Rebel McKenzie (16 page)

Famous Aries people:
Thomas Jefferson, Leonardo da Vinci, Harry Houdini, Adolf Hitler (Aries/Taurus cusp)

Personality Profile–Pisces (February 19–March 20)

Born under a water sign, you are perceptive, imaginative, and sensitive to the feelings of others. You lead a rich fantasy life and form deep bonds with animals. Sometimes too agreeable, you can be an easy target for bullies. Although you like people, you are more of a loner.

Famous Pisces people:
Albert Einstein, Dr. Seuss, Michelangelo, Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Personality Profile–Leo (July 23–August 22)

Ruled by the sun, you are ambitious, independent, loyal, and generous. Young Leos have confidence beyond their years. You enjoy being in the spotlight and shine like the sun with an audience. Although you are outgoing, you can also be arrogant, bossy, and will try to control everything around you. You also can't take criticism.

Famous Leo people:
Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Lucille Ball, Amelia Earhart, Henry Ford

“W
here y'all off to?” Bambi asked as we strolled past her front yard.

She was turning no-handed cartwheels, one after the other like an acrobat. I wondered if she'd added a flip to her talent routine. I'd almost pay good money to see her swing the ukulele behind her head in the middle of a cartwheel while she crooned, “Yessir, that's my baby.”

“We're goin'—” Rudy began.

“Be still,” Lacey Jane said, nudging him.

Unless Bambi stood facing backward all day, she'd figure out soon enough we were heading down the hill to the fire station. No reason not to tell her.

“We're gonna watch them set up the carnival,” I said.

Bambi wrinkled her nose. “But it's dirty and dangerous there.”

“Exactly. Why else would we go?”

“You'll get in trou-ble.” She dragged the last word out like a threat.

I folded my arms across my chest. “We won't get in trouble if a certain person keeps her blubbery mouth shut. Come with us.”

Lacey Jane jabbed me in the ribs. “Rebel!”

“Don't worry. Bambi never does anything her mother doesn't want her to.”

That riled Bambi. She stomped over to the sidewalk. “I do so do stuff Mama doesn't want me to. Just to prove it, I'll come with y'all.”

“Nice going, Rebel,” Lacey Jane muttered as Bambi joined us. Lacy Jane moved up to walk with me, leaving Bambi to amble along with Rudy.

“Maybe she'll get a job in the sideshow.” We cracked up.

“I heard that.” Bambi pushed her bangs back as we trudged down the hill. “What's so great about going to a carnival that isn't even open yet?”

“For one thing, the food people might give free samples. I can't wait to get me some nachos and a tutti-frutti snow cone.” I smacked my lips.

“How perfectly disgusting,” Bambi said, sounding like she was forty-five.

Rudy gazed at her, his eyes wide with puppy love. “You and me are together, ain't we?”

“Don't say ‘ain't,' and we happen to be on the same sidewalk, that's all,” Bambi said.

The lot beside the fire station looked like somebody had been playing with giant Tinkertoys. Half-built rides rose from the trampled grass. Burly guys attached cars to the Tornado and Octopus. Merry-go-round horses waited to be fastened to the platform. Men yelled as a crane hoisted metal cages on a long silver tube.

“That's the Zipper,” I said. “I'm gonna ride it first tomorrow. See, that middle piece goes around like a Ferris wheel and the cage things flip over and over. If you stand up—which you're not supposed to do—you can make the cage flip even when it's not moving.”

“We won't have time for rides tomorrow,” Bambi pointed out. “Unless you're dropping out of the pageant?” She arched one eyebrow at me.

“In your dreams. The pageant doesn't last all day.
After
you lose, me and Lacey Jane are gonna hit the rides.”

“In
your
dreams if you think I'll lose.” Bambi looked down at Rudy. “You want me to win, don't you?”

Rudy didn't say a word. It was obvious his loyalty to me and Lacey Jane clashed with his love for Bambi.

Between the rides, colorful tents and stands advertised funnel cakes, pizza, kettle corn, and snow cones. My mouth watered. Junk-food heaven!

Then I spotted a red-and-yellow wagon with a sign that screamed, fried oreos! fried twinkies! ask about the fried surprise!

“Hey, kid!” The guy behind the counter saw me staring. “Wanna try my latest creation?”

I sidled up to the serving window. “I don't have any money.” (This was becoming my summer anthem. I should have it set to music and sing it everywhere I went:
“I don't have any mo-ney!”
)

“Since I'm cranking up the fat anyway, it'll be on the house,” he said. Snake tattoos seemed to crawl up his thick forearms.

“What's the Fried Surprise?” Lacey Jane asked.

Snake Arms leaned forward. “My own invention. Even better than the Oreos and Twinkies. Fried MoonPies!”

“Ewww,” said Bambi.

I thought it sounded good, but if I played my cards right, I'd get more than one free sample.

“Well,” I drawled, “I've never had a fried Oreo or a fried Twinkie. I should try them first. You know, for comparison.”

“Gotcha.”

We hung over the edge of the counter, feet dangling, as we watched him open a pack of Oreos and roll six dark cookies in a sticky batter. He unwrapped a package of Twinkies and dipped one of the cakes in the same batter. Then he dropped the coated cookies and Twinkie in a vat of bubbling oil the size of a hog trough.

“Gross!” Bambi remarked. “All that grease is bad for your skin. It's bad for everything!”

“Bambi, don't be such a wet blanket,” I said.

After a few minutes, Snake Arms fished the cookies and Twinkie out of the vat. He drained them quicker than a blink on paper towels, then tossed them in a bowl of powdered sugar.

Dumping the fried goodies in a red-and-white-checked paper basket, he handed it through the window to me. “Bone appetite. Let 'em cool a tad.”

The soft, pillowy Oreos called to me. I picked one up, scorching my fingers, and bit down with a yelp. Boiling hot chocolate oozed from the doughy center.

“He told you to let them cool,” Bambi said.

I stuffed the rest of the Oreo in my mouth just to show her I was no sissy. Lacey Jane and Rudy each took a bite. I polished off the other five cookies, then tackled the fried Twinkie. It didn't taste as great as it sounded.

Snake Arms pushed another checked paper basket across the counter. “Try my Fried MoonPie. It'll put hair on your chest!”

Rudy giggled. “Girls don't have hairy chests!”

“How would you know?” I said, giving him the eyeball. Truthfully, I was stuffed to the gills and more than a little sick. But the Fried MoonPie might be the most delicioso thing I'd ever eaten in my life.

It wasn't. I'd had better deep-fried potholders.

“Well?” Snake Arms wanted to know.

“It's good,” I fibbed, choking on the steaming marshmallow filling. “They should sell like hotcakes.”

“You have powdered sugar all over your face,” Lacey Jane said, handing me a napkin.

We walked away, me a little unsteady from so much sugar and grease.

“The Ferris wheel!” Rudy said, clutching Bambi's hand. “Will you ride on it with me? I'll make it stop at the very top and kiss you.”

Lacey Jane and I gawked at him. The chocolate from his one bite of fried Oreo must have shot straight to his brain.

Bambi shrugged off Rudy's grasp. “You're way too young to be thinking about girls, though I can understand why you're love-struck on me. It happens all the time. But I don't kiss
little boys
.”

Rudy slumped like somebody stuck a pin in him.

“I don't see any big boys breaking the door down to kiss you,” I told Bambi. “Nobody would go near you with a ten-foot pole.” Pulling Rudy aside, I whispered, “Trust me, she's not worth it.”

“I thought she liked me,” he said in a painfully small voice.

“Bambi only likes herself,” Lacey Jane said.

Miss Priss had wandered down the midway. She stood in front of a bright green weight machine and fixed her hair in its purple-framed mirror. A sign with purple flashing lights read, fool the guesser! age! weight! birth month! win prizes! only $3! Cheap Frisbees, gaudy straw hats, and plush neon monkeys were piled in baskets.

A bald man with a brushy mustache and a potato nose boomed through his clip-on microphone, “C'mon over, folks. If I can't guess your age within
two years
, your birth month within
one month
, or your weight within
three pounds
, you
win
the prize of
your choice
!”

“Cool!” Lacey Jane said. “A fortune-teller!”

Rudy ran up to the man. “Hey, betcha you can't guess my name!”

I collared Rudy. “He can't guess your name. And he's not a fortune-teller. Those are women who wear turbans and gold coin earrings. And they have a crystal ball.”

“The little lady is kee-rect. I can't predict the future or guess your name but I can tell you those three things about yourself because I'm a people studier.” His big face broke into a crinkly smile. “I even went to college to study people! Now I'm an expert in age, weight, and birth months.”

“All right,” Bambi said like she was doing him a favor. “Guess my age.”

“No, dummy.” I elbowed her. “He can
see
we're kids.” I sized the guy up. “You do it sort of like math, don't you?”

“You mean statistics? No, I'm just a real good people-studier. How about I guess your weight, then?” he asked me.

“I don't have any money.” I
really
should make up music for that song.

“The carnival isn't officially open—and you aren't supposed to officially
be
here,” he said, “but this'll be on the house.”

The Guessing Man gazed at the ground, deep in thought. He
did
look like he was figuring out a tough math problem. Then he looked up and took a stubby pencil and a tiny notepad from his pocket. He wrote on the notepad, tore off the top sheet, then slapped it on the back of his hand.

“How much do you weigh?” he said to me. “If I'm three pounds over or under, you get to pick a prize.”

“Ninety-eight pounds.”

He handed me the slip of paper.

“One hundred and thirteen! Woo-hoo! You lose!” I was heading for a yellow monkey when Bambi said, “How do we
know
what you weigh, Rebel?”

“Because that's what I weighed at the doctor's! You want me to prove it? All right!” I stepped on the scale. The needle below the mirror swung past the one hundred mark and rested on one fifteen and a quarter.

“You're almost as much fat as Doublewide!” Rudy said.

“These scales are rigged!” I waddled off the weight machine.

Lacey Jane giggled. “Rebel, the fried MoonPie did you in!”

All that grease started roiling around in my stomach, which was sticking out like a bowling ball.

“Me next!” Lacey Jane said. “Tell me what month I was born in.”

The Guessing Man went through the same drill, staring at the ground, then writing on the notepad. “What month were you born?” he asked her.

“March.”

He showed Lacey Jane the paper.
March
was scrawled on it.

After that, we all wanted our birth months guessed. The Guessing Man said Bambi was born in August, which she was, and Rudy was born in February, which he was. Then it was my turn.

While the Guessing Man studied his shoes, I sent him wrong-month thoughts to mess with his mind.
July! September! November! December! January! May!

He handed me the paper. It said
May
.

“I was born in April!” I crowed. My wrong-month thoughts worked!

“That's within a month,” the Guessing Man said. “What day in April?”

“The eighteenth.”

“Ah! You're an Aries on the cusp of Taurus.” He reached behind him for a box on a stool and handed us each a colored card. Lacey Jane's and Rudy's were both red.

“These are about your zodiac sign,” the Guessing Man explained. “If your birthday is around the time when the sign changes, it's called being on the cusp.”

Bambi, who nobody had paid attention to for at least three seconds, tapped the Guessing Man's arm. “We're in the beauty pageant tomorrow. Will you come watch?”

“Yeah,” Lacey Jane said. “Can you tell us who's gonna win?”

“He's
not
a fortune-teller,” I said. “He deals in facts.”

Bambi gave him a big wink. “We all know who deserves to win.”

“It sure isn't you!” I wished I had a fried MoonPie to smush in her face.

The Guessing Man made a time-out signal. “I'll watch if I can get away. But I can see you are all winners.”

“Even me?” Rudy asked.

Lacey Jane snorted. “You aren't even
in
the pageant.”

Rudy wouldn't let it go. “But if I was, do you think I'm a winner?”

The Guessing Man cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. “Especially you, tiger.”

We stopped in the fire station break room to get out of the sun and read our zodiac cards.

“I don't believe in this junk,” I said. “Hey! Mine says I am confident and have internal resources to deal with new ideas and situations. Maybe there
is
something to this astrology stuff.”

Lacey Jane leaned over. “It also says you are competitive, opinionated, and territorial about your possessions. In other words, you're stingy. And you have a cusp birthday with Hitler!”

“Hitler!” Bambi cackled. “
My
famous zodiac person is Jackie Kennedy Onassis.”