by Kristy Tate
The tuna in Grace’s mouth tasted like sawdust, making her wonder how old it was. Her grandparents had a pantry full of twenty-year-old cans of food. This tuna had probably come from one of those cans. She wanted to spit it out, but she couldn’t do that in front of her new friends. She swallowed hard and felt the tuna go down her throat inch by inch.
“What do they think I have?”
“They wouldn’t tell me.”
“But they told you their names?” she asked, forcing more tuna to her belly.
“Are they with the circus?” Oliver asked. “Maybe they can get us in.”
“Why would they do that?” Amy asked.
“Why not just buy a ticket?” Chase asked.
“Maybe they can get us front row seats,” Oliver said.
“Your dad can afford to get you great seats,” Chase said.
“That doesn’t mean he’ll pay for it,” Oliver shot back, “if we’re not wearing the bacon impersonators.”
“If the men think that Grace stole something from them, they’re not going to give us any seats,” Amy said.
“Maybe if Grace gives back whatever it is she stole?” Oliver said, lifting a hopeful eyebrow.
“I didn’t steal anything!” Grace pushed her sandwich away.
Chase laughed. “You gotta give it back, Grace.”
“I would if I knew what it was they wanted.” She thought about eating her apple, and decided she wasn’t hungry. “What are their names?”
“You’ll never guess. Prof, Grincheux, Dormeur, Timide, Joyeux, Atchoum, and Simplet.”
“Do you speak French, Grace?” Amy asked.
Professor, Doc. Timide, Bashful. Joyeux, Happy. And Simplet, Dopey. She didn’t need to speak French to guess what the names meant. She recognized enough of the words to know they were playing a terrible joke on her.
“What’s going on?” Amy asked.
“We need to turn the tables,” Oliver said. “We need to stalk them. We have to go to the circus!”
Amy sighed and put down her pizza. “You really want to go to the circus, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I really do,” Oliver said with a grin.
The bell rang. Grace gathered up her things and headed for her calculus class. Chase caught up with her. “I’ll get us into the circus if you can get Gabby to come—deal?”
“I can try, but I can’t promise anything. What’s with you two, anyway?”
Pain flickered in Chase’s brown eyes. “I screwed up. But she needs to get over it.” Chase grabbed her shoulders, spun her so that she faced him, and kissed her nose.
“Ew! Stop!” She pushed him away.
Walking backward, he winked. “We have a deal! Oh yeah, we have to dress up like pigs.”
“Pigs?”
“Oliver and Amy’s dad owns Porker’s Barbeque,” Brock intervened. “The pig suits are advertising.”
Grace spun to face him. He stood in the middle of the hall wearing his track uniform, showing off his muscular chest, shoulders, and arms. He made all the other guys in their polo shirts and dark, heavily starched pants look like members of the geek squad.
“It’s early for track practice, right?” she asked.
“I T.A. freshman P.E. What’s with you and Dillinger?”
“Is that his last name?”
Brock wagged his head and turned away. He didn’t go very far before Alicia rounded a corner and caught up with him. She looped her arm through his, shot Grace a dark glance over her shoulder, and bounced down the hall beside Brock. Grace watched them go with a queasy feeling in her stomach that she tried to blame on the tuna sandwich.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grace went to her mom’s classroom as soon as the last bell rang. The lines around Jeanie’s eyes, her pinched lips, and the crease between her eyebrows told Grace exactly how Jeanie’s day had gone.
Jeanie’s face relaxed into a weak smile when she saw Grace. “It’s like I’m back where I started,” she said. “Right back in high school—my high school, to be exact. I thought I’d grown up and left all this behind, but I guess not.”
Grace wanted to tell her mom about the dwarfs, but how could she? What could she say that wouldn’t sound crazy? Jeanie had her arms full of books, and Grace went to take them from her. “They’ll love you, just like the Salmon kids did.”
Jeanie sniffed. “They don’t have to love me. They just have to pass the California English exit exam. And working with these kids—and their parents—isn’t going to be anything like at home.”
“I made some friends. We’re going to go to the circus on Friday night.”
“That’s great, sweetie,” Jeanie said in a distracted voice. “Maybe Heather or Toby would like to go, too.”
“I think the tickets are expensive… Amy’s dad is going to pay for them if we agree to wear pig costumes. Oh, and I have to get Gabby to come, too.”
A hint of a smile touched Jeanie’s lips. “You’re going to sell your friend?”
“It’s not like that. I think she likes him, too, but she doesn’t want to admit it.”
“Why?” Jeanie gathered up her purse and lunch bag and placed them in a big box she affectionately called The Toter.
“Remember what Dad says, when you’re in high school you don’t have to be a thespian to enjoy the drama.”
Jeanie sighed. “You’re right. I keep forgetting how smart you are.” Using her elbow, she shut off the lights.
“I got my brains from you.” Grace opened the door for her mom, and leaned against it so Jeanie could pass.
“And your dad.”
Grace wanted to ask about her dad, but she bit her lip. Now wasn’t the time, although she wasn’t really sure when the right time would be.
#
The next time Brock heard the whispering, he picked up the painting and carried it to the attic. It whispered and complained the whole way. He couldn’t understand a word it said, but every guttural sound made him angrier and angrier. He shoved it in a corner and buried it beneath a quilt. Sitting down on a steamer trunk, he watched the painting, half expecting it to fly. If it could talk, why not move?
Brock pulled his phone from his pocket and wondered if he was ready to confide his secret. For Cordelia, nowhere was too far or too remote when it came to antiques. She’d been leaving him on his own since they’d moved to Bear Ranch. Because they lived in a gated community with neighbors within spitting distance, she figured he was safe.
He’d thought so, too, until he started hearing whispering paintings.
She picked up on the second ring.
“I think I’m losing it,” he said.
“What? Darling, losing what?”
“My mind!” he shouted. Brock hunched in the attic and watched the cobwebs in the corners move with the gentle breeze from the blowing air-conditioner.
“What are you talking about?”
“Schizophrenia. Someone with schizophrenia can have difficulty distinguishing between what is real and what is imaginary.” By now, he had it memorized.
“Sweetie, why would you think you have schizophrenia?”
He went over to the painting, threw off the quilt and held his phone up to it so Cordelia could hear its whispering. “Can you hear that?”
His doppel-whatever grinned at him, making him want to smash his fist through the canvas.
“Hear what, sweetie.”
“The painting of my dopple-what. It’s talking to me…in French!”
“Listen, Freddy, we’ll talk about this when I get home, okay? But I promise you, you are not crazy. You’re perfect just the way you are.” She paused, as if searching for the right thing to say. “Sometimes, some of my purchases are…unique.”
“Mom—are you telling me that this painting is rigged?” The promise of relief played in the back of his mind. He’d been so convinced he was crazy. Bracing the phone between his ear and shoulder, he tried running his hands over the frame again to find some sort of device responsible for the sound.
When the whispering changed to a pleased giggling sound, he backed away, seriously creeped out. “We have to get rid of it,” Brock said. “I hate it.”
“Oh darling, where’s your sense of humor?”
He threw the quilt back over it, and turned his back to it. “Mom, it’s a guy in femmy clothes who looks like me and giggles when I touch him. It’s sick!”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Cordelia said, her voice hard. “We’ll talk about it when I get home.”
Brock cast the painting one last look before clomping down the stairs.
#
In Salmon Dale, the leaves would be golden brown. A crisp wind would be reminding everyone that winter rains would soon fall. But in Santa Magdalena, a hot wind blew in off the desert and the dying sun settled over the circus, raising a steamy warmth that mingled with pungent animal smells, the scent of popcorn, and the faint perfume of makeup grease. Amy, Gabby, and Grace wound past hordes of children, parents, a wandering clown, and candy-striped cages of lions and elephants. Horses adorned with enormous and elaborate headgear shook their manes as Grace made her way to the carousel where painted ponies bounced in rhythm. She felt more queasy than brave.
Despite the security guards patrolling the grounds and Chase and Oliver lurking somewhere close, she found it difficult to breathe normally. Where were the dwarfs?
Even though it seemed as if most of the town was at the circus, there was a really good chance the dwarfs wouldn’t show. They seemed to be everywhere she didn’t want them to be, and now that she wanted them—now that she was ready to confront them—where were they?
Behind the curtain of the Big Top, the ringmaster’s voice boomed while tinny joyful music heralded the beginning of the first show. A line of spectators filed into the tent while a large crowd milled around the sawdust-strewn grounds. Grace shoved her hands into the pockets of her pig suit to stop herself from wringing them. Why was she so nervous? Where were the dwarfs?
Amy and Gabby both turned to watch a guy lead a stallion through a wooden gate.
“Giddy-up,” Amy said, staring.
The guy had blond shoulder-length hair tied back with a leather thong and wore soft fawn-colored breeches and matching knee-high boots. His white shirt billowed around a wide leather belt that hung about his hips. His eyes and the small smile curving his lips sent a jolt of recognition up Grace’s spine although she knew they’d never met.
“Hot horse guy,” Gabby murmured. The tone of her voice made Grace feel sorry for Chase. “He’s totally staring at you, which is not fair. You’re not the only one wearing a pig suit!”
Grace tugged at one of the many nipples lining the Pepto-Bismol pink velour costume. She knew she looked ridiculous, but she’d rather look like Wilbur from Charlotte’s Web than spend the twenty dollars entrance fee or stay at home. Gabby, Oliver, and Amy looked equally stupid. A passel of porkers, Amy and Oliver’s dad had called them.
“There’s something familiar about him,” Grace said under her breath, tearing her gaze away from him. “Don’t you think so?”
“He’s almost too perfect,” Amy said.
Gabby stopped short. “What’s he doing here?” Now her voice had changed, and Grace knew instantly that Gabby was no longer talking about Hot Horse Guy.
Oliver and Chase stepped out from behind a popcorn stand. For once, Chase looked bashful. (Wasn’t that one of the dwarfs’ names? Timide, Grace reminded herself.)
Amy elbowed Gabby. “Just talk to him.”
Gabby shook her head and her ponytail swung side to side. “No.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Amy whispered and all the S’s sounded like hisses.
“My mom…” Gabby began.
“Yeah, your mom has made mistakes…your dad being the biggest one out there,” Amy said, “but Chase is a good guy. I’ve known him my whole life.”
Gabby balled her fists and placed them on her hips. “Then why was he with Alicia at the beach the other night?”
“Wait. Alicia?” Grace interrupted. “Brock’s Alicia?”
“Alicia belongs to no man,” Gabby said.
“Or all men,” Amy added.
“Does Brock know this?” Grace asked.
Gabby smirked and motioned toward the Big Top. “You should ask him.”
Grace looked over her shoulder to watch Brock and Alicia standing in line, waiting to file into the main arena. As always, Alicia looked rock-star beautiful in her New Occult jeans, strappy sandals, and lacey top. She had her arm looped around Brock’s. Her lifted chin told Grace that she’d spotted them, but refused to acknowledge them because they were mere beetles on her own personal dung pile.
Amy stood a little taller and smiled a little brighter in a way that she wouldn’t do for her brother and his lovesick-for-Gabby friend. Grace turned to see Hot Horse Guy approaching.
Oliver and Chase also must have noticed him, because their steps faltered.
“My pet,” Hot Horse Guy murmured as he drew closer.
“Excuse me?” Amy scrunched her nose at him.
“I have followed you this great distance,” he said. “I entreat you, do not abuse me further.”
“You abused him?” Gabby asked Grace.
Grace squinted at him. “Are you talking to me?”
“Ma chérie,” he pleaded, taking Grace’s hand and drawing it to his lips. His kiss sent a chill up her arm even though his hand was warm.
“It means my dear,” Chase whispered in Grace’s ear. “’Pet’ I can understand. Some people keep pigs as pets, but not deer.”
“But I’m not his dear or his pet.”
“Ah, you have yet to forgive me.” Hot Horse Guy held her hand pressed against his chest. “It matters not. Our love is written in the stars.”
“Ew!” Grace pulled away from him. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want…”
Oliver squared his shoulders and stepped in front of Grace. “You heard her. Porker off.”
Chase cocked his head at the scene, as if trying to read the situation before also taking a protective shielding-step. “Yeah. You heard the sow!”
“The sow?” Grace pushed Chase and Oliver out of her way. “Look. I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice French person, but I’m not who you think I am.”
Hot Horse Guy lowered his eyebrows at Chase and Oliver. “I am not afraid to fight for my heart.”
Chase and Oliver braced their shoulders like roosters ruffling their feathers, which was so strange because Grace didn’t even know if the California boys had ever seen roosters squaring off for a fight. Or even seen roosters in the flesh and feathers.
She held her arms out, separating Chase and Oliver from Hot Horse Guy. “No one is fighting anyone,” she said, looking first at Oliver and then Chase. “And I’m not your heart,” she said to Hot Horse Guy.
“I’ve slain a dragon for you,” he said in a wounded tone.
“You mean that figuratively, right?” Grace wanted to believe that this guy couldn’t really believe in dragons, but the fierce look on his face made her question his sanity.
“What’s going on?” Brock’s voice came from directly behind her.
Grace twisted to see Brock. Alicia stood a little ways away. Gabby sent her a death stare, but Alicia refused to meet her eye. Something about the way Brook acted made Grace suspect he didn’t know about Chase and Alicia’s beach hookup.
“This guy thinks Grace holds his heart,” Amy said.
“If you’ve ever seen a real heart, you would know how creepy that sounds,” Grace said, thinking about the Salmon Dale Biology class where Dr. Holmes had dissected a cow’s heart.
The ringmaster’s voice belted over the loud speaker, announcing the last show. The lights flickered on as the sun settled onto Saddlehorn Mountain, preparing to completely disappear.
Alicia took hold of Brock’s arm. “Let’s go, Brocky. I don’t want to miss the acrobats—they’re my favorite.”
Amy quirked an eyebrow. “Broc
ky?”
Brock glowered at her, before turning to the new guy. “What’s your name?”
He stepped in front of Brock so that the toes of his boots were touching the ends of Brock’s sandals.
“I am Roy Charmant. And who might you be?”
Brock swallowed a laugh. “I might be Batman.”
“You scoff at my devotion!” Charmant placed his hand over his heart.
“No. I never scoff at devotion. I scoff at—”
Alicia tugged at Brock’s arm, interrupting him. “What are you doing? Let’s go.”
Brock poked his finger at Roy’s chest. “Leave Grace alone,” he said.
Bafflement flickered across Roy’s face. “Why is he calling you Grace?”
“Because it’s my name.”
He cocked his head, considering her. “Mmm, I like it. It suits you.”
Grace laughed. “Of course it does.”
“If you wish to be called Grace, I understand.”
“I’m done with this,” Oliver said, draping one arm around Grace’s shoulder and the other around Amy’s. “Let’s go watch the show.”
“That was super creepy,” Oliver murmured on the way to the tent. “You better stay away from him,” he told Amy, “or I’m telling Dad.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “I liked him until he started talking.”
“It’s really sad. So many people are that way.” Gabby slid a look at Chase.
Chase opened his mouth to make an argument, but quickly closed it again, obviously worried that Brock would overhear him. After a few seconds of internal debate, he whispered in her ear, “She started it, okay?”
“But why?” Gabby whispered.
Chase lifted his shoulders. “Who knows? You’ll have to ask her.”
“She just couldn’t resist your charms?”
Chase stopped and the line of people surged around him. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Gabby frowned at him. “I don’t get it,” she said. “I don’t get you!”
“You’re right. You don’t.”
“Oh come on, you guys,” Amy said, pulling on Gabby. “You’re spoiling the circus for me.”
“I’m sorry, Amy,” Chase said. “But I don’t want to be here anymore.”