Zillie the Circus Freak Read online

  Life’s always a circus for Zillie.

  She isn’t sure what to expect from this town when her family rolls in for their next circus season, but she’s full of excited anticipation on her first day at Brookevale College - until her first run in with Holly.

  Perfect, poised, pouty, pretty, prissy Princess Holly, who makes it her mission to humiliate Zillie ‘the circus freak’ at every chance she gets … and she gets a few!

  Zillie the Circus Freak

  Published by JoJo Publishing

  ‘Yarra’s Edge’

  2203/80 Lorimer Street

  Docklands VIC 3008

  Australia

  Email: [email protected]

  or visit www.classic-jojo.com

  © 2013 JoJo Publishing

  This edition published 2015

  Text Copyright © Alley Bucci 2013

  Illustration Copyright © Laura Wood 2013

  No part of this printed or video publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

  National Library of Australia

  Cataloguing-in-Publication data

  Bucci, Alley.

  Zillie the circus freak / Allie Bucci.

  9780994256577 (eBook)

  For primary school age.

  A823.4

  Designer: Madacin Creative

  Editor: Riima Daher

  Printed in China by Ink Asia

  Digital edition distributed by

  Port Campbell Press

  www.portcampbellpress.com.au

  eBook Conversion by Winking Billy

  For you, the reader.

  May you all embrace your inner freak!

  And as always, for my own little circus; Sophia, Chiara and Lukas, who bring fun, craziness, joy, love and add colour to each day.

  The second I saw my new room, a love-hate relationship was born. I loved the fact that finally, I no longer had to share four walls with my peculiar, geeky brother Zenny, but on the other hand, I resented the fact that a cardboard fruit box would have been bigger than this teeny space that was to be my room. Who would be so ridiculous as to cover these tiny walls in Christmas-themed wallpaper anyway? Who did my parents rent this matchbox of a house from? Mr and Mrs Claus? My thoughts were interrupted by piercing squeals of joy. I peeked my head into the next room and what do you know? King Geek was jumping on his very own double bed, excited by the plastering of colourful planets and rockets, stuck all over his bedroom walls. Once again, typically, Zenny had struck gold.

  “What a beaut room hey Zil? We thought Zen might as well keep the bed because it doesn’t fit in your room,” Mum chirped as she helped unpack Zenny’s clothes into his enormous wardrobe.

  “That’s because nothing would fit in my room. Maybe it was the elves’ room …” I muttered under my breath.

  What eight year old got that much space? He hardly needed it. He insisted on wearing the same outfit every day, had a pet ant (which he named, very imaginatively, ‘Ant’) that he kept in an old fish tank and he had a shoebox full of his prized collection of buttons. That’s all that he needed space for!

  “Elves? What dear? Can you yell out to Dad and tell him to get Uncle Stan to tell Aunty Jan to park the caravan out the back? They’re blocking the street”.

  As I walked outside, yep Mum was right, they had literally stopped the caravan in the middle of the road, so in the mere forty-two minutes that had gone past since the Crombies had arrived in Brookevale, we had already managed to stir up a commotion.

  Great.

  A man in a suit jumped out of his sparkling, freshly polished, canary yellow sports car and started yelling and flailing his arms in the air like he was swatting at a swarm of flies.

  “You hillbillies! What do you think you are doing? Move this junk out of the way before I …”

  And that was when I first saw her.

  She got out of the car, flicking her silky black hair over her shoulders, like she was in a cheesy shampoo commercial and placed her hands on her hips. The sun bounced off her sparkly diamond ring and poked me straight in the eye, which in turn left me standing there squinting stupidly, like a hyena in midday sun.

  “If I’m late for my audition I will get Daddy to sue the pants off you all, you gypsies! Won’t you daddy? Sue them rotten.”

  “Holly get back in the car,” he bellowed.

  “Now, now loves, pardon us for the bother, you see we are all new to town and got a bit caught up in the excitement of our new home, it’s just such a beauty. Here, have a free discount coupon to make up for the nuisance.” Aunt Jan gave the crazy suit man a ‘25% off’ ticket to our opening night. He looked at it and laughed as he scrunched it into a ball.

  “The circus?! What the heck is a circus doing in Brookevale? We all move here to get away from freaks. No-one ain’t wanting to pay to see this! Now move your rubbish and park that dump of a van at the back of this dump of a house, before I do as my daughter says and sue the pants off you all.” Right on cue, tall skinny Uncle Stan came out blazing. He undid his belt and started to take off his pants, exposing his polka-dot boxer shorts and hairy, chicken legs. “Have my pants you honky tonk! Here you go!” and he threw his brown trousers at Mr Suit. “That’s my pants off, now buzz off!”

  Dad moved the caravan into the yard and called for us all to come inside.

  I looked at our new home. It certainly was nicer than the other fourteen we’d had, but looking at the surrounding houses, Mr Suit was right. It was a dump. All the other houses were cookie-cutter perfect, and ours looked like it had been decorated by a tribe of hippie apprentices that just gave up before they were even half-way through. It probably had potential somewhere, if you had the money to do it up, and no doubt everyone would have ideas on how to improve it, but as usual, nothing would ever get done and time would not allow us to stay long enough to make any improvements anyway. Before Mum and Dad had Zenny and I, they happily lived it up in the caravans like the rest of the crew. Their possessions were few, so they didn’t have much to cart around and they preferred to sit on foldup chairs with herbal teas and make up their own stories, rather than watch someone else’s problems on TV. For the first seven months after I was born, they simply made do, but when I started to crawl, things changed and one time – things got a bit hairy. Apparently mum had left me sleeping in a bouncer one afternoon and stepped out without closing the door properly. I woke up and somehow ventured out, because they soon found me just about to enter the horse enclosure; covered in mud and holding a pile of droppings. From then on, they said a caravan was no place to raise kids, and insisted on renting out homes that backed onto parkland, or were very close to the circus. That way, we were close to the action, but still had some kind of normalcy. They tried to stay at the one site for as long as possible, even as long as four months sometimes. That gave everyone time to recover from the last show, rehearse any changes to the acts that might be necessary, set up circus and market surrounding areas so that the audiences could come to us, rather than packing up all our stuff just to move twenty minutes down the road. This also made it possible for us to attend the local school, since being home schooled by Uncle Stan and random circus performers as special guests, was not proving to be very successful so far. Although on the plus side, Zenny and I could now speak a bit of Russian and Romanian, which was pretty cool.

  Zenny is, naturally, ridiculously smart. A teacher was once so impressed, she gave him school books from a few grades ahead to take home and he soaked it all up like a mop in just one week. Harry Highpants, the dove trainer, was pro
bably his best friend. Actually his name wasn’t even Harry, but everyone called him that. He always wore his pants as close to his chin as possible and when someone once asked him why he wore them so high, he answered, “Because I am Highpants Harry.” And since that day, the name just stuck. He was a sweet, smart, old man and Zenny was always doing something brainy with him. Me, well I’m just an all-rounder I suppose. Good at everything, but great at nothing. I jump head first into things and ask questions later. My words often get muddled up, especially if I’m nervous and it is most frustrating how clumsy and klutzy I can be. Mum and Dad said I had been a bit moody lately, rightfully so, but I just couldn’t put my finger on what my problem was. They asked me if I wanted them to quit the circus, but I found that too difficult to answer. Sure it’s frustrating at times, but a more traditional way of life might bore me silly. I was so used to all the colours and sounds, everyone buzzing around the place, the animals … without all this, would the silence drive me batty? And would that mean an end to using the excuse; ‘the donkey ate my homework?’

  My thoughts were interrupted, as another four caravans rolled into the drive. The other circus freaks had arrived …

  I decided to crawl into bed early with my bad breath … I still reeked of garlic from the vegie souvlakis we’d had for dinner. Of course I didn’t manage to have a shower, because by the time the bathroom was finally free, my pea-head brother had not exactly left it smelling like roses. Need I say more? I would just have to get up early and have a nice hot shower, while there was some hot water, and have my hair all freshly done for the first day of school at Brookevale College.

  Usually I didn’t mind so much starting a new day at school, but this town seemed different. I wondered how I would be able to slot in discreetly. My red curly hair that bounced around like a slinky was bound to make me stand out. Hrmmm … maybe I ought to use the hair straightener that Aunt Jan bought me for Christmas, the most normal present anyone in this family had ever given anyone. Ever.

  I woke up to the pea-head bouncing on my head, screeching; ‘Wake up! Wake up!’

  As if in a nightmare, my alarm clock was flashing.

  OH. NO. The power had gone out. It was already 8:30am. Macaroni cheese! How could this happen? Where were my clothes? I raced to the dryer, but my favourite jeans were still soaking wet; “You have got to be kidding!”

  Mum was chasing her tail, pacing in circles, somewhat hyperventilating. “Ten minutes. Ten minutes. We have to go! Imagine being late on your first day, oh my goodness, why can’t the Crombies ever be on time? Just for once! Where are my shoes? Don’t tell me that cheeky pony has eaten them for breakfast again …”

  I was horrified. I couldn’t believe that on my first day at a new school in Poshville, I was going to rock up in a purple and yellow striped parachute tracksuit. As luck had it, apparently my suitcase of clothes mysteriously fell open on its way into the house from the van and everything inside it just happened to fall out, right into a puddle of pony vomit. Aunty Jan had decided to put all my clothes in the wash, but forgot to hang them out. So either I was either going to school in wet clothes, or in my pyjamas. Or the only other choice: Aunty Jan’s jogging parachute extravaganza. Ooohhh I wanted to dunk my head in vomit myself. This had to be a nightmare. I kept blinking to see if I was awake or asleep. I wanted this nightmare to end. Uncle Stan started shaking me, “She needs a doctor! Help! Help! Her eyes are rolling back!” And with that, he picked up the jug of water from the kitchen table and poured it over my head. Yep. Thanks for that. Now my hair would soon be even more frizzy, if that was even at all possible. Brookevale College, prepare to meet your newest student – Zillie the freakster.

  As I entered the classroom, ten minutes late, a skinny, awkward man in a boring, brown suit stopped mid-sentence, took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, looked at the clock above the door and shook his head. “You must be Zillie. Zillie is it? What is your real name?”

  He sounded annoyed.

  I remained frozen at the door. I could feel every pair of eyes on me and I could feel the sweat start to trickle.

  ‘Zillie. That’s it. Just Zillie, as in, Zillie.’

  Laughter began to erupt.

  “Well don’t just stand there like a garden gnome, go and take a seat, you can catch up on what you have missed in detention.”

  Garden gnome? That was a new one. Was he allowed to call me that? I took my seat when –

  “Violet’s my name,” she whispered, “I just love your hair! It’s totally rad! And your outfit is so … retro.”

  “Hi Violet –“

  “Let’s just stop shall we class? It’s obvious that Zillie here has something more important to say than what I do, so go ahead. Tell everyone what is so important.” The brown suit tapped his foot, impatiently waiting for my response.

  “Nothing Sir. Go on …”

  “Well, thank you for your permission Miss Zillie! Now let’s increase that detention time by ten minutes.”

  My first day ended in way that was perfectly appropriate to summing up the day I’d had. Uncle Stan didn’t own a mobile phone (he believed they were invented by aliens to monitor our every move), and since he did not know I would be late because of detention and I had no way of letting him know, I got to walk home. Alone. I got lost. Then it started to rain. Heavily. Yep; perfect!

  I decided to eat Aunt Jan’s bean curd delight in bed. I wasn’t in the mood to sit through all the usual shenanigans and I couldn’t even be bothered complaining about having this slush for dinner.

  Again. I had given up hope on ever having for mac and cheese, or a simple hamburger with tomato sauce for dinner, I even got sick of asking. It just seemed like nobody ever listened to me around this place anyway. Now as for Pea-head, everybody seemed to have time for that rat bag. You know he came home with three first place ribbons?

  Apparently it was athletics day in the junior school and he blitzed it! None of us had any idea he was even good at sport and neither did he! If there is ever such a thing as a second life, I will ask to come back as him. Of course I would never tell him that, it would ruin our family groove if we were ever to actually compliment each other – it would look like we were getting along. Sometimes though, I must admit, I did feel sorry for him. He was obsessed with his pet ant, and little did he know that Dad kept secretly replacing it every time it ‘took a very long sleep’. Zenny was convinced his ant had secret powers and when I was trying to fall asleep at night, I’d hear him talking to it. I guess I should’ve given him a break now and then, but it frustrated me how he seemed to have all the luck in the world and yet I couldn’t even go a single day without having some kind of drama pin me down. Just once I would like for the day to be normal. Well, as normal as normal could be in a Crombie household.

  My second day of school started off a bit better. I was early, my hair was less looney and I got to wear colours that didn’t require wearing sunglasses to look at me without going blind. Violet seemed a bit wacky, but nice enough. She was a bit exhausting with all the questions she asked. I had to ask her to wait for recess and lunchtime, since I certainly did not want another detention. As she sipped on her cucumber water and ate her gluten free, low sodium, organic vegetable chips, she asked me how many toes I had. I was still looking at her, confused, when she ripped off her sock to show me her foot. “See? I have six! I guess I got one extra for good luck!” she laughed. I smiled. What a character. Maybe this school wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. As if on cue, just as I’d finished the thought, a lady came up holding a bag.

  “Good morning Zillie, here is the uniform your mum ordered. Let’s get you changed, we can’t have you in that outfit all day.” As I yanked on the summer dress that was two sizes too small, I rolled my eyes. What was mum thinking? Didn’t she even know what size I was? I couldn’t possibly go out into the yard like this. Of course the lady disagreed, she said it simply would have to do for now. It was so short and definitely not at all flattering. It exposed my pale, ch
icken legs that I inherited from Uncle Stan. The lady said she would search the lost property bucket and come and get me if she found anything more suitable. As I walked back to class, I spotted her. Princess Holly. She burst into laughter and on seeing their queen bee do this, her groupies decided to join in. A wolf-whistle followed. She moved closer. “You really should shave your legs you know, especially if you’re going to insist on wearing your dress so short. I keep a shaver in my locker. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a single hair, that’s just nasty.”

  She linked arms with me and marched me to the toilet block. I looked down at my legs, but couldn’t really see many hairs at all. “Here, you do it” she said. “Press hard, up and down. Just because you’re a gypsy, doesn’t mean you have to look like a gypsy. It’s very selfish of you, when we’re the ones that have to look at you!”

  I don’t know why I did it. Just looking at her in all her perfection must have made me fall into some kind of trance. So I did what she told me to. It was easy! When the bell went, she ran off. As I followed, I looked down and noticed all these red marks on my … blood! What? I looked closely. I had cut my legs all over. Ohhhhh you’re kidding. I went back into the classroom and Mr Licorice took one good, disgusted look at me. “Zillie, what in heaven’s have you done to yourself now. March yourself to the sick bay and don’t return until you’re patched up.” Once again I could feel the burning of sixty eyeballs on me.

  When the nurse was up to her twelfth Band-Aid, a lady entered the sick bay with a dress in hand. “I think this will be more comfortable. You can hang onto it until someone comes forward to claim it.” Ahhh that was better, I could breathe. It even covered up a few of the Band-Aids. Hang on. What was that whiff … ? It was coming from the dress. I smelt my underarms and nearly passed out from the fumes. No wonder this dress was in lost property. It was toxic. I found some hairspray in the toilet block so I sprayed some on and hoped that would do until I could sterilise the dress at home. I snuck back into class, but it took only minutes for people to notice. Violet told me to close my eyes and imagine a field of flowers and that with the power of thought, I could actually convert the stench to something more pleasant. But even with both our minds at work, it was a flop. When I got home, I soaked it in a bucket of deodoriser. I could have sworn I saw black fumes literally escape the bucket.