Leo turns to me. “I bet you could climb up there.”
“I bet I could.” The maple tree is about the same height as the tree behind our house in North Vancouver. It’s got a tall trunk with plenty of thick branches. It wouldn’t be hard to climb.
Leo slides his arm out from behind Guillaume’s shoulder. Then he stands up and offers me his hand. “You coming?”
Genevieve bangs her cast on the edge of her mattress. “I miss climbing,” she mutters. “I’d do it if I could.”
Hana puts her hand on my forearm. “You should not do it,” she says. “It’s against the rules to practice without supervision. Suzanne told us so. If someone gets hurt, the camp will be sued.”
Guillaume is awake now. “What’s going on?” he asks sleepily.
“Leo and Mandy are about to do a tree-climbing performance for us.” Genevieve claps her hands.
Leo is tugging on my arm. “Let’s go.”
“That isn’t cool,” Guillaume tells him.
“It’s very cool,” Leo says.
“If Suzanne finds out, you might get kicked out of circus camp. Then what happens to me?” Guillaume says.
“Suzanne isn’t going to find out. You saw her yawning before. I’ll bet you anything she’s fast asleep, dreaming about rules and regulations,” Leo says. He drops my hand. “I see a perfect perch up there for the two of us.”
It’s hard for me to resist getting caught up in Leo’s excitement.
“If it weren’t for this cast, I’d climb that tree,” Genevieve says.
“What if you get hurt?” Guillaume asks Leo. “Then what?”
When Guillaume says that, I see the shattered carabiner again. Guillaume’s right. It’s too risky. It’s a big jump from the railing to the tree. If one of us falls, there won’t be a mat underneath to land on.
“Don’t do it,” I tell Leo, but he’s already gone.
He jumps up onto the railing, takes a deep breath and leaps for the tree. Then he wraps his arms and legs around the maple’s trunk and begins hoisting himself up. I can tell right away that he’s a good climber.
“Look at him go!” Genevieve exclaims.
Part of me wants to be a kid again and climb that tree with Leo, and show all my friends what a good climber I am. Another part of me knows it’s a bad idea.
“Suzanne!” Genevieve calls out.
Leo was wrong about Suzanne being fast asleep. She’s come back out to the terrace to check on us again.
“Did you change your mind about seeing the meteor shower?” Genevieve asks.
Guillaume sits up on his mattress and stretches his arms. He’s trying to block Genevieve’s view of the tree.
“What’s going on out here?” Suzanne asks.
Hana’s eyes look even bigger than usual. Suzanne must notice that too, because she adds, “Hana, is something wrong?”
If Hana turns Leo in, he’ll probably get kicked out of circus camp. And then, of course, his chances—and Guillaume’s, too, since they work as a pair—of being accepted into MCC will be affected.
But Hana just shakes her head. “Nothing.”
And Suzanne doesn’t seem to have noticed that Leo isn’t sitting on his mattress anymore.
If it weren’t for the shooting star, Leo might have gotten away with it. A silver streak flies by and Suzanne looks up, past Guillaume, to the maple tree next to the terrace. There is Leo, rocking gently on the perch.
“Leo!” Suzanne’s voice is sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “What in God’s name are you doing up there? You get yourself down from that tree this instant—and then you report immediately to my office!”
“Come on, Suzanne,” Leo says, flashing her a smile from the tree. “Don’t be angry. I’m sorry. Can’t you be flexible? Just this once?”
“Flexible?” Suzanne sounds like she’s about to choke on the word. “Flexible? You need to be flexible when you’re training or performing. But I certainly don’t need to be flexible when it comes to enforcing rules at this camp!”
Then Suzanne gives the rest of us a look that lets us know she’s disappointed in us too. “As for the rest of you,” she says, “this show is officially over. Take those mattresses and get to your dorms! Now!”
Twenty
The next morning, Leo is not having breakfast in the cafeteria.
Guillaume picks at his granola with his spoon. All he will say about Leo is that he’s in the boys’ dorm. Packing.
The door to Suzanne’s office is closed. Genevieve says she spotted Hugo Lebrun going inside earlier. “I’ll bet you anything he’s trying to talk Suzanne into giving Leo a second chance,” she says.
Ten minutes later, Hugo Lebrun struts into the cafeteria and pours himself a coffee, then walks out without even looking at us—and we know Suzanne has not changed her mind.
Hana is sitting across from Guillaume. “How can you do your performance without a partner?” she asks him.
“I’ve got no friggin’ idea.” Guillaume spits out the words.
“Friggin’?” Hana wrinkles her forehead. “I never heard that word before. What is its meaning, please?”
Terence doesn’t mention Leo, but Genevieve and I know he knows. One sign is that Terence doesn’t make any small talk with us. Another is that after I’ve finished my warm-ups and I put on the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” video, he doesn’t hum or tap his fingers the way he did yesterday.
“I’ve been thinking I’d like to finish my act with a triple star roll,” I tell Terence as I’m climbing the rope.
Terence cranes his neck to look at me. “Did I just hear you say triple star roll? Because I don’t think you’re ready for that move, Mandy.”
“That’s what I told her,” Genevieve says.
I hook my elbows around the rope so I can rest for a moment. I look down at Genevieve. “You also told me it would make my performance pop.”
Terence shakes his head and looks at Genevieve. “You told her that?”
“Can’t I at least try it?” I say.
Terence sighs. “All right then. You can try it—but not right away. You’re going to have to show me some decent single star rolls first.”
The truth is, I haven’t had much practice doing single star rolls. The move starts with an inversion. I climb a little higher, then prepare to invert. The rope is hanging at my right side. I lock the rope around my left thigh and then wrap it once around my waist.
“Make sure it’s secure!” Terence says.
I tug on the rope. It feels nice and tight around my leg. Soon it’s going to be the only thing keeping me up in the air. I take a deep breath.
“Straighten your arms!” Genevieve calls out.
My arms are a little shaky, but I straighten them.
“Begin to straighten your right leg,” Terence tells me.
Slowly, carefully, I straighten my leg.
“Your toe!” Terence calls out.
I hook my big toe on the rope.
I take a deep breath and prepare to release. Thank goodness I’m not thinking about the carabiner. Only that thought makes me think about it again. Stop it! Concentrate!
“Wait!” Terence shouts. “You need to make a bigger straddle! Separate those legs!”
How could I have forgotten that part? I widen my legs.
“That’s better! Now take a deep breath—and release your toe!” Terence says.
The second I release my toe, I feel myself beginning to roll down sideways. The sensation is so smooth and floaty, it almost makes me laugh. Down and around I spin until I “land,” dangling in the air on my back.
I expect Terence to say I did well, but he doesn’t. All he says is “Don’t forget to widen your straddle.”
He makes me do the move five more times. It isn’t easy with Terence barking out instructions. “Rope behind the body, then in front!” “Straight back!” “What did I tell you about your straddle?”
“Extend those arms!” Now it’s Genevieve telling me what to do.
My leg is getting sore in the spot where I’ve been cinching the rope. I try not to think about the soreness. Instead, I force myself to concentrate on every step. I know that breaking the move down the way we are doing will help me prepare for the triple star roll. At least, I hope it will.
“All right,” Terence finally says, “let’s give some double star rolls a try. You’re going to follow every one of my instructions. Got that?” Terence has one hand on my shoulder; his eyes are locked on mine.
“Got it!”
I rub my fingers in the bowl of rosin, shake off the residue and start climbing.
“Get ready to invert!” Terence calls when I get near the top of the rope.
My hands tremble a little as I wrap the rope twice around my waist before locking it around my thigh. My hands never used to do that—not even when I was first learning how to do rope. Louise’s death has rattled me. Even if I know that a steel carabiner like the one that’s keeping my rope attached to the ceiling of la palestre could never shatter the way an aluminum one can. The rattled feeling may not be logical, but I can’t shake it. At least, not yet.
I take a deep breath and refocus. I picture myself doing the double star roll, but I know better than to move a muscle. I have to wait for Terence’s instructions.
“All right, Mandy, showtime!” he says. “Release that toe!”
The double star roll means I’ll be doing a double rotation.
I release my toe.
I’ve practiced the single star roll so much that the first part of the new move feels almost automatic. The only real difference so far is that the double wrap feels tight around my belly—so tight that I need to arch my back a little. I have to get used to the tightness. I’m looking up at the ceiling, so I can’t see Terence or Genevieve, but I know their eyes must be glued to me—and to the rope.
“Don’t arch your back!” Terence shouts almost as soon as I begin rolling. “It’s poor form. Stay tight! Engage those abs!”
When the second rotation comes to an end and I’ve dangled from the rope for a bit, I slide down to the mats.
“One more double, and then we’ll try the triple star roll,” Terence says. “How’s your leg? Not too sore?”
“It’s fine.” I hope Terence can’t tell I’m lying.
My second double star roll goes better than my first.
Soon I’m wrapping the rope three times around my waist, then locking it around my thigh for the triple star roll.
I inhale before I straighten my arms and hook my toe on the rope. I think about how circus is a combination of work and play. Right now, though, it feels more like work than play.
This time, the speed at which I spin catches me by surprise. Round and round, then round and round again. Faster. One more time around. Even faster, my speed accumulating with every rotation.
I can hardly believe I’m doing it! The triple star roll!
The feeling of the rope behind me steadies me and keeps me from getting dizzy.
When I finally stop spinning, I’m on my back, grinning so hard at the ceiling that my face hurts. The wrap is still secure around my thigh.
I’m still grinning when I land on the mat. Genevieve reaches over from the chair where she is sitting to clap me on the back. “I knew you could do it!” she says. “No one will ever forget your ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ routine now.”
I’m expecting Terence to congratulate me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to Genevieve. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he tells her. “And Mandy, you’re going to have to practice that move several more times before I consider letting you include it in your act. I’m still seeing too much arch in your back.”
“I was just trying to help Mand—”
Terence cuts Genevieve off. “You know something, Genevieve? Pushing a performer to do something before she’s ready can be extremely dangerous. I’ll know when Mandy’s ready to include the move in her act. And Mandy will know it too. Coaching Mandy is my job, Genevieve. You’ve made some good artistic suggestions, and I’m sure Mandy appreciates your input.”
“I do,” I say, only now I’m starting to wonder if all along Genevieve has been trying to push me into doing something dangerous. Didn’t she try to talk me into climbing the maple tree?
Genevieve crosses her arms over her chest. “I was just trying to help Mandy. I want her performance to pop.”
Maybe it’s the speed at which Genevieve is speaking or the fact she’s not looking at Terence or me, but I suddenly understand, even if Genevieve can’t see it herself, that a part of her would enjoy seeing me screw up.
I could be angry. What if Terence hadn’t been around and Genevieve had pushed me to do the move before I was ready? What if I’d had an accident? What if I’d climbed the maple tree with Leo and gotten kicked out of circus camp too?
I could be angry, but I’m not. The feeling I have takes me a little by surprise.
I actually feel bad for Genevieve.
That’s because I know exactly what she is feeling. Haven’t I felt the same way about her?
Twenty-One
Our final performance starts at four in the afternoon.
With so much to do before then, I expect the rest of the day to fly, but it doesn’t. It crawls.
Before lunch, we pack. Then we strip our beds and leave the blankets, sheets and pillow-cases in a pile on the dorm floor.
Hana makes me promise to Skype her once a week. “That way,” she says, “I can see you and also practice English.”
“Hey, what about my Korean lessons?” I say. “So far, all I know is pal-kkum-chi and boricha and…what’s the name of that flower on your back again?”
“Mugunghwa,” Hana says. “But please do not say anything about tattoos to my parents when you meet them.”
Suzanne has given me permission to skip flex class and juggling so I can keep working on my star rolls with Terence. Genevieve won’t be in la palestre with us. When she tells me Suzanne needs her help putting together the program for this afternoon, I wonder if it was Terence’s idea. I think he wants a break from Genevieve.
We spend the first half hour reviewing my double and triple star rolls. After I do two triple star rolls in a row without making a single mistake, I look at Terence. Before I even open my mouth, he gives me the answer to the question I was about to ask. “Maybe,” he says.
Everything about circus camp feels different this afternoon. Partly it’s because the building is so much quieter without Leo and Guillaume’s laughter. Partly it’s because we all know circus camp is almost over. Though most of us have only known each other for two weeks, it’s hard to imagine not being together anymore. And, of course, things feel different because we’re excited—and nervous—about today’s performance.
At lunchtime Suzanne comes to the cafeteria to make a few final announcements. She reads them from a list. “As you all know,” she says, looking up from her sheet, “Leo has been sent home to Brussels. Like all of you, he was warned about breaking camp rules. Though we consider what he did a serious offense, it is his first, and I thought I’d let you all know, since Leo is your friend and I know you care about him, that his application to MCC will still be considered.”
Guillaume jumps up from his seat, slaps his thigh and calls out, “Yesss!”
Suzanne continues reading. “I also want to let you know I had an email this morning from Anastasia. Her father’s condition has stabilized, and she asked me to wish all of you good luck this afternoon. There will be a short reception after your performance. If your parents are here, be sure to invite them. Dormitories must be vacated by six. Good luck to all of you this afternoon. I hope I’ll see some of you at circus camp next year—or in the building, if you come back to attend MCC.”
I get shivers when Suzanne says that. I know my chances of being accepted into MCC are better now that Genevie
ve is injured. But if I’m accepted, will I be able to talk my parents into letting me move to Montreal and do high school here? I think my mom would say yes. But would my dad come around?
When I’m putting away my tray, Suzanne taps my shoulder. “I need to speak to you privately, Mandy.”
“Is something wrong?” I’m remembering how Suzanne needed to talk to Anastasia privately after her father’s heart attack. “Is it my dad?” It’s the first question that pops into my mind.
“Everyone’s fine,” Suzanne assures me. “But your mother’s plane has been delayed. She telephoned my office just now from the Vancouver airport. She was hoping we could delay the performance until she got here, but I explained that that was impossible. I’m sorry, Mandy.”
I tell myself I’m not the only one whose parents won’t be at the performance. Guillaume’s parents live too far away to make the trip, and it’s too expensive for Genevieve’s parents.
* * *
After lunch, it’s back to la palestre. Terence and I have another forty minutes to work together. Halfway through our session, he looks at me and says, “Okay.”
I’m confused. “Okay?”
“Okay, I’m thinking I might let you do the triple star roll this afternoon. Once—for your finale. To make it pop. You’ve been doing so well and working so hard. But only if you think you’re ready for it.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
“Just make sure you keep your back straight.”
After that, the time does fly. In fact, now it’s going too quickly. I only get to practice the move twice more because the riggers need to set up la palestre for the show. There are metal folding chairs in every corner of the room. It will be a three-ring circus, a tribute to the old circus tradition. Throughout our performance, there will be three separate acts for the audience to follow.
There is only time for a hurried rehearsal. Outside la palestre, relatives and friends gather for the show. We can hear the excited hum of conversations. Gillian, the flexibility coach, is wearing a whistle around her neck, and when she blows it, we follow her out the back door of la palestre to the equipment room. We’ll be back in ten minutes, after the audience is seated.
Learning the Ropes Page 8