They draw back on their haunches. Ready to spring, ready to attack.
I remember something else from the website.
“Wave your arms in the air,” I instruct the others. “Jump up and down. Make yourself look as big as possible. Take up as much space and make as much noise as you can.”
I raise my hands up, clapping them together up high, like I’m about to break into song. I start making strange, guttural animal sounds, deep, like a gorilla. I feel like an idiot, but I keep doing it.
The wolves’ staring eyes swivel towards me as one. I’m not imagining it; they definitely appear a little less aggressive and poised to leap now. They look a little uncertain, a little puzzled, if it’s possible for wolves to look puzzled.
Emmanuel mimics my war dance. He manages to look intimidating, rather than just insane, as he makes the same deep noises and smacks his hands together in the air. After a few seconds, the others all join us.
We roar and wail and cry and jump up and down. We pound our fists, pound our feet. I stop feeling ridiculous. I feel powerful.
And that’s how it goes for a few minutes. Our pack, facing the wolves.
We are a unit. We are strong.
Suddenly, as if their minds are connected, as if they are in agreement somehow, the wolves simultaneously drop their aggressive stance and disperse out of their attack formation, sniffing around nonchalantly where they are. A few of them sit back on their haunches and slowly wash themselves, and some of them wander back in the other direction.
It’s as if they’re trying to stay cool, to save face; as if they don’t want to admit what just happened. The noise we’re making slowly dies away as everyone stops shouting and punching and clapping.
We lower our arms down. We look around at each other.
The biggest wolf of all breaks out of his position and edges forward. He slumps towards Emmanuel, Leah and me in the front line. I hold my breath as he sniffs at us disinterestedly and then wanders off to the other end of the corridor, staring up at the hatch and waiting for his food to arrive.
Emmanuel’s face stretches into a wide grin. He gives me a high five, and then we all whoop and laugh and hug each other and congratulate ourselves.
I look behind me. Sean is sitting up and Leah and Ravi are crouched down next to him, hugging him.
He catches my eye over their shoulders and nods at me.
I nod back, with a small smile.
We’ve done it. We’ve taken on the wolves and we’ve won.
Together, we’re invincible. Together, we can do anything.
HOSHIKO
By the time I make it back to the shack and fill Rosie and Jack in on what’s happened, it’s already halfway through the night.
We don’t talk about it much – what is there to say? – and, once Jack’s walked Rosie home, we spread the blankets out on the dirty mud floor and lie there in the darkness waiting for morning.
I can’t think about Greta. I shut my mind off from thoughts of her, push them away every time they rear their heads back up again.
I let myself think about Ben instead. Not about where he is now, but about how lovely and sweet and good he is, and how glad I am that I had all those months with him.
Everyone says you shouldn’t make judgements of people based on first impressions, but I don’t think that’s right at all, not in my experience. I think you can tell exactly what a person’s like in just a short space of time. Not because of the colour of their skin or because of the clothes they wear, but by the light in their eyes, by the way that they smile, by the way they hold themselves.
I think it’s been true of everyone I’ve ever met.
As soon as I saw Vivian Baines, I knew she was evil. It was all there in the icy coldness of her stare, the haughty arch of her eyebrows, the arrogant thrust of her chest. And Silvio always had his slick, sadistic little smile and that glint of crazed excitement in his eyes that told you straight away that he was mad, power hungry and deadly.
It works the other way too, I’m sure it does. I loved Amina from the first day I arrived in the circus. You only had to look at her to know what a calm and wise soul she was – you’d have to be blind not to see it – and even if you were, you’d know it just by spending five minutes in her presence, just by listening to her talk.
I’ve loved Greta too, with all my heart, since the moment Silvio threw her down at my feet and ordered me to train her up. Her beauty and grace start on the surface and go all the way through, right to the very core.
Emmanuel, Ezekiel, Jack: it’s been the same with all of them and it’s how it is now, with Rosie. I’ve only known her a couple of days but, for some reason, I completely and utterly trust her. Even her son, Felix – he’s angry, he’s got issues, but underneath all that hurt and anger, he’s got a good soul. A good heart. It’s all there when you speak to him.
People think I was naive and silly, I suppose, to fall for Ben so quickly back then, when it all started. I’d only met him a short while, they’d say; I didn’t know him at all.
They’re wrong, though, if they think that. I did know him. I knew him as soon as I looked into his eyes, all the way back there in the arena. I knew a part of him was vulnerable and hurting, like me. I knew we belonged together. I tried to pretend I didn’t, but the feeling was too strong. It overwhelmed me. I don’t know why we’re connected, but I know that we are.
Ben’s good and kind and soft and vulnerable and lovely and now he’s there in that awful, awful place. He’ll try and stay strong and brave for me but he’ll be scared and he’ll be afraid, and he’ll be lonely. And Greta will be scared too, wherever she is.
I wish I was with them now. I wish I could hold them both close and make them feel better.
BEN
We seem to have formed a mutual pact with the wolves to give each other a wide berth. Every now and then, one of them moves a little closer, sniffs at one of us and then wanders off. We keep the youngest kids in the middle of the group, just in case one of the wolves attacks or tries to grab someone, but it doesn’t seem to be an issue.
Propped up against the wall is Sean, still weak, but alive. I make my way over to him, offering him the food that Emmanuel and the others gave me.
He takes some bread, devouring it, before he looks up at me again.
“Thank you,” he says. “I didn’t deserve that after the way I treated you.”
I lower myself down next to him.
“I’d have hated me too, especially after what Sabatini said. It’s not true, you know. I never asked to be in charge of anyone.”
He smiles weakly. “Good thing your mum’s relaxed your terms and conditions, then. You’re one of us properly now, so I hear, whether you like it or not.”
He’s right: I am. All the division between us has gone now. I’m here, in this place, with these people, and tomorrow I’m going to be paraded with them in front of an audience. To do what? I don’t know. I don’t feel frightened, though, not tonight. Let the fear wait until tomorrow. Tonight is for unity. Tonight is for togetherness.
I wish Hoshi was here. What would she say? I smile to myself and hug my arms together. She’d be proud of me.
I hope I get to tell her, one day, that we took on the wolves and won.
It’s a special night, in an odd way. I’ll never forget it. The atmosphere is laden, a heady mixture of adrenaline and euphoria, of sadness and resilience and love. We probably should sleep; I don’t think anyone’s had much at all for months, but I think we all feel too wired; besides, no one wants to let their guard down just yet.
For most of the night, we sit together in the widest part of the corridor and talk, sometimes as a whole group – one person telling a story or explaining something to the rest of us – sometimes in small groups of people. We take our turns to be on the outside, on guard in case the wolves suddenly turn, but it never happens.
In the centre, encircled by us at all times, the youngest children curl up on the nest of thin blankets we’ve piled to
gether in a heap. There are eight of them, snuggled up together like puppies, and they drop off almost immediately. Some of the women cover them tenderly with the rest of the blankets and we all smile at them, sleeping so peacefully in their little cluster. Looking at them gives me the same feeling I get every time I look at Greta, and the one that Ezekiel has already started to give me. It’s a feeling of protection so strong; a feeling of tenderness, but also of fear. A feeling of outrage.
Hoshi was as young as them when she was ripped from her family to perform in the Cirque. Her childhood was stolen from her, just like theirs has been. All she’s ever known, all her life, is hardship and pain, and it’s all they’ll ever know, these sleeping innocents.
How dare they put them in here? Here, in this circus, at the mercy of wolves and lions and far scarier, far more evil beasts: beasts like Silvio Sabatini, beasts like my mother. How dare they?
I’m part of this pack now and these sleeping children in our midst are our cubs. I know one thing for sure: we’ll defend them with our lives if we have to.
HOSHIKO
I’m riding around and around on a carousel, my stomach lurching, my head reeling, faces flashing before my eyes.
Ben, holding a gun to his temple. Greta, screaming as they drag her away. Amina, dead, swinging up high in the arena. My mother sobbing as they drag me away from her. Kadir, his gold tooth glinting in the candlelight. Vivian Baines, her arm wrapped around Ben, her face smug and victorious. Silvio, laughing malevolently, reaching for me, reaching for Ben.
Round and round and round I go. Ben, Greta, Amina, Kadir, Vivian Baines, Silvio, Ben, Greta, Amina.
Round and round and round and round.
Whirling, whirling, whirling. Image after image. A montage of fear and terror.
All night I slip in and out of the same vivid, feverish dreams, reality and nightmare blurring, so that I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.
When there’s a tap at the door, I jump upright, gasping, and throw it open to reveal Kadir, standing there in the murky dawn light.
“You ready?” he asks.
I nod. “Let’s go.”
And closing the little door, I slip away, leaving Jack sleeping behind me on the dusty floor.
BEN
I discover a lot as the night passes: how Silvio is worse than ever, how my mother has been coming here a lot, how she’s using the circus as a platform for her leadership battle.
I spend a lot of time chatting to Emmanuel and some of the other performers about Hoshi. Hearing them talk about her makes her seem closer somehow.
Ezekiel works his way inch by inch from the designated children’s area in the middle until he’s right next to me. He seems as keen to talk about Hoshi as I am: I think she must have been the first person in here to show him any kindness. It was a mutual bond, I know; Hoshi’s talked about this little boy a lot, and I can see why she’s so attached to him. You can’t help but smile when you look at him, with his deep brown eyes and his mischievous grin
“What will you be doing in here once the shows start?” I ask him. “Is it the tightrope? Hoshi said you were a natural.”
He frowns and the smile drops from his face for once. “No, not that, not exactly.” He bites his lip and doesn’t say anything for a moment and then the grin’s back on his face. “Hoshi will be impressed, won’t she, when she finds out we stood up to the wolves?”
He’s trying to change the subject. Whatever he’s doing, it’s bad enough that he can’t bear to talk about it.
At the back, someone raises their voice suddenly, speaking loudly above the rest of us.
“Sorry, everyone. Erm, can I just say something for a minute?”
It’s Sean. He’s on his feet, leaning against the wall for support. He looks awkward and embarrassed at all the eyes turned on him. I don’t think he’s the kind of person who likes being the centre of attention.
“I wanted to say thank you,” he says, his voice shaking. “What you all did back there, it was amazing. You saved my life, all of you, and you risked your own to do it.”
“Like I said yesterday, that’s the circus way,” Emmanuel answers, in his rich, wise tones. “In the face of adversity, we look after each other, as best we can.”
“That’s why I have to tell you all something,” Sean says. “Something I’m supposed to keep secret.”
He looks over his shoulder and glances around.
“There aren’t cameras in here, are there?” he says. “Or bugs. They can’t hear me?”
“No,” Leah answers. “They think the wolves are security enough.”
“OK.” He looks around at us all. “There’s no one in here who wants to be here, right? There’s no one who wouldn’t rather be out there, even if it is back in the slums?”
“Of course not!” someone calls out, impatiently. “Stop asking stupid questions and get on with whatever it is you have to say!”
“OK,” he says again, and he lowers his voice, speaking in a breathless whisper so that I have to lean forward to catch his words.
“You’ve all heard of the Brotherhood, right?”
The Brotherhood. They’re the group who tried to kidnap me and Francis that time, in the football stadium. They wanted to kill us; that’s what Mother and Father and the police said after they hanged them all. I thought they’d been wiped out, thought that was the end of them. Obviously not.
Everyone else is nodding, even the youngest of the kids who are still awake. “Well.” He takes a deep breath. “They’re planning an attack on the Cirque, on opening night!”
People are looking around at each other, shocked at this sudden news.
“How do you know?” someone calls out.
He lowers his voice even more, so I have to really strain my ears to make out what he’s saying.
“My brother’s in the group,” he says with quiet pride. “He got a work assignment, in here, when they were still building. He’s been coming in here for weeks; shifting all the building rubble and carrying it away. We’ve managed to talk to each other a few times. I’ve been giving him information, as much as I can, about the layout and what it’s like, and he’s been reporting back to them.” He looks towards Emmanuel for approval. “That was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? I mean, they aren’t going to attack the Dregs; it’s only the Pures they want. They’ve got it all worked out.”
“So why is it supposed to be a secret?” Ravi asks. “If it’s so risk free, why aren’t we supposed to know?”
“Because they don’t want word getting out. They’ve got huge plans. They’ve got guns and they’re going to storm the place and set us all free!”
Maggie, the perpetually petrified woman, shrieks out, “We’ll all be killed! They’ll blow us all up!” A few voices join in, agreeing with her, but Emmanuel stands up and raises his hand and they fall silent.
“Maggie, you may well be right. If they come in here with weapons, it may mean some or all of us get hurt, or worse, but the fact is, we’ll all get killed at some point or other anyway in this place. If it comes to a choice between taking a chance with an outside group who want to break us out, or sitting back and taking what they throw at us in here, I’d support the group anytime.”
It’s as if his words are enough for everyone; even Maggie stops protesting.
“Does anyone disagree?” he asks. “If so, state your concerns now. Everyone is entitled to an opinion, everyone. This is a democracy.” He looks frankly at Sean. “If we decide as a group to report what we’ve just heard, then that’s what will be done.”
Nobody speaks.
My heart is racing.
Emmanuel is looking at me, his eyes shrewd.
“Ben?” he says softly.
I look down at the ground, avoiding eye contact with anyone. I get why they think it’s a good idea to support anybody who wants to bring this place down. I really do, but I’m not sure I can just go along with it.
My mother and father always said the Broth
erhood were cruel, ruthless killers; everyone did. The police, the press, everyone said they were evil.
I’ll never forget the fear I felt inside when they grabbed me; the absolute certainty that I was going to die. My parents celebrated when they were captured and hanged, their bodies swinging up there in front of the PowerHouse.
I think about what Sean just said. It’s only the Pures they want. Does that make it OK? Maybe it does. No one who’s here on opening night will be innocent, after all. They’ll all have come here to watch Dregs suffer and die. They deserve everything they get and more, don’t they?
That was you a few months ago, the voice in my head says. You wanted to watch the shows too, until Priya and Hoshi showed you the truth. Isn’t it better to try and re-educate people? To try and make them see that what they’re doing is wrong? How does more violence solve anything?
It’s not right to attack people. It’s not right to kill. It doesn’t make a difference what side you’re on.
“My mother might not win the election,” I say, without looking up. “Laura Minton might. Things might change anyway, without people getting attacked.”
“People will get attacked, Ben.” Emmanuel’s voice rings with conviction and certainty. “People have been getting attacked in the circus ever since it first began. People were attacked today – you, Sean, all of us in our rehearsals. And people will die tomorrow night, whether the Brotherhood infiltrate the place or not, Silvio’s already promised that.” He gestures towards the little children, curled up in the middle, sleeping obliviously under their blankets. “We don’t have time to wait for the election. And I think you must see why what happens to us in this place makes it very hard for us to believe that the Pure public will suddenly find their consciences when they do go to the ballot box. Even if Laura Minton does win, even if she does fulfil her promise and shuts us down, it could be weeks before it happens, even longer maybe. And if she doesn’t, well…” His tone becomes almost apologetic. “Things aren’t going to get any easier in here with your mother running the country.”
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