Page 9 of House of Clowns

"Yeah," I said, eyeing the kid.

"Good." Rocco gave the boy a nudge in my direction. "I need you to take him home. I owe his brother a favor."

He staggered a little, his eyes wide, looking up at me, clutching his notebook as if it were the only anchor to reality.

I exhaled hard and turned back toward the woods. "Alright," I said, pushing off the wall. "Let's go."

I approached the kid and, with an open hand, delicately took hold of his jacket collar, drawing him toward me and pushing him forward with a nudge. "Hasta la vista," I tittered over my shoulder to the others, a grin spreading across my face.

The child trotted to keep up as we crossed the field and headed toward the trees. His legs were short and striving, unable to keep pace with me. In a little while, I turned back, seeing the gap between us was growing.

"You keeping up?" I asked, slowing just enough to let him catch up.

"Y-yeah," he muttered, head down, eyes fixed on the ground. "It's just… you kind of scare me."

I burst out laughing, striding to a stop. "Kid, I'm the least intimidating person in this place." To prove it, I squatted, brushing my hair back to reveal a sliver of my face, free from the smears of paint and grime. "See? Just a regular guy under all this."

"I know," he whispered, a little smile tugging at his lips. "It's still… kinda scary."

I straightened and laid a hand on the back of his head, pushing him farther down. "Good. Scary's not always bad."

He looked up at me, his eyes brimming with innocent curiosity. "What is your name?"

"Rio," I said, glancing at his oversized jacket. It hung on him like a borrowed coat, two sizes too big. "What's yours?"

"Carlo." He stirred, his pinkies tracing the edges of the worn notebook in his hands. Gaze down but cutting through the silence between us, his words cut into my thoughts.

"Do you have... a favorite person?"

I stopped and shook my head, a smile playing on my lips. "You?"

His voice gentled, a tenderness seeping in. "My sister," he said almost reverentially. "She is my favorite person."

I nodded, waiting as he seemed to search for more words.

"She takes care of me," he said—only his tone was even, laced with something more. "When everything'sbad, she always manages to make it feelgoodfor me."

"Is it always bad?" I asked, the question slipping out before I'd fully considered it.

"Not always," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes shone bright, staring down at the notebook as though it held secrets he couldn't share. "But when it is... it can be scary."

"And where's she now?" I asked, nodding toward the notebook he clutched so tightly. "Is that hers?"

He swallowed, eyes dropping to the ground, voice trailing off. "Home. She's home… with Dad."

I clenched my jaw and turned out towards the dim lights of the town that twinkled down below us at the bottom of the hill as we walked.

"I like you, Rio," he said finally, the first to break the silence. "You're a smart clown."

I stopped and raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, glad to know I'm not a dumb one."

Carlo chuckled, easing his notebook under his arm. "My dad says all clowns are."

"Clowns aren't stupid," I said irritably and rolled my eyes. "Sounds like your dad might be, though."

He laughed, shaking his head. "I can't wait to see his face when you show up at our door."

I couldn't help but grin. "Me and you both, kid." I felt the paint crack around the corners of my mouth as I smiled, little flakes of color crumbling away.

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