He moved closer for a moment, then stepped back and sat down again.
“Is Oscar your name?” I asked, my voice shaking.
He rolled his eyes. “Maybe.” Then he smiled. “Are you dying to know?”
“I couldn’t care less,” I said, moving beside Carlo, who hadn’t spoken a word since Oscar silenced him.
I looked around the tent. It used to belong to the circus director, Carlos. Now Oscar had taken his place. Not much had changed, yet somehow everything had. New faces everywhere, strangers wearing the old paint. I guessed they needed a change to hide what happened that night.
Rocco arrived only two minutes later.
As he stepped inside, his eyes moved from me to Carlo, then to Oscar. Sweat gathered on his forehead as he walked closer.
“What happened?” Rocco asked.
“The boy stole from us, and you know the rules,” Oscar said. “If fingers take from us, we take fingers from the one who stole.”
I turned to him at once. “That won’t be necessary.”
He laughed. “Then I’ll take Rocco’s.”
“How much do they owe you?” Rocco asked.
“Three hundred, plus emotional damage,” Oscar said, winking at me.
“What if I offer you something in return?” Rocco said. “But we talk in private.”
Oscar stood, circled behind us, and stopped in front of Rocco. Without a word, they both stepped outside to talk.
The moment they were gone, I turned on Carlo.
“What the fuck?” I hissed, getting close to him. “Did you really steal from those clowns? What were you thinking?”
“Boys from school made me do it. We earned five hundred euros from it,” he whispered.
“And where’s the money now, huh? Give it back so we can both go home,” I said, frustration spilling into my voice.
“A friend from school has it. I gave it to him so they wouldn’t catch me with it.”
“Oh, very smart,” I said, grabbing his ear. “What were you thinking?”
He pushed my hand away. “I didn’t,2va bene?”
“No, no,va bene, Carlo. We’re in trouble,“ I said. “Don’t you see that?”
The curtain at the tent’s entrance shifted, and one of the clowns stepped inside, walking toward us.
“You can go,” he said, looking first at Carlo, then at me.
We both stood up, ready to leave, but he caught me by the arm.
“Not you. Just the boy.”
“Why?” I asked, glancing from Carlo to the clown.
“Orders,” the clown said.
“No, Chiara!” Carlo shouted, trying to turn back, but another clown grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him away. “Go home,” the clown barked.
