Ringmaster

Cale reaches over from Jareth and squeezes my shoulder. He’s touched me with affection a few times, and it always feels strange. Like I crave it and I’m scared of it at the same time. I try and remember the last time anyone hugged me before Cale, and I can’t. Not for years and years.

I run my fingers through Dandelion’s mane, and whisper, “Thank you, for everything. I don’t know what—”

I break off because I’m getting choked up, and I want to keep smiling. I don’t want Cale to think I’m feeling sorry for myself. I finish in my head, I don’t know what I would have happened to me if you hadn’t come along.

Cale gazes back at me, his dark brown eyes filled with emotion. I want to fall into their warm depths and live there. I want to fall into his arms, too, and discover what that feels like. I bet it’s wonderful.

I look away quickly. He’s just being kind to a kid in his circus, seeing that I’m settling in okay. I shouldn’t mistake his attention for anything more.

“Why did you start throwing knives?” I ask, to change the subject. Cale’s shoulders immediately tense, and I regret my question. “Sorry. Never mind. It’s sort of an unwritten rule that nobody asks anybody about their pasts here, isn’t it?”

Cale’s black hair is falling into his eyes, and I can’t read his expression. “I’ll tell you another time. It’s too nice a day today.”

That must mean it’s an unhappy story, and yet knife-throwing seems to bring him so much satisfaction. But what do I know about anything? I’m just a silly kid and he probably doesn’t want to confide his secrets to me.

Anouk is on the side of the road atop Patches, handing out sandwiches from a calico bag. They must have been freshly made by Gorran in his wagon.

“And lucky last ones,” Anouk says, tossing paper packages to Cale and me, and we catch them.

I unwrap mine and bite into the crusty bread. Hummus and avocado. My new favorite. All the food we eat is vegetarian, and I find I don’t miss meat at all. As we eat and ride, I watch Cale out of the corner of my eye, wondering about his past and whether he ran away from home like I did. We’d have something we can share, and he might start to feel like my friend. Then I feel bad wondering about such a thing, because if he ran away it probably mean he was in pain, and I don’t like to think of him hurting.

We descend into a village an hour later and set up camp. The houses and stores are all huddled together between the hills, as if sheltering from the outside world.

In the afternoon, as the lowering sun paints the rocky hilltops with golden light, Anouk helps me into my newly sewn costume. She’s made it exactly the same as hers and Elke’s, and I twist and turn in front of the narrow mirror that’s fixed to the wagon wall.

“It’s so beautiful! I feel like a real performer.”

“You are a real performer,” Anouk tells me. “Or you will be, after your debut.”

“Tomorrow,” Elke announces, beaming at me. “Let’s put you on tomorrow night.”

I cover my face with my hands, peeping over them at Elke and Anouk. I still can’t believe that I’ll be in the ring with these two heavenly creatures. “If you’re both sure I won’t embarrass you.”

Anouk flops onto her bed, laughing. “Embarrass us? You’re going to be the star, you’ll see.”

In the morning, we run through our short routine three times over. I won’t be in the ring with them the entire time; rather they’ll do their usual act, and then I’ll join them at the end as the finale. I feel more than a little nervous at the thought of following their stunning act.

By eight in the evening I’m in my costume and Elke is painting my lips pink, the last thing to be done. I’m a bundle of nerves and excitement.

“Rub,” Elke commands.

I rub my lips together, and then say, “I hope Dandelion isn’t nervous.”

Dandelion will be getting decked out in sequins and feathers and led across to the big top as I speak. She’s not used to the crowds, either. We’ve both been fine during dress rehearsals with the girls, but with everyone’s eyes on us and whistling and clapping, she might freak out. I might freak out, come to that.

We step out of the wagon and I look around, hoping to catch sight of Cale. Looking at him always grounds me, but he’s nowhere in sight. The butterflies in my stomach double, and then double again. I could take off they’re all flapping so hard.

Elke and Anouk link their arms through mine and march me merrily across the grass toward the big top, through the last of the evening sunshine. They’re both smiling broadly and waving to the people sitting outside the pub and the cars that are driving around the green.

I plaster a smile on my face, remembering I’m in show business now and it’s expected of me, but it feels stiff.

Thank goodness Elke and Anouk are the first ones on after Pamela and Cale’s welcome. I sit atop Dandelion, gripping her hard with my knees, as the curtain blocking off the backstage area is drawn aside and Elke and Anouk burst out into the arena to loud music and bright lights. The crowd applauds.

Dandelion whickers, and her ears ping back and forth and she shifts her weight.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, patting her neck, trying to make it sound like I believe it, too.

I follow the bars of the music carefully, preparing myself for the lively piece to end. It does, far sooner than I expected it to, and my stomach drops. Daniel pulls the curtain aside and gives me an encouraging smile.