I’m Emma, a carnival performer who found a trembling boy hiding at the fair. As Glimmer Emma, I calmed him with balloons and stories, but his pain echoed my grief for my sister. When his dad arrived, I was floored to know him, and that day brought my joy back to life.
The sun scorched as I tugged my colorful costume, careful with my face paint. My booth by the fair’s carousel was great for kids, but the music hit hard, reminding me of my sister, Grace. “You light up the world, Emma,” she’d say, but since she passed two years ago, my Glimmer Emma act felt fake. I set out balloons, paints, and story cards, anchoring my tablecloth with stones Grace and I found camping. She’d loved my performing despite my office job, but loss dimmed my spark. The fair woke up—funnel cake smells, kids’ squeals, the Ferris wheel’s groan. I slipped into Glimmer Emma, my glitter hiding plain Emma.
Twirling batons to attract families, I saw a boy under a bench, shaking, gripping a photo. I knelt nearby. “Hey, buddy, want a surprise?” I said softly. He wore headphones, wincing at shouts. I’d performed for an autistic kid once, so I grabbed a blue balloon, calming. “A hedgehog loved benches,” I said, twisting it. “He spied on folks.” He peeked up, eyes wet. The photo showed him with a woman on a carousel horse. “Sweet horse,” I said. “Who’s that?” “My mom,” he whispered. “She’s gone.” My heart broke. “I’m Glimmer Emma. You?” “Finn,” he said, watching my balloon bird. “Dad brought me, but it was loud.”
I suggested the stables, quieter. “Horses are kind, like griffins.” He nodded slightly. I told a staffer to find Finn’s dad as we walked to the stables’ hay-scented peace. On bales, I offered, “Story time?” I shaped balloons, telling of a hero with headphones, led by a griffin. “It’s okay to feel sad and happy,” I said. Finn asked, “You do?” “My sister’s gone,” I said. “Performing’s fun, but I miss her.” Finn touched his photo. “Mom loved the gold carousel horse.” “That’s precious,” I said.
“Finn!” a man yelled, rushing up. My jaw dropped—it was Jake, my schoolmate. He looked older but had the same gentle smile. “Emma?” he said, seeing through my paint. Finn hugged him, and Jake knelt, checking on him. “Thank you,” Jake said. “He slipped away by the carousel.” Finn showed the balloon bird. “Glimmer Emma’s like Mom with stories.” Jake grinned. “You’re still awesome, Emma.” He shared Finn’s needs and his wife’s recent death, struggling alone. “You’re doing great,” I said. “Can I visit Finn for stories?” Finn smiled. “Yes!” Jake and I swapped numbers, eager to reconnect.
After they left, I sat by the stables, a balloon bird beside me. A horse snorted, wise. Grace’s words echoed—joy matters. I could create shows for kids like Finn. My heart felt light. “Thanks, Grace,” I whispered. At my booth, my smile was real, ready for more cheer.
