The Clown in the Tree

Best Friends

We walked back down the dark, empty hallway and out of the community center. A place looks different when you leave it early too—wide, silent space for your lonely ghost-impressions...The clown walked slowly with his head hanging forward like it was much too heavy for his neck.

"Maybe we can go a little faster," I suggested to him gently. "And don't worry. We'll never make you go to class with us again. You can just stay home alone at our house."

"Yeah and you don't have to come to church with us either!" Gino added. Gino didn't like church, mostly because Mom made him wear a clip-on tie.

We turned onto the main road, toward the bus stop. "You'll like our house," I told the clown, trying to sound extra happy. "It's cozy and our mom's really nice. Except when she gets a migraine, but that's not her fault."

The clown started walking faster. "You can stay in my room," I said, skipping alongside him. "You can borrow my books, my globe, my tambourine—"

"He's a boy, Fiona!" Gino yelled as he ran to keep up with us. "You can stay in my room!" he said to the clown.

"It doesn't matter if he's a boy!" I yelled back. "He's a clown!"

Gino gestured wildly up at the clown as he ran. "I have a lunchbox with a hundred crayons, and a monster that turns into a dragon but it's clay, and a bird-bot—like a bird-robot— and this little cow that when you wind it up—"

"I have six bottles of glitter!" I yelled over Gino. "And a sleeping bag so I can sleep on the floor and you can sleep in my bed!"

"No I can sleep on the floor and he can sleep in my bed!"

"You don't have a sleeping bag, Gino!"

"No fair!" Gino came to a short stop and stood on the sidewalk with his arms folded. His chest heaved. He looked like he was about to cry.

The clown had gotten several feet ahead of us by now but was quick to turn around and come back. His face looked tired and droopy. He looked down at Gino, then over at me, then up at the sky. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. When he exhaled, giant bubbles flew out from all around him—so many, they covered him up. Gino and I immediately forgot about our fight and started playing in the bubbles.

When the last bubble burst, we each took one of the clown's hands and tried to pull him along, but he wouldn't budge. Then his shoulders shook and his mouth trembled. Though he never made a sound, he began to sob. Pain flowed off him in pale waves of light. We each put an arm around him and rested our heads against him.

"We're sorry," I said. "You can have both of our rooms. We'll just take turns. We promise not to fight."

I looked at Gino, and he agreed.

"You're our best friend," I said.

"Yeah," Gino whispered. "Our best friend we ever had."

The clown came around to face us. He'd formed his lips, once again, into a purple heart-shaped smile. His face was slowly brightening, his colors iridescent, like the sky after a tropical storm.

He placed a hand on his chest and opened his mouth like he was about to speak, when suddenly, he saw something behind us.

His eyes became huge as he moved past us, slowly, carefully, on tiptoe—

I turned around and tried to look where he was looking, but all I could see was the sky, the pavement, the palm trees, the cars...

But then I saw it.