THE CAT'S MAW

CHAPTER XVI

XVI: OF BARS AND BUREAUCRATS

"You're early."

Billy and Lynn and Seamus stood in front of a ticket booth, sitting askew in the mud at the high-gated entrance to the County Fair. The front of it was painted white, the sides were sheets of bare plywood, and the back was open for the booth's attendant to enter, exit, and better cope with claustrophobia.

Beside the bold 'TICKETS' sign that hung above the booth's barred window was a printed sheet stapled to the wood. It listed the entrance prices for Seniors, Adults, and Children.

"Hello," Billy said, cupping a mound of coins in his hands. A dime slipped through his nervous fingers and landed on its edge in the mud. The dog sniffed at it, licked the dirt around it, then moved on to a discarded popcorn bag nearby.

"You're early," said the voice behind the glass.

Billy couldn't discern much about the ticket woman, except for her shocking girth and an abundance of pink. She had pink stretchy pants, a frilly pink blouse, pink fingernails, pink-rimmed sunglasses, and what appeared to be a pink wig teetering on her bulbous head, squishing against the roof whenever she stood. It was as if the booth was about to burst with a surly batch of cotton candy.

Billy counted out his money, until there was a total of $20 neatly stacked on the narrow lip at the base of the window. "Two, please."

"But you're early. I don't have the ticket roll. I don't have stamps for your hands. I don't even have a float yet," the woman said, sipping diet cola from a pink plastic bucket through two curly pink straws.

"I have exact change, ma'am," Billy said, sliding the coin stacks through the window. A pudgy, pink-nailed hand intercepted his.

"We're not open until ten. Come back in half an hour." The woman slid a wooden block in front of the ticket slot, turned to the pink bookmark poking out from the paperback in her studded pink purse, and began reading.

Billy vibrated with frustration. It was one thing to deal with meanness - sadly, the boy had enough experience to wrap his head around that, and then some - but a blind obsession with rules? People like that pushed his buttons something fierce. Billy wobbled in the mud, red-faced.

A pack of slack-jawed carnival workers watched from the gates, huddled with bottles wrapped in paper bags. Others passed through, carrying large cardboard boxes over to a row of colourful tents. A pair of burly men dragged thick coils of black cable through the muck behind the booth, grunting as they kicked a dented pop can by the boy's feet.

Billy's stomach knotted with worry. Did Mom figure it out? Has she already called Mr. Jessome, or the police? His eyes darted left and right, suspicious of everyone in sight. They're playing dumb, he thought. They're stalling to set the trap, and waiting for just the right time to snap it shut.

Lynn tugged on his coat. "I got this," she whispered, spitting in her hands. She dabbed saliva around the corners of her eyes, and made two smears down her cheeks to her jaw. Then she pulled out her wad of chewing gum, slapped it in Billy's hand, and approached the booth with Seamus.

"Please, lady," Lynn said, knocking frantically on the booth's window, "I need your help. I'm late!"

The pink mountain shifted, and the booth leaned noticeably as the woman turned. "Calm down. What do you mean late?" she said, sliding the wooden block back from the ticket slot.

"Charlie here was supposed to come last week and register for the dog show, but my Mom got sick and we couldn't make it. I come all the way from Hampton to ask the judge to let me show 'im. That's why we're early."