When carnival performer Josie spots a distressed boy hiding at the fair, she draws on her skills to comfort him. But helping this lost child stirs up memories of her late sister and forces her to confront her own grief. Then his father arrives, and she’s left speechless as she recognizes him.
I adjusted the rainbow-striped suspenders of my costume and dabbed at a bead of sweat threatening to smear my face paint. The morning sun was already fierce, casting long shadows across the county fairgrounds as vendors and performers hustled to set up their booths.
My corner spot near the carousel was prime real estate for attracting families, but today, the cheerful tinkling of the merry-go-round made my heart ache. The painted horses seemed to mock me with their frozen grins, their poles rising and falling in an endless dance.
“You’re the sunshine in the room, Jo-Jo,” my sister Rachel used to tell me. “Don’t ever forget how powerful it is to bring joy to dark places.”
But in the two years since my sister’s passing, I’d started to wonder if I was really bringing any light to anyone anymore.
Sure, I still did my weekend performances at fairs and parties, transforming from boring office worker Josie into Rainbow Rose, storyteller and balloon artist extraordinaire. But it felt like I was just going through the motions, my painted-on smile as artificial as the neon wig I wore.
I shook that thought away and focused on arranging my supplies. I sorted balloons by color, face paints lined up like soldiers, and story cards fanned out on my little folding table.
A gentle breeze rustled the edges of my tablecloth, and I weighted them down with smooth river stones I and Rachel had collected on our last camping trip together. The familiar routine usually centered me, but today, every task felt heavy with memory.
Rachel had been my first audience, my biggest cheerleader, the one who pushed me to pursue performing even while keeping my sensible day job.
And no matter how hard I tried to grieve her and let go, I was stuck in my own dark place.
The fair was starting to come alive around me. The smell of funnel cake and cotton candy drifted on the breeze, mixing with the earthier scents of hay and horses from the stables.
Families were trickling in, and kids were already sticky with sugar and excitement. The Ferris wheel creaked to life, its metal frame gleaming in the morning sun.
I pulled on my character like a second skin, checking my reflection in a small mirror. Rainbow Rose smiled back at me, her face painted with swirling designs in bright colors, glitter catching the light at her temples.
She was more confident than Josie, more outgoing, more… everything. Rachel had always said the face paint was overkill with the wig and costume, but I liked the extra layer of separation between my weekday and weekend lives.
I was in the middle of my opening routine, juggling colorful scarves and calling out to passersby to get them to stop at my booth, when I spotted a small boy huddled beneath a wooden bench, his face hidden against his knees.
