JJ Blankenship is diffrent from the rest of her class. She aspires to be a sideshow star, but being suppressed by her family and peers is making things very difficult. When she finally gets the chance of a lifetime, complications arrise, and things take a dark turn. Will she be able to continue on the path she always dreamt of, or will she have to give up everything to take care of other challenges? Can she balance both? Probably not.

      
    The phone rings. I rush around, looking for my house phone. “Hello?”
   Silence. “Hello?” No answer. I sigh. “I’m hanging up now. Obviously my time is not as important to you as it is to me. Good day, sir.” More silence. Angered, I slam the phone into the cradle. As if I don’t have enough to deal with.
   Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, did I? My name is JJ Blankenship, and I am a carnie. Because I want you to fully understand me, I am now going to tell you what I look like. I stand 5”11, and I am slightly overweight, but I don’t let that stop me. My *cough* black hair falls just past my shoulders, and it is not natural. Brown eyes, but green contacts, even though my eyesight is near perfect.
   In case you were wondering, a carnie is someone who works in a carnival. I own my own carnival, or I will soon. Never In Accordance, the most amazing traveling circus in America!
   That’s what I tell people, anyway. But my great-grandmother always told me, if you really want something, you have to chase after it. I wonder if she would be proud of me, being a carnie and all. Probably. She always encouraged me to go after my dreams, no matter what they were. I used to believe it.
   Until she left.
   That was one of the hardest things I have ever had to go through. When she left, I sank into depression. People ask me why I perform. That’s why. If I’m not performing I start to go stir-crazy. I begin to miss the people that are gone.
   My parents try to hide me from the rest of the world. I only go out for school and friends that they know. Once they found out that I wanted to be involved in sideshow, they put my under severe lockdown. No lessons, no performing, no nothing. Basically hell on Earth.
   But, anyway, I’m barely fourteen, and I have some big plans. Just tonight, in fact I’m going to meet up with Breanna Vickers, another fire eater I worked with in the past.
   In case you were wondering what I do, they call me the “Queen Bee” of sideshow. Hence, my stage name, The Bloody Queen Bee. Kind of dark, but amazing all the same. I specialize in sword swallowing, fire works (eating, spinning, blowing…), the human blockhead, and the human pin cushion. I do it all. Except contortion and suspension. You can’t get me to do that for all the silk sheets in China.
   As I climb on my bike, I notice someone looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I turn around. No one’s there. I shake my head and ride away.
   When I pull up to Breanna’s house, I see her orange cat dart out from under the car. “Hey, Tiger. How’s it goin’?” Tiger looked up at me and mewed. I patted her head, walked up the sidewalk, and rang the doorbell.
   “COMING!” Breanna yelled. I sigh. She’s always loud. The door swings open, and she’s holding her fire torches and fuel. “Let’s go to the backyard. I need to practice.”

Breanna lit her torches, and a swell of fire surged up to the sky. “Impressive. Do you still have my stuff in the shed?” I had to hide all of my equipment in her small backyard shed, so that my parents didn’t get suspicious. “Should be. Way in the back.” She put the head of the torch in her mouth.
   I unlock the shed and immediately spot the large burlap sack that contains my life. I scoop it up and run back outside. I pull out my sword. Nervously, I gaze at it. I haven’t practiced in about three weeks. You have to practice everyday, otherwise, you lose your ability to control your gag reflex.
   I walk over to the porch and empty the bag onto a bench. Grabbing my torches, I rush to Breanna’s side and dip them into the fuel. “Light me.” I say. Breanna holds her lit torch to mine and the flame jumps out to meet the kerosene-soaked kevlar head.
   Fire eating is easy. The burns aren’t too bad if you do it right, and it looks really cool. After a while it doesn’t even burn anymore. It’s a calming sort of therapy. The burn of kerosene against my throat. Comfortably warm.
   There are a number of things that are therapeutic about my acts. The power that I feel with a sword down my throat is magical. I know that at any moment I could change position and be sliced up. It makes me feel like I have all the power in the world.
   “JJ? Hello?” Breanna snapped me out of my daydream. “Oh…. Sorry, Bri. Let’s start again.” I hold out my torch for her to light. “No. I want to talk about the circus. How’s everything going?” She walked over to the bench and sat down.
   “I don’t even know anymore. It’s like everything I do is being watched and judged by my parents. I just need some freedom. Let me look for a building for lease. Let me perform. You know?”
   “I do. Remember last summer? I was grounded for CarnieFair, man. That sucked.” She got a sad look in her eye. “You got to meet Jake Frier. Dude. She….. That’s like our history teacher getting to meet Benjamin Franklin. Legendary.”
   “Yeah, but….. I mean, you get so much freedom. I can’t even wear makeup.” I looked at her sadly. She eyed me. “Says the girl with black eyeliner and lipstick!!” She laughed. “I didn’t say I don’t wear it. I said I’m not supposed to. Besides, black lipstick is in.”
   “Well, you wanna practice more? I really need to work on my holding techniques. It’s hard.” She smiled at me. I looked at my watch.
   “Oh! It’s seven thirty! I’m supposed to be home ten minutes ago! I’ll see you at school.” I rush to throw my things in the bag. “I got it, run!” “Thanks, Bri!” I run to my bike. When I get home, I already know that I am in deep-