Book 2: Fair Expectations
Jimmy and Susanna Carter sat in the back seat of their mother’s 1951 Chevy while she inched her way through traffic that had clotted around the Tri-State Fair Parade route. The fair was the largest social event held each year in Amarillo, Texas, and visitors came to the small panhandle city from as far away as Oklahoma and New Mexico.
Jimmy bounced up, hooked his elbows over the back of the front seat behind his mother’s head, and shouted, “There’s the band! There’s the band!”
She reflexively clocked him in the head with her right knuckle, and he fell backward into the abyss of the sofa style bench seat. Susanna cut her eyes his direction and smiled smugly.
Susanna’s memories of prior fairs were spotty, but she did recall the lights, colors, and hubbub and the booths where people played games for stuffed animals, some as big as she was. Those had left an indelible mark on her memory. With total assurance she could do it, she told Jimmy, “When Daddy takes us to the fair tonight I’m going to win a poodle with a diamond collar.”
Arms crossed and head down, he snarled, “No. You’re not.”
“I am too.”
“No. You’re not.”
“I am.”
“No! You’re not!” He lurched over her. “You only win those at the shooting gallery, and you’re too little to shoot.”
“I can shoot.”
“No! You can’t!”
“I can!” Susanna jumped up to look over the front seat. “Mama, I can shoot. Can’t I?”
Mrs. Carter snapped, “Sit down! I’m trying to find a parking spot, and I can’t do it while you’re yelling.” Susanna dropped into the seat, and Jimmy smiled.
