Circus Mirandus

by Cassie Beasley

  Not with Grandpa Ephraim, because he was gone. Not at school, because you didn’t go to school after you had just watched your grandfather die. With Aunt Gertrudis, he realized. She was his guardian now. He clung to Jean and wished that she would stomp slower, but she kept moving along at elephant speed.

  This time, Micah heard the pipes and drums before he could even see the recreation fields. “Will the circus still be here through the weekend?”

  “Most likely. That is the plan for now.”

  “It’s just that I’ll miss it when it’s gone,” Micah said. “Even if I’m not allowed in. I’ll miss knowing the magic is there.”

  “We’re always somewhere.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  The Lightbender bowed his head. “I know.”

  Jean trumpeted when they were in sight of Circus Mirandus to let everyone know she was coming, and Micah tried to convince himself that saying good-bye wouldn’t be so bad. They passed by the place where the giant balloons were tied. They swayed in a lonely sort of way, as though they missed the gorilla.

  “Micah,” said the Lightbender. “What do you think magic is?”

  Micah could tell that the question was serious, so he tried to come up with a serious answer. He thought of everything he had seen at Circus Mirandus and everything Grandpa Ephraim had seen when he was a boy.

  “I guess it’s what’s inside of people like you,” he replied. “The parts of you that are too big to keep just to yourself.” He paused. “Does that sound dumb?”

  “It sounds wise,” said the Lightbender, “and not too far from the truth.”

  Then he leaned forward and placed his hand on Micah’s wrist. He hooked a long finger through the bootlace, and he whispered in Micah’s ear. “This is magic. And I, of all people, am in a position to know.”

  The words spun in Micah’s brain. He wasn’t sure he believed them, but the Lightbender refused to look away. Slowly, Micah nodded.

  “Remember that,” the Lightbender said. “No matter where your life eventually takes you.”

  He didn’t say anything else, and Micah realized he was waiting for a response. “I will.”

  The Lightbender dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Now, I must ask you for a rather large favor. I need to borrow that wonderful bootlace from you. I know how important it is to you, but I promise—”

  Micah slipped the bootlace off his wrist and held it out to him. Jenny’s knot was still as perfect as it had been when Micah tied it.

  The Lightbender looked surprised.

  “You came to see Grandpa Ephraim,” Micah explained. “I trust you.”

  The Lightbender took the lace gingerly from him and examined it. “Thank you. This will be a great help to me. I will see it is returned to you very soon.”

  Then, Big Jean stopped moving and made a dangerous sound, a powerful rumble that sent shock waves up through Micah’s bones.

  The Lightbender’s eyes widened. “Oh no. I’ve been away too long.”

  People were everywhere. Grown-ups were everywhere, with cameras and strollers and curious looks on their faces. A group of policemen were scratching their heads nearby, muttering about permits and city ordinances and animal control.

  Geoffrey was swinging his monocle from its chain as though he might use it to fend off the half-dozen adults who were trying to force money into his hands. Mr. Head stood beside him, arms crossed over his chest. He had such a look of fury on his face that even the television crew from the local station was keeping its distance. Bibi was completely visible for a change, standing in front of the gate with her hackles raised.

  Everywhere, people were on their cell phones. “We’ve just got to bring the kids, David,” Micah heard one woman say. “It doesn’t look like much, just some traveling fair, but we haven’t had an outing in ages.”

  Micah watched the fairy swarm flit past. They were flickering madly, as if they were struggling to stay out of their butterfly forms for more than a few seconds at a time. Micah hated everything about what he was seeing. These people didn’t understand. They were trying to turn the circus into something normal.

  “Can you fix it?” he asked. People were starting to press in around Big Jean. He didn’t know what they saw, or how the Lightbender was keeping them at a safe distance, but Micah had the feeling that if he stopped the elephant might just stomp her way straight through the crowd to her tent. “You can fix it, can’t you? I don’t want them to hurt it.”

  “They can’t hurt Circus Mirandus, Micah,” the Lightbender said firmly. “Not really. This is just—”

  “Horrible.”

  “Messy,” said the Lightbender. “And sad.”

  “But fixable?”

  “Of course. Now that I have returned we can take care of it quickly enough. Only . . .” He frowned at Micah.

  “What?”

  “I’m afraid I am going to be busy.”

  It took Micah a minute to understand. He swallowed hard. “It’s . . . it’s okay. I had to go back to Aunt Gertrudis sometime anyway.”

  “I suppose so,” the Lightbender replied, but he kept scanning the crowd. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. “Forward, Jean,” he said, and she rumbled again.

  People moved out of their way in a hurry. The police unhuddled and started directing everyone away from the elephant.

  Micah looked on in surprise. “What are we?”

  “A fire truck I think. One passed Jean on the way to your house before you regained consciousness. I noticed that all of the other vehicles moved over for it.”

  Micah was about to ask where they were going, since they weren’t moving toward the entrance, but then he spotted two long black braids. “Jenny!”

  His friend was holding on to the hand of a woman who must have been her mother. The woman was wearing a sweatshirt with a needle and thread logo on the back, and she looked frustrated.

  “What do the men who fight fires wear in this century?” asked the Lightbender.

  “Umm . . .” Micah had seen firefighters of course, but he didn’t know what to call their outfits. “Yellow suits and helmets?”

  “How odd.”

  Big Jean stopped a short distance from Jenny and her mom so that Micah and the Lightbender could dismount. When Jenny saw Micah, she pulled free from her mother and ran toward him. Her eyes were red, and her face was puffy.

  “I tried, Micah,” she said when she reached him. “I tried so hard to get here. I made myself sick so that they’d call Mama to come pick me up from school, and then I made her drive by here twice. She couldn’t see it at first, and she started to think I was lying, but then it appeared all of a sudden.”

  She grabbed Micah around the neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

  “I’m sorry you’re in trouble,” Micah said when he could breathe again. “I got him to come.”

  She looked toward where the Lightbender was talking to her mother. “Why is he wearing that weird helmet? And driving a fire truck?”

  “It’s not a fire truck. It’s Big Jean.”

  Jenny stared. Then she shrugged. “Magic is going to take some getting used to.”

  They didn’t have time to talk more because Jenny’s mother came to tell them that she was taking them home. “That has to be the strangest fireman I’ve ever met,” she muttered. “He’s asked me to let you stay with us until this evening, Micah. Something about a family emergency? Are you all right?”

  He nodded, even though he wasn’t sure it was possible to be all right in a world without his grandfather. He looked around for the Lightbender. He was striding through the crowd toward Mr. Head. People were already turning away from Circus Mirandus with disappointed expressions on their faces.

  Micah didn’t know what they saw.

  He didn’t want to.

  As far as Mirandus Head was
concerned, there had never been a more exasperating magical artifact than the Tuttle family bootlace. After borrowing it from Micah, the Man Who Bends Light passed it around Circus Mirandus. No, he paraded it around Circus Mirandus. He told everyone and anyone who would listen about how brave Micah Tuttle had nearly died trying to save his grandfather’s life, and then he told them that only one thing stood in the way of Ephraim’s miracle.

  The manager.

  By the end of the day, Mr. Head couldn’t step out of his tent without hearing about Micah. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t even step into his tent without hearing about Micah. He was, unfortunately, fluent in elephant. He soon felt like he was under siege in his own circus.

  The Man Who Bends Light was wise enough to steer clear of him while he put his plan into effect, but he reappeared the next day when Mr. Head was making his rounds. He looked as smug as a cat in a creamery.

  “Wasn’t this a tad juvenile?” Mr. Head groaned when the magician joined him on his walk. “Couldn’t we have spoken about the matter in private?”

  “I wanted you to know I have the public’s support.”

  “You neglected to tell me he was Victoria Starling’s grandson.”

  The Man Who Bends Light didn’t have the decency to look ashamed of himself. “Chintzy is as good at keeping secrets as usual, I see,” he said. “Does it matter?”

  The manager sighed. “You know it’s not completely irrelevant. After her years here she may not have aged as quickly as a normal person. As far as we know she’s still out there, scheming.”

  “Ephraim was a good person. Micah is a good person.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  “I want you to change your mind.”

  “Really?” Mr. Head grumped. “I had no idea.”

  They stopped walking when they reached the gates and looked back toward the tents. Circus Mirandus bustled, as it always did. It was a joyful place, a safe place, and ultimately, the manager was the one who was responsible for keeping it that way.

  “Very well,” he said at last. “But I have one condition.”

  Grandpa Ephraim’s funeral wasn’t a big event. The preacher said some nice things, and Aunt Gertrudis forced Micah to dress in a suit that itched. One of the ladies from the church tried to feed him a whole plate full of cucumber sandwiches.

  Micah didn’t pay much attention to the service. Grandpa Ephraim had left two days earlier, holding on to Micah’s hand and the Lightbender’s, and that was special. This was just a ceremony with the cheapest casket and the cheapest tombstone that Aunt Gertrudis could find.

  It should have made Micah angry, because his grandfather deserved the best, but it didn’t. Grandpa Ephraim thought cheap things were just as interesting as expensive ones.

  Jenny’s family came to the funeral. Her mother hugged Micah every time he came within reach, and her father pulled him aside to tell him how happy Jenny was to have made a friend at school and how sad they all were that he would be leaving. They both looked so scandalized when Aunt Gertrudis tried to drag Micah away from his grandfather’s grave that she let Micah stay in the cemetery for as long as he wanted after the burial.

  Things were changing too fast for Micah to keep up. Aunt Gertrudis had said he had one more week at school while she “finalized affairs,” then they would move across the country to live in Arizona. Standing by Grandpa Ephraim’s grave, Jenny promised to call Micah on the phone all the time.

  Aunt Gertrudis sniffed. “We can’t afford the long-distance fees.”

  Jenny put her hands on her hips. “Micah,” she said, even though she was looking at Aunt Gertrudis, “I will send you letters every week, and I’ll include self-addressed stamped envelopes.”

  Even Aunt Gertrudis couldn’t think of anything bad to say about that. She stared silently at Grandpa Ephraim’s headstone for a minute, and then she went back to the car.

  Jenny stood with Micah a while longer. They didn’t say much. She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry for being terrible company.”

  “You’re not.”

  But eventually Jenny’s parents told her it was time to go.

  “I’m so sorry we have to run, Micah,” her mother said. “Arturo has a busy afternoon at the university, and I’ve got bridesmaids that need new sleeves. You will be fine, won’t you?”

  “I’m good,” said Micah. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Of course. Now, if you need anything, please call.” She shot a suspicious look at Aunt Gertrudis’s car, but she didn’t say more.

  Micah watched them leave and tried not to feel lonely, but even Aunt Gertrudis was better than an empty cemetery.

  He was turning to go when the whoosh of wings stopped him. Chintzy dropped out of the sky right over Micah’s head and fluttered down to Grandpa Ephraim’s tombstone. She placed a familiar bootlace on top of it. “A perfect landing!” she said. “Better take notes on how this flying business works. Your family has a history of failure.”

  “Oh, ha-ha,” said Micah, reaching for the lace. “Aren’t you clever?”

  “I am.”

  Micah hadn’t heard from the Lightbender since the day Grandpa Ephraim died. And he knew better than to try breaking into Circus Mirandus again.

  Chintzy cocked her head sideways. “I’ve got a message for you.”

  Micah nodded.

  “‘To: Micah Tuttle, From: The Lightbender,’” she said.

  “He called himself the Lightbender?”

  “Sometimes I edit for him.” She fluffed her feathers.

  “‘Dear Micah,’” she squawked. “‘I am sorry that we parted as we did. I wish I could have been there for you today, but the circus is moving to a new location soon and, as you’ve seen, I’m needed.’”

  Chintzy paused to scratch her head with one foot, and then continued. “‘Remember what I told you about magic. You have more than a bit of it in yourself. Be careful not to let it slip away from you, and you’ll always be able to hear the music. Whatever you choose to do with yourself, you are a brave, clever young man, and I know you will go far in life.’”

  “End message,” said Chintzy. “Would you like to hear the part he cut out?” she asked eagerly.

  Micah frowned. “If he cut something out doesn’t that mean he didn’t want me to hear it?”

  “He was trying to stick to Mr. Head’s rules.”

  “Don’t tell me. I don’t want him to be in trouble with Mr. Head.”

  “It’s about your grandfather’s miracle.”

  “Tell me,” said Micah.

  Chintzy bobbed up and down. “It was a postscript. It said, ‘Don’t look down.’”

  “That’s it?”

  “Good thing he took it out,” Chintzy squawked. “A big fat hint like that. He was practically cheating.”

  Micah’s last week at home wasn’t a good one. The Lightbender’s message begged to be deciphered, but Micah had never been much good at riddles. Jenny came up with a list full of ideas, each more unlikely than the last. She wasn’t holding up well. Every time Micah mentioned his departure, she grew tearful.

  “I promise I’ll write,” Micah said over lunch one day. “All the time. You’ll probably get tired of me.”

  Jenny sniffled. “I always wanted a pen pal.”

  It took Micah several days to think of what he could do for Jenny. He wanted to thank her for all of her help. When he finally came up with an idea, he worried that Jenny would think it was embarrassing, or just weird. But he wanted her to have something to remember him by, and he wanted her to have a little magic of her own.

  “It’s a bracelet,” he blurted out as he handed her the newspaper-wrapped present on his last day of school.

  “You’re supposed to let me open it first.” She tore into the newspaper and opened the box to find the knotted blue string inside.
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  “It’s like my bootlace,” said Micah. “Only the knot is like me instead of you.” He felt his cheeks redden. “It’s kind of a friendship bracelet. So we won’t really be apart, no matter how far away Aunt Gertrudis takes me.”

  Jenny let Micah tie it around her wrist, and then she burst into tears.

  “You don’t like it?”

  She hugged him so tightly that he almost strangled. “I d-don’t want you to g-go,” she sobbed. “You shouldn’t have to go. Your aunt’s awful.”

  Micah sighed and patted Jenny on the back. “It’s okay. Really. It won’t be forever.”

  She pulled away from him. “What do you mean?” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “One day I won’t have to live with Aunt Gertrudis anymore.” He took a deep breath. He’d had the thought for a while, but he hadn’t voiced it aloud. “One day I’m going to go back to Circus Mirandus. Like Grandpa Ephraim always wanted to. I’m going to find them even if I have to steal a hundred gorilla balloons.”

  Jenny looked surprised for a moment, but then she nodded. “Good.”

  Packing up for the move was depressing. Micah went through Grandpa Ephraim’s belongings and selected things to sneak away from Aunt Gertrudis’s going-to-the-dump pile. He hid his grandfather’s necktie and the ticket stubs from the movies they had seen together the night before he died. He saved most of the photographs. He couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to keep the picture of Victoria, but in the end he didn’t have to. One day it was simply gone.

  Micah wasn’t sure whether his aunt had packed it away or destroyed it. Part of him hoped it was the latter. Maybe getting back at Victoria, even in such a small way, would make her feel better. He couldn’t ask. They hadn’t spoken to each other, except for Aunt Gertrudis snapping a random order every now and then, since the day after the funeral.