? Should I take Cathy and Georgie, and all go around together? As I wandered about selling biscuits, I considered.
The sun began setting on the last day of the fair.
I looked up at the Ferris wheel, bright against the darkening sky. I looked around at the target range, the balloon shop, the toffee apple shop, the coffee cup ride, the go-kart track—which the boys would certainly love. A merry-go-round stood in the center of the fair, and people of all ages were riding the horses. The music and lights were so intense that they seemed to force back the night. Families and groups of friends packed the fairgrounds. Smiles flashed all around, and the other orphans were already eager to join the fun.
It was almost time. Our squad leader, Kay—at sixteen, the oldest girl in the orphanage—checked the sales with practiced ease and announced our return to the booth to cries of delight. Once Sister Abigail had checked our numbers, she would officially declare the “Annual Funfair Arkham Homemade Charity Biscuit Fundraising Drive” over. Then, finally, she’d begin handing out the token sheets and ten-pound notes that would allow us to experience two hours of absolute freedom. Our sales for the day hadn’t been bad, and it seemed the other squads were in similar shape. If we’d done well, we’d finish with the sister in a good mood, and when we went back to our normal lives tomorrow there’d be peace for a while. Our feet were light as we headed back to the meeting spot.
But when we arrived at the orphanage’s booth, the mood was ominous. The other groups looked tense and stood in silence, almost like they wanted to blend into the scenery. The children in my squad stopped in their tracks. I alone moved forward because I recognized the crying voice coming from the center.
Georgie knelt on the ground, bawling his eyes out. Sister Abigail and the other nuns stood before him. The group of children with bowed heads had to be his squad. I couldn’t very well pretend this had nothing to do with me and stood nearby.
I saw a familiar face in the group and ran over to her.
“Yolanda!” I cried.
“Oh, Agnella.”
Yolanda held Cathy, who was silently crying. She looked tense.
“What happened?”
“Agnella! Georgie, he…” Cathy said, looking up. She grabbed me and buried her head against my chest. Her little body was warm against mine.
Yolanda shrugged and shook her head. “Georgie tried swiping some of the sales money from the Orphan biscuits to buy some cotton candy.”
“What? But…”
Theft was, of course, absolutely forbidden, and there was no way it was even possible. Each squad calculated their own profits competitively, and the units sold were tracked on a computer only the nuns could use. If we were even one penny under we’d be strictly scolded to the point where nobody wanted to be the one holding the cash.
“Yeah, of course he got caught. But he’s a new boy and didn’t know better, so he got stuck holding the change.”
She jerked her head at the squad behind Georgie.
“The impulse got the better of him. He’s in for three full swings of Julian for sure. Gonna be sleeping on his stomach for a while, and he’s gonna be the only one with no tokens or money tonight.”
“Oh no!”
Georgie was a crybaby. This was the first fair since he’d come to the home, and he’d been excited about it for days, barely able to contain himself. I never thought it would turn out like this.