The Dumb Kid, Part One

His shoe slipped farther down his face. Sam could see only a small patch of the ground. He stopped before he bumped into a wooden sign.

The sign said WELCOME BOOTH, with an arrow pointing down the midway.

Sam knew where he needed to go. His family had told him to meet them there if they got separated.

“I can do it,” he said.

He bent to fix his hat. The hat twisted under his feet, and one shoe fell from his head.

Plop!

It landed in a basket of soft, folded scarves beside a booth.

The scarf seller looked down. “Oh! A shoe.”

Sam picked it up. “Sorry. It was supposed to be my hat.”

The seller blinked. Then she smiled. “That explains a lot.”

Sam put the shoe back on his head. It pressed his hair flat on one side. He tugged the hat around his feet and started down the midway.

The crowd was not scary. It was simply busy. Children carried pinwheels. Grown-ups held cups of lemonade. A little train rolled by with a cheerful toot. Everywhere Sam looked, something moved.

Or almost everywhere.

The shoe on his head covered one eye. The hat around his feet covered his toes. Sam had to walk slowly, lifting each foot and feeling for a clear spot before setting it down.

A boy with a green balloon pointed at him. “Is that a new kind of hat?”

“No,” Sam said. “It is an old kind of shoe.”

The boy thought about this. “Oh.”

Sam continued.

The welcome booth was supposed to be beside the tall lemonade stand. Sam saw a tall yellow sign and hurried toward it. But when he got closer, he found a booth selling lemon-shaped soap.

A woman behind the table held up a round yellow bar. “Lemon soap?”

“No, thank you,” Sam said. “I am looking for my family.”

“Try the welcome booth,” she said.

“That is what I am doing.”

The woman pointed behind him. “It is the other yellow sign.”

Sam turned. The shoe on his head slipped over both eyes.

For one moment, he saw nothing but brown leather.

He stopped. The fair sounds swirled around him. Music played somewhere to his left. A bell rang to his right. Someone laughed behind him. His feet felt tangled in the blue hat.

Sam pulled the shoe away and took a breath.

He wanted to run back to the gate. He wanted to sit on the grass and wait. But his family was waiting at the welcome booth, and he had promised to meet them there.

He held the shoe in one hand and lifted the hat from his feet. His socks touched the warm wooden boards of the midway.

“That is better,” he whispered.

He tucked the hat under his arm. Then he tried walking in his socks.

The ground was bumpy. A small pebble pressed into his heel. Sam hopped once.

“Ouch.”

He put the hat back on his feet, but this time he held the sides up with both hands. It was slow, but he could see.

A man carrying a tray of pretzels stepped around him. “Careful there.”

“I am being careful,” Sam said.

He took another step and bumped into a stack of empty boxes. The boxes wobbled.

Sam grabbed the top one. “I have it!”

The boxes settled.

The pretzel man nodded. “Good catch.”

Sam felt a little better. He had not fixed everything, but he had stopped the boxes from falling. Maybe he could reach the booth after all.

He followed the yellow signs. One pointed toward a ring-toss game. Another pointed toward a puppet tent. A third pointed toward a row of picnic tables.

Sam stopped at each sign and checked the words.

Welcome Booth.

He said the words quietly. “Welcome Booth.”

Then he looked at the arrow. “This way.”

The midway grew more crowded near the game booths. A child tossed a ring. A bell rang. Three ducks spun in a shallow pool. People cheered when a yellow ring landed around a duck’s neck.

Sam tried to pass behind the game.

“Excuse me,” he said.

A woman moved aside. “There you go.”

“Thank you.”

He took two steps. His hat caught on the corner of a table.

Sam tugged.

The table shook.

A row of wooden ducks bumped together. Clack, clack, clack!

The game keeper reached out and steadied the table. “Easy.”

“Sorry,” Sam said. “My hat is very wide.”

“It is,” said the game keeper. “Perhaps it would like to be on your head.”

Sam looked at the shoe in his hand. “That might be a good idea.”

He put the hat on his head. Then he held the shoe in each hand and stepped carefully through the crowd.

It felt strange to walk with his shoes in his hands. His socks grew dusty. His head felt lighter. Most of all, he could see.

Sam found the next yellow sign. The welcome booth was just ahead.

He smiled and hurried.

A gust of wind blew through the midway. It lifted the blue hat from Sam’s head. The hat sailed past his shoulder and landed on a little cart filled with paper kites.

“My hat!” Sam cried.

He ran after it.

The cart rolled forward as a fair worker pushed it toward the kite field. Sam grabbed the edge before it went too far.

The worker stopped. “Are you looking for this?”

Sam pulled the hat from the kites. “Yes. I need it for my feet.”

The worker looked at Sam’s shoes. “I can see that.”

Sam put the hat under his arm again. He had one shoe in each hand and no shoes on his feet. His socks were gray with dust.

He looked down the midway.

The welcome booth stood at the end, under a striped roof.

Sam could see it now.

He walked slowly, keeping his eyes on the booth. The sounds of the fair no longer pushed him in every direction. He listened for one thing at a time: the music, the bells, the chatter, and his own small steps.

At last, he reached the booth.

A sign above it said WELCOME TO THE FAIR.

Sam climbed the two wooden steps. His legs felt tired, and one sock had a tiny hole near the toe.

“Mom?” he called.

No one answered.

He looked behind the booth. He looked under the table. He looked at the map hanging on the wall.

A note sat beside a basket of fair ribbons.

Sam picked it up.

It said, “Sam, we went to the kite field. We will meet you there. Love, your family.”

Sam read it twice.

The welcome booth had been his goal. He had reached it. He had made it through the busy midway all by himself.

But his family was gone again.

The fair music floated over the rooftops. Beyond the booths, colorful kites danced in the sky.

Sam held the note in one hand, his shoes in the other, and his blue hat under his arm.

He was not sure where the kite field was. He was not sure how long it would take to get there.

But he knew one thing.

He was going to find them.

Sam put the hat on his head, tucked the shoes beneath his arm, and stepped down from the booth. This time, he watched where he was going.

At the edge of the midway, a fair worker pointed toward the open field. “That way.”

“Thank you,” Sam said.

Then Sam walked on, still dusty, still dressed upside down, but no longer pretending that guessing was the same as knowing.

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters in the full book.