The Boy Who Laughs

Chapter 2: Childhood Years

"Jerome! Get out!"

The ringmaster gently nudged the boy out of the sideshow tent, away from his screaming mother. "Come along, Jerome. Let's give your mother some privacy." Jerome stared down at the ground and sniffled, but he allowed the ringmaster to lead him from the tent.

Once they were out of earshot, the ringmaster knelt down and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Come now, boy. You know not to bother your mom when she's preparing for her show. Anyway, you should be in the school trailer." The ringmaster tilted his head down and raised an eyebrow. Jerome looked down, suddenly finding the grass fascinating.

"I know, Mr. O'Donnell." Jerome sniffed ad looked up with wide green eyes. "I just wanted to talk to Sheba."

Brutus O'Donnell closed his eyes and let out a slow, steady breath. The poor kid desperately wanted to please his mom, and while he did have an amazing connection with the snake, Lila would never allow anyone to even have the opportunity to upstage her. Not even her own son. Jerome wanted desperately to please her, and it was a large burden for a five-year-old to carry.

"You know your mom doesn't like you around Sheba." Brutus said sternly. Then he sighed and took a gentler tone. "I know you want to participate in the shows, but your mother doesn't want you to anywhere near her snake routine." Jerome nodded, miserable.

The ringmaster rubbed a hand over his head and groaned. He knew he was going to regret this. "But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask Glenn to start teaching you the basics of knife throwing. He's getting old, we'll need someone to help with the show in a few years anyway."

Jerome's head snapped up and a huge grin split across his face. "Thank you Mr. O'Donnell! I won't let you down!" He ran off, laughing, towards the school trailer.

Brutus stared after him, a heavy weight settling in his stomach. He really hoped he didn't regret this.

Thunk...

Thunk...

Thunk...

Three knives embedded themselves in to the target, each fighting for the spot closest to the center.

"Well done, Jerome. You've improved." Glenn walked over to the target and carefully removed the throwing knives.

"Am I good enough to be in the show yet?" Jerome looked up at Glenn, eyes gleaming and his red hair sticking up all over the place. He was an adorable seven-year-old and the crowds would love him.

"We'll talk to the ringmaster, see what he thinks." Jerome's face lit up and he grinned widely before he ran off with his knives to go practice some more. Glenn smiled after him, before leaving the tent and walking over to the ringmaster's trailer.

He knocked on the door and entered when told to. Brutus was sitting in front of a mirror, applying his stage make-up. "What can I do for you, Glenn?"

Glenn sat down wearily across from Brutus. "Jerome has progressed very well in his knife skills these past two years. He wants to be in the show, and I think I can work him in, but the final decision is up to you."

Brutus sighed and put down his brush, turning his full attention to Glenn. "You know that's not true. We have to talk to Lila."