Fortune by Erica Spindler Read Free Book Online

to wear his farm-boy work boots. He looked like a total nerd.
    Chance stiffened, straightening his shoulders. Not for long, he vowed silently. He was going places; he was going to be somebody important. Someday, girls like those would look at him and wish, pray even, that he would look back.
    Up ahead he saw the little top, as the woman had called it. Actually, there were several tents of varying sizes at the end of the runway. Chance decided to try the one dead center first. It was empty save for a man sweeping trash from ringside. Chance hesitated a moment, eyeing the burly man. It seemed doubtful that this was the carnival’s owner, but he might know where Abner Marvel was.
    Chance moved farther into the tent. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I’m—”
    â€œThe next show’s not for an hour,” the man said, not glancing up. “Come back then.”
    â€œI’m not here to see the show.” Chance swaggered toward the man. “I’m looking for the boss.”
    â€œThat so? The boss?” Chance earned a glance. The man’s face could only be described as battered. It looked as if his head had once played ball to someone’s bat and the exchange had left his entire face pushed in.
    â€œThat’s right. You know where I might find him?”
    The man swept his gaze over him, head to foot, real leisurely-like. He was built like a gorilla, thick and strong, and he was looking at Chance as if he might want to flatten him. No doubt it had been his pleasure to have flattened many punks in his day.
    â€œYou already did,” he said.
    â€œYou’re Abner Marvel?”
    At the obvious disbelief in his tone, the man’s mouth twitched. “None other. And who are you?”
    â€œChance McCord.” Chance held out his hand, but the man ignored it, going back to his sweeping.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, Chance McCord?”
    â€œI’m looking for a job.”
    â€œFigured as much. What kind of job you looking for?”
    â€œAny kind.”
    â€œFigured that, too.” The man eyed Chance again, sizing him up once more, his expression openly doubtful. He arched his eyebrows. “You eighteen?”
    â€œJust last month,” Chance lied. He would turn eighteen in October.
    â€œFunny, I’d have guessed you to be younger than that.”
    Chance squared his shoulders and stuck out his jaw. “Well, I’m not. And I’m a hard worker.”
    â€œYour parents know you’re here? They know you’re wantin’ to run off and join the carnival?”
    â€œI don’t have any parents.” Chance cocked up his chin. “I’ve been living with my aunt.”
    The man cleared his throat, turned his head, spit out a wad of phlegm, then looked at Chance once more. “She know?”
    â€œShe doesn’t have to. I’m eighteen.”
    â€œSo you said.” Mr. Marvel shook his head. “What makes you think you can handle a job with my show? The boys here have been around. They play pretty rough.”
    â€œSo do I. I’ve been around.”
    â€œRight.” He spit again, this time with flourish. “You Amish?” He pronounced the word with a short A.
    â€œMy aunt is. I’m not.”
    â€œAnd I take it you don’t have any carnival experience?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    The man shook his head again. “Look, kid, I’ve seen a whole lotta shit during my years on the circuit. A whole lotta ugly shit. Been in the business as long as I can remember, my old man was a showman, his old man before him. I got this place from them. It’s in my blood. But if it wasn’t, I’d be outta here.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”
    He looked Chance in the eye. “There’re lots of other things a boy like you can do with your life. Go do one of ’em. Go home. Go back to the farm. I don’t need any help.”
    â€œI need a job.” Chance