by Sarah Noffke
“But I’m in a trio,” she said stubbornly, her frustration evident.
“And I think we can all admit that they work, but duos are more compelling,” Dave said, and then his face lit up with a clever grin. “They’re more romantic to the audience.”
Zuma rolled her eyes and then buried her head in her hands. She hadn’t dared to look back at Finley, who stood stock-still, a stone expression on his face. Jack had joined Zuma at her side. He regarded Finley now with an analyzing stare, which the stranger pretended not to notice.
“Dave, I really—” Jack began but Dave simply held up his hand and he paused.
“Do you trust me?” Dave said.
“Well…” Jack blanched. “Yes, but—”
“Then indulge me in this,” Dave said simply.
Jack nodded obediently and then looked at Zuma, who was just raising her head up to stare at Dave. She understood him better than most, maybe because she could get into his head if he allowed it, but also for the plain reason that she understood him. Looked up to him. Respected him more than any other. She stopped to study him, to try and piece this all together. When nothing of any help came to her, she revolved her gaze onto Jack. Where Finley’s face was sharp angles, Jack’s features were soft but still strong. It was his German heritage that was responsible for this as well as his blondish hair and wide shoulders. Jack had a look on his face that said he wanted to comfort Zuma, but he didn’t know how. Knew he couldn’t. Not like he wanted to.
“But Dave, I don’t know the first thing about this person,” Zuma finally said, haphazardly throwing her arm in Finley’s direction, not looking at him. “How am I supposed to create an act when we are currently having shows?”
“Well, I suppose you’ll spend extra time getting to know each other, dream travel time. It will be worth it,” Dave said unconcernedly.
“Where did you find him?” Zuma asked, her eyes now roaming over Finley’s face.
He allowed his expression to finally show some emotion. Anger. “I am right here, you know. You don’t have to refer to me like I’m not,” Finley said.
The ringmaster smiled, not put off by Finley’s anger or Zuma’s skepticism. “I think,” Dave said, holding up a finger again, “if you, Zuma, want an answer to that question then you should ask Finley. It is his business.”
She turned to the stranger and faced him with an odd confidence he hadn’t witnessed before. Zuma was entitled, but not without right. She owned something about this world. And Finley couldn’t figure it out. “Where did you come from?” she asked.
Finley didn’t like the way she was looking at him. This wasn’t the way this was supposed to go. “That is none of your business,” he said with a defiant smile.
Zuma huffed with frustration, but also looked secretly happy to have received this reaction. It would make her case easier. “Dave, how am I supposed to work with someone so rude? You just bring this stranger in and split up our group?” The crowd around Zuma looked sympathetic.
“I didn’t split up anyone. I’m making the circus more complete. And might I remind everyone of the first of my only two rules,” Dave said, staring out at the people watching.
There was silence and then heads shook, but Finley looked around, confused. “These rules? What are they?”
“The first rule is to, above all else, respect each other,” Dave recited.
“And the second?” Finley prompted.
“That we do not enter into romantic relationships with one another,” Titus chimed in, his voice monotone.
“Oh,” Finley said, having almost choked on his last breath. That hadn’t even occurred to him as a possibility as far as rules. No stealing or no violence maybe, but no dating was a strange rule.
“And Zuma,” Dave said in a sensitive voice, earning a softened expression from her, “the final decision will be up to Titus and I know you respect his creative judgment.”
She nodded. “I do, as much as yours.”
“Then we will see how everything unfolds tomorrow,” Dave said, spreading his face wide with a smile again.
They all nodded. This was Dave’s rule. It was hardly ever questioned and thoroughly respected. This was because he led through love and inspiration and Finley had never witnessed something so pure. Dave turned to Titus and he also forced a reluctant nod. “Okay, Dave. I’ll keep an open mind to adding a new performer.”
“Thank you, old friend,” Dave said to the creative director. “Now would you do the honors?”
“Of course,” Titus said and then turned to Finley. “Would you please follow me and I’ll lead you to your trailer?” Titus said at once.
And after those words Finley’s mask fully dropped, an excited smile popping on his face.
“My trailer?” he repeated quietly.
“Naturally,” Titus said, marching off. “Follow me. We have one open on the far side, right next to the other performers.”
Chapter Fourteen
Finley bolted upright when he awoke the next morning. The comfortable bed underneath him and the cozy surroundings weren’t unwelcome, they were totally perplexing at first rising. It took him a few seconds of deliberation to piece together the parts of the night before that led him to this trailer and the queen-size bed that he was spread across. He was used to sleeping in the woods lately and the humid warehouse before that. He hadn’t awoken in a soft bed with morning sunlight neatly streaming through paisley curtains in… well, forever.
Last night he was exhausted from the adrenaline of the weeks leading up to this part of the plan. After Titus showed him his trailer he collapsed into the bed and fell into dream-filled sleep the whole night. Now he wished he would have spent the night dream traveling to hone his skills or spy on these Vagabond Circus people. But even he needed good, old-fashioned sleep sometimes.
The trailer had a bathroom, kitchen, and living area. All were small, but they were more than adequate. He took a shower with real hot water and then found plush towels at the ready when he exited. He laughed when he realized he’d been ready to shake off the water as he was accustomed to doing. At every turn there seemed to be something new to amaze the almost adult boy and he quickly realized his shortcomings. If the people he was about to work with spied this awe in him then they’d ridicule it. Worst of all was that they’d wonder about him. They’d ask questions. Last night Finley had thrown off Zuma’s questions about where he came from, but that wouldn’t last. He had to be ready the next time. Not with an answer, but with something that would keep her or anyone from asking again. No one could know where he came from. Finley wasn’t just ashamed of where he was from, he was incredibly appalled by it. Only one person at Vagabond Circus knew where he was from and they weren’t going to talk about it, because they also shared this curse.
Upon exiting the bathroom, Finley found a box on the sofa. Titus must have put it there last night, although Finley didn’t remember. Maybe he put it there this morning since Finley didn’t care to lock his trailer last night before passing out. He shouldn’t have been so careless. That mistake could have gotten him killed.
Too curious, Finley slid the lid off the box and there he stood, half naked in a towel, staring at what he suspected he’d find and still couldn’t believe. It was so silly. Something everyone here had, and yet didn’t appreciate. New clothes. He reached out and ran his hands over the smooth spandex of the workout suit. It was the colors of the Vagabond Circus, teal blue and neon green. He’d never performed in anything but threadbare street clothes.
Under the full-body leotard in the box was a jacket and pants for warming up. Everything was brand new and had a strange scent to it. They smelled clean and newly manufactured and also had an undertone of perfume to them.
It was upon pulling on the suit that Finley realized how revealing it was. He’d seen something similar on Jack in the ring. That guy wore it with pride and now Finley realized that was the only way. One can’t walk out in front of thousands of people with a skin-tight suit
on and not own it. And what was he supposed to be self-conscious of? Finley was all lean muscles. He had years of parkour to thank for that.
Finley pulled the jacket over his shoulders as he opened the door to his trailer. His trailer. The words still didn’t seem right, and he didn’t want to get used to them. This all wasn’t supposed to last. He didn’t belong here and neither did the person he’d come after. He’d take them out and then find a new life.
The smell of fried eggs and grilled flatbread was heavy in the air when Finley exited his trailer. He didn’t know those smells well. Couldn’t really identify them as anything more than “delicious.” His stomach rumbled furiously when he made his way out to where many of the people of Vagabond Circus were chatting. They all stopped in their various spots and stared at him. Some were polite and smiled a little. Some pretended not to have seen him and looked away almost at once. Zuma, who was speaking rapidly to her friend Jasmine, locked eyes with him and seemed to be trying to pierce him with a single look.
“Z,” Jasmine said, drilling her friend in the arm with loose knuckles. “We already discussed this. Just give him a chance.”
Without laying her eyes on Jasmine, Zuma deflected her next assault almost before it came. “Keep your hands off me and your advice to yourself.”
Finley brought his hand up to his mouth, kissed it, and blew it at Zuma, who was only two trailers away. “You know you want to catch this, so go ahead, sweetheart,” he sang loud enough for her and everyone around to hear.
“Gah! He didn’t just do that?” Zuma turned with revulsion and gaped at Jasmine, who appeared to be covering a look of amusement.
“I do believe our boy just did,” she said, letting a giggle break through.
“Jaz,” Zuma said and then trained the rest of her words into an inaudible whisper for only her friends’ ears to hear.
Finley decided not to care and strolled dangerously close by the pair on the way to the trailer on the other side of them. In the common area, breakfast was being served from the food truck. And although Finley was half tempted to find out what real eggs actually tasted like, he decided that he had to stay focused.
The trailer on the other side of Zuma’s was Fanny’s. Four children of varying ages were kicking around a soccer ball when Finley approached. He’d gotten a strange look from most as he strolled through the trailer area, so he wasn’t surprised when the oldest boy pulled a shorter one by the shirt collar at once. He seemed repulsed by Finley, like any association with him would ruin his chances in the future with the circus. They called after the two remaining girls, but only the older one ran after them into the open door of the trailer. The smallest, a girl of around four, stood staring up at Finley with ocean blue eyes. Her hair was braided back into two French braids. Fanny’s handiwork.
Finley leaned down, almost too quickly for her eyes to register, and plucked the ball from the ground. He spun it around on the tip of his finger. “Do you like to play soccer?”
“I’m not very good,” the girl, whose name was Emily, said.
Finley dropped the ball to the ground and sank down with it, now looking up at the girl with hair like spun sunlight. “Who told you that?”
She cocked her head at the trailer where the other children had disappeared. “Sebastian did. He said I am too young and mess up all their games.”
Finley raised an eyebrow. “Do you know what I think?”
Emily shook her head, her long braids whipping against her face as she did.
“I think he’s afraid that if you played, you might show him up,” Finley said with a wink. And there was something in his almost hazel green eyes that even a four-year-old couldn’t resist.
Emily picked up the ball and handed it to him at once. “So you’ll play with me?”
“Of course I will, but you have to make me one solid promise…”
She was smart for her age, even though she’d had no real training from parents, and had been in a cluster of kids in a foster home most of her life. The little girl studied him and then said, “I have to hear the deal before I agree.”
“Fair enough,” Finley said, smiling at her, instantly feeling endeared to the little girl. She reminded him of a few of the kids he knew, but he didn’t consider them friends. Not like he thought he could consider this girl. Back where he came from, no one was friends. It was easier that way. “You stay away from people like Sebastian who tell you you aren’t good enough, and I’ll spend as much time with you as I can, telling you that you are.”
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
“There’s no catch,” he said.
“Why would you tell me such a thing then? You don’t even know me,” Emily said.
Finley stood with the soccer ball and shot it between his hands several times, all with a blur of movement, and then tossed it up to his head, where it spun before rolling over his shoulder, down his arm, and landing in his hand. “Because it’s true.”
The girl’s face burst bright with a smile and a giggle. “That was fantastic. Can you do more tricks like that?”
“I’m afraid he can’t,” Fanny cut in, stepping out of the trailer. She didn’t look directly at Finley as she cleared the few steps to the young girl. There she kneeled down and looked straight into the four-year-old’s eyes. “Dear Emily, would you mind popping into the trailer to fetch me my glasses? You can always find them and I’ve seemed to have misplaced the darn things again.”
“But Ms. Fanny, why you say I can’t—”
“Shhh. Shhh. Little Em, I just meant that I need you to wait before spending time with the new acrobat. In time, I’m sure,” Fanny said, her Louisiana accent making her stern words sound sweet.
The little girl nodded solemnly and then turned without another look at Finley and ran to the trailer.
Finley was about to protest when Fanny rose to full height. She was the stature of the average man and had the shoulders to match. “Mr.…?”
“Just Finley. No mister’s necessary,” Finley said, his eyes still pinned on the trailer door where Emily had disappeared.
“Mr. Finley, I’m sure you’re a reputable gentleman with many qualities I’ll come to admire,” Fanny began, her eyes matching the sincerity in her voice. “But until I have the time and honor to appreciate you as a person, I ask that you kindly stay away from my children. It’s nothing personal toward you, only that I don’t personally know you and want to keep my kids protected from the unknown.”
Finley hadn’t been offended per se and yet he had been slightly banished. He didn’t know what to make of this woman, who had perfect reason for her protection, but was taking her prejudice of the unknown and throwing it at him. He opened his mouth to argue and at that moment his ears were punished by the sound of laughter. A laughter he knew. Slowly he turned to catch Zuma giggling by the side of her friend. They, of course, had witnessed the whole thing. His good behavior and his humiliation. What they would remember would probably be the latter.
“Yes, of course,” he said, bowing to the woman. “I completely understand, Mrs.…?”
“Just miss and you can call me Fanny.”
He arched a disbelieving eyebrow at the older woman. “Yes, Fanny. I look forward to getting to know you.”
The caretaker then blushed and that’s exactly what prompted the end of Zuma’s laughter.
Chapter Fifteen
It was strange to Finley to just walk up to a counter at a truck and order food. That was the first strange part and then the second, almost stranger part, was that a chipper man handed him a Styrofoam plate full of steaming food without asking for a cent. The man had turned away almost immediately, back to the grill, when Finley opened his mouth to ask questions. He shoved the disputes back in his mouth and turned to the many tables lining the common area. It felt odd to sit alone, making himself an outcast at once. Therefore he decided to be bold and plucked himself down at a table that was bristling with noise. It was a table of performers. Not the acrobats, who wer
e two tables over, spying and dissecting his every move. The table Finley chose was the one with the illusionist, Oliver, and the triplets who juggled using telekinesis, and then another girl who he remembered had the fire act. They laughed and conversed adamantly and hardly noticed him when he sat down.
Finley was pretty certain they were making a show of pretending that him choosing their table was nothing of interest. They chatted about something foreign to Finley for a good minute before the girl with long black hair turned to him. She had the most discerning eyes he’d spied in a long time. She was undoubtedly from the streets based on her piercing judgmental stare, but she almost seemed to be trying to put him in the right light in her mind over and over again.
“So why here?” she finally said, revealing a row of tiny top teeth and a lot of pink gum. “Why did you choose to sit here?”
“Versus where?” he said, throwing his fork into a cushion of eggs. He almost smiled at the meeting of fork and eggs, but caught himself in time.
“Just seems you would want to be with your kind?” the girl with pale skin and cold green eyes said, indicating the table two over.
“I thought there wasn’t a divide at this circus,” Finley said, daring to look back at the acrobats two tables over, watching him.
“No matter how wonderful the leadership is, people will always do what they were born to do: create borders,” she said, pushing her plate of mostly not eaten food away. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my circus people, but I prefer to be with my ‘nuclear family,’” she said, fanning her hand at the people at the table. “These are my immediate family and those people”—she pointed around at the rest of the circus members—“are the extended family. The cousins. The ones you take in small doses.”
“Right,” Finley said, staring at her plate of uneaten food. “I totally get it.”
“No you don’t, because you are about the newest newbie I’ve ever set eyes on. But don’t worry, no one else knows that about you,” she said with a wink.