by J. J. Howard
I met his eyes. He was one of those people who had a stare that was just a little too intense. And the freaking movie-star looks weren’t helping, either. I was so caught up with the staring, I hadn’t noticed he’d extended his hand. I took it, and his hand closed around mine, very warm. He placed his other hand across my forearm.
“I’m Nicolae,” he told me. “The jerk.” He smiled a little, ruefully. “You are Lexi?” He said his name like nick-o-lye, but there was an exotic, foreign lilt to the way he pronounced it, though I didn’t hear it in the rest of his words.
“Yes.” I remembered to breathe. “I guess you heard all about me,” I added a little dryly, wiping my eyes of the last remnants of tears.
“Not all,” he amended softly. “Again, please forgive me. It’s just, growing up in this life, I’ve dealt with so many spoiled brats who come here to run away from something.”
“Well, in point of fact, I guess that includes me, too. But I didn’t actually have anywhere else to go …” I trailed off, not sure why I was starting to be in such a confiding mood all of a sudden with the guy who’d just been insulting me. I used picking up the fabric pieces as an excuse to get my bearings. He bent to help me, and our hands brushed again, and I noticed that he seemed electrically charged. But maybe I was just imagining things in my weirdly overemotional state.
“Obviously your situation is … quite different from what I assumed. I should not have assumed. I was angry, and you got in the way.”
I stopped myself from pointing out that I had actually been sitting in a quiet corner of a field, sewing, out of the way of everybody in pretty much the entire universe.
“Do you need some help with these?” He gestured with his armful of fabric.
“I’ll take them,” I told him, leaning forward to catch the pile. “Thanks,” I mumbled. I felt a bit weird thanking him after the tirade of a few moments before.
I turned away to take the armload into the trailer and was surprised when he followed. He looked around inside.
“You will need some things,” he observed. “To make this work. I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
With that, he was gone. I stood in the middle of the trailer and held the armful of fabric in midair for a few seconds, trying to figure out what had just happened. I realized as I stood there that if this guy had a problem with circus newcomers, he would not have approved of my mother.
And what had dear old Mom been running away from? Oh yeah — me.
13 Broome Street — Tuesday, September 28
Lots of times, I will imagine that there’s a fire and I have to figure out what to take with me. If the fire were right now, at Sheldon Prep, that would be an easy answer — the entire contents of my backpack and a song in my heart (assuming the fire is like a total conflagration and not just enough to make everything moist and smell like smoke). I pictured Dad’s sad face and my faux-sympathy for his private school plans, now gone up in literal smoke.
I sniffed the air surreptitiously from my usual seat in the extreme back of my AP Gov classroom. Not even a hint of smoke. I was situated very deliberately behind Georgie Latimer, who was a linebacker, or some kind of backer, in football — one of those big dudes, anyway. Nestled safely behind Georgie, I had managed the first three weeks of school without Mr. Ness even noticing me. I figured I was probably good for the rest of the semester.
So I went back to planning what I would take if there were a fire at our apartment. First, obviously, my laptop — with all my music. Second, both iPods, and my Bose headphones, if for some reason they weren’t actually in my ears at the time. One of the best inventions of the modern age has to be really amazing headphones. If it hadn’t been for headphones, for example, I would probably be hearing Mr. Ness lecturing about something truly horrible, like supply-side economics, instead of what I was actually hearing: a really nice early nineties independent scene playlist, with a little Built to Spill, some Pavement, a dash of Promise Ring.
Argh! Suddenly Georgie Latimer was out of his seat and on the move — that was a first. I hurried to yank the headphones off of my ears, fiddling with my notebook for a diversion. In my failed attempt to be cool, I knocked my notebook off my desk. Mr. Ness gave me a brief look before continuing his lecture. Unfortunately, now he knew I was back here. I could only hope he would forget. At least it was only a one-semester course.
I started putting my notebook back together — it was the only one I used, and I mostly used it for nonschool stuff, like playlists and shopping lists. But there was an envelope in it that I hadn’t seen before. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever seen any envelopes of any kind in with my notebooks. Gavin was not really the type to buy office supplies, and we paid almost all our bills online. I mean, we got mail, of course, but I tossed most of it before even going upstairs. This wasn’t a reused envelope; it was a new white one with only one letter written on it: X. It didn’t take me too many seconds to figure out, even though one letter isn’t much of a handwriting sample. It was from Eli.
I looked around like a spy or something, even though neither Eli nor Bailey had this class with me. And in the next second I called myself an idiot, because why should it matter who might see me open an envelope that I found in my own notebook, with my own name on it? I ripped it open and pulled out the single sheet of notebook paper inside. It was folded three ways, like it was some sort of official legal document — so Eli. But he had only written three sentences on it, in pencil. It said:
X,
I have something I want to talk to you about. I have sort of an interesting question for you. Meet me today after school on your fire escape?
Eli
Today? How long had this thing been in here? Not long, probably — I dropped it at least once a day, although usually I was more careful in my government class hidey-hole. Luckily Eli had picked a meeting place where I could go and hang without feeling stupid. Although why had he slipped me this note, rather than just asking me?
I went straight home after school. Nothing unusual there. It’s not like I didn’t do anything after school ever — I mean, no one’s getting out of having at least a couple of extracurriculars for their college applications, right? But I didn’t have anything going on right then — yearbook hadn’t started meeting yet, and neither had literary magazine. So it was back to the Bowery for me every day at three o’clock. I almost always walked the fourteen blocks home, unless there was a downpour or something.
The walk was uneventful and gave me a chance to listen to the rest of the playlist I had started in AP Gov. I realized it needed more up-tempo songs. It was pretty much a suicide mix. This realization reminded me of the uncomfortable dinner with Gavin last week. I had to snap out of this funk, or Gavin was gonna institute weekly dinners/serious conversations with me.
When I got home, I threw my bag on the kitchen table and stomped down the hall to my room. I put my Nano on its speakers and hit play, then sat down on my bed and was pulling off my tights when I heard Eli yelp, “Xandra!”
“What the — Eli! You scared me!”
Eli had cheated — he had crawled inside my room instead of staying on the fire escape, and he was sitting on my window seat. Hence his unprecedented view of my, er, tights-removal situation, and my almost-coronary.
“God, Eli! How did you get home so much faster than me? Did you, like, run?”
Eli shook his head, though he had been kind of shaking his head in a dazed way since I’d noticed him. But the shaking got a bit more vigorous, and in another couple of seconds he regained his verbal faculties. “Yes — I mean, no — I didn’t run or walk. Bailey’s mom picked her up and they gave me a ride on their way.”
“My apartment was on their way? Sounds kind of unlikely.”
“What do you even mean? Bailey’s mom and dad are just regular people, like our parents — like our families.”
I gave him a look, kicking the rest of my tights off. “Eli, on your way out, take a look at my apartment. Then, when you go home, look
at yours. Step three, when you go home with Bailey tomorrow or whatever, open your eyes. Then maybe get back to me on that whole regular theory.”
“You’re so critical of Bailey’s family because they have money. What’s up with that?”
“Eli, I’m critical of pretty much everything. You used to be, too, not that long ago.”
He just looked at me for a second without talking, Neko Case filling up the silence. “You mean before Bailey,” he said finally.
“Shoot, this song’s way too new.” I got up and walked over to my tiny desk, picking up my laptop, meaning to fix the playlist and hopefully change the subject.
“God, X. You are so concerned with classifying everything, making sure every song is in its perfect little playlist slot. But when it comes to actually talking …”
I whirled around. “So talk, Eli. Seriously, speak. I mean, you must actually have something to say to me for a change. I’m not really sure why you had to hide a note in my stuff today and make, like, an appointment to talk to me, but whatever. Go ahead — what’s this interesting thing you have to tell me?”
“Ask you,” he said, very quietly. “It was something I wanted to ask you. And I didn’t hide that note today. I put it in there yesterday. You didn’t come home until after I had to be home myself. I waited.”
I sat down then, across from where he sat on the window seat, in my little desk chair. “Oh — I’m sorry. I wondered how long the note had been in there. But, Eli, we just … We used to talk all the time, is the thing …” I stopped, feeling stupid tears pricking my eyes, feeling stupid period.
“I know, X. And that’s kind of what I wanted to ask you. I mean, I know things have been different, that we don’t see each other as much. This summer —”
“You were gone.”
“I was with Bailey, yeah. I remember. That’s not what I wanted. I mean …” Eli stopped, standing up and starting to pace. This was my best friend for almost my whole life, in my room, pacing, like he was working up the nerve to talk to me.
“Eli, whatever it is, say it. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
Eli stopped his pacing and stood in front of me, looking at me but not speaking. Just as it was about to get mega-weird, and I was just going to have to say something to make it stop, he opened his mouth to speak.
“It’s nothing — forget it. I thought you might be mad at me about this summer. About going away. I felt like I owed you an apology or something.”
“Oh-kay,” I began slowly. “No, you don’t owe me anything — I’m not upset or mad or anything like that.” Liar!
“Oh, well, good. I just wanted to make sure. Cool. Well, I’ll see you at school.”
With that, he was gone, halfway down the fire escape before I could make fun of his whole “cool” situation. Not only had he taken to pacing in front of me, he was talking to me like I was a total stranger. Better and better.
It wasn’t until about a half an hour later, as I stared without comprehension at the pages of my math textbook, that I remembered the note. I picked it up and read it again, just to be sure. Yep, there it was: I have sort of an interesting question for you. Whatever that question had been, Eli hadn’t asked it.
Orlando, Florida — Saturday, October 30
“He comes and goes,” Lina said, answering the question I had tried not to let on I was asking. “His mom used to be here, so he would come check on her. And of course he used to work here, too.”
I tried to sound nonchalant, moving my right foot and presenting Lina with my left; she was painting my toenails a dark metallic blue.
“What did he do here?”
“Um, everything. His family’s all performers way back. Mostly acrobats and wire work and stuff. His mother used to fly when she was young. I know he did a bunch of acts when he was a kid. But he also ran a midway show for a while. Like a strongman, with the big hammer? We don’t have it anymore. It takes somebody really strong to make any money at it. And somebody who really knows how to reel in the townies.”
I smiled. “So how long has he been gone? From Europa, I mean.”
“Girl of a thousand questions today, aren’t we?” Lina wagged her eyebrows at me. “This sudden curiosity about Nick wouldn’t have anything to do with him being freakishly hot, would it?”
I blushed. “I told you, he was super rude to me. I was just curious, that’s all. No big deal.”
“Nope, clearly you don’t care at all.” Lina rolled her eyes. I was paying close attention, but even though she’d called him freakishly hot, there was no weirdness in her like there’d been with Jamie. Jamie, who I was definitely putting behind me, no matter how many shirtless smiles he gave me.
And Lina was right about me, of course. I did seem to be almost obsessed already, and I’d only spoken to Nick twice. I was definitely the stupidest person in the world. Nick Tarus was clearly older than me, a hundred times prettier than me, and on top of that, any niceness he displayed toward me was definitely the result of my making him feel like a monster.
“I should probably warn you about Nick,” Lina went on. She seemed very serious for a moment, then I heard her tinkling laugh. “But then, you knew about Jamie, and that didn’t stop you.”
I grabbed the pillow from under my knee and threw it at her.
“Don’t worry about it,” she managed between laughs. “Jamie has that effect on everybody. I don’t think there’s ever been anybody who resisted him for long.” Lina seemed normal about Jamie now — maybe I had imagined the weirdness before?
“You?” I dared to ask.
“Present company excluded,” she confirmed, with exaggerated smugness.
I shook my head. “Well, I am done with boys. I’ve said it before, but I really, really mean it this time.”
“Good thing Nick is more like a man, then.” Lina threw the pillow back at my head.
“You suck!” I hopped up to avoid her and destroyed three toes’ worth of metallic blue.
I tried to sound casual as I asked the next question, like the answer didn’t matter to me. “So how old is he, anyway?”
“He’s my age,” she answered. “I mean, I think he’s a couple months older than me, but he’s probably still nineteen. He inherited some money from his dad when he died a few years back, and then Nick went to Miami. I know he bought some real estate and stuff. He’s got this club — his cousin’s name is on it and everything, since Nick’s underage. But it’s Nick who owns the building.” Lina handed me the nail polish remover and threw a bag of cotton balls at my head. “Actually, I said I should warn you about Nick, but he’s really a good guy. I mean, he’s solid, you know. Always taking care of his mom, and his cousins — everybody, really. He’s beautiful, so I’m guessing he’s got, or you know, had a lot of girls, but …”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” I told her, trying to make her stop theorizing about Nick and girls.
Liska saved me by walking in then and asking Lina if she was ready for practice. She smiled vaguely at me, but looked irritated that Lina wasn’t ready.
I looked from one sister to the other as they hashed out what time they’d agreed on for practice. It was hard to believe that they were sisters. I knew they were very close — I’d seen as much during the weeks I had been here. They had to be, to work together so high off the ground. These sisters had to trust each other. But their personalities were so different. Liska was so quiet and seemed almost cold, where Lina was warm and cheerful.
I was left alone with Liska while Lina went to change. Liska sat down and picked up one of the magazines Lina left strewn all over. Liska seemed a little frostier than usual toward me. I realized suddenly that I’d been taking Lina away from her pretty often in the last week or so. I felt bad that I’d been sucking up Lina’s time and attention gratefully, not thinking about anything or anybody else.
Lina appeared back in the room and announced she was ready.
“So will you?” I heard Liska saying, and she was looking expectantly at me. I
realized she’d been talking to me.
“Sure — of course.” I had no idea what I’d just promised her, but I followed her, and Lina grabbed my arm and fell into step beside me.
I tried to murmur very quietly without moving my lips or alerting Liska to the fact that I hadn’t really been listening to her, “WhatdidIjustsayyesto?”
“Wha-huh-what, mushmouth?” Lina responded in her loudest voice.
“Never mind.” I gave up and figured I’d just see when I got there.
When we got to the ring in its present location — I was getting surprisingly used to picking up and moving every week — their brother, Eddie, was there waiting for them, looking annoyed. He didn’t acknowledge my existence, and neither Lina nor her sister introduced me, so I just followed his lead. I watched Liska shed her cardigan sweater, put some chalk or something on her hands, and climb up the long ladder. When she was halfway up and mostly out of earshot, I asked Lina if I was supposed to do something.
Lina gave me a funny look. “What would you do? Liska just wants an opinion on our new trick. She’s kind of a perfectionist.”
“Why does she want my opinion?” I was incredulous.
Lina turned her head thoughtfully to the side for a moment, while she put the same stuff her sister had used on her hands. “I think she’s been watching you set up your fortune-telling act, and she’s impressed with you. She’s seen how you’ve been paying attention to every tiny little detail — like how you made me take you to fourteen stores looking for fabric and stuff? That’s the kind of opinion she wants.”
Lina started climbing up the rope ladder, but I stopped her. “Wait! What music plays while you guys do this? I can’t remember what it was.”
“Just ‘The Three-Ring Fanfare.’ It repeats for most of the ring stuff.”
“It repeats?” That seemed kind of lame.
“Just how it’s done, I guess.” She started back up.
