Love Is in the Air

by A. Destiny

  “Hey, guys,” Jim says, “looks like we have a strong team here.”

  And I suppose he’s right—we have three of the kids who I know auditioned as clowns, so comedy should be pretty easy for them. They’ll make up for my lack of funny. Unless I have to do a skit with Megan. If I get to make fun of her, I’ll have a field day. And I know I’d get points from Riley and Tyler, at the very least.

  Jim goes over some basics of improv: Always say yes; if repeating something, use the rule of three; and never turn your back on the audience, unless it’s entirely necessary and intentional.

  “The important thing is to have fun. Chances are, if you’re having fun, so is the audience.”

  “Actually,” Megan whispers beside me, “the important thing is not to choke. Think you can handle that, Jennifer? Or should I keep a bucket handy?”

  I bite my tongue and glare down at her—I don’t feel I have much to use against this girl, so my height is my only resort. There’s no point getting in a fight now. She’s not worth it. It’s like dealing with Internet trolls: If you say nothing, they fade away. And I really, really want this one to fade away. Or fall flat on her face. I’m not above taking the low road from time to time. Well, hoping for it, at least. I just wish I could figure out why she hates me. If I’m not a threat, why am I even on her radar?

  Thankfully for her, there’s no time for me to retort or for her to make another jab. Olga announces it’s time to begin, and as a team, we run toward our table and get a look at our props.

  I have no idea where they assembled all these things, but I have a solid suspicion that most of them are on loan from the clowns. I’m also really eager to see what the other teams got.

  Our table is laden with odd props. There’s a gramophone speaker that’s painted pink and orange, dozens of silly-shaped sunglasses, tubes of foam and clown noses and a plate of silver spoons. And that’s just on one corner of the table. There are also fake flowers and oversize watches and juggling pins and more. It’s like some crazy clown aunt emptied her attic and left us with the bits she couldn’t send to a thrift store. I stand there and stare down at it all and can’t even begin to imagine how to use any of it in a skit.

  Thankfully, Olga isn’t just abandoning us.

  “Okay, troupers!” she calls over the din of excited chatter, “your first skit is in thirty seconds. You’ll need at least four team members, and the theme is ‘awkward bus ride.’ ”

  She’s not even done speaking before Andy—one of the clowns—takes control and starts handing out props. He thrusts the gramophone speaker into my hands and asks, “How is your singing?”

  “Not bad, I guess.”

  “Excellent,” he says. “Just keep singing as loud as you can and play along!”

  Thirty seconds later Olga calls the first team forward—of course, A goes first—and we assemble in the middle of the gym, right under the spotlights. I can feel the rest of the troupe watching us—watching me—and a cold sweat breaks out on my skin. I sense Megan’s glare in particular; she wasn’t cast in this skit, so I imagine her there, in the shadows, throwing mental daggers at my back.

  The four of us sit down on the floor in three rows—me all alone at the back, Andy at the front, and two others wearing giant hats and sunglasses in the middle. Andy nods to me, and I start to sing. Very off-key. And very loudly.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” one of the middle kids says, “could you please turn that down?”

  “Of course, dear,” I say, and start singing louder.

  Andy stops the imaginary bus and comes back to try to get me to quiet down, and there’s a moment where he tries to pull the gramophone from my hands and falls on top of the other passengers. Much to my surprise, the audience starts laughing.

  The skit lasts about a minute, maybe less—it’s really hard to tell when you’re acting—and by the end, everyone on the bus is singing along to my terrible song. Andy yells out, “Scene!” and we stand and do a quick bow.

  “That was great,” he tells me as we rush offstage. I just smile, suddenly very grateful I didn’t leave that afternoon.

  Chapter Eleven

  Riley and Kevin’s team goes next. Kevin and three other guys I’ve never met before go onstage for this one, and their bus ride skit involves Kevin getting soaked with a lot of water. I can’t say I understand much of it, but it’s still fun to watch. I glance over to Riley while the show is happening and know she wishes she were out there—she’d probably make the whole thing much funnier. She’s good like that.

  Next up is Tyler’s team, and there’s a small kick to my stomach when he and Branden step out into the spotlight. Try as I might, I can’t even focus on the other performers—my eyes are glued to Branden, and I can’t tell if the queasy feeling in my gut is anger or desire. The only consolation is the fact that every once in a while, I catch Tyler throwing Branden a small death glare. Knowing that Tyler’s definitely still on my team makes me feel much better. If only I could get over my attraction to Branden.

  Their skit starts with one of the kids running up like she’s about to miss the bus. She’s wearing a huge patchwork coat and a hat that I think is actually a felt flowerpot. She gratefully gets on board and squeezes herself in between Tyler and Branden, then begins removing things from her pockets and asking the boys to hold them.

  It turns out that’s the gist of the act; she pulls something out, like a rubber centipede, hands it to one of the boys, and they react. Usually by throwing it out the window. The scene ends when she pulls out a baby doll and the bus driver yells that they have a strict no-baby-flinging policy.

  I roll my eyes at the bad acting, but if I’m being honest, that’s not what I was focusing on. I couldn’t take my eyes off Branden. I tried. I really tried to keep my attention glued to Tyler and his awkward acting, but my eyes kept sliding over to Branden.

  Why did you pick her? I want to ask him. Why wasn’t I good enough for you?

  Then I catch Megan from the corner of my eye and those questions die on the floor. A part of me wants to fight for him, to try and show off and catch his attention and hold it. But then I remember—there are only a few days left, and then I’ll probably never see him again. Even if he is from the next town over. I just have to make it through the next week without getting my heart broken and I’ll be okay.

  Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

  The next group goes on, and I see Branden glancing at me from the corner of his eye as he leaves the stage. My heart flips.

  Okay, maybe this will be more difficult than I thought. Here’s hoping practice will keep me busy.

  • • •

  The rest of the improv show picks up steam, and by the end I’m nearly in tears with laughter. It was so fun to watch that I don’t even care that my team didn’t win—that honor goes to Branden and Tyler’s team. I wander over to Tyler to say good night and congratulate him. Branden stops me before I make it over.

  “Jennifer,” he says. The way he voices it, it sounds like a question and a concern.

  “Yeah?”

  It’s nearly impossible to keep my pulse steady, but I think I’m moderately successful. At least until he puts his hand on my shoulder. Then my heart goes into overdrive.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I catch Tyler’s questioning look and shrug off Branden’s hand.

  “Yeah, fine. Thanks.”

  “Can I talk to you?” he asks, but then Tyler steps up behind him and interrupts with a big hello and a huge hug.

  “I can punch him if you want,” Tyler whispers in my ear. I shake my head slightly, and then he steps back. “You looked good up there,” he says, slapping Branden on the chest. “Wasn’t she funny?”

  “Yeah,” Branden replies.

  And then Megan steps up beside me like she’s part of the gang.

  “Hilarious,” she says. She glances at me. “I’m so glad she’s finding her place in the troupe. Every good show needs a joke.”

  “Hey,�
� Tyler begins, taking a half step toward her. I grab his arm and pull him back.

  “Come on,” I say. “She’s not worth it.” And I drag Tyler back to the dorms.

  • • •

  “I don’t understand her problem,” Riley says, tossing a juggling ball back and forth between her palms. We’re in the back stairwell, her and Tyler and I, and there’s maybe twenty minutes until sign-in.

  “Apparently Jennifer’s her problem,” Tyler says. “The way she was looking at you . . . Man, I’m surprised you made it out of there alive.”

  “She must see you as a threat,” Riley responds. She tosses the ball to me; I barely catch it and nearly fall off the step when I do.

  I laugh. “Clearly. I’m a huge threat.”

  “Territorial behavior,” Tyler says. He snatches the ball from my hands and tosses it to Riley. “I hear girls are all about that sort of thing.”

  “Oh, please,” Riley says. “Gay boys are worse.”

  Tyler just chuckles. “Maybe.” He glances at me, then Riley. “So, are we still a ‘Go’ on Operation Brannifer?”

  “Brannifer?” I ask.

  Riley smiles and tosses me the ball; I’m expecting it this time, and the catch isn’t nearly as sloppy.

  “Code name. You know, Branden and Jennifer, sort of like Brangelina . . .”

  “I got it,” I say, tossing the ball back to her. “Do I even want to know?”

  “Probably not,” she replies. She turns her attention back to Tyler and tosses him the ball. “But I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to know what he wants, and I can’t stand indecisive guys. I think she could do better.”

  “Maybe,” Tyler says, “but I mean, this is her first kiss we’re talking about. I personally think it should happen at the circus. So romantic.”

  Indignation flares for a hot second.

  “You told him?” I ask.

  Riley shrugs. “He guessed.”

  “She didn’t even confirm it,” Tyler says, tossing me the ball. “Which is how I knew it was true. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe. But I do still think you should go for it. I mean, Megan’s clearly intimidated, which means you probably have a chance. You do still like him, don’t you?”

  Riley answers before I can. “Of course she doesn’t. She would never like a guy who’s all hot and cold.”

  I sigh and lean back against the steps, tossing the ball between my hands.

  “To be honest, I do still like him. I just wish he’d man up and tell me if he liked me.”

  “Good luck, amiga,” Tyler says. “In my experience, boys are horrible at expressing their feelings—gay or straight.”

  Riley nods gravely.

  “If you want him, you’re probably going to have to go for him yourself.”

  “I dunno,” I say. “Do you think he’s worth it?”

  “If he’s into you,” Tyler says, “yeah. He’s kind of the whole package.”

  “If he’s not playing you like a jerk.”

  “There’s really only one way to find out,” Tyler continues.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “You ask him to the dance.”

  The dance. I’d done my best to forget—dances and I never got along. The last time I went to a dance was in middle school, for homecoming, and it was only fun because the girls I went with decided to bail early. We spent most of the night eating ice cream and watching stupid horror movies. In our dresses, of course.

  “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Shouldn’t he be asking me?” I ask.

  “Times change,” Tyler replies. “I already asked Kevin.” He grins wide. “He said yes, by the way.”

  Riley squeals “Cute!” and gives him a hug. “You two are adorable. I hope you get married and have adorable circus babies.”

  Tyler just laughs and tries to push her off him.

  “Calm down, crazy lady,” he says between gasps of laughter. “Remember, it’s Brannifer we’re focusing on now!”

  “Right,” Riley says. She lets go, and they both turn to me. “So.”

  “So?”

  “How do we get Megan out of the picture and you into his muscular arms?” Riley can’t even finish her own sentence without giggling.

  I toss the ball at her gently, and she catches it before it reaches her face.

  “I hate you both,” I say. As expected, this just makes them giggle even harder.

  • • •

  Riley and I chat for a good two hours after sign-in. We’re supposed to be asleep, but it’s hard to close your eyes when your best friend won’t stop talking about circus boys being the best and how our partner act is going to blow everyone in the audience away. She’s convinced I’ll be able to do all the advanced tricks with only three days of practice. I’m not so sure.

  “Trust me,” she says, turning out the light, “by the time our act is done, Branden will be head over heels in love with you.”

  I don’t think I believe her. No offense to Riley, but I’m still not exactly . . . well, proud to be a juggler. I’m in the act because I failed at something else. How am I supposed to be excited? Or feel like I’m showing off? The one thing I wanted to do more than anything else was a bust. And I have a funny feeling that no matter how good the partner act is, it won’t be good enough to impress Branden. He’s already seen me at my worst.

  “Isn’t that a little weird?” I ask. “I mean, trying to impress him like that? Shouldn’t you be telling me that he’ll like me no matter what?”

  “Meh,” Riley says. “Showing off is natural. The animal kingdom does it all the time. And who are we, if not glorified, awkward animals?”

  I don’t try to argue the point. I pull the covers up around me and close my eyes. In less than twelve hours I’ve frozen on a trapeze, discovered my true friends, and realized the guy I like may or may not be interested in someone else. I can only hope that the rest of the camp is a little less chaotic. But, given the circumstances, I have a feeling that my life under the big top is just going to get a heck of a lot stranger.

  Chapter Twelve

  I’m not usually a morning person, and I’m definitely not the type of girl who wakes up before her alarm with a smile on her face. But for some reason, when the alarm goes off and my dreams slide from memory, it feels like I’m being given a fresh start. It’s my second full day of camp, and today there are no scary auditions, no awkward getting-to-know-you games. I have a friend group and an act in the works. I also have a boy’s heart to win. I take a deep breath and roll over in bed, looking to Riley, who’s managing to sleep through her phone’s alarm ringtone. All that’s sticking out of the tangled covers is her hair. I toss my pillow at her and grin when she jumps and mumbles herself awake.

  “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” I call out.

  She mumbles again and looks over at me.

  “You’re cruel,” she says, her voice muffled from under the covers.

  “Just repaying the kindness,” I say. “Can’t have my amazing juggling partner sleeping through breakfast.” I throw my last pillow at her. She snatches it from the air with catlike reflexes.

  “This is war,” she mutters, covering her head with the pillow.

  “Then all is fair,” I say, and hop off the bed to head to the shower.

  • • •

  We spot Tyler and Kevin at breakfast and sit down across from them. I don’t miss the quick motion when we approach—they were holding hands and quickly let go to eat their scrambled eggs. I catch Riley’s eye and grin. Those two are already so cute together, it’s almost not fair.

  “Morning, ladies,” Tyler says when we set our trays down.

  “Morning, beautiful,” Riley says to Kevin. She smiles when she sits. “Oh, and hello, Tyler.”

  Tyler laughs and rolls his eyes. “Charming as ever.”

  “What’s the agenda for today?” I ask. I’ve already read the schedule, but who knows: They might have announced something new before we got to the cafeteria.

 
“The usual,” Tyler replies. “Group warm-up, then practice, practice, practice.”

  “Any clue what we’re doing tonight?” Riley asks.

  “Talent show,” Kevin says. He points to a sign on the wall. “Sign-ups are over there. Not mandatory, of course, but ‘highly recommended.’ ”

  “Great,” I mutter. One more chance to show everyone just how little talent I actually have. If only I had some skill I could whip out and impress Branden with. Anything to make me a little more flashy than his contortionist crush.

  Almost out of habit, I glance over to where Branden’s sitting. Then I’m reminded why I shouldn’t have bothered looking; he’s sitting right next to Megan, her sisters on the other side. One of the ­sisters—I think it’s Sara—notices my glance and gives me what actually looks like a weary gaze, like she’s empathizing with my abject hatred at seeing Megan and Branden together. Which is stupid, because she’s Megan’s sister, so obviously Sara’s on her side.

  “She’ll never give up, will she?” Riley asks, noticing my gaze.

  “Doubtful,” I say. “She’s going in for the kill.”

  “That’s okay,” she says, nudging me. “Because neither will you. True love will win out!”

  I tear my gaze away from Branden and look back to her. “True love?”

  She smiles and shrugs. “Dream big.”

  “You should do something for the show,” Tyler says. “You know, show her up.”

  I laugh. “Like what? I can’t even do the splits.”

  “Group act,” Tyler says. He looks to Riley. “I’m sure we can think of something impressive by tonight.”

  She mimes putting on a hat. “Thinking caps on, Watson.”

  “Sherlock never said that,” Kevin says.

  “I’m an artist. I’m allowed to improvise.”

  • • •

  Riley and I team up for the morning warm-up because, apparently, the way to winning Branden’s heart is now to play hard to get. When he steps into the gym with Megan attached to his arm like a leech, however, my heart sinks. Maybe playing hard to get is doing her a favor. Clearly, she’s not using the same tactic, and her direct approach is definitely doing more than any of my coyness ever could.