Circus Mirandus

by Cassie Beasley

  But for some reason, when the time came, Micah couldn’t let go. His arms were cramping, and he passed by Mr. Head’s tent a lot more quickly than he had planned to. He was so high up that it definitely wasn’t safe. Probably Bibi could fly anyway, and the manager just hadn’t mentioned it. Excuses ran through his mind as he watched the scarlet fabric of the big tent pass beneath his feet.

  He floated over Rosebud’s wagon.

  That was it, he realized. That was my one and only chance, and I missed it.

  He knew then, as surely as he had ever known anything, that he was going to die. He was going to die just like all of the other stupid kids who had tried to break into Circus Mirandus probably had. The tiger would use his bones for toothpicks. His eyes stung and blurred. He could barely make out the next tent.

  It was black fabric covered with golden suns.

  It’s too far down. I can’t.

  Bring back the Lightbender, Grandpa Ephraim had said. No is the wrong answer, he’d said.

  But Micah still didn’t know what the question was.

  It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he reached up with one shaking hand. He touched the knot that held his harness together just so. And he fell.

  It was so quick that Micah didn’t even have time to scream. He hit taut fabric, and pain shot through him like a lightning bolt. He heard a loud rrriiiiiipp, and he kept falling. He fell right through a burst of fireworks, through a wheel of colored light, and he crashed down onto something that was hard and soft at the same time.

  It shouted, and it smelled like a long leather coat that had seen a hundred adventures.

  Micah wondered if he was dead. His head felt like it was enormous and full of boiling water. His back throbbed. Someone had definitely stabbed him in the shoulder with a knife.

  Yes, he decided. Being dead feels like this.

  But then the Lightbender was there, crouching over him. His face was white, except for a streak of blood under his nose, and he reached out with his long fingers to brush Micah’s hair away from his face.

  Micah slowly realized that the Lightbender’s mouth was moving. That meant he must be speaking to someone, but he wasn’t making any sound. For some reason, this was funny, and Micah laughed. Only laughing filled his chest with sharp points, so he had to stop right away.

  He tried to look around. The whole tent was full of light, plain yellow light, and the stands around Micah were filled with kids. Why did they all look so frightened?

  The Lightbender glanced away for a second, and Micah saw him open his mouth wide as if he was calling somebody. The Strongman appeared, his bowler hat askew, and then Micah was rising up into the air.

  “Nooo,” he moaned, and the Strongman froze.

  “Oh,” Micah said. The Strongman was the one picking him up. It wasn’t the giant balloon. “You’re okay.”

  The Strongman still didn’t move. He looked almost as afraid as the children in the stands.

  The Lightbender stared into Micah’s eyes, and Micah remembered. “You have to come,” he said. “Grandpa Ephraim. You gave him the wrong answer.”

  The Lightbender’s mouth moved again, and Micah was tired of him not making any noise now, because he needed to know what he was saying. He tried to focus on the Lightbender’s lips, and finally, like it was coming from miles away and underwater, he heard “. . . anything . . . be still . . . Rosebud . . .” and then, “. . . what you’ve done to yourself.”

  Aha. He’s wondering how I broke into the circus.

  “Gorilla,” Micah explained.

  Then he passed out.

  When Micah woke, his face was pressed into something warm and gray and hay-smelling, and he felt seasick. He realized that whatever he was on was moving with a sort of swaying, thumping motion, so that might have been why. Or it could have been the taste in his mouth, which was like he had licked all of the shower drains in the United States of America. Being still and quiet seemed like a good idea. Going back to sleep seemed like an even better one. He closed his eyes.

  Then, he heard a soft voice say, “McDonald’s again. We’ve already passed this. Are you quite sure you know where you’re going, Jean?”

  That voice belonged to the Lightbender. Micah had to get him for Grandpa Ephraim! He sat up fast, and it made the seasickness much worse.

  “Steady,” said the Lightbender, and one leather-covered arm grabbed Micah around the chest to keep him from falling.

  “You have to come,” Micah said as soon as his stomach stopped trying to crawl out of his mouth. Then he looked around, and he saw his own hometown from the back of the world’s most intelligent elephant. The Lightbender was pointing with one finger toward the McDonald’s restaurant a few blocks away from Micah’s house.

  “I am trying to do as you ask, Micah,” he said, “but I’m afraid that Jean’s infallible sense of direction may have failed her.”

  Big Jean trumpeted and waved her trunk in the air.

  “No,” Micah said. “We’re really close.”

  “Are we? I feel as if I am traveling in circles. We keep passing Mr. McDonald’s building.”

  Micah was sitting in front of the Lightbender on an elephant. Everything felt less than real. “It’s a restaurant,” he said. “There’s more than one. They look a lot alike.”

  Jean made a huffing noise, as if to say, “See, I told you.” She ignored a red light, looked both ways, then crossed the street.

  “You’re coming,” Micah said. “You’re coming to see Grandpa Ephraim.” He leaned forward to hug the parts of Jean he could reach, but he was wearing some kind of long, green velvet jacket over his pajama pants. His arms were trapped in sleeves that were much too big.

  “How could I refuse?” the Lightbender said drily. “I have seen and done many surprising things during my life, but I have never had a child fall out of the sky during one of my shows.”

  “It hurt,” Micah said. “I won’t do it again.”

  His arm tightened for a moment, pulling Micah closer. “I do hope not. You nearly died.”

  Micah looked up at him to tell him that it wasn’t that bad, that he was fine, but the Lightbender’s eyes were as gray as a storm cloud. He also had dried blood under his nose. “We are very fortunate that Rosebud is a genius with her potions,” he said. “She wanted me to tell you that you are not a duck, but a little boy, and that you cannot fly.”

  “I had to get to you. Geoffrey wouldn’t let me in, and I didn’t want Bibi to eat me.”

  The Lightbender chuckled. “Bibi wouldn’t have eaten you, Micah. Nobody at the circus, whether man or beast, would ever hurt you or any other child.” His smile faded. “At least not on purpose.”

  Big Jean trundled past a day-care center, and even though a lot of little kids were playing in the sandboxes outside, none of them noticed the elephant. It made Micah feel like he was watching the world pass by through a window.

  “What do they see when they look over here?” he asked.

  The Lightbender looked toward the day care. “Nothing at all. It’s the same trick I use to hide the circus from those who aren’t called.”

  “Is Mr. Head mad that you left?”

  The Lightbender tipped his head to the side. “I am not a prisoner at Circus Mirandus, Micah. I am allowed to come and go as I choose. But, more often than not, I choose to stay because the circus needs me. It is difficult for me to keep it hidden when I am away. I lose focus, and distance is a problem.”

  “I’m glad he wasn’t mad.”

  “Oh, he was furious,” the Lightbender said mildly. “But not because I left. He was angry because you were hurt, and because you broke through all of his clever protections, and because we are having a serious disagreement at the moment.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The Lightbender was quiet for such a long time that Micah
thought he might not answer, but then he sighed. “I promised Ephraim Tuttle a miracle. Anything within my power.”

  “I know.” Micah tried not to sound accusing, but he wasn’t sure he had managed it.

  “It’s something we all do from time to time.” He was gazing off into the distance, and Micah knew he wasn’t staring at the jet trails in the clouds or the city water tower. “When we meet a child who is particularly . . . receptive. Circus Mirandus exists to nurture magic, to keep it alive in the world beyond our gates. I make the offer less frequently than the others. It has never seemed fair to me to single one person out of the crowd for a treat, but Ephraim was different. So I promised.”

  The Lightbender laughed, at himself Micah thought. “He saved it,” he said. “Through all these years, over the course of however many small tragedies life has thrown at him, Ephraim never called in his miracle.”

  Micah frowned. “Is that strange?”

  “Children usually ask for things that aren’t miracles at all. They want special shows, souvenirs. Extra tickets. Their own pet giraffes. Such little things.”

  “That seems wasteful.”

  The Lightbender shook his head. “You say that because you have lived the sort of life in which you could have used real miracles. I am sorry for that. Ephraim was the same.”

  Big Jean turned onto Micah’s street.

  “I thought,” the Lightbender said, “that Ephraim would ask me to bring his father home safely from the war. It was the obvious request. It was something he wanted very much.”

  “Why didn’t he?”

  “I’ve never been sure. I was ready to do it. It wouldn’t have been easy, but it would certainly have been manageable for someone with my skills. A few illusions in the right places . . . But Ephraim asked to keep his miracle in reserve, for a time when it was really needed, and since I had already promised, I agreed.”

  The Lightbender smiled at Micah. “Your grandfather grew from a very wise boy into a very wise man. When he contacted me, I knew that whatever he had decided to ask for would be difficult.”

  Micah couldn’t help himself. “He didn’t ask you to cure him?”

  The Lightbender didn’t say anything.

  “It’s just that you’ve lived for so long!”

  “Ah. So that’s why you have such faith in my ability to conquer death.” He looked troubled. “I didn’t realize how it must seem to you. I am afraid I am sometimes out of touch with . . .”

  “Ordinary people?”

  The Lightbender shook his head. “You are not ordinary.”

  Micah wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or not.

  “My extended life span is a side effect, Micah. It’s not the result of some potion or spell I could share with Ephraim.”

  “A side effect of your magic?”

  “A side effect of Mr. Head.”

  He saw the expression on Micah’s face. “I am not teasing you. Though he has a way with animals, Mr. Head isn’t what you would consider a magician. He isn’t even what you would consider human. His gift is powerful but passive. Living things under his care thrive. Circus Mirandus is under his care, and I am part of Circus Mirandus.”

  “He’s not human?” He had looked human enough to Micah. “What is he then?”

  “He is the manager. He has always been the manager.”

  “Wait. Are you—”

  “I am as human as you are, Micah. All of the performers are. It’s only Mr. Head who is . . . unique.”

  Micah struggled with this idea. “So he’s kind of like the circus’s battery?”

  “That’s right.” The Lightbender sounded amused. “Mr. Head is a battery.”

  Big Jean stopped in front of Micah’s mailbox. The street was quiet. Dr. Simon’s car was gone.

  “So what did Grandpa Ephraim ask you for?”

  “Something private for now.” The Lightbender glanced away. “I’m still not sure I can do it. Much depends on other people, particularly Mr. Head, and he has already refused once. But Ephraim asked only that I try, so I will.”

  The Lightbender asked to meet with Grandpa Ephraim alone. At first, Micah wanted to refuse, but then he realized his grandfather and the Lightbender were about to see each other face-to-face for the first time in years. Maybe that moment would mean more for both of them if Micah didn’t butt in.

  He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay with Big Jean.”

  The elephant snorffled the top of Micah’s head with her trunk, so at least one of them was pleased.

  The Lightbender frowned. “Not for long,” he said. “I just need a moment with your grandfather in private, and then I will call you in.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to wake him up.”

  “I know,” he said. “Rosebud has given me something that will help.”

  “I hope so.” Micah knew it was time for the big warning. “There’s also my aunt.”

  “Chintzy mentioned her.” He didn’t look worried, so Micah was sure Chintzy hadn’t mentioned Aunt Gertrudis thoroughly enough. “I’ll make sure she stays out of the way.”

  The Lightbender looked to the elephant. “Jean, guard.”

  She snapped, as fast as an elephant could snap, to attention and saluted him with her trunk. The Lightbender tugged his leather coat down in the front, which didn’t change how he looked one bit as far as Micah could tell, and then he strode up the path to the front door and let himself in without knocking.

  As soon as the Lightbender had disappeared, Big Jean tromped right over to the garden hose on the side of the house and picked it up with her trunk.

  “Are you thirsty?” Micah asked. She had walked an awfully long way this morning.

  He turned on the hose, thinking he would give her a drink, and soon, he was spraying her all over. She even knelt down on her front legs so that he could get the top of her head. Before he knew it, Micah was wet from his big green velvet coat to his bare toes.

  He thought he was doing it all to help her, but when the Lightbender poked his head out the front door and called for Micah to come inside, he realized that he’d lost track of time. Since he had started washing Big Jean, he hadn’t worried about what might be happening in the house.

  He patted her trunk. “Thank you.”

  She nudged him toward the door.

  In the living room, Grandpa Ephraim was lying on the sofa with his eyes open. Micah could hear his lungs, the same blub glub as usual, but he looked better than he had that morning. He was still sick, but he mostly looked tired. And happy.

  “Micah,” he said in a voice that was stronger than Micah was expecting. “You’ve grown.”

  Micah sat down on the floor beside him and kissed his cheek. “I don’t think I could have,” he said. “I didn’t go to school today.”

  His grandfather nodded. “And you’ve grown more than ever.”

  For a time they just sat there. Micah held his grandfather’s hand on top of his blanket, and Grandpa Ephraim smiled. The Lightbender stood out of the way in the corner next to the television. Aunt Gertrudis was nowhere to be seen.

  “I won’t tell you that you shouldn’t have done it,” Grandpa Ephraim said at last, and Micah guessed that the Lightbender must have told him about his adventure with the gorilla balloon. “Because it was a ridiculous, amazing thing to do, and once in a while, it’s good to be ridiculous and amazing.”

  Grandpa Ephraim was always saying things that sounded so important Micah wanted to wrap them up in boxes and keep them forever. He tried to think of an important thing to tell him in return. “I love you,” he said. It was the best he could do.

  “And I love you. More than anything. So try to keep your feet on the ground in the future if you can.”

  His grip tightened, and Micah squeezed back.

  “Thank you for bringing the
Man Who Bends Light to my living room. Doesn’t he look wonderfully out of place?”

  Micah remembered what his grandfather had said just that morning. “That’s the point of him.”

  They both looked at the Lightbender, whose eyebrows lifted in confusion.

  “Two of the most wonderful people in my life in the same room,” Grandpa Ephraim said. “I must be the luckiest old man that ever lived.” He motioned to the Lightbender with his free hand, and the Lightbender came to squat beside Micah.

  He took the frail wrinkled hand in his own smooth fist and held it gently.

  “Now,” murmured Grandpa Ephraim. “Let’s be here together for as long as we have.”

  Micah squeezed his hand harder.

  “For as long as we have,” he said again. “Then, when the time comes, we’ll all let go.”

  None of them said anything else. Micah wiped at his eyes with his free hand a few times, and Grandpa Ephraim’s chest pulled itself up and down more and more slowly. The Lightbender didn’t twitch; he didn’t even blink. He stared at Ephraim Tuttle like all the secrets of the universe were written in the lines on his face, and maybe they were.

  But Micah only saw his grandfather. When the blub glub finally stopped, it hurt even more than he had expected.

  Micah didn’t know how long he sat beside Grandpa Ephraim after it was over. It might have been hours. It only felt like a few minutes.

  “His answer,” Micah said eventually. “His miracle. Was it still a no?”

  “It was not,” the Lightbender said. “You changed it.”

  “To yes?”

  “To it depends. But I am feeling rather confident.”

  He took Micah by the hand and led him out of the house. Big Jean was ruining the grass by rolling her gray bulk in the giant puddle that the garden hose had made in the front yard. She looked pleased with herself.

  “Time to go, Jean,” said the Lightbender.

  Micah didn’t realize that he was being taken along until the elephant hunched down in front of them, waiting for them to climb aboard. The Lightbender took his seat on top of Jean then pulled Micah up to sit in front of him. While they set off down the street, Micah tried to think of where he ought to be at that moment, if not on top of an elephant going past the local McDonald’s.