'A story in the paper.'
Malcolm frowned. 'That one with the awful picture?'
'Yes.'
'It was just a lot of made-up stuff.'
'I was sure of that,' Holly said, 'but I thought it might be you.'
Styles cleared his throat. 'If you will be good enough to excuse me, I have a number of errands to run, and I'm sure you have things to talk about. Malcolm, why don't we skip the next show and close out with the ten o'clock.'
'Can we afford it?'
'Don't worry about that, my boy, we're well ahead of the game. A reunion with your friend certainly takes precedence.'
'Well, thanks, Bate,' Malcolm said.
'Think nothing of it. I will see you at ten.' He touched the brim of his straw hat. 'Good evening, Doctor.'
Holly nodded to him, and she and Malcolm walked off up the midway arm-in-arm.
'I can't tell you how happy I am to have found you at last,' Holly said.
'So am I,' said the boy.
'You've grown.'
'I guess so.'
Holly squeezed his arm. 'If you can get your things together, we can leave right away and be back in Pinyon in the morning.'
Malcolm's happy expression faded. 'Are they looking for me back there because of, you know, what happened at the clinic?'
'Nobody is looking for you, except to help you, Malcolm. What happened up there at Bear Paw was not your fault. Everybody knows that.'
'They do?'
'You have my word for that. You trust me, don't you, Malcolm?'
'Yes.'
'Good, then shall we get started?'
The boy looked doubtful. 'I don't like to leave Bate just like that.'
'Why on earth not? The man has been exhibiting you like some kind of a freak.'
'It's not that way, Holly. Mr Styles has been good to me. I was feeling really bad when I met him, and he gave me something to do with my life. Besides…' He hesitated.
'What is it?' Holly prompted.
'I am some kind of a freak.'
Holly came to a stop and turned to face him. She spoke sharply. 'Don't you ever talk that way again, Malcolm. You are… different, through no fault of your own. Some people are born with terrible deformities. The can't help it either. But you are not a freak. Not something to be put in a cage and shown to a lot of curiosity-seekers.'
'It really isn't that bad,' Malcolm said. 'I don't even think about the people who come to see me. When I'm up there on the stage I think about… other things.'
'You don't want to go on doing it, though, do you?'
'No, I… I guess not. I'm always afraid that someday I'll lose control for real.'
'Then come back with me, Malcolm. Let me try to help you.'
'Do you think I could ever be… cured, Holly?' His eyes searched her face.
Holly hesitated before she answered. 'I don't know, Malcolm. I want to be honest with you, and not give you any false hopes. Your case is so different from anything doctors have dealt with, that no one can say if there is a cure. One thing I will promise you, I will do everything I can, and so will a lot of other concerned people, to help you in any possible way. Okay?'
'Okay,' he said. They smiled at each other.
'One thing, though,' the boy added. 'We're still booked here for tonight and tomorrow. I'd like to stay and do those shows for Mr Styles.'
'He is important to you, isn't he,' she said.
'I never knew my real father. I would have liked him to be like Bate.'
'All right,' Holly said. 'I'll take a motel room in town.
Maybe I'll come down and watch your act.'
'No,' he said quickly. 'Don't do that.'
'Not if you don't want me to,' she said.
'I'd rather you wouldn't. This is a different part of my life. It doesn't have anything to do with you, and I want to keep it that way.'
'Then I'll just stay in my motel room until you're ready to go.'
'Thanks, Holly,' he said, relieved.
'Well,' she said brightly, 'we have a couple of hours to kill. What would you like to do?'
'Let me show you around the carnival. We can go on the rides free since I work here.'
'That sounds like fun,' she said. 'Shall we try the Octopus?'
When Malcolm came back to the tent for the ten-o'clock show he found Bateman Styles sitting on the front of the stage with his legs dangling. Beside him was a bottle of Old Overholt and a plastic cup from the food tent. The showman seemed to be studying the shine on his shoes.
'Hi, Bate,' Malcolm said cheerily.
'Hello.' He did not look up.
'Something wrong?'
'Wrong? What could possibly be wrong?'
'You're mad, aren't you.'
Styles poured rye whiskey into the cup and swallowed it. 'No, Malcolm, I'm not mad. I always knew you had a life of some kind before I found you, and I'm not surprised that it would catch up with you some day and pull you back. You are leaving, aren't you?'
'Yes.'
Styles hopped down from the stage and came over to stand beside him. He clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. During the summer Malcolm had grown an inch taller than the showman.
'I want to wish you the best of luck, my boy. If you have something to go back to out there, I don't blame you. The carnival is no place for anybody who has roots. We did have a good season together, didn't we.'
'A good season,' Malcolm agreed. 'Bate, I want to finish out the date here. I'll do tonight's show and tomorrow's.'
'You don't have to do that. I imagine you're anxious to get going with your friend, the doctor.'
'I want to do it,' Malcolm said. 'You can pitch it as a farewell appearance and jack up the admission price.'
A smile spread slowly over Styles's ruddy face. He began to laugh, then subsided in a coughing fit. When he recovered his breath he said, 'Malcolm, my lad, you are beginning to sound like a real carny. Go and get yourself ready while I step out front and turn the tip.' He laughed again. 'Farewell appearance. I'm proud of you.'
Malcolm stepped behind the curtain and changed into one of the sets of cheap shirts and trousers Bateman had bought for the act. There was no sense wearing anything good since when his body changed it pushed right out through the clothes.
Lately the change had seemed to go further each time before he could reverse it. It had begun to worry Malcolm, and he was glad to be going with Holly. If there really was help for him, he knew Holly would find it.
As he buttoned up the shirt and tucked it down into the trousers, he heard Styles warming up to his spiel out in front.
'Yes, ladies and gentlemen, tonight and tomorrow are absolutely the last and final opportunity you will have to see the ninth wonder of the world! The sensational what-is-it that people all over the country are talking about! The inimitable, the incomprehensible, the indescribable… Grolo the Animal Boy!'
Malcolm smiled. Over the weeks he had built a real affection for the showman, and he sensed that Styles
