Girl on a Wire (16 page)

I tried my best to look inside his head, see if he was surprised or checking up on his handiwork. But Thurston had some poker face.

Dad finally said, “Just some family business. Jules, why don’t you—”

“You can go on and scout without me this time, if that’s okay,” I said to Thurston. “I’ve already been once.”

Dad nodded, and I felt relieved. I still wanted to talk to Sam, and determine if Nan had anything to say that could help Remy and me get to the bottom of why the trunk had shown up now.

“I understand family business comes first,” Thurston said. “All right.”

Once he left, Nan clasped her hands together and said, “I’m going to lie down. Like a bad habit, my headache is returning.”

After she passed us, Dad leaned into Mom, voice lowered. “Bad memories. All of this brings them. Makes her overreact.” Mom nodded. He was offering her an explanation to grab on to.

“We’re going to take a rest too,” she said, though it sounded like she’d more likely be asking Dad questions than napping.

When they were gone I asked Sam, in a whisper, “What happened?”

“I’ve never seen her like that. It was scary, Jules,” he said. “She told us we had to throw the trunk in the water, and when we told her we couldn’t do that, she sent me to go get lighter fluid from the supply trailer. We carried that thing way back behind a bunch of Dumpsters. Where she made us torch it. The smell of the leather . . . it was awful. And she was chanting something weird under her breath. I guess in Italian. Or Latin maybe.” He shivered in the fan’s breeze.

“Wow.” She’d burned the elephant hair too, of course, and even though I didn’t swallow her “magic lingers” explanation, I said a silent thanks that the feather was gone forever, having fallen into the river. Just in case.

“Do you think Nan’s okay . . . mentally?” he asked.

Trust Sam to bring the logical question. I was less and less convinced there was much place for logic in the reality we had apparently entered when we came to the Cirque.

“I think we have no idea what she’s going through, what she went through back then. We have to cut her some slack.”

“I guess.”

He sounded about as convinced as I was.

twenty-two

Backstage was packed tight that night, since the parking complex was so far from the big top. It was the only convenient place to be for the first of what had been nicknamed our “Very Important Performances” by Thurston. I claimed my usual vantage spot by the side curtain early. At first, I planned to catch Remy and tell him about the trunk. But then I recalled how much pressure was on him tonight to get the quad. They’d just missed the catch at the last performance, and Thurston had promised a party after tonight’s attempt—but only if Remy made it.

I decided he didn’t need the distraction. The bad news that our saboteur had returned could wait until later.

So I contented myself with watching the jugglers balance atop giant balls and toss flaming knives to each other. Right before my act, I made my way over to our dressing tables. Dad sat there, quietly watching the hubbub.

I picked up the lipstick I’d brought with me to replace my stolen one, and reapplied. Then I asked him, “Dad, you’re not sorry? That we came here, I mean.”

He considered. “It hasn’t been easy. I told you it wouldn’t be.”

“I know.”

“But, no, I don’t regret coming here. Performing in such a company . . . seeing you get your chance . . . I’m grateful you’re so stubborn. Your grandmother had to confront her history sometime, and she’ll get through this.”

I inhaled to keep tears from coming. Dad reached over and gave me a little push. “It’s your time. Knock them dead, my heart.”

“I plan to.” I gave a quick check to my costume, something I hadn’t done since the first few days of the season—and found nothing unwelcome. I grabbed my parasol and scampered over to the curtain. Dad’s answer had been more important to me than I’d realized.

From the second I took the spotlight, I was determined to let whoever left the trunk know that they hadn’t knocked me off my game. Gripping the ladder with one arm, I twirled my parasol as I rose to the platform. Once on the wire, my pirouette sequence went
swirl snap swirl snap swirl
, every movement
crisp. My arabesque was high enough that it risked overextension.

The audience clapped loudly as I came down, clowns circling the outer ring to entertain until I exited. As soon as I got backstage, I headed over to the side curtain to catch Mom’s act.

She and the horses were at their best. She even earned a gasp from me with one of her gravity-defying leaps from horse to horse. About halfway through, she made a big show of leaning against one of the stallions and gesturing for Sam—a few steps outside the bounds of center ring—to come in and take over.

He was in his normal costume. No shined boots. She’d said he would get a chance soon, but . . . tonight?

I couldn’t believe it. From his slight hesitation, it was clear he hadn’t expected it either.

But he recovered fast and strutted into position, a pro born and bred. I wondered if he felt short of breath or like he was about to throw up or like he was on fire. They were all things I’d felt the first time I was allowed to perform for an audience.

The audience had no idea it was his first time, not with his confidence. He looked to Mom for a cue about what to do—something I noticed but they never would—and she must have urged him to Beauty.

Sam stopped in front of his—and Mom’s—favorite mare, standing straight and tall. He raised his arms and barked a command I was too far away to hear, and Beauty raised on her hind legs, pawing the air impressively. He gave another shout and all four of her feet were back on the ground. He stepped back a bit and gave a louder command. Seven of the giant beasts whinnied and went down on one knee to him, a horse serenade.

Mom allowed the trick to set for a moment, then strode over and brushed his shoulder as she commanded the horses
up, up, up
with a series of quick motions. Sam left the ring to applause, and Mom finished the act to even louder accolades.

I glowed with happiness for Sam. So today hadn’t been a total wash. I left my spot to meet Mom and Sam as they reentered backstage. Sam jogged alongside the horses, and I held up my palm to high-five him.

Mom said, “Enjoy it, Sammy. Good job for your first show,” and shooed him toward me. She must have told the stable guys her plan, because one of them appeared to assist her.

Sam smacked his hand into mine.

“Welcome to being an official Amazing Maroni!” I said.

With great relish, he stuck his tongue out at me. I heard laughter and looked over to find Remy and Dita and a few others watching us. Grinning, Dita split off from her brother, distracting everyone as she rocketed past me to fling her arms around Sam. He caught her without a hitch. And then he kissed her. In front of everyone.

There was a moment of quiet uneasiness before someone wolf-whistled. Remy turned to speak to Novio, who’d stepped out of the crowd and was taking in the scene with an expression of dazed horror.

Dad appeared at my shoulder and demanded, “Did you know about this?”

Sam and Dita’s kiss had ended, both of them pink-cheeked. Sam reached down to take her hand, and he walked her toward the curtain that led outside. He ignored the bait when Novio cursed loudly. Remy put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, not letting him follow them to make trouble.

My response to Dad was cautious. “Dad, it’s no big deal. I think it’s nice.”

He gave a curt nod, said nothing more. I sighed as he stalked back to the dressing table and retook his seat. His scowl this time was real. But at least he wasn’t threatening to kill Sam or anything extreme.

It gave me hope I, too, might survive.

There was no way on earth I was missing Remy’s act, worry about drawing Dad’s attention or not. Sam came back in time to join the crowd at the side curtain to watch the last performances of the evening—and Dad made his way over too, which he’d never done before that I knew about.

Dad had always been a fan of the philosophy of not watching the competition. Noticing their achievements means having to acknowledge them, and this takes energy away from your own efforts. Better to stay focused on the act
you
have to do, he’d say.

There was logic to it, but I liked watching everyone else hitting their marks. Not to mention, I’d have been glad to lend my energy to Remy to help him make the quad. I felt like I was the one about to perform. He could do this. I’d seen him. But would he? Would this be the night he finally caught it during a performance? Was there going to be a party?

We were packed in tight, Dad on one side of me and Sam on the other, a crush of people around us. Mom had stayed outside with the horses, but I was certain that by now she’d heard about Sam’s girlfriend. Dad had yet to acknowledge Sam.

I nudged Sam with my shoulder, and said under my breath to him, “That was subtle.”

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “Painful but quick. Band-Aid approach.”

“Didn’t look so bad.” I raised my voice for the next thing I said: “Have I mentioned how excellent you were tonight? That was a big deal, performing.”

My intention was to remind Dad that the outing of Sam’s relationship wasn’t the only important event of the evening.

“It was just two little commands,” Sam said. “Nothing major.”

“Hear that. Nothing major, he says,” I said to Dad.

Thurston launched into the patter lead-in to the Garcias’ act, and they started to dash out into the ring from the main entry, one by one. Dad leaned in front of me, bringing his face close to Sam’s. He said, “Please do not mention the . . . other thing to your grandmother. After the shock earlier today, I worry for her.”

“Dad, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Promise you won’t tell her. Not now,” Dad said.

Sam didn’t answer right away, and I could see an anger forming on his face that I hadn’t seen since the night he fought Novio. I reached for his arm, discreetly, gave it a supportive squeeze. “Let’s all be calm,” I said.

“I live under your roof and we’re family, I know that,” Sam said.

I held my breath against the sure-to-come
but
. It didn’t take long.

Sam was as serious as I’d ever seen him. And he did have guts, to look my dad in the eye and hold his ground. “I’ll wait to tell her for now, but not forever. And I’m not keeping Dita secret from anyone else. I’m the lucky one here, to have her.”

Dad nodded. Sam gave me a sympathetic look, and I knew what he was thinking. That I was screwed. Well, I’d have to burn that bridge when I came to it. Remy and I hadn’t even talked about how . . . if, when . . . to tell anyone. The concept of
us
was too new.

Sam directed his still-tense gaze above the ring to watch his girlfriend. That was when I realized that the clowns behind us weren’t just idly standing by. One was taking bets from the others about whether Remy would make the quad.

Almost no one was betting on Remy. I wanted to lecture them, but I bit my lip. And crossed my fingers.

Remy and Novio were flying in their first swing, exchanging trapezes, while Thurston did his well-rehearsed commentary. Dita was as good as I’d ever seen her, dazzling in her triple, spinning so fast her costume glimmered like an in-the-sky star.

“Such a flyer. She might as well have wings,” I said for Dad’s benefit, but he didn’t react.

Sam smiled, smug. “I know.”

She made a multiple-turn-in-midair fall down to the net, as graceful as any of the flying trapeze elements we’d seen so far. Making a fall appear effortless and under control at once was not easy.

After what felt like an age trapped between Sam and my dad, it was time for Remy’s big attempt. My stomach gathered in a tight ball, and so did my hands. Keeping them in fists was the only way to ensure I wouldn’t grab Sam’s or Dad’s.

Remy and Novio might have scrapped earlier, but they were in rare form tonight. Novio was as relaxed as I’d ever seen him. And when Remy swung out, his angle and speed were perfect
.

He might just do this. My nails bit into my palms as my fists tightened.

Remy went back and forth, gathering speed, but not too much. Novio was swinging idly back and forth in wait, giving his brother space to prepare . . .

And Remy tensed for one breath, then released the bar, curling into his first spin—his second—his third—his fourth and—

He extended his hands, dropping out of the tight spin, as Novio swung toward him—

Novio’s hands touched Remy’s taped wrists and—

Touched and
held
.

Novio grasped tight, Remy dangling from his solid grip.

He made it.
He made it.

In front of
everyone
.

I was jumping up and down, but no one noticed because—other than Dad—everyone else was too. The audience’s cheering turned from enthusiastic to thunderous, while Thurston’s booming voice made clear the rarity of what they’d just seen. Sam folded me in a hug, slapping my back like I’d done it.

Novio released Remy’s wrists and Remy went down, knifing into the net. After he landed on the ground, he allowed himself one celebratory fist pump, before cooling his reaction and taking his sister’s hand. Novio fell to the net and then was on Remy’s other side and they were bowing, accepting adulation from the crowd, and finally leaving the ring at Thurston’s cue.

When I turned, Dad had already gone. He was up next regardless of what happened before his walk, so of course he had.

I wished that were the only reason.

The performers who’d been watching with us headed off to mob the Garcias, the clowns grumbling about the money they’d lost. Sam went with everyone else, toward Dita.

I stood, torn. I could join the congratulations party, get
us
out in the open like Dita had with Sam earlier. But when I caught Remy’s smile, that was all I got. A smile. And when I tried to read in more, I was
trying
. Did I see a slight regret there, or was I imagining it? And Novio was right next to him, slapping his back, bro-hugging away. Sam and Dita were leaving already, and Novio rolled his eyes in their direction to Remy.

Remy didn’t respond, but he stayed in Novio’s half embrace.

I could wait until later. This was one tiny moment out of every moment left to come. That’s what I told myself, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I wished I had the nerve to just go over to him, make it clear how proud I was, let him decide on the next steps. I moved closer.

Their mother streaked across the space to enfold both of her sons. Novio elbowed Remy, crowing at her, “Someone was channeling Granddad’s luck tonight!”

I stopped where I was. It wouldn’t go well if I interrupted them.

I’d just have to be content waiting for the party I
was
invited to.