by Amy Ephron
“Curiously enough,” said Tess, “I have one, I think.”
Tess reached down for her jeans, which she’d hastily folded on the floor, and carefully pulled from the right front pocket the silver needle and, without even thinking, handed it to Tara. “Will this do?”
“Oh, yes,” said Tara, her voice soft and melodic again. “I think it will do very nicely.” The needle sparkled a bit, but everything was sparkling silver, too, so Tess didn’t think much of it.
There were so many questions Tess wanted to ask. Where were they? Had the carnival picked up stakes and moved? Or had she and Max imagined it all.
But Tess could hear that the music was starting and the clock was ticking down for any practice time before Alexei and Tatiana’s performance. And her chance at aerial ballet. So, Tess simply did as she was told.
“Hold very still,” Tara said to Tess. “I think that we can do this quickly.”
The needle seemed to sparkle again as Tara threaded it, in one quick aim, with the tip of the silver thread she’d expertly moistened with her tongue, as if she was a professional seamstress.
“Hold very very still,” she said to Tess.
Tess took a perfect ballerina pose, shoulders back, head up, as Tara pulled the fabric of the leotard ever so slightly away from Tess’s body so that she could, without poking Tess with the needle, firmly reattach the star.
“There,” she said, after three or four very careful stitches. “I think that will hold.
“Now, let’s fix your hair,” said Tara. “This will only take a moment. I’m very good at updos.”
It was such a funny word, sort of like a word Aunt Evie would use.
“You probably think I mean a ballerina bun,” said Tara, shaking her head. “But I was thinking something much more dramatic.”
Tara opened her left hand and revealed three silver hairpins crested with three diamonds each. “After all,” said Tara, “it’s very special to have a chance to dance in the sky.”
Tess stood perfectly still again as Tara swept Tess’s long brown hair up, in one quick motion, folding it into a high French twist, and perfectly pinned it with the three clips.
She turned Tess around, almost like she was a doll, and pointed her to a three-paneled mirror. Tara turned one side of the mirror, so Tess could see both her front and her back. “Voila, updo,” said Tara, “Very spectacular, don’t you think?”
Tess almost didn’t recognize herself. It wasn’t that she looked older, but her cheekbones were more defined, her neck thin and graceful. She looked elegant somehow, as if she was out of another century, an earlier century, for sure.
Tara hadn’t applied any makeup but it looked as if Tess had some on. Maybe it was the lighting. Her eyes seemed to be outlined in the finest dark kohl, her eyelashes curled and also darkened, her skin pale but her cheeks lightly flushed, as if she was wearing blush, and she swore it looked as if she had lipstick on. It had to be the lighting, or lack of lighting maybe, as she realized there wasn’t any lighting in the tiny curtained dressing room.
Tess wished her mom was there to see her, and her dad, and Aunt Evie. But she quickly remembered that she wasn’t sure they would totally approve of a lesson in aerial ballet . . . She pushed that thought aside, although she did remember that her mom had nixed that trampoline course she’d wanted to take in Greenwich Village when she was eight. This was different, she reasoned, these were real professionals. Actual Aerial Ballet Stars.
Alexei was up on the top platform already. He was swinging a bar back and forth, pushing it away, then catching it almost as if he was playing ball, casually with one hand, so relaxed, as if he was oblivious to the fact that he was on a platform high up off the ground.
Tatiana hadn’t waited for Tess, after all. She had climbed up to a middle platform. She was standing on her hands, her body as straight as a board, as confidently as anyone else could stand on their feet, except she was standing on one hand.
Tess had a sense she was about to be outclassed. Tess could do a one-handed cartwheel. Multiple one-handed cartwheels, in fact. It had sometimes been her preferred way of crossing the living room when she was five, multiple cartwheels, to her mother’s delight and sometimes horror. But Tess was certain she couldn’t do a one-handed handstand, not without a month (or a year) of practice, and certainly not when she was sixty-five feet up in the air . . . with the distinct possibility of looking down without even meaning to. Impressive and somewhat terrifying.
Tess reassured herself. There was a big net down at the bottom below the trapeze that also curiously sparkled a bit. It looked as if it, too, was made out of spun silk. Tess was certain it was strong enough to catch her if she fell. And gentle enough to fall into so that it would feel almost like falling into a cushion. Well, it might hurt a bit, but at least it would catch her.
She watched as Tatiana executed a double flip in the air and landed perfectly on the platform on two feet and then pointed to Tess that it was her turn to climb up the silk ladder. The way Tatiana pointed to her really felt like a dare. Tess reminded herself that she wasn’t normally afraid of dares. Her first response was usually, Okay, watch this, then.
Tess put one silver-ballet-slippered foot onto the first rung of the silk ladder, balancing so that the rung was under the arch of her foot, and her heel and toe were pointed around it. She pulled herself up with one hand grasping one side of the ladder.
The ladder started to swing with her weight. That didn’t bother her at all. Tess just leaned in and started to sway with the music that was playing in the background, classical music, sort of, violins, or maybe just one violin, and big brassy horns, with a deep bass drumbeat. It sounded kind of like hip-hop meets classical, if there was such a thing, incredibly easy to dance to or, in the present circumstances, incredibly comfortable to swing to.
There was a long drumbeat, which Tess took as a cue. She pointed her left foot daintily up onto the next rung, then did the same again, balancing on her instep. Then, began to climb the ladder quickly, scaling it almost, never having both of her feet touch the same rung of the ladder at the same time. She continued to climb, higher and higher, scaling with her arms, as well, one after the other. She added a couple of ballet-like arm gestures, too, holding a hand to her waist and lifting her elbow, then grabbing the ladder with that hand and putting her other hand above her head as if she was about to do a pirouette.
She reached the top of the ladder and couldn’t help it, she set her right hand down on the platform and executed a one-handed cartwheel, nailed the landing perfectly, her head straight up, her shoulders back, and her arms gently out almost in a circle, with her hands clasped in front of her in a perfect ballerina stance.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alexei smile at her, and turned to Tatiana, who was smiling in approval, too.
She had a feeling she was going to like this.
~ CHAPTER THIRTEEN ~
a dance in the sky
Don’t look down. That’s the first rule. Tess knew that.
Instead she looked across at Alexei, who was swinging the bar more intently now, catching it with one hand, throwing it with both, catching it again. He stood poised, as if on a diving board, his back totally straight, his eyes focused straight ahead, but Tess couldn’t tell on what, perhaps the view of the silver bar as it came into view just at his sightline.
He gripped the bar with two hands and flew, swinging as if it was the most natural thing in the world, hanging by his hands, and then, almost turning himself into a circle, slipped his legs over the bar and bent them. For a moment, he sat on the bar as straight as if it was a dining chair, then he swung around and he was hanging, holding on by his knees. His head was down and his arms were swinging back and forth as if he had a mind to catch someone. He turned and looked at Tess.
Alexei smiled at her, almost as if he was teasing her. Then turned toward his sister Ta
tiana, who was casually swinging a bar back and forth herself, catching it and tossing it away, from her place on the platform across the stage.
A drumbeat sounded insistently. Tatiana grabbed the bar firmly with two hands, pointed her toes, and swung off the platform, as if she was flying through the air. Once, twice, back and forth, and then she let go of her bar, executed a triple somersault in the air, and landed perfectly holding Alexei’s hands, who was still swinging by his knees on the other bar. And the two of them were swinging together, in such synchronicity, almost as if they were one body, dancing through the air.
Tess thought she heard applause from the bleachers below. But she didn’t look down to see if there was anyone there. Don’t look down.
Alexei and Tatiana continued to swing.
Then Tatiana executed a jump through the air, turned one somersault, and landed perfectly in a hollow circle that lit up magically at one end of the trapeze. A full spotlight shining directly on it. Or maybe it was back-lit? A white sphere that appeared shaded on one side, bright white, shaped like a crescent moon inside the circle with a perfect lilt at the bottom, which was a seat for Tatiana to rest on, which she did, with a lot of attitude and grace. And once seated, she crossed her leg and pointed her toe.
Tess thought that was funny—it was sort of like the man in the moon, except it was the woman in the moon. She wondered who had thought that up. She was certain she heard more applause, screams of delight, and “Ahhs,” from below. She didn’t think she was imagining it. But Tess didn’t look down.
Alexei was looking at her now.
He swung a bar over to her. Tess noticed it was hanging from braided silver satin ropes. She reached casually, but missed as if she hadn’t meant to catch it, or she wasn’t so easy to catch, and let it fly back through the air to him. Alexei caught it again with two fingers, almost as if he was showing off or taunting her to perform. He swung it back to her. She stood and simply stared at him and didn’t even try to catch it. She heard people laughing below—she was sure of it—as if they appreciated her performance.
Alexei caught it again. And before he threw it back again, he whispered, strangely as if it was coming through a microphone and Tess alone could hear it, “Touch the sky.”
Alexei swung the bar back to her. This time, Tess pointed her toes, as if she was about to dive off a diving board, and with the tips of her fingers as if she’d done this a hundred times before, grasped the bar and folded her hands tightly around it, and pushed off, propelling herself forward, and literally flew through the air still pointing her toes as she did so, feeling her own momentum as she swung gracefully and seemingly effortlessly from the bar.
Casually, Tatiana, who was still in a sitting position on the moon, gently threw another flying bar to Tess.
Was Tess supposed to catch this? She let it fly. She effected the same attitude she had before, as if she was simply ignoring the swinging bar as she let it fly back to Tatiana. Tatiana caught it again and swung it back to her. Tess ignored it again. Tatiana caught and swung it back to her.
Tess was ready this time. She effected a somersault right through the air and flew to catch the second bar and missed . . .
Flat out missed.
There was a deep cry from the crowd as . . .
Tess started to go into a free fall, except she realized she didn’t have a parachute. Falling, falling downward. Was there a net below her? She was frightened to look. There’d been a net when she first went up. And then the thing she didn’t want to think about—could a net really save her if she was falling too hard, fast, with such velocity that she wouldn’t stop until she hit the ground? Deep breath. She caught Alexei’s eye, as if his stare alone was something to hold on to.
Everything in that moment became crisp and clear. And it seemed, for a moment, as if she was in a slow fall, or time itself had slowed down, and the space around her expanding, giving her a way to reassess, regain her balance, if only there was something there to balance on.
Falling. She heard Alexei’s voice. Was he calling to her? Or was she just remembering? “Touch the sky.”
Something was sticking into her hip sharply. She reached down, right around the star that Tara had resewn onto her costume, and she touched the needle, which Tara had carelessly left still threaded into her leotard. It was the sharp point of the needle digging into Tess’s skin right by her hip. She started to pull it away . . .
As Tess’s hand touched the bright silver needle, it was almost as if there were sparks and she was encased in a halo of light. Red, blue, yellow, silver, purple, green, all the colors of the rainbow surrounding her. Were they spotlights or was it coming from the silver needle? Tess didn’t know.
But for a moment, it was as though time had frozen and given her a chance to make a move.
Instinctively she turned her body into a somersault again, the way a high diver would, one and a half turns as if she’d jumped from a diving board and done it on purpose. As if somehow the act of tumbling would slow her fall.
The voices in the crowd below flared up into “oohs” and “ahhs.”
There wasn’t a crowd below her, was there? Tess didn’t know. She knew she wasn’t allowed to look down.
Cascading around her was a super-spray of lights, as if there were twenty spotlights on, each coming from a different angle and in varying rainbow colored shades. She held the needle up. And wondered again, as it was so much like a Fourth of July sparkler, she questioned where the light was coming from.
Then, almost as if by magic, a swing dropped down, held by silver ropes. The seat of the swing was pink satin and it had thickness that was comforting to see.
There was a way that she could navigate there if she really tried. It was almost right below her to the right. Tess flipped into the last half turn, and listed as far as she could to the right, and landed, as if it had been rehearsed, played out, exactly meant to be, perfectly in the seat of the swing. She caught the ropes and held on tightly with her hands, and crossed her legs, pointing her toes triumphantly, the way a ballerina would, as if it had been all part of the act, after all.
The crowd below burst into cheers. Hurrahs, whistles, screams of delight and fancy. Tess sailed softly in the air, secure in the swing, gently, almost as if she was in a playground. As she swung gracefully and softly through the air, she looked down as the crowd rose up in a standing ovation and she realized the audience was sold-out, packed house, standing room only, and everyone was standing, and she had been part of the act, after all.
~ CHAPTER FOURTEEN ~
after the show
Were you trying to upstage me?” asked Tatiana, mock teasing Tess, smiling when she said it. “That was a little close there, though, wasn’t it?”
Tess just smiled back. Her heart was racing. Pounding really. She could feel every muscle in her body, aching, not in pain, just keyed up as if ready to be in motion, each part still completely in sync with each other as if she had to make another move, or wanted to, if they were to do an encore or she had to take another bow.
There had been two “curtain calls.” There wasn’t a curtain really, but the audience whooped and applauded so loudly they went back on stage again. The sound itself was exhilarating. Strange to be the one up on stage in a big arena. And have all those people applauding you. After three bows and a triple cartwheel by Tatiana, which Tess wisely didn’t try to replicate, they left the stage. The crowd still wouldn’t settle down. And they went back on stage. Tess wondered if they were supposed to do an encore, but Alexei, as if he’d read her mind, shook his head. And taking the middle spot, took Tatiana’s hand in his right and Tess’s in the left and they all bowed again, in perfect unison this time, as if they were actually joined at the hip.
Someone threw a bouquet of white roses onto the stage at Tess’s feet. She looked at Tatiana, who nodded her assent, and Tess picked them up and held them in her arms. She
realized it was someone connected to the carnival who had tossed them. She could tell by the way he stood, surveying everything, sort of like he owned the place. And there was something about the way he was looking at Tess that gave her pause. She graciously handed the flowers to Tatiana. The crowd cheered even more loudly, as if they respected her humility, her ability to share. But the crowd didn’t know what she knew. She knew that she’d flat out missed and for some almost inexplicable reason been given a second chance.
“Brilliant,” said Alexei, not hiding the respect and awe in his voice. Their eyes locked again for a moment. And Tess wanted to tell him how much he’d helped her, but she was too shy.
She was also exhilarated. Was her heart beating from the “ride”? It had been a ride. Or was she just so proud of herself and, frankly, a little bit impressed with herself? It wasn’t as if she was about to get a swelled head. It had been much too scary for that. Too close a call, so to speak. But it had been totally amazing. It was going to take her a minute to calm down. She felt as if she was still flying.
“We’ve never seen that happen before, have we, Alexei?” said Tatiana.
“Seen what?” asked Max.
Tess knew what they were talking about.
“The swing,” said Tatiana.
“It must be new,” said Alexei. “Good thing somebody thought to drop it down.”
“Is that what you think it was?” asked Tara, who was in the dressing room helping them change. “A new prop that somebody dropped from the sky?”
“Yes,” said Alexei and Tatiana together.
Max started to say something, but Tess interrupted him. She looked at Tara so strangely. “What was it, then?” asked Tess.
Tara blinked her eyes, the way she did when she knew something that others didn’t, even though the answer to Tara was sometimes quite obvious. Looking at Tess she said, “I think you would call it”—she hesitated—“Carnival Magic.”