Tiger's Curse (2 page)

“But they taste
so
good.”

I watched Sarah lick a finger and continued. “By the way, I got a job. I’m going to be cleaning up and feeding animals at a circus. It’s at the fairgrounds.”

“Good for you! That sounds like it will be a great experience,” Sarah perked up. “What kind of animals?”

“Uh, dogs mostly. And I think there’s a tiger. But I probably won’t have to do anything dangerous. I’m sure they have professional tiger people for that stuff. But I do have to start really early and will be sleeping there for the next two weeks.”

“Hmmm,” Sarah paused contemplatively. “Well we’re just a phone call away if you need us. Would you mind taking the brussels sprouts casserole a la ‘recycled newspaper’ out of the oven?”

I set the stinky casserole in the center of the table while she popped her cookie sheets in the oven and called the kids to dinner. Mike came in, set down his briefcase, and kissed his wife on the cheek.

“What’s that . . . smell?” he asked suspiciously.

“Brussels sprouts casserole,” I answered.

“And I made cookies for Sammy’s playgroup,” Sarah announced proudly. “I’ll save the best one for you.”

Mike shot me a knowing look that Sarah caught. She snapped her dishtowel at his thigh.

“If that’s the attitude you and Kelsey are bringing to the table then the two of you get cleanup duty tonight.”

“Aw, honey. Don’t be mad.” He kissed Sarah again and wrapped his arms around her, trying his best to get out of the task.

I took that as my cue to exit. As I snuck out of the kitchen, I heard Sarah giggle.

Someday, I’d like a guy to try and talk himself out of cleanup duty with me in the same way
, I thought and smiled.

Apparently, Mike negotiated well because he got put-the-kids-to-bed duty instead of cleanup, while I was left to do dishes on my own. I didn’t mind really but as soon as I was done, I decided it was my bedtime too. Six o’clock in the morning was going to come awfully early.

Quietly, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. It was small and cozy, with just a simple bed, a mirrored dresser, a desk for my computer and homework, a closet, my clothes, my books, a basket of different colored hair ribbons, and my grandmother’s quilt.

My grandmother made that quilt when I was little. I was very young, but I remember her stitching it together, the same metal thimble always on her finger. I traced a butterfly on the worn-out, raggedy-at the-corners quilt, remembering how I had snuck the thimble out of her sewing kit one night just to feel her near me. Even though I was a teenager, I still slept with the quilt every night.

I changed into my pajamas, shook my hair free from its braid, and brushed it out, flashing back to how mom used to do it for me while we talked.

Crawling under my warm covers, I set my alarm for,
ugh
, 4:30 a.m. and wondered what I could possibly be doing with a tiger so early in the morning and how I would survive the three-ring circus that was already my life. My stomach growled.

I glanced at my nightstand and the two pictures I kept out. One picture was of the three of us: Mom, Dad, and me at a New Year’s celebration. I had just turned twelve. My long brown hair had been curled but in the picture it drooped because I’d thrown a fit about using hairspray. I’d smiled in the shot, despite the fact that I had a gleaming row of silver braces. I was grateful for my straight white teeth now, but I’d absolutely hated those braces back then.

I touched the glass, placing my thumb briefly over the image of my pale face. I’d always longed to be svelte, tan, blond, and blue eyed but I had the same brown eyes as my father and the tendency toward chubbiness of my mother.

The other was a candid shot of my parents at their wedding. There was a beautiful water fountain in the background, and they were young, happy, and smiling at each other. I wanted that for myself someday. I wanted someone to look at me like that.

Flopping over on my stomach and stuffing my pillow under my cheek, I drifted off thinking about my mom’s cookies.

That night, I dreamed I was being chased through the jungle, and when I turned to look at my pursuer, I was startled to see a large tiger. My dream self laughed and smiled and then turned and ran faster. The sound of gentle, padded paws raced along after me, beating in time with my heart.

m
y alarm startled me out of a deep sleep at 4:30 in the morning. It would be warm outside today, but not
too
hot. Oregon almost never got too hot. An Oregon governor must have passed a law a long, long time ago that said Oregon had to always have moderate temperatures.

It was dawn. The sun still hadn’t climbed over the mountains, but the sky was already brightening, changing the clouds to pink cotton candy in the eastern horizon. It must have drizzled rain last night because I could smell an appealing fragrance in the air—the scent of wet grass and pine mingled together.

I hopped out of bed, turned on the shower, waited till the bathroom turned good and steamy, and then jumped in and let the hot water pound my back to wake up my sleepy muscles.

What exactly does one wear to a circus job?
Not knowing what was appropriate, I tugged on a short-sleeved T-shirt and a good pair of work jeans. Then, I slipped my feet into tennis shoes, toweled dry my hair, and wove it into a quick French braid that I tied off with a blue ribbon. Next, I applied some lip gloss, and voilà, my circus primping was complete.

Time to pack.
I figured I wouldn’t need to bring much, just a couple of things to make me comfortable since I would only be at the circus for two weeks and could always make a pit stop at home. I rifled through my closet and selected three outfits, which were organized by color and hung neatly, before pulling open my dresser drawers. I grabbed a few sock balls, which were also meticulously arranged by color, and shoved everything into my trusty school backpack. Then I stuffed in some pens and pencils, a few books, my journal, some toiletries, my wallet, and the pictures of my family. I rolled up my quilt, stuffed it in the top, and jiggled the zipper until it shut.

Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I headed downstairs. Sarah and Mike were already awake and eating breakfast. They woke up insanely early every day to go
running
. That was just crazy, and at 5:30 a.m. they were already done.

I mumbled, “Hey, good morning, guys.”

Mike said, “Hey, good morning back. So, are you ready to start the new job?”

“Yeah. I get to sell tickets and hang around a tiger for two weeks. Great, huh?”

He chuckled. “Yep, sounds pretty great. More interesting than Public Works anyway. Want a lift? I drive right past the fairgrounds on my way into town.”

I smiled at him. “Sure. Thanks, Mike. I’d love a ride,” I replied.

Promising to call Sarah every few days, I grabbed a granola bar, quickly forced myself to gulp down half a glass of their soy milk—barely containing my gag reflex—and headed out the door with Mike.

At the fairgrounds, a big, blue sign posted on the street advertised upcoming events. A large slick banner read

POLK
COUNTY
FAIRGROUNDS

WELCOMES
THE

CIRCUS
MAURIZIO

FEATURING
THE
MAURIZIO
ACROBATS

AND
THE
FAMOUS
DHIREN!

Here we go.
I sighed and started walking along the gravel path toward the main building. The central complex looked like a large airplane or military bunker. The paint was cracked and peeling in places, and the windows needed to be washed. A large American flag snapped and rolled in the breeze as the chain it was attached to clinked softly against the metal flagpole.

The fairground was an odd cluster of old buildings, a small parking lot, and a dirt path that wound between everything and around the border of the grounds. A pair of long, flatbed trucks were parked alongside several white canvas tents. Circus posters hung everywhere; there was at least one large poster on every building. Some featured acrobats. Some had pictures of jugglers.

I didn’t see any elephants and breathed a sigh of relief.
If there had been elephants here, I probably would have smelled them already.

A torn poster fluttered in the breeze. I caught the edge and smoothed it out against the post. It was a picture of a white tiger.
Well, hello there!
I thought.
I hope they have just one of you . . . and that you don’t particularly enjoy eating teenage girls.

Opening the door to the main building, I walked inside. The central hub had been converted into a one-ring circus. Tiers of faded red stadium chairs were stacked against the walls.

Chatting in the corner was a couple of people. A tall man, who looked like he was in charge, was off to the side, writing on a clipboard and inspecting boxes. I made a beeline for him across the black springy floor and introduced myself, “Hi, my name’s Kelsey, your two-week temp.”

He looked me up and down while chewing on something, and then spat on the floor. “Go around back, out those doors, and turn to your left. A black and silver motor home is parked out there.”

“Thanks!” The tobacco spit disgusted me, but I managed to smile at him anyway. I made my way to the motor home and knocked on the door.

“Jus’ a minute,” a man’s voice yelled. The door opened unexpectedly fast, and I jumped back in surprise. A man in a dress robe towered over me, laughing heartily at my reaction. He was very tall, dwarfing my five-foot, seven-inch frame, and he had a rotund potbelly. Black, curly hair covered his scalp, but the hairline ended just a little bit past where it should be. Smiling at me, he reached up to shift his hairpiece back into place. A thin black mustache with both ends waxed to thin points stuck straight out from either side of his upper lip. He also had a tiny square goatee patch on his chin.

“Don’t be-a intimadated at my appearance,” he insisted.

I dropped my eyes and flushed. “I’m not intimidated. It just seems I caught you by surprise. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

He laughed. “I like de surprises. It keeps me-a young and a most handsome man.”

I giggled but stopped quickly after remembering this was probably my new boss. Crow’s feet surrounded his twinkling blue eyes. His skin was tan, which showed off his toothy, white smile. He seemed like the kind of man who’s always laughing at a private joke.

In a booming theatrical voice, with a strong Italian accent, he asked, “And who might you be, young lady?”

I smiled nervously. “Hi. My name’s Kelsey. I was hired to work here for a couple of weeks.”

He leaned over to grasp my hand. His completely enfolded mine and he shook it up and down enthusiastically enough to make my teeth rattle. “Ah,
Fantastico
! How propitious! Welcome to the Circus Maurizio! We are a little, how you say, short-handed, and need some
assistenza
while we are in your
magnifica città
, eh?
Splendido
to have you! Let us get a started
immediatamente
.”

He glanced over at a cute young blonde girl about fourteen years old who was walking by. “Cathleen, take this
giovane donna
to Matt and
informare
him I
desideri
—that I wish him to work with her together. He’s
incaricato
to teach her today.” He turned again to me. “Nice to meet you, Kelsey. I hope you
piacere
, ah,
enjoy
, working here at our
piccola tenda di circo
!”

I said, “Thanks, it was nice to meet you too.”

He winked at me, then turned around, went back inside his motor home, and closed the door.

Cathleen smiled and led me around the back of the building to the circus’s sleeping quarters. “Welcome to the big—er, well, small top! Come on, follow me. You can sleep in my tent if you want. There are a couple of extra cots in there. My mom, my aunt, and I all share a tent. We travel with the circus. My mom’s an acrobat and my aunt is, too. Our tent’s nice, if you can ignore all the costumes.”

She led me into her tent and to a vacant cot. The tent was spacious. I stowed my backpack under an empty cot and looked around. She was right about the costumes. They were hanging everywhere—racks and racks of them. Lace, sparkles, feathers, and spandex covered every corner of the tent. There was also a lit mirrored table with makeup, hairbrushes, pins, and curlers strewn haphazardly over every square inch of the surface.

We then found Matt, who looked to be about fourteen or fifteen. He had brown hair, an average short haircut, brown eyes, and a happy-go-lucky grin. He was trying to set up a ticket stand by himself—and failing miserably.

“Hey, Matt,” Cathleen said as we grabbed the bottom of the booth to help him.

She was blushing. How cute.

Cathleen continued, “Um, this is Kelsey. She’s here for two weeks. You’re supposed to show her the ropes.”

“No problem,” he replied. “See ya around, Cath.”

“See ya.” She smiled and flounced away.

“So, Kelsey, I guess you get to be my sidekick today, huh? Well, you’ll love it,” he said, teasing me. “I run the tickets and souvenir booths, and I’m the trash collector and stock boy. I basically do everything around here that needs to get done. My dad’s the circus animal trainer.”

“That’s a cool job.” I replied and joked, “It’s sounds better than a trash collector anyway.”

Matt laughed. “Let’s get going then,” he said.

We spent the next few hours hauling boxes, stocking the concession stand, and preparing for the public.

Ugh, I’m out of shape
, I thought as my biceps protested and tried to unionize against me.

Dad always used to say, “Hard work keeps you grounded” whenever Mom would come up with a massive new project like planting a flower garden. He was infinitely patient, and when I complained about the extra work, he’d just smile and say, “Kells, when you love someone, you learn to give and take. Someday that will happen to you too.”