The Bigwoof Conspiracy Page 8

  The slender one (Mr Dum) reached into his baggy blue trousers and pulled out a crowbar.

  What the—

  Mr Dum inserted the crowbar between the shutters and, operating as one, the costumed men yanked with great force until the doors flew open with a deafening CRONCH!

  The Captain hoisted himself through the window while the Dums stood side by side, blocking any avenue of escape, and any view of what was going on inside.

  Lucy heard pots and pans being tossed about, followed by a metallic crash and an oozy splash that she realised, regretfully, was the pot of delicious melted chocolate. After a few moments, the Dums parted and the Clown Captain clambered grouchily through the window, his oversized trousers smeared with chocolate. “There’s nobody in there.”

  The curious crowd dispersed. Lucy stood on tiptoe and peered inside the empty stand. It was true. The banana man was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where did he go?” said Milo. Lucy had never seen him look so angry. “Don’t tell me, was he taken by unicorns?” he sneered. “Abducted by gnomes? Maybe he turned invisible.”

  “What’s your problem?” said Lucy.

  “Weird stuff always seems to happen when you’re around.”

  “How is any of this my fault?” said Lucy, her blood boiling. “This is your dad’s carnival.”

  “Oh, so now this is his fault?” said Milo.

  “I wouldn’t put anything past him. He messed with the picture of Bigwoof and you know it.”

  “Oh, everything’s always about your big dumb hairy monster,” Milo fumed. “Don’t you have anything better to do than obsess about creatures that don’t exist?”

  “I obsess about plenty.” She poked Milo’s chest. “For instance, why is your dad the world’s biggest idiot?”

  “He’s not an idiot,” Milo snapped. “Maybe you’re the idiot.”

  “Oh yeah?” Lucy huffed. “Well, maybe you’re a—”

  “What did you kids say about a big hairy monster?” the Clown Captain cut in.

  Milo and Lucy looked around to see that all three clowns were standing stock-still, staring at them. Aside from their painted-on grins, the men’s faces were expressionless.

  The Captain placed a finger on his wig-obscured ear and spoke into his flower. “Sir? We may have a problem here.”

  “Who is he talking to?” whispered Lucy.

  “I don’t know,” Milo whispered back, “but I’m really starting to hate this banana stand.”

  Two more clowns approached, one with curly red hair and the other with purple hair like Lucy’s. They stood imposingly at either side of the kids.

  Lucy’s fear of clowns had now returned in full force. “Is it just me, or does it seem like they’re not here to make balloon animals?”

  “For once, you might be right.” Milo rubbed the back of his neck. “My, uh, my dad did mention that he hired a professional security force for the festival.”

  “Your dad’s security forces are dressed as clowns?”

  “He didn’t want to scare anybody,” said Milo.

  “Good thinking.” Lucy’s nostrils flared.

  “Two children,” said the Captain. He waited for a response. “Yes, sir. They seem to know something about the…” He glanced at Milo and Lucy before walking to the other side of the banana stand, where he spoke too quietly for them to hear.

  The other four clowns arranged themselves in a circle around the kids.

  “Say something,” Lucy urged Milo. “Tell them who you are and make them back off.”

  “Here’s the thing…” Milo looked at his shoes. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

  “What?”

  “My dad made me promise not to come. ‘The consequences will be dire’,” he said, imitating Fisher’s deep voice.

  Lucy was dumbfounded. “Your dad told you not to come to his own carnival? Why?”

  Milo frowned. “Good question.”

  One by one, the clowns pressed their red noses, emitting slurred honking noises like languorous rubber chickens. The plastic noses lit up, illuminating the clowns’ faces in eerie red light, blinking slowly, out of sync.

  Holy flippin’ mother of creamed corn.

  “I say we run on the count of three,” said Milo. “One…”

  “You kids are going to have to come with us,” ordered the Captain. He marched towards them as the other clowns advanced in concert.

  “Two, three, go!” Lucy yelped.

  They ducked through the arms of the red-haired clown. Lucy squealed as Milo yanked her around the banana stand, dodging Mr Dummer and scrambling into the crowd.

  “Get back here!” called the Captain, too late.

  The kids elbowed their way through the mob surrounding the mechanical bull and stumbled out the other side.

  They turned into a narrow space between a row of tents, tripping on electrical cords and empty paper cups. Milo lifted the back flap of a blue-striped tent and checked for clowns. Satisfied, they slipped through into a cluttered souvenir stall that reeked of incense. For the time being, the coast was clear.

  “Why are they chasing us?” asked Lucy, out of breath.

  “We’ll find out later. First things first.” Milo grabbed an orange and blue Nu Co. jester hat from a rack.

  “I’m not wearing that,” she said.

  “It’s a disguise.” He waved his hands over his torso. “Like I’m wearing.”

  “That’s a disguise?” said Lucy.

  “Obviously.”

  That explains the normal clothes. “You really are hiding from your dad, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t look so smug.” He shoved the hideous hat into her hands. “Now, hurry up and put it on.”

  Milo handed some money to the dreadlocked lady behind the counter.

  “What about you?” asked Lucy.

  Milo threw his cap behind a rack of ribbon dancers, then stripped off his baseball shirt and tossed it at Lucy.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  The carnival worker looked up from her fantasy book, glanced at a sign above the counter that said “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem!” and went back to reading.

  “Give me yours,” said Milo.

  “Are you nuts?” She pulled at the hem of her wolf T-shirt. “This is my favourite top.”

  “Just do it.”

  Lucy muttered under her breath and went back into the alley to change. Milo’s shirt smelled like boy’s deodorant. She shoved her thick violet hair under the ridiculous jester hat and pulled it low. When she re-entered the tent, she turned her wolf shirt inside out to hide the design, and tossed it to Milo.

  He slipped it on and started to tuck it in but Lucy slapped his hands.

  “Nobody tucks in Sticky Pines,” she said.

  “Fine.” He grimaced. “How do I look?”

  “Mmmm… Hold still.” She dug her fingers into his perfectly gelled hair until it stuck out in all directions. “Do you have any scissors?” she asked the lady at the cash register.

  The woman rummaged around and handed Lucy a large, pointy pair.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Milo waved his hands.

  “Relax,” said Lucy. She spun him around and cut the label off the shirt, then bent down and cut his jeans at the knee to make shorts. There was nothing to be done about his loafers, but at least his socks were white. “There.” She gave him a once-over and nodded her approval.

  They edged to the front of the stand and peeked into the crowd. To the right, there were two clowns, one with red hair and one with pink, marching down the thoroughfare, away from them. At least Fisher’s goons are easy to spot. To the left was the Ferris wheel. The area was filled with snacking townspeople, but it was mercifully clown-free.

  Lucy stuck her glasses in her back pocket. The world was blurry, but she could see things up close. “Let’s go.” She pointed to the wheel, which was about thirty metres away. “We can talk up there.”

  Milo checked the path and then nodded his approval.


  Lucy took a deep breath, stepped out into the aisle and ran straight into the pot belly of a pear-shaped man with a grey ponytail. He was sipping from an extra-large cup of Nu Co. Cola.

  This is why glasses are helpful.

  She squinted up at the man.

  “Scruffy Steve,” she exclaimed.

  Steve Kozlowski was the drummer of The Sticky Six. He was known for dressing up as Santa at the Winter Village outside Mandy’s Candies.

  “Lucy Goosie,” he said. “Nice hat, kiddo, I hardly recognised you without the hair.” He raised his hand for a high five.

  Lucy slapped his palm. “How’s it going?” she asked, immediately regretting the question. Steve was a nice guy, but he had a tendency to ramble.

  “Oh, you know how it is,” said Steve. “My dog Marty had a bad case of eczema, I’m sure ya heard. Well, I got that under control, but now he’s suffering from headaches. I was just sayin’ to your dad, I feel like I’m comin’ down with a headache myself today, must be all the food, but I can’t stop eatin’ it, it’s too good—”

  “Aw, man,” Lucy cut him off as politely as she could. Milo dug his nails into her wrist. “Eczema, headaches. Hoo boy. Hope you and Marty feel better, Steve. Well, we gotta run.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Good seeing ya, kid,” said Steve. “Hey, by the by, your dad is out looking for you. And your sister. Where is the little con artist anyway?”

  “Uh…” Lucy began.

  Milo held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Milo. Pleasure to meet you.”

  Steve took Milo’s hand and slowly grasped the concept of a handshake. “Pleasure’s all mine, kid.”

  “Indeed,” said Milo, trying to end the overlong shake.

  “Sorry, bro.” Steve chuckled and let go. He held up his calloused hands. “Drummer’s hooves. Hey, Goose.” He turned to Lucy. “Did you get a load of those clowns? What’s the deal with the blinking noses? It was funny at first, but now it’s starting to bum me out.”

  Lucy turned and saw a half-dozen costumed commandos marching across the lane towards the bumper cars. “Did they spot us?” she asked Milo.

  “I’m not sticking around to find out.” He dropped her hand and took off briskly towards the Ferris wheel.

  Crudberries. “Sorry, Steve, gotta go.”

  “Busy busy, just like your dad these days,” he chuckled.

  “Later,” Lucy called over her shoulder.

  She caught up with Milo and pulled on his sleeve. “Slow down,” she said. “We look suspicious.”

  He obliged, and they strolled as casually as they could towards their destination. For the moment, their disguises seemed to be working. They were passing the zillionth NuCotton Candy vendor when Mr Dum marched towards them, his red nose flashing brightly.

  Lucy felt a purple lock of hair free itself and fall in front of her nose. Horrified, she scrambled to tuck it under the jester hat.

  The lanky clown glanced at them out of the corner of his eye, but continued past. As soon as he was a few paces behind them, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then she glanced back. Mr Dum had stopped a few metres away. He was speaking into the flower on his lapel.

  Lucy tried to pull Milo along faster, but their path was abruptly cut off as the half-dozen clowns they had spotted earlier entered the thoroughfare. They were trapped.

  Just then, a plastic garbage can flew high over their heads. It landed with a hollow thud and spilled its contents at the feet of the clowns. The man who threw it stood triumphantly in a nearby intersection. He was dressed as a banana.

  “Take that, Zebo,” the banana man yelled, fist extended in the air.

  The Clown Captain looked down at the garbage.

  “It’s him,” barked a green-haired clown.

  The banana man squeaked in alarm, turned tail and took off.

  “Primary target is in sight,” said the Captian to the oversized daisy on his shirt.

  With that, the prismatic posse took off in hot pursuit, leaving Milo and Lucy standing in the middle of the walkway, clasped hands shaking, neither understanding a single thing that had happened in the last twenty minutes.

  “What. The. Bunk,” Lucy fumed, repeating the phrase for the umpteenth time.

  “Yeah, you said that,” said Milo.

  They had finally snaked their way to the front of the line in the shadow of the towering Ferris wheel.

  “And who is the banana man?” Lucy hissed. “What does he want?”

  “You know as much as I do,” said Milo.

  The pimple-faced teenager running the rickety contraption helped them into their car. He shut the flimsy door and pulled a lever, sending them slowly skyward in the teetering trolley.

  Lucy slipped her glasses back on. Now that she could see him in detail, Milo looked more worried than he had let on. “How come your dad doesn’t want you at this carnival?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  The wheel jerked to a stop to let other people on and off the ride. Milo clutched the central pole to right himself.

  “You came because you weren’t supposed to?”

  “I suppose you’re rubbing off on me.”

  Lucy frowned in approval. “You could do worse.”

  The wheel started and stopped, their cabin gradually hiccuping past the tree line. They could see most of the carnival now; a sea of games, rides and fluttering colour. But there was something else decorating the landscape: clusters of sinister red lights from security clowns out on patrol.

  Are they looking for the banana man, or us?

  Milo stuck his fingers through the chain-link panel and peered wistfully over the sunny horizon. “It’s funny,” he said. “I was really starting to like this place.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Lucy.

  “I’m leaving.” He slumped in his seat. “Or rather, I’m being sent away.”

  “Sent away?” She steadied herself against the incessant rocking of the Ferris wheel car. “Sent where?”

  “My dad’s sending me to Kansas.”

  “To boarding school?” Lucy braced herself against the mesh. “I thought places like that were just a myth to scare kids into behaving.”

  “Boarding school or Kansas?”

  “Both.”

  Milo laughed ruefully. “Of course you did.”

  They stopped at the top of the wheel, their pink cabin swaying in the autumn breeze. Now they could see for miles, the mottled autumn canopy of green, amber and indigo extending to the jagged rim of the Dentalia Mountains.

  “I thought your dad took you with him everywhere?” Lucy couldn’t imagine being sent away from her family.

  “He always has,” said Milo, exasperated. “This is all my fault. I never should have asked him about that stupid Bigwoof picture.” His head fell into his hands.

  The wheel started up again. “You asked him?” said Lucy, incredulous. “What did you say? What did he say?”

  “He denied that it was Shooped. I told him I didn’t believe him. We had a fight.” Milo looked like he might cry. “I’ve never seen him so upset. He said I don’t understand how the world works.”

  “Nobody understands how the world works,” said Lucy. “Not really.”

  Milo stared sullenly at the crowd below.

  “When are you leaving?” asked Lucy.

  “Monday.”

  The Ferris wheel picked up speed as they careened past the ground.

  “Monday?” She held on to her ridiculous hat. “As in, two days from now?”

  “Correct.”

  “What the sludge?”

  “What the sludge, indeed.” He smiled faintly. “Guess I’d better make the most of my last weekend of freedom.”

  Lucy spotted something in the crowd below that made her duck to the bottom of the car, coughing on her own spit.

  “What?” whispered Milo anxiously. “Did the clowns see us?”

  “Get down,” Lucy hissed.

  Sh
e pulled him behind the plastic door, causing the car to tilt. He awkwardly peeked through the mesh as they sped past the crowd, where a man in a lavender suit was signing autographs for a group of giggling girls.

  “Who’s that?” he asked.

  “Carlos Felina. The weatherman.”

  Carlos stepped out of line and began talking to an orange-clad clown.

  “Oh, for the love of Björk,” Lucy groaned. “Now he’s talking to the Clown Captain.”

  “Why are we hiding from him? Does he even know who you are?”

  “I don’t think so.” Lucy scratched her sweaty scalp. “Normally I would consider him the most trusted newsman in Sticky Pines, but today he’s with them.”

  “Them?” said Milo. He ripped a stray thread off the bottom of his new shorts and tossed it to the grimy floor. “You mean my dad.”

  Lucy pushed her glasses up her nose. “Well, I mean…”

  He looked up. “What? Say what you’re thinking.”

  If Lucy was going to tell Milo about her suspicions, it was now or never. She gripped the centre pole tightly. “I think your dad’s hiding something. Something big. Why did he Shoop the photo? Why didn’t he want you to come here? Why all the security clowns? Fish, he’s trying to keep you away from something he doesn’t want you to see.”

  “You don’t know that.” Milo startled Lucy with a finger in her face. “My father hasn’t done anything wrong, not to you or anyone else.”

  “Other than covering up the greatest supernatural evidence the world has ever seen?”

  “Ugh, every time I think you and I can be friends you say something like that. Listen to yourself. You sound ridiculous.”

  “Do I?” said Lucy. “DO I?” she asked loudly enough that Milo covered her mouth with his hand. She squirmed but he didn’t let go, so she licked his palm.

  “Come on,” he said, recoiling and wiping his hand on his freshly cut shorts.

  Lucy poked his shoulder. “Your dad lied to you.”

  He poked her back. “So what if he did? Maybe he had a good reason.”

  “That’s baloney and you know it,” she scoffed.

  Milo turned away as the Ferris wheel jolted to a stop at the very top.

  Lucy couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen such a beautiful day in Sticky Pines. The sky remained cloudless, as if it had been tidied up just for the occasion. A sparrow darted by, chirped a complaint and disappeared over the forest. She noticed a hazy splotch in the distance, past the abyss of Black Hole Lake. The wheel started up again, gaining speed for one last turn around the circle.