The Girl Who Joined the Circus

Chapter Sixteen

As we proceeded through the last few towns on the tour, the knot in my stomach grew more uncomfortable with each performance. And the ominous feeling I’d had when I first arrived at Cirque du Noir only grew. It was like a festering sore that wouldn’t go away.

I stopped engaging with the other performers and spent more time alone, either wandering the grounds or resting on my cot, knowing my fellow troupe members would soon be replaced and I’d never see them again. The circus was a business that would go on longer than me or any of the other troupe members, but I found it depressing to think my friends, acquaintances (and even a few enemies) were so transitory. I still didn’t have a clue as to why the troupe was disbanding. It didn’t make a lick of sense. And of course, when I asked Laurent about it, he replied in riddles. Or he wouldn’t reply at all.

The route we were now taking meandered through Fairfield and Austin, immersing me in an eclectic collection of scenery and individuals. Every place we settled in was vastly different from the last.

Finally, I was living my dream, traveling across the country, experiencing new and wonderful things. I should have enjoyed it more, but thoughts of saying goodbye to the people who surrounded me spoiled the adventure.

As I became one of the circus’s featured acts, my fame and reputation grew. More people recognized me. I wasn’t sure how a few posters could garner so much attention, yet at each station we pulled into, a flood of fans always clambered to meet me or to ask for an autograph. It was just one more phenomenon in a long line that didn’t quite make sense. I tried to enjoy the attention instead of questioning it. After all, this was my dream, but it came to a point where I both loved and hated the notoriety. It soon became necessary for me to hide during setup, as the townsfolk wouldn’t leave me alone.

When I did have a moment to myself, I strolled the grounds of the circus, trying to make sense of the faceless people who manned the booths—they were the same as they always had been—people busily tending to this and that. Yet, every time I tried to focus on the features of their faces, I couldn’t. Just like it always had been.

They were just another strange aspect of the Cirque du Noir that I didn’t understand. With each stop we made, I kept hoping I’d run into the old fortune teller I’d met on my first day in the circus. The brief encounter I’d had with her left an indelible impression on my mind and I hadn’t forgotten her or the words she’d said.

Trust no one, she’d warned.

Those three words haunted me as I realized I still had more questions than answers regarding the circus’s existence and the strange occurrences continuously happening on the grounds. And Laurent and Rex, themselves. They were as much an enigma as was everything else.

I never saw the fortune teller again. Maybe she was just a grifter, someone using the circus to make a few extra coins selling her shawls and telling people their futures. I only hoped I could speak to her again—because I had so many questions for her and I had a feeling she was the only one who not only knew the answers, but was willing to part with them.

“Trust no one,” I muttered under my breath as I started for the big top. I wasn’t even sure what city or town we were currently visiting. “Did that include the old woman, herself?”

As I stepped up to the tent flap, I glanced over my shoulder looked back at the train station, where we’d just arrived. I could have gotten on that train and left—just simply run away from the Cirque du Noir and all its mysteries. I could have run away from Laurent and Rex and never looked back. And there was certainly something appealing about that thought.

Maybe I was ready to move on to other dreams and adventures. The problem was: I didn’t have any other dreams. For me, the circus was my be-all to end-all. I could easily walk away from this frustrating house of mysteries and move on with my life, but I didn’t have anything or anyone waiting for me wherever I might end up.

With a heavy sigh, I entered the big top to practice my routine once more before the night performance.

Practice makes perfect, I told myself.

I had my routine down to a science now, but I wanted to stay at the top of my game.

“Ah, Bindi!” Laurent called to me from across the tent as he waved me over. “Just the contortionist I wanted to see! Come, come quickly. I have a surprise for you.”

I held back a grimace. I wasn’t in any mood for surprises, but I started walking toward him, all the same. “What is it, Laurent?”

He took my hand and pulled me uncomfortably close, wrapping an arm around my shoulder while using his other hand to gesture in the air as if he were painting the scene he was about to describe. “Imagine it, won’t you? It’s opening night. Instead of being dressed in your normal leotard, you’ll be wearing a beautiful, black, cascading silk gown. You’d flow through the stands, bobbing and weaving between the crowd in a glorious display of your flexibility.” Laurent turned me toward the benches, his eyes growing wider as eager excitement filled his voice. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful? Combined with some of our other dancers, it would be such a special treat. Our audiences would absolutely love it. They’d be begging for more!”

I was briefly caught up in his enthusiasm before I slipped out from beneath his arm. “A new gown sounds… expensive?” And I wasn’t in any mood to shell out my hard-earned wages on something frivolous.

“Oh, you just let me worry about the cost and the costume people worry about that gown. Our audiences are always ecstatic to see you perform, but you can’t wear the same old thing show after show. Let’s add some flair,” he continued with a flourish. “Time to lift your wardrobe up another notch. After all, you’re the top attraction for Cirque du Noir, our very own beautiful, little bird! We have to give the people what they want.”

“And they want a gown?” I asked, frowning.

“They want interaction, Bindi, my dear. And this is a great way to give it to them. Instead of featuring you on stage, we’ll hide you in the audience. They’ll never see it coming!”

“Hmm,” I started. “I’ve never interacted with the crowd before.”

Laurent beamed at me, shaking his finger. “Tsk, tsk. You doubt yourself far too much, Bindi Bairam.”

“Of course.” I waved goodbye to Laurent as a couple of middle-aged women who were our chief costumers suddenly appeared, as if from nowhere, and whisked me away, no doubt to take my measurements. And that was when I realized this had all been planned, discussed and decided upon before Laurent had ever approached me with the idea.

Of course.

At the very least, I was excited to think about a new outfit. The leotard I’d been wearing for my performances was somewhat unimpressive, and I loved the thought of wearing something a little more dazzling.

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