The Funhouse

a child yourself, and you had to throw yourself at some high school boy. You had to rush out and fornicate in the backseat of a car like a worthless little slut, like the worst kind of pig. And now maybe it's inside of you, growing.”
        “What are you talking about?” Amy asked, wondering if her mother was completely mad.
        “It wouldn't do any good for me to tell you,” Mama said. “You wouldn't listen. You'd probably even welcome such a child. You'd embrace it just like he did. I've always said there was something evil in you. I've always told you that you had to keep it in check. But now you've loosened the reins, and that dark thing is running free, that evil part of you. You've loosed the evil in you, and sooner or later, one way or the other, you'll have a child, you'll bring one of them into the world, no matter what I say to you, no matter how I plead with you. But you won't do it in this house. It won't happen here. I'll see to that. We'll go to Dr. Spangler, and he'll abort it for you. And if there's any sin in that , if there's mortal sin for someone to bear the burden of, it will rest entirely on your shoulders, not mine. You understand?”
        Amy nodded.
        “It won't matter to you, will it?” her mother asked meanly. “One more sin won't matter to you, will it? Because you're already destined for Hell anyway, aren't you?”
        “No. No, Mama, don't-”
        “Yes, you are. You're destined to be one of the Devil's own women, one of his handmaidens, aren't you? I see that now. I see it. All my efforts have been in vain. You can't be saved. So what's one more sin to you? Nothing. It's nothing to you. You'll just laugh it off.”
        “Mama, don't talk to me like that.”
        “I'm talking to you like you deserve to be talked to. A girl who behaves the way you've behaved - how can she expect to be talked to any differently?”
        “Please…”
        “Get a move on,” Mama said. “Clean yourself up. I'll call the doctor.”
        Confused by the several twists that events had taken, baffled by her mother's certainty that the baby would be deformed, wondering about Mama's sanity, Amy went upstairs. In the bathroom she washed her face. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying.
        In her bedroom she took another skirt and a clean blouse from the closet. She stripped off her sweat-streaked, wrinkled clothes. For a moment she stood in bra and panties before the full-length mirror, staring at her belly.
        Why is Mama so certain that my baby will be deformed? Amy asked herself worriedly. How can she know such a thing for sure? Is it because she thinks I'm evil and that I deserve this sort of thing-a deformed baby, a sign to the world that I'm the Devil's handmaiden? That's sick. That's twisted thinking. It's ridiculous and crazy and unfair. I'm not a bad person. I've made some mistakes. I'll admit that. I've made a lot of mistakes for someone my age, but I'm not evil, damn it. I'm not evil.
        Am I?
        She stared into the reflection of her own eyes.
         Am I?
        Shivering, she dressed for the visit to the doctor's office.

----

    7
        
        On Sunday the carnival moved to Clearfield, Pennsylvania, by highway and rail, and on Monday the sprawling midway was erected again with military efficiency. Big American Midway Shows gave its own people and its concessionaires a four o'clock show call for Monday afternoon, which meant that every attraction-from the least imposing grab joint to the most elaborate thrill ride-was expected to be operational by that hour.
        Conrad Straker's three enterprises, including the funhouse, were in place and ready to receive the marks by three o'clock Monday afternoon. It was a cloudless, warm day. The evening would be balmy. “Money weather,” the carnies called it. Although Fridays and Saturdays were always the best for business, the marks would flood in on a mild, breezy night even if it was at the beginning of the week.
        With an hour of free time before the fairground gates were opened to the public, Conrad did what he always did on the first afternoon of a new engagement. He left the funhouse and walked next door to Yang Barnet's ten-in-one Freak-o-rama, a name which some carnies found offensive, but which drew the marks with greater efficacy than honey ever drew flies. A luridly illustrated banner stretched across the front of Yang's tent: HUMAN ODDITIES OF THE