OddityVille: Funko (Book Three)

Chapter One: Times to Come

An alarm blares out, filling a small, white-walled room from corner to corner. On a bed centered against the furthest wall from the door, lays a heap that continues to toss and turn underneath thick red covers. From somewhere below, an impatient, feminine voice shouts out.

"Marcus, time to get up! I don't need you being late again!" The heap groans as the pestering voice clashes unpleasantly with the bedside clock's screeching. "Marcus!"

"I'm up! Be down in a minute!"

"Last time you said that I got a call from the principal! Now, I have to leave in less than five, so let me see you walking down those stairs!"

The blankets launch off the mattress as Marcus's feet shoot into the air before flopping against the bed as he drags himself off and stands up. He then rubs his eyes with his knuckles and opens one to look at a calendar hanging over a corner desk, just to the right of his nest. Half the dates were already crossed off with a black marker, but aside from these, one box was circled. Groggily, he walks over to the hanging papers and adds another slash, marking the new date. He groans and tosses the marker back down as he stares at the next box. The ring around it signed two things for him; his birthday and his shame.

Every year in the past, without fail, his friends had made fun of him for his fear of the traveling carnival. He was already hearing things about it this time around too. It was never about the festivities, though. Only one thing made him uncomfortable each prior year and that same thing would be back again, if not already. The jingle was already floating about the halls at his school and even on television between showings.

"The carnival is back in town and with it comes Funko, the Contorting Clown! So come now children, gather 'round, and guess where Funko might be found!"

He shivers as the words ring in his ears. They were something of a curse to him, as Funko only ever showed up on his birthday. Even though all the other acts and performances went on for an entire week.

"Marcus!" The voice below snaps again, far more commanding than before.

"I'm coming, mom!" Marcus slips into a pair of cargo shorts and a white tank top before throwing open his bedroom door and trudging down the stairs. When he reaches the bottom, he keeps one hand on the guardrail and the other in the air. "See? I'm right here." His mother walks over from the front door to the left of the staircase and hugs him.

"Okay, good! I have to go now, I love you. Make sure you get to school today." His mother points at him as she walks backward and opens the door.

"Will do." He sighs and waves her off as the wood thuds against the frame. The car out front starts up and he listens to it back out of the drive before returning to his room. "My sixteenth birthday is tomorrow and she still expects me to go?" He scoffs and bounds back over the sheets, only to hear his cellphone ring. He glares at it as it vibrates across the bedstand, knowing all too well who was calling. He answers. "I'm almost ready, mom. Just have to find my shoes and-. No, I didn't try to hide them. I don't know how they got behind the TV stand. Alright, bye." He hangs up and drops the phone beside himself. "Worth a shot."

The morning summer sun blinds him as he steps out of the house and he quickly blocks it as best he can with a cupped hand. To Marcus, the busy streets and cheery early birds walking and jogging passed is just another Wednesday. Standing in front of his home, he listens for any other sounds that there might be and smiles with relief. The carnival music had yet to start playing. Taking joy in this, he strides off towards the bus stop and waits at the sign with several other students.

"Sup, Marc?" A messy-haired boy knocks his shoulder against Marcus's as he says these words. The boy is about two inches taller than him and far more tan, which Marcus thinks compliments the yellow mop on his head.