Ten Thumb Sam (4 page)

“You made it!” said Sam's mother. “Welcome!”

“Oh dear,” said Sam's Aunt Mabel. “I do hope we aren't interrupting anything.”

“Of course not, Mabel,” Irene said graciously. “We were just celebrating Sam's birthday. There's enough cake here for everyone.” Irene turned to face the rest of the Triple Top performers. “You remember I was telling you about my brother and his family?”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Mr. Pigatto.

“Albert Horatio Goldfinger at your service.” Albert gave a little bow. “And this is my wife, Mabel,” he said, “and my sons, Herbert and Robert.” Two tall, skinny, freckled boys with buzz cuts stepped forward. Sam barely recognized his redheaded cousins. They'd been about ten years old the last time he'd seen them. Now they were thirteen or fourteen.

“Call me Herbie,” said the first, holding up his hand.

“Robbie,” said the second.

“This is my oldest daughter, Mary Ann,” Albert continued as a bored-looking teenager with curly red hair nodded vaguely in the group's direction. She hadn't changed as much as her brothers.

“And my youngest daughter, Harriet,” Albert finished. Harriet nodded and smiled. She was Sam's age. She had freckles, like her brothers, but her hair was straight and brown rather than red. A magpie perched on her left shoulder.

“What's going on?” Sam whispered to his brother Andrew. “What are they doing here?”

“Shhh,” said Andrew. “Mom's about to explain.”

Irene cleared her throat. “As many of you know, my brother's family would ordinarily be touring the Maritimes right now with the Leaping Lizard Circus.”

“It's a long and tragic story,” Albert interrupted, “but our circus has fallen on hard times. We were all given our walking papers two weeks ago. The Lizard,” he looked down at his shoes and shook his head sadly, “is no more.”

There was a collective gasp, and then everyone started to talk at once. Mr. Poponopolis said something in Greek, while the Fritzi sisters and the Zuccatos slipped back into their native Italian.

“NOT the Leaping Lizard,” Mr. Pigatto said, speaking for all of them. “The Leaping Lizard is a Canadian institution!”

Albert nodded. “Alas, it
was
. It would have celebrated its seventy-fifth anniversary this September.”

“Oh, you poor dears,” said Mrs. Pigatto as she patted Mabel's trembling hands. “Whatever are you going to do?”

“Until they get back on their feet, they're going to travel with us,” said Irene. “After all, what's one more bus in our convoy?”

Albert cleared his throat. “Actually, I'm afraid we've had a bit of bad luck in that department as well. I had a few debts of my own. I couldn't cover them when the circus went bankrupt, so our bus was seized.”

“Goodness,” said Mrs. Pigatto, clutching her generous chest. “However did you get here?”

“We had just enough money to purchase bus tickets,” said Albert.

“Then you'll have to move in with us for a little while,” said Irene. “Don't you worry, Mabel,” she said to her sister-in-law. “Everything will be fine.”

In the excitement of welcoming the new family to the Triple Top, everyone had forgotten Sam and his birthday. Sam watched as his brothers and sisters followed the Goldfingers outside to help them gather up their belongings.

“They're all staying with us?” he asked his father. “In our bus?”

Max shrugged his shoulders. “Looks like it.”

“But how are they all going to fit?”

“I'm not exactly sure,” said Max. “The bus is small enough with eight of us crammed in.”

“We'll make it work, Max,” Sam's mother said as she came up beside them. “Albert and Mabel can have our sleeping compartment, and you and I can sleep on the kitchen benches. Elizabeth and Louise can squeeze in together to free up a bunk for Mary Ann, and Harriet can bunk with Annabel. That leaves Herbie and Robbie. They can sleep in Sam's bunk.”

“What about me?” said Sam.

“You'll have to sleep on the floor for now.”

“But why can't some of them sleep on the other buses?” Sam asked. “Why do they all have to crowd in with us?”

Irene sighed. “They've been through enough already without being separated as well. Besides, these are your cousins we're talking about. They're family. It's our responsibility to make room for them.”

“Is that a
cat
Mary Ann's got in that crate?” Sam's father said as the Goldfingers re-entered the big top.

“They have two cats, if I remember correctly,” said Irene. “Siamese. And a chameleon and a magpie.”

“Do we have to share our bus with the animals too?” asked Sam.

Max looked over at his wife, one eyebrow raised.

“No, we're not going to share the bus with the animals,” Irene said. “And please try to remember— both of you—this is only temporary.”

“There's only one way to do this,” Sam's mother announced as ten cranky kids stumbled out of the back sleeping area looking for breakfast the next morning. “Some of you will have to eat outside. How about boys outside today, girls outside tomorrow?”

The boys grumbled as they received their bowls of porridge and made their way outside to the picnic table next to the bus. The girls didn't sound much happier inside. Through an open window, Sam heard his sisters complain about the cramped sleeping arrangements, while Mary Ann expressed her displeasure at being forced to eat porridge for breakfast.

“Hey, watch it!” Sam said angrily as Martin bumped against him. “You made me spill half my oatmeal!”

Martin shrugged. “It's not my fault your shoulder was in the way of my elbow. Watch where you sit next time.”

Sam was still in a bad mood later that morning when he passed his cousin, Harriet, seated in the shade of one of the trailers. He was going to keep walking, but she lowered the book she was reading and called out to him.

“Hey,” she said. “Why aren't you getting ready for this afternoon's show like everyone else?”

Sam scowled. “I suppose they told you everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh c'mon! The rabbit, the doves, the way the stupid audience laughed!”

Harriet looked blank. “I don't know what you're talking about. No one's said anything to me about anything.”

Sam stared at his cousin suspiciously for a moment. “Seriously?”

“I swear.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Sam said as he sat down. “So what's with the bird?” he asked, pointing to the magpie on Harriet's shoulder. “Is he part of your act?”

“Loki? No, he's just a pet. I found him when he was a baby. His nest fell out of a tree near where our circus was set up, and I rescued him. I don't have an act.”

“Really?” said Sam. “I thought I was the only circus kid without any talent.”

“I have talent,” said Harriet. “I'm good at lots of things. I've been reading since I was three, and I play chess online whenever I can get an Internet connection. No one in my family will play with me anymore. They're tired of getting slaughtered.”

Sam shook his head. “Not that kind of talent— I mean like juggling, or walking the tightrope. That's what counts in a circus. C'mon, you must feel left out sometimes.”

Harriet shrugged. “I don't know. Not really. My mother always says that there's more to life than the circus. She never wanted to be a performer herself. She's too shy. But she was born into a circus family, and then she married my dad and became his assistant in his magic act. So she's kind of stuck.”

“I'm the only one who feels stuck in my family,” said Sam. “I'd give anything to be with ordinary people for a change.”

The Stringbini bus was in an uproar when Sam walked back at lunchtime.

“I don't eat animals,” Mary Ann said as she refused
a bologna sandwich that Sam's mother was trying to give her.

“If she doesn't have to, then I don't either,” said Louise, crossing her arms.

“I
hate
egg salad,” Annabel pouted.

Herbie and Robbie spoke in unison: “We're allergic to peanut butter.”

“And by the way,” said Robbie, “has anyone seen Oliver?”

“Who's Oliver?” Sam asked.

“Our pet chameleon,” said Herbie. “He's escaped from his terrarium.”

The commotion was too much for Aunt Mabel. She looked as if she was about to cry.

Sam's mother took control. “Okay, listen up everybody,” said Irene. “The bologna sandwiches go to the boys. Annabel and Mary Ann, you can have peanut butter and jam. Louise and Elizabeth, take the egg salad sandwiches. And if anyone's still not happy, they can wait until the bus clears out and make their own lunch with whatever's left. Good luck to you.”

While the two mothers were doing their best to get lunch under control in the kitchen, Sam could hear his father having an intense discussion with his uncle at the front of the bus.

“It's really not necessary,” Sam heard his father say.

“But I insist,” replied Albert. “We intend to pay our own way.”

“But you've only just arrived,” said Max. “You need time to rest!”

“Nonsense,” said Albert. “We're all perfectly rested, thanks to your hospitality.”

“Well then, at least give yourselves time to see how we do things, if nothing else,” Max argued. “Then we'll figure out how to introduce your acts into the Triple Top show.”

“It's simple,” said Albert. “We'll perform our acts in the order you do them, one after another: Triple Top, Goldfingers, Triple Top, Goldfingers. We'll start at tomorrow's matinee.”

“But Albert,” said Max, “why would we want two magic acts, one after another?”

“We'll be giving the audience good value—twice the show for the same price!”

Max's voice began to rise. “But we'd be out there all day and all night if we did that!”

“Not at all,” said Sam's uncle. “We'll shave a little time off our acts, and you can shave a little time off yours. It will be fabulous!”

The discussion continued, but Sam had had enough of the noise and confusion. He grabbed his bologna sandwich and a handful of carrot sticks and headed back outside.