That Time I Joined the Circus (10 page)

Like I said: stupid.

Somewhere Below 14th Street — Wednesday, September 29

I have an actual list of worst days ever. There was one right after my mom left — one in particular, because there were a lot of bad days back then. But this one day, Gavin listened to the song “Found Out About You” by the Gin Blossoms on repeat. Part of the tragedy is Gavin Ryan listening to the Gin Blossoms. I mean, it’s a pretty good song (until you hear it on repeat for twenty-four hours). But it’s really not his scene at all, is one thing. For another, he listened to it on repeat for
twenty-four hours
. The song itself was sort of perfect for his situation. But when it’s your mom, who you love (or who
you used to love) who’s the lying, betraying [fill in whatever you want here — I hate her now]… Anyway, it wasn’t so awesome at the time. To this day, if I even hear a song that I think might be the Gin Blossoms, I run.

Today is now on this list of days, and it’s moving up with a bullet. For a start, I went shopping. With Barbie — I mean, Bailey. I didn’t plan to — it just sort of happened. I got sucked into the gravitational pull that is Bailey.

We got out early on every other Wednesday for the teachers to have meetings or whatever, and Bailey grabbed me after fifth period, and somehow I was roped into shopping. It’s not that I don’t like to shop. I appreciate the consumer marketplace. I mostly like books and CDs, old jewelry, and when planning to ask for a birthday/Christmas/I-will-clean-the-apartment-for-a-month present, something shiny at the Apple Store.

Bailey, though, she likes clothes and shoes, in a seemingly infinite and endless variety and supply. It’s not that I wear sackcloth, but I guess I tend to go for something made of denim on the bottom and a T-shirt on top unless I have to look a little nicer, and then it’s a plain black shirt. And I have one really simple black dress that looks pretty good on me, and it has worked for every single dress-up situation in my life so far. Bailey is a different story — a different genre. So we had already been to five stores, and I had read almost an entire book on my phone waiting for her.

But the worst was yet to come. Shopping, apparently,
was not all Bailey had in mind. Nope. Old Bails was after some girlie-type bonding. She felt bad that she had been absent all summer. And that she had taken Eli with her. A recognizable theme was beginning to develop with these two: guilt over leaving poor little Xandra Ryan, the most tragic person in the universe.

“I should have just insisted that my parents let me bring two people,” Bailey said, not for the first time, as we looked at the menus at a café. We were at an outside table, and the lady next to us had a little dog in a stroller, and she was feeding him French fries. Bailey had just told me that her parents had only let her bring one friend, Eli, but now she felt horrible about it.

“Bailey, Eli is your
boy
friend. Of course you wanted to spend the summer with him. I completely understand — you should have zero guilt about this. Besides, it’s not like I had this tragic summer or something.”

“I know, I know, but I just feel really bad. There were some totally hot guys up there I could have fixed you up with, like that.” Bailey snapped her fingers. A waiter standing nearby thought the finger-snap was for him and he hightailed it over to our table. “Miss?”

Bailey laughed at him. “Well, since you’re here, I’ll take another Pellegrino. X, you want another … was it a Coke?”

“Sure.” I smiled at the waiter. Bailey knew it was a Coke. I always ordered Coke. Sometimes she just … I don’t know. Maybe it was just that she actually drank Pellegrino.

“Anyway, what was I saying — oh, yeah. So many hot guys in the Hamptons this year. A lot of them were older, but that’s not really a problem, is it?”

I literally had nothing to say to that. I hate saying fake things, but I heard myself saying, “I guess not,” almost like a reflex, and then I hated myself more for saying it. Like I had ever dated an older guy.

“I know, right? So that would have been cool. It would have been really awesome if all four of us could have hung out.”

“All four of who?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

Bailey made a waving motion in the air between us. “Oh, you know, you would have met somebody there, like, for sure, and there are so many great things for couples to do there.”

Curiouser and curiouser. Bailey’s sudden interest in fixing me up was not only new, it was puzzling. Was she trying to assuage her own guilt — or Eli’s?

“Anyway, you totally should have come,” Bailey said, somehow skipping over and past the whole I-hadn’t-been-invited issue. “Eli and I got really close there. Like I said, so many totally romantic spots. We stayed at this really old hotel, it’s sort of like a B&B, except they totally leave you alone, if you know what I mean. No waking you up to take a walking tour or have breakfast with the owner or whatever. I mean, that’s the worst, you know? So we slept really late there — well, we stayed
in
until really late.” Bailey giggled, but didn’t blush. But I got the idea.

I had a physical need to change the subject at that point, so I decided to just stand up. “I gotta pee,” I told her. Bailey looked a little puzzled at my abrupt — and infantile — announcement, but she nodded, and I escaped.

I took a long time in the tiny bathroom, washed my hands twice, fixed my hair. But it was a one-holer, and somebody had already knocked twice, so I knew I had to give it up and go back. When I returned to the table, Bailey was playing with her empty bottle of fancy water.

“Sorry,” I told her. “Too much Coke. Was your salad not good?” I asked, gesturing to her almost untouched plate.

“No, it’s okay.” Bailey frowned distractedly. “Listen, Xandra, I just wanted us to spend some time together.” She was looking at me intently; usually Bailey was kind of distracted. “I really am sorry about this summer. Eli and I are … Well, I just should have either brought you along, or not taken him for so long … Just, please forgive me?”

Wow. I was beginning to feel like I had really underestimated Bailey. Even Eli, who had been my best friend forever, hadn’t realized that when the two of them left for two months, they took my social life with them. It was pretty insightful and thoughtful of her to notice. It was too late to fix my summer, but still.

“Bailey, I am totally fine. I mean it. And thank you for, um, feeling bad. It’s … nice of you.”

“We’re friends.” Bailey smiled at me then. “Next time, you are coming, whether you want to or not. I will kidnap you,” she said, grinning. “But … I did get you a present
from there. I know we’ve been back forever, and I should have given this to you sooner, but you looked so sad, so I felt weird … Anyway, I thought you might like these.” She handed me a fancy brown shopping bag with the top folded over, a hole punched through and tied with a bow. The bag had B
EACH
B
AG
written neatly in black Sharpie marker.

“What is this?”

“Just open it,” Bailey said. “You’re gonna laugh.”

I opened the bag and I did have to laugh. It was one of those grab bags of remainder books they sell at little used bookstores. This one was full of slim Regency romances.

“Nice!” I told her. “I love these things. And I go through them so fast. These are really great, Bailey.” I smiled at the title of one,
The Errant Earl
. “Thank you!” We hugged across the small table.

“You are so welcome. As soon as I saw that bookstore, I completely thought of you. That was the best day, too! That night, there was this party — I forgot to tell you about it. It was at Jason Ingram’s. It went on for the entire weekend …”

Bailey gave me some more details about that weekend, and many others, but these details have been redacted from my brain. After the waiter brought our change back, we stood up at the same time, walked the few steps to the sidewalk, and Bailey hugged me good-bye. She was headed to meet Eli, I knew. I looked down at the bag in my hands. At least I had a used copy of
The Romantic Rogue
to keep me company.

Orlando, Florida — Saturday, October 30

“I wish I could have afforded to get some new cards. These are a disaster.” I placed my old cards on the new table, next to the crystal ball.

“No, those are perfect,” Lina said. “No one will pay if they see you using brand-new cards.”

I blew an annoying stray lock of my hair out of my face for the hundredth time. “Well, that’s a good thing, ’cause I am down to dust on the start-up money.”

I looked around the mostly done room. Lina had taken me to the mall while the crew moved us to our current spot in Orlando. Hanging out with Lina definitely had its privileges. This time around, I’d spent load-in day shopping instead of shoveling.

We had bought purple and deep red silky material to hang in the entryway. Jamie had found a love seat somewhere. He didn’t say much when he brought it. I had been a
smidge frosty to him since Lina had seemed so weird about him. It was a nice cover for me, anyway — I had no idea how to relate to him after kissing him.

The seat was pretty old and pretty ugly, but I’d used a huge purple sheet to cover it and found a couple of embroidered pillows. So there was a little waiting area, and then the customers could come in to the reading room. The table Nick had brought was the centerpiece, draped with one of the scarves that had been his mom’s. Add the crystal ball, my gargoyle lights, and some of the nicer half-price Halloween decorations Lina and I had found at Target, and the look was complete. I had run out of money before remembering candles, but Lina showed up with dozens of them, the tall white ones in jars like they use in churches. I didn’t ask where they came from, just said thank you.

“Perfect,” Lina said. She and I sat in the waiting area, in front of the love seat, and surveyed the finished product. We had lit the candles, and though it was still daytime, it was pretty dark inside. I had to admit, it looked good. I couldn’t help smiling; I felt sort of proud of myself for putting it all together on such a teeny budget.

“Not too bad,” I agreed.

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “Louie is so impressed, he wants to adopt you,” she joked.

“I had a lot of help,” I told her. “Most of it from you. Lina, I really don’t know how to thank —”

“You don’t need to,” Lina cut me off, as she always did. “So, are you ready for tonight?”

Opening night. My stomach fell down near my toes. The setting-up was really more my area, I was afraid. I was much more likely to sign up to work backstage than to audition for a role. But all this was for nothing if I couldn’t bring in customers and play my part.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I told her. “I just hope somebody shows up. And, if they do, I hope they don’t laugh. Or ask for their money back. Or throw rotten tomatoes at me.”

Lina moved to stand in front of me. “I know things are different where you’re from, and you have some misconceptions about life outside the big city. But, Lexi, honey, I have to tell you, no one carries rotten tomatoes around with them.”

I laughed a little then. “Well, that’s one worry off the list, anyway.”

I was sitting alone at the reading table in the trailer, shuffling my tarot cards over and over, trying to psych myself up for my debut, when Liska walked in.

“Lexi, would you do a reading for me?” she said. “It could be like practice, maybe?”

I tried not to show my surprise. “Have a seat.” I waved my hand at the chair opposite mine. “How do you think everything looks?” I asked, then instantly regretted my choice of small talk. What if Liska wasn’t impressed with the way the trailer had turned out? I trusted her to not lie to me — but I also trusted her opinion. Liska looked around slowly, not one to rush into anything. “I really like it,” she
told me, with an almost-smile. “You did a great job. In fact, this is much nicer than what Madame Tarus used to have. She relied on looking so much the part, I think.”

“Thank you,” I told her, meaning it. I shuffled the cards one more time and asked Liska to cut the deck. “So you have some questions in mind?”

She laughed. “One very big one, actually. But I thought I wasn’t supposed to say …”

“No, you’re right! I should probably remind people to think of a question, but not say it out loud.”

Liska smiled. “See, it’s good you’re practicing on me.” She paused. “Lexi, what will you study in school? When you go away to school?”

I paused in laying out her spread, surprised by her question. “I don’t know if I’m going to get to go away to school,” I told her. “I have to finish high school or get my GED first. And then there’s the minor matter of how to pay for college. Your dad’s being really great,” I added, “but it’s probably not going to be enough, not for a long time.”

She nodded sadly. “I’m sorry. I guess your father would have sent you — would have paid for you to go?”

I nodded back and pushed my words past the sudden lump in my throat. “He would have,” I told her. “I was gonna go to NYU, if I got in. But I’m not sure what I would want to study. Of course in college you can take a bunch of classes until you figure out what you’re good at, or what you want to do.”

Liska sighed. “That sounds amazing,” she said. “I’d love to go.”

“Wouldn’t Louie send you?”

She shook her head. “He needs me and Lina and Eddie — needs our act. Without us, there isn’t much left of the old circus. He couldn’t stand it if all that was left was the carnival part — the games and the rides and stuff. It would kill him.”

“But Louie must want you to be happy.” I was upset for her now. Louie had kind of saved me, so I tended to think of him as Santa Claus. But it seemed that he was failing Liska in a big way. Of course, I had only met the Vranas at all because my own dad had failed me, though I felt like a bad daughter even thinking it.

“What about Lina?” I asked.

“Lina needs me to do the act; it’s what we do. And she is happy here. She wants to stay here, with our father, with the circus. I couldn’t leave,” she said.

“But you came here with a question in your mind …” I trailed off, raising an eyebrow at her.

She grinned at me then. “Well, I didn’t say the word
never
,” she allowed.

I smiled back and finished laying out her cards, then turned over the first card: the Empress. I couldn’t stop my reaction; I showed surprise. I was going to have to do better at this tonight — that was for sure.

“What does it mean?” Liska asked. “This first card sort of stands for me, right?”

I nodded. Madame Tarus must have done a reading for her at some point. “It does. The Empress, though, it usually means marriage, fertility. It’s kind of a card of staying put.” I couldn’t help it; I frowned at her. This card didn’t seem like a good answer to the question I thought she was asking.

Liska, though, was smiling. Kind of confusing, given that she had just revealed her desire to get the heck out of here.

“Lexi, I will give you a piece of advice,” she told me, still smiling. “Don’t assume you know what the question is. After all, how do you know the question I asked was about
me
?”

“Good point.” I sat back in my chair and regarded her steadily for a moment. Then I leaned forward to uncover the rest of the cards. “Thanks,” I added. “I’ve done readings for my friends or friends of my dad, but this is different. I don’t know if I can pull this off.”

“
I
know you will,” Liska said, sounding so certain that I felt instantly better, more like a pro fortune teller than a girl with a deck of cards she bought with her birthday money at Barnes & Noble.

I flipped over the card in the second position. I explained to Liska that in the Celtic cross spread I was using, the second card is laid horizontally across the first card, because it represents obstacles for the questioner.

“The King of Pentacles — reversed,” I read. Of course, I couldn’t get an easy major arcana card to start. I closed my eyes for one moment — calling up the memory of the card’s meaning — hopefully this technique would seem spiritual
with my paying customers. “These court cards usually symbolize people,” I told Liska. “It could be someone in your life, or some aspect of yourself. This King is … well, he’s kind of greedy. The meaning of this card is someone who is very good with money. When the card’s reversed, it’s like the dark side of that trait.” I looked at Liska, who was staring down at the card with concentration. “Does this sound like someone you know?”

Liska surprised me then by smiling. “Oh yeah.”

“Okay, so that — or he — is the immediate obstacle to the question you were asking.” I flipped the third card, positioned to the right of the first two: the distant past. The card came up the Ten of Wands. “This is a card about burdens — duties.” I stopped myself from commenting on how apt this seemed, given Liska’s life of work here at Europa. At her nod, I turned over the fourth card, the recent past. This one was the Wheel of Fortune, but reversed.

“Isn’t that a very good symbol — the Wheel of Fortune?” Liska asked.

“It is, but when the card is reversed, the meaning changes. It stands for some sort of failure, an inability to meet challenges. When you look back at the previous two cards, there may be a pattern here. You may be trapped by circumstances, material concerns, or obligations — might need to face the challenge of breaking free from all that.”

Liska still looked down at the cards, seeming to be lost in thought. I turned over the sixth card, the card of the immediate future: the Hanged Man.

“Ah, my old friend,” I said to him. “I get this card a lot. You see how this little guy is hanging upside down, but he doesn’t look hurt or anything? It’s a card of suspension. But he can’t stay there forever. The message here is that after a period of being in one place, having time to think, we need to act on what we have learned.” Liska nodded again.

I turned over the seventh card. This position was about the questioner’s state of mind. The card came up the Six of Pentacles. A rich man is trying to balance out his gold on a scale, and he just can’t do it. There are beggars at the man’s feet.

“This is an interesting card,” I told Liska. “It’s not so much about money as it is about balance. To find balance, this man has to give something away.”

“Wow,” Liska said.

“I take it this makes sense to you?” I smiled. I had a feeling it made sense to me, too. I thought I knew what Liska wanted to give away — her life on the trapeze. But would she? I kept the momentum up and turned over the eighth card: the Hermit. Another one of my old friends. “The Hermit is one of your external influences. It’s a wise person, someone who will help you find what you are seeking.”

Liska looked up from the table and into my eyes. “I think I know who that may be,” she said slowly.

The ninth card came up the Page of Pentacles, reversed. The next-to-last position is about the person’s hopes and fears. “When it’s reversed, this card symbolizes a rebellious young person, someone who wastes — money, their time, or
talents.” Liska was nodding vigorously. “Okay, last card.” I turned it over. “The Eight of Cups.”

“That looks like a bad one,” Liska said quietly. The card does look unpromising: A hunched figure turns away, setting off on a journey alone.

“This card does indicate a change,” I told her. “It’s about the end of something, which is sad, but it’s also the beginning of something.”

I sat back in my chair. Liska was still looking down at the table. After a few moments I asked her, “What do you think?”

“I think you are very talented. You’ll do really well, but I knew that already.”

“Thank you so much, Liska. Seriously. You don’t just hand out praise, I can tell.” I felt relieved to have gotten a good review. “But did you get an answer to your question?”

Liska nodded slowly. “I did. I think I did.” I thought her eyes seemed suspiciously bright. “Lexi, thank you. For the reading.”

We stood up. She hugged me across the tiny table, and with that she was gone.

I knew at that moment that I had made two new friends at the circus. I wondered if Liska would manage to break free from here. When I had been suspended, stuck, life had kicked me out into the street. I hoped that whatever got Liska in motion would hurt a lot less.

That evening, Jamie helped get my iPod hooked up with the speakers. The other day he had come back with a RadioShack bag full of magical cords, so now I could control the music from inside. Another donation to my cause. I hated feeling like a charity case.

This thought strengthened my resolve to do well tonight. A few early customers were already coming down the midway, mostly families with kids in strollers, and some middle-school-aged kids.

“You have everything you need?” Jamie asked when we’d checked out the sound and experimented with the volume a couple times.

I tried to look confident. “Yep. Thanks, Jamie. For the love seat, too. That was really great of you.”

“Least I could do,” I thought I heard him mumble before he turned away.

How could Jamie possibly be this awkward with every girl he had kissed? Or maybe he usually confined his conquests to girls he was unlikely to ever see again, girls left behind at each circus town when we pulled up stakes and left.

I watched Jamie walk off, pushing away the confusion and awkwardness I felt about that situation. I had other confusing and awkward fish to fry. I ducked back into the trailer and scrolled through my iPod until I reached my give-me-ten-dollars-and-I’ll-tell-you-your-future playlist.

I took my seat at the table and closed my eyes, listening to the first song, “Fortune Days” by The Glitch Mob. I
shuffled the tarot cards, spreading them out before me. I was very glad I had spent so much time playing poker with Eli, because I at least knew how to shuffle really well. I selected a card by feel, pulled it out, and opened my eyes. The Fool: the beginning of a journey or adventure. That sounded about right.

“That’s a good card,” I heard a deep voice say, and I looked up, startled, into Nick Tarus’s very dark eyes.

“The Fool?” I raised an eyebrow at him. Somehow I could talk to Nick without forgetting how to use nouns. I guess starting off being screamed at and insulted had sort of broken the ice with him, in a weird way. “It’s a card about beginnings, I know that. But the name of the card isn’t too complimentary. After all, the thing I’m the most worried about is whether or not anybody will want to have their future told by an unpleasant teenager.”