The Runaway

Running away to the circus was not an option. Just ask Ronny.

Most kids, when they get angry at eight years old, threaten to run away and join the circus. Unfortunately for Ronny, that plan was impossible because he already lived there. Orphaned as a toddler, he’d been passed from jugglers to clowns, acrobats to magicians, never belonging anywhere. So he invented a far more terrifying threat.
“I’m running away to live with a boring farm family!” he declared.
The ringmaster nearly swallowed his whistle. Even the clowns froze. A boring farm? What horror!
Ronny dreamed of never having to train on the trapeze again. If they shot him from a cannon to fly across the tent one more time, he’d scream loud enough to scare the elephants back to Africa. Worst of all was training with the lion tamer and sticking his head inside a lion’s mouth. The lion always seemed far too interested.
That afternoon Ronny worked the ticket booth, standing on a sturdy wooden block so he could peer over the counter. An elderly farmer and his wife approached. Their weathered hands placed enough money down for two tickets.
“Need any for your children?” Ronny asked.
The farmer smiled sadly. “We never had any.”
That answer lingered all evening.
When the final applause faded, Ronny quietly followed the couple home. They discovered him shivering beside their barn before sunrise. Instead of scolding him, they offered breakfast, chores, and a warm bed.
Days became weeks. He learned to milk cows instead of dodge pies, collect eggs instead of applause, and shovel hay instead of elephant poop.
For the first time, nobody expected him to perform.
The following year when the circus arrived, Ronny ask if they could go to the museum instead. He had heard it was really, really boring, so he couldn't wait to see it.