by Sarah Noffke
Oliver smiled back at the girl, a smile that transformed his face into something soft, taking away the sharpness it had before. Then he returned his focus to Sunshine. “I see you’re abusing your powers again,” he said to her.
“Only with the ones I love,” she said, raking her fork through her rice like it was a meditation garden.
The boy stood. “Can I be deselected from that list of people?”
“I’m afraid not,” Sunshine said, making a pattern in her rice. “Your emotions are extremely complex and make my own feel normal. I need to surround myself with people who are more warped than me.”
He shook his head at his friend and then looked at Finley. “Welcome to the circus, Finley. I’m Oliver, and I won’t be the least bit offended if you choose not to sit here again. Sunny has a way of scaring people away.”
“Is that my cue to light your Mohawk on fire?” she said, with a fake sweet smile that made her face look peculiar.
Oliver didn’t grant the girl a response, but instead just turned and left, glancing once at Padmal on his way.
“So…” Sunshine said, her eyes still on her plate of rice as she traced one of the tines of the fork through it. “How did it go with Ms. Pink Streak?”
Finley finished his bite before saying, “I prefer to call her Ms. Entitled Witch. And not so good.”
Sunshine brought her eyes up to meet his, but didn’t say a word. She was waiting for him to elaborate.
“I told her she was an awful acrobat and apparently that offended her,” he said like the whole thing actually baffled him.
Sunshine studied him and Finley realized at once what she was doing. She was using her empathesis on him. It was different from how he’d been taught to sense telepaths in his head. And the shielding technique he knew so well didn’t seem to keep Sunshine’s pilfering all the way out. “Would you stop that?” he said, irritated.
“Why?” Sunshine said simply. “Because you don’t want me to know that you don’t actually think she’s an evil witch or because you’re in denial about how fascinated you are by her?”
“I’m not,” Finley said in a hush.
Sunshine went back to her meditation with the pilaf of rice. “And we both know she’s an amazing acrobat. I won’t even argue that. However, Pinky’s ego is fragile, although less so than most at the circus, but still, telling her she’s awful would have hurt her. Has.” She teetered her head back and forth like weighing something in her head. “So all in all, I’d say you were successful.”
“Successful at what?” Finley said.
“At pushing her away. At protecting yourself,” Sunshine said in ho-hum voice.
Finley was grateful that Sunshine had kept her voice down. And he strangely desired to talk to her more about this. He had never had anyone to talk to and Sunshine made it easy by diving in and stealing a read on his emotions. This was a jumble of desires for him: to want to shield himself and also have help with his emotions. Everything about the circus was complicated.
“You have a lot of secrets, Finley,” Sunshine said after a long pause. “Most of you is hard to read, but I do feel that you have many contradictory emotions. That must be difficult.” And when Sunshine said this last statement she actually sounded sympathetic.
“I’m not fascinated with her,” Finley finally argued, thinking he could find a way to stand his ground on that one. “I just find her interesting.”
“Hmmm…” Sunshine said, studying him again. “No, that’s not what I’m getting. You find this food interesting. You find Pinky hypnotic.”
Finley noticed again the disdain in Sunshine’s voice at the mention of Zuma. He tried his best to ignore what she’d said and changed the subject slightly. “Why don’t you like Zuma?”
Sunshine almost smiled, but caught herself. “Is it that obvious?”
Finley didn’t care to answer, just waited for her reply, which came a few seconds later.
“To my judgmental eyes, Pink Streak has everything she wants and still she’s not completely happy. She has Dave’s unwavering admiration, friends, a great spot in the circus, beauty, talent, a wholesome upbringing, money and still she chooses every day to be unsatisfied with her life. There’s a lot of people here with less who are happier than her,” Sunshine said.
“Maybe you’re wrong and she can’t have what she wants. Maybe she really wants to be with Jack, like Oliver wants Padmal, and therefore she’s unhappy,” Finley said.
“You know,” Sunshine said, something shifting on her face like she had a small epiphany, “I think you might be right. Newbies always help me see things clearly and cut through my own biased readings of emotions.”
“So she is unhappy because she can’t have who she wants…Jack?” Finley said.
“It’s close to that,” Sunshine said, seeming to reflect internally for a moment. “But I think it’s more that she hasn’t found what she really wants in life.” Her green eyes lifted from the table, a spookiness to them. “Maybe it’s you.”
Finley’s own eyes slid over to find Zuma’s seat empty. “I’m not sure if you realize this since you seem to live in an alternate universe, but Ms. Entitlement and I have met.”
“Yes, and since you have come here her emotions have turned into a storm cloud, brewing with many new feelings. It appears that you, Fin, have an effect on her.” Sunshine whistled through her teeth. “Good thing, because I was starting to think she was a one-trick pony when it came to feelings. I was beginning to think she was the queen of indifference.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The lights shone bright overhead in the big top. Zuma and Finley had been rehearsing in the practice tent before, but Titus wanted to see the act in the big top to ensure it used the whole ring adequately. Zuma pretended to be paying extra attention to chalking her hands when Finley entered. He was five minutes late and Dave and Titus were sitting discussing all the changes.
“Well, there’s my newest star,” Dave said, waving Finley eagerly over to him. Finley strode over and shook the ringmaster’s gloved hand.
“Are you finding your way around the circus all right?” Dave asked, his eyes twinkling bright with his new enthusiasm.
“I am,” Finley said, his eyes skirting to Zuma’s back facing him.
“Then you might want to work on being on time on occasion,” Titus said, eyeing his watch. His excitement had waned as the stress of making all the changes took over.
Dave puckered his lips and shook his head. “Don’t listen to him,” Dave said, throwing a thumb in Titus’s direction. “He’s unrelenting about things like time and schedules.”
“I just don’t want to set the wrong expectation,” Titus said, pulling his reading glasses up on his nose and glancing at the notebook in his hand. “Now I need to know how you want your name spelled for the press release. It’s Finley with an ‘e’ right?”
The acrobat’s eyes dropped to the ground and he seemed to deliberate on it. “Yeah, with an ‘e.’”
“And I didn’t catch your last name,” Titus said, scribbling on the notebook.
“Uh…” Finley said. “Right. I’m not sure I gave it. It’s…uhhh.” Obvious hesitation covered Finley’s face.
Titus dropped his pad down in his lap. “Oh, great, Dave, you brought a convict to our circus, haven’t you? Are you wanted by the authorities, son?”
Finley spied Zuma turn around, her attention piqued by the recent questions.
“No, I’m not wanted. And I’m not a convict. It’s just that…well, I don’t have a last name,” Finley said, his eyes dropping to the ground. He didn’t look nervous, and yet all his confidence had disappeared rapidly.
Dave playfully slapped Titus’s bicep. “Gosh, Titus, how many times are you going to offend the new talent? Seriously, can you lay off the boy?” The ringmaster turned his attention back to Finley, a sympathetic look in his light blue eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve recruited many a kid like you. You’re not alone. Kids from the streets don’t know t
heir birthday, let alone their last name. Most make one up. It’s actually a lot of fun. What do you want your last name to be?”
Zuma had arrived beside Finley, a rude smile on her mouth. “I’ve got a few suggestions if you want them,” she said.
Finley shot her a piercing glare that was supposed to punish her, but instead made her feel rewarded. There was something so beautiful in every one of his looks.
“That’s very helpful of you, Zuma, but I think Finley should choose his own last name,” Dave said, a smile in his voice.
“I’m not sure any of your suggestions will be that complimentary,” Finley said to Zuma.
Dave shot a confused look at Zuma and then at Finley.
“These two,” Titus said to Dave, pointing at the acrobats, “are having some challenges working together. They’ll get through it.”
“Oh,” Dave said with a nod, and sat back in his seat. “Sure, sure. This has been very abrupt. So last name, what would you like it to be?”
Finley smiled, a glint in his eyes. “Zuma.”
“What?” she said in response.
“Zuma,” he repeated. “I want my last name to be Zuma.” He turned and gave her a devious look. “That way when you marry me you’ll be Zuma Zuma.”
Dave howled with sudden laughter. “Oh, that’s funny. Good one, my boy. I see what you mean, Titus,” he said, tears in his eyes. “He knows how to get under her skin.”
Zuma narrowed her gaze at Finley. “Very funny,” she said, not amused.
Dave corralled his laughter. “Okay, okay. That’s enough. Remember the rules.”
They both nodded, staring at each other with sharp eyes.
“Seriously this time, Finley,” Dave said. “What’s it going to be?”
“I’ve always liked the name Anders,” he said.
Dave erupted again. “How do you come up with this stuff?” he said through the laughter.
Finley’s face went slack with confusion. “What? I don’t know what’s so funny this time.”
“It’s your choice of last names,” Zuma said through clenched teeth.
Titus was almost laughing too. “I like it actually. Anders and Zanders, the newest act of the Vagabond Circus,” he said, scribbling it on his notepad.
Finley’s face lit up as he turned to Zuma. “Your last name is Zanders?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know that,” she said.
“I didn’t. I had a guy named Mr. Anders who helped me out once,” he admitted honestly. His name was George Anders. He’d helped Finley just recently. Had found him lost walking down Sunset Boulevard. George must have sensed Finley’s confusion and also his fear. He gave him directions without Finley asking and also told him where a safe hiding spot was for those trying to get away from people. He then shook his hand and told him his name. If it wasn’t for Mr. Anders then Finley never would have gotten away. He wouldn’t be at Vagabond Circus. And he still didn’t know how George knew he needed help. He just seemed to sense so much about Finley. His fear, his confusion, his need to hide away. It kind of reminded him of the things Sunshine knew about Finley without him telling her.
“Whatever,” Zuma said, rolling her eyes at him.
“Your parents named you Zuma Zanders?” Finley asked, suppressing a laugh.
“Yeah, they thought it was amusing,” she said, not sounding amused.
“Well, I really didn’t know that was your last name, so it’s a nice choice on my part and a bit uncanny,” Finley said.
“Revolting, more like it,” Zuma said.
Dave stopped laughing. “Okay, that’s enough, Zuma. I think Finley Anders has a great ring to it.”
“Thank you,” Finley said, taking a bow. He then turned and held out a hand to Zuma. “Ms. Zanders, shall we put on a show for these two?”
She turned, not taking his hand, and marched to her starting position.
Chapter Thirty-Four
When Finley dipped Zuma low at the end of the act Dave jumped to his feet, clapping so fast that Zuma whipped her head up at a strange angle, banging her forehead into Finley’s. He pulled her upright and she rubbed the place on her head where they hit.
“You all right?” Finley asked, rubbing his own head.
She ignored him and turned her attention to the ringmaster and creative director. Dave was still clapping and Titus sat behind him, legs crossed and a satisfied look on his face.
“Simply brilliant,” Dave said, bouncing over to Zuma. He then wrapped his arms around her, squeezing the girl in tight and patting her back. He pulled back and cupped her chin. “You, my dear, made me want to cry. That was an unbelievable display of your talent. Never seen you move in quite that way.”
Zuma smiled back at him. A genuine one. It made Finley instantly envy Dave, for he’d caused that smile and therefore had been rewarded with it.
“And you,” Dave said, turning and slapping Finley on the shoulder. “Well, I don’t think you were just the secret ingredient Vagabond Circus needed to do better but you were also what Zuma needed to unlock her true talent. You two are perfection together,” he said, puffing up his chest and walking back to his seat.
Zuma leaned over to Finley. “I love Dave, but he’s going senile if he thinks you unlock any of my talent,” she said in a whisper.
Finley shrugged like he didn’t care. “Well, you unlocked something in me,” he admitted freely.
“The true jerk inside you?” she said, looking interested in his answer.
Finley ignored her and turned his attention to Titus, who was shuffling through notes. “Yes, I totally agree with Dave. That’s going to be our best act.” He stacked a few pages together. “Maybe it’s better for the circus if you two don’t get along,” he said with a snicker. He then stood and handed the pages to Finley. “Here’s my notes on things I want you two to work on. There’s also notes on the other acts you’ll be incorporated into. Read through them and you two rehearse during dream travel time tonight. We have a dress rehearsal first thing tomorrow. Which reminds me, stop off at the costume trailer, Finley, before heading to your own trailer tonight.” Titus then turned to Dave, who had a huge grin plastered on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, Dave,” Titus said, walking past him, having read the expression on his old friend’s face. “You were right. This will be great,” he said dryly.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Stars were poking out one at a time through the darkening sky when Dave entered the miniature big top. He froze. Someone had been in there. Someone who wasn’t Titus. He and Titus had shared an office space since the beginning and it worked because the creative director respected Dave’s obsessive compulsive disorder. His friend ensured that all papers were stacked straight. Titus was careful to put back writing utensils with their tips down. And he never touched Dave’s laptop, which the ringmaster constantly cleaned with toothpicks and condensed air.
Dave knew instantly that someone had been rummaging through papers, using the pens, and touching his laptop. The greasy fingerprints on the screen were proof enough that someone was snooping around. Dave’s head swam with dizziness. His gloved hand steadied himself on the table. The germs had voices in Dave’s head. They spoke to him, antagonized him. Yelled his name. The germs of this foreign person were like heat marks on an infrared screen inside his mind. He could sense every one of their marks and it stretched his tolerance to a deadly limit. The chaos this person created by making things slightly askew made Dave scratch, first at his elbows, then his arms, then his sides. He could hardly stand being locked inside this space that felt like the aftermath of a battlefield.
Dave reached for the cabinet of chemicals he kept beside his table, his hand shaking. I don’t have time for this, he thought. And because his OCD was so overwhelming his first thoughts had been dedicated to how he’d have to clean the office quickly before the creepy crawling sensation on his skin sent him into one of his panic attacks. Dave could only manage his life at the circus, being around germs constantly,
because he had two private, sacred places.
The thought that someone was again rummaging through his personal belongings was a secondary thought. It hardly took up much of his attention until well after the tent was mostly back to normal. He stood back, eyeing the space for anything that needed another wipe down.
Why? Why was someone sneaking around his trailer and now his office? And who? He thought he knew everyone at Vagabond Circus. Dave had personally recruited every single person. And he was an exceptional judge of character. But even he admitted there were people he didn’t know as well as others. Also, people change, he reasoned. Maybe the ones he used to know weren’t who he thought they were anymore. And then there were fairly new recruits whom he hardly knew at all. Was it his imagination or had these attempts increased in frequency since Finley arrived? And why? What would the boy have to do with it? Dave shook the suspicion out of his head as he wiped the laptop down again with a towel drenched in rubbing alcohol.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The bed was soft under Zuma’s sore muscles. She was relieved that the next eight hours of practice would be in consciousness form only, giving her muscles a break. Through dream traveling muscle memory was affected, but it didn’t impact the actual body. Workouts in the dream travel realm built no muscle and strained it very little. However, injury was still possible while dream traveling. This was an unavoidable rule. Whatever happened in the body’s mind, happened to the body. It was similar to the experience of a Middling dreaming they were stabbed and awakening with a sharp pain in their ribs. However, a Dream Traveler would awake with an actual laceration.
What Zuma wasn’t relieved about was spending the next eight hours alone with Finley. She didn’t know how to be around him, and Zuma was the kind of girl who always knew how to be. Her role in the circus had exposed her to all sorts of people. And the circus’s reputation had given her the opportunity to meet fans with various statuses. She had been introduced to princes and movie stars and never had she felt uncomfortable. The girl shook hands with ease, always a confident smile on her face. But with Finley she didn’t know how to behave or react. Should she be nice to him? Or should she have a threatening demeanor? She’d already tried multiple approaches and it didn’t seem to matter. No matter what, Finley affected her. He made her feel that her very heart lay on the outside of her chest, exposed. But he was just a boy. A stranger. A performer.