Free Touch of the Clown by Glen Huser Page B

a squiggle and the next person had to make the squiggle into part of a picture. I was the best. I could make squiggles into just about anything. And my dad laughed and laughed, and even my mom cracked a smile or two.”
    I don’t want to go last, so after the girl withthe turquoise hair tells about how her best time was riding horseback on a guest ranch near Hinton, I recite my Alberta Beach memory. I can barely hear myself to start with, but my words get stronger and louder as I go on.
    The Native boy is next. He stutters when he says his name, Nathan Meredith, but once he is telling us about his best time, the stuttering almost disappears. “I r-remember when my grandpa took me up to his cabin near St. Paul. It’s a cabin on a lake and we went fishing every day and made bannock and ate fresh jackfish, and he would tell me stories, you know, about the Indian way, and when he was a young man. He liked to play jokes a lot, and we would split a gut…you know, laughing, and then…” He pauses and a choke comes into his voice. “And th…then, my m…mom figured out where we were and came and got me. But it was good for awhile…” His voice trails off.
    â€œThat’s great.” Cosmo has lifted himself to a half-crouch in front of us. “All of you have pretty good life-preservers. Use them, like I say, when you’re feeling blue, or you feel like you’re being driven over very slowly by one of those big rollers they use for smoothing pavement.”
    He flashes a goofy grin. “We’re just going to limber up a bit now.” He has us become rag dolls and then mannequins. While we’re doing that, he drags in a wooden trunk filled with things like scarves and gloves and different kinds of hats. We are to each choose one thing that catches our fancy.
    â€œLook at the color of the item. How does it make you feel? When you put it on, let the color change how you feel. Let the object guide your behavior. I’ll begin.” Cosmo leaves the trunk open and walks to the edge of the stage. He returns slowly, as if he is incredibly tired, almost tripping over the trunk. He looks at us with an expression of surprise and then it changes into one that is filled with excitement and wonder as he discovers different items: a pink scarf that he lets drift along his face, a beanie that makes him smile stupidly. Finally he settles for a pair of yellow gloves which he puts on slowly, shivering as he smooths the cloth over his fingers. Once they are on, he becomes filled with energy, electric, dancing around, waving his hands like a dancer, then keeping an imaginary ball afloat, then being a traffic policeman.
    Cosmo crooks his finger and nods toward thetrunk. The kids all gather around him and everybody seems to make a quick choice. When I stand up, I feel my legs begin to shake.
    â€œGo ahead and jump, sweetie,” Mama would holler when she was trying to get me to dive. “You can swim like a fish. Now you just need to learn to dive. You can do it. I’m right here.”
    I would look down from the diving board to where Mama was below me, her hands reaching up. I wanted to get on my hands and knees and crawl back.
    I have the same feeling now. I wish there were some way I could disappear. This is different than grade seven drama. There it was like everyone was in the beginners’ class. Here I can see kids who look like they’re training for the drama Olympics.
    I have a feeling that Nathan Meredith isn’t ready to rush up and get something out of Cosmo’s trunk, either. We are the last ones. Cosmo spills the remaining props out so we can see them. There is a corsage of white flowers, the kind that college boys give to their prom dates in the movies. There’s an old-fashioned handbag all covered with sequins and beads. There’s a cowboy hat and a balaclava and a lady’s straw sunhat with a green ribbon tie.
    â€œDo any of these