Vagabond Circus Series Boxed Set

by Sarah Noffke

  Jack was the youngest of five boys. Four of those boys were famous, brilliant, regarded with prestige. And then there was Jack. From an early age he had been ordinary in his parents’ eyes. He hadn’t invented anything by age six, or scored a modeling contract, or graduated from high school by age ten. Those were things that his brothers had accomplished. He had failed his whole life to impress his parents, which was why he joined the circus at age fifteen. They hadn’t cared. They had been happy for him and relieved that he was gone so they didn’t have to hide their disappointment regularly. When the circus came through town, sometimes they came. Usually they didn’t. But Jack didn’t care because regardless, he was a star now. Maybe by his parents’ standards he wasn’t a real star, but in the eyes of the audience of Vagabond Circus he was famed. And now he felt his success being challenged. It made the anxiety begin its battle inside him. Making him feel vulnerable like his insides would burst. Like he needed to get out of his body. He took a few deep breaths as he sat on the top of the picnic table and watched various families in the distance.

  Worst of all, what fueled the stress now was that Zuma, after given the choice, chose to perform with a stranger over Jack. She had to know that would hurt him. Hadn’t she said she wanted to work with Jack? But she didn’t choose him. This was its own stress, a new one, connected to Zuma. Since he met her three years prior, they were instantly endeared to one another. She arrived the same month he did, when she was also fifteen. From the beginning they were always together, finding that spending time with each other was easy and fun. For Jack there was no one who understood him like Zuma. She seemed to know he had a deep insecurity and never did anything to trigger his fears of lack. And maybe that’s why he believed he was in love with her. Or maybe it was because he couldn’t have her as long as they were at Vagabond Circus. Zuma was for sure his best friend, and yet he wasn’t sure how he truly felt about her. And for the first time ever, she’d done something that she’d never done. She’d rejected him. She’d made him feel insecure.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It took Finley and Zuma only thirty minutes to sketch out a full act. Finley already had most of the act planned in his head, it seemed to Zuma. She jotted down his ideas, having to ask him to repeat things several times because he was speaking so fast. It was like a new person had stepped into him, one that was alive with creativity, all his bad attitude gone.

  “You can really do all this stuff?” she asked, pointing at the page of notes she’d taken.

  He didn’t even glance at it, just puckered his lips and nodded.

  The act they had created on paper was extraordinary, using their skills together to do more than the unexplainable. To Zuma the act sounded frightening and beautiful. She smiled, thinking of Dave’s reaction.

  Finley pretended not to notice the satisfied grin on the girl’s face. He pretended it did nothing to him. Zuma’s face was a series of slants that gave her an exotic look but also something relatable. He guessed she was at least half South American based on her dark brown eyes flecked with gold that complimented her blonde hair.

  Finley pulled his eyes away from her face and stood, ready to practice. He extended a hand to Zuma, who eyed it before pushing herself up without his help.

  “My question to you is, do you really think you can do all the choreography?” Finley asked with a skeptical look at Zuma.

  She shook off his remark. “Of course I can.”

  He shrugged with a look of doubt.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “Just that you were the third-ranked acrobat in a three-person act,” he said.

  She almost laughed. He was trying to get under her skin again. It was working, but he couldn’t know it. “Jack and Jasmine’s skills work better together. But I’m still an incredible acrobat.”

  Finley actually couldn’t argue this but he hoped his face communicated a different feeling. Watching Zuma perform was something he could do endlessly. He worried now whether he would be able to stay focused in the ring. “Okay, you can flip and all,” Finley said, “but what about the martial arts in the act?”

  “I wouldn’t have put it in the act if I couldn’t do it. I have been taking gymnastics and karate since I was five years old so wipe that look of doubt off your face,” Zuma said.

  He turned to the chalk station, covering his hands with powder and also hiding the expression on his face. Of course she had professional training. He wondered why he hadn’t considered this before. And why does it matter?

  “Actually,” Zuma said, joining him at the chalk station, “Jack attended my gymnastics school too. And we went to the same high school, but we didn’t meet each other until we joined Vagabond Circus. Isn’t that crazy?”

  Finley turned to her. “Not crazy in the least. Uninteresting maybe.”

  “I thought it was interesting,” Zuma said, keeping her voice cool, unaffected.

  “Why in the hell do you think I care how you and Jack met or that you went to the same school?” Finley said.

  Zuma actually smiled at him, which made Finley furious. “Aw, you’re jealous. I thought so,” she said.

  “I’m not jealous,” Finley said.

  “Then why the sudden attitude?” she asked, the smug look still on her face.

  “I always have an attitude,” he said.

  “You know,” she said in a sing-song voice, “being jealous kind of makes you a freak, since you hardly know me.”

  Finley had watched Zuma enough to feel he knew her. His knowledge of her felt intimate to him. And he hated the way she regarded him right now, like he was a diabolical jerk. But it was for the best.

  “Let’s get started,” he said, turning and walking for the practice mat.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Oliver was one of the most recent performers to join Vagabond Circus; well, before Finley. His opening act, producing the Arabian horses, had given the circus a new reputation. And Dave would have loved for him to perform more than the two acts in the circus, but it was beyond the young illusionist’s capacity. Creating illusions in the physical realm was extremely draining and complicated.

  His second act involved a magic show with Padmal as his assistant. He’d begged her to take on the extra act and she’d finally agreed. Oliver didn’t pull rabbits out of hats and saw Padmal in half. He pulled a rattlesnake from an audience member’s small purse and threw it out in the middle of the ring, where it appeared to slide under the back curtain. And he made Padmal disappear and reappear in multiple places around the ring.

  “We could really add to the act if we combined your telekinesis with my skill,” he said to Padmal across the lunch table. Almost everyone had left to enjoy their free afternoon. Her older brother, Haady, had tapped Oliver on the shoulder and given him a sympathetic look as he left. He knew the uphill battle Oliver suffered working with Padmal.

  “I don’t want to do more for Vagabond Circus. I want to do less,” she said, making her plate fly to the bin on the cleaning station using her telekinesis.

  “Then let’s leave,” Oliver said, his scratchy voice low. “Haady and Nabhi’s performance won’t be as good without you but it will still be fantastic.”

  “I can’t,” she said through clenched, crooked teeth.

  “But if we left then we could really be together. No more stupid rules” he said.

  She stared at his black Mohawk. Oliver had a look she never thought she’d find attractive, but it paired with his soft personality perfectly. Most thought he’d have a bad-ass personality to match his look, but he didn’t. He was sweet. Considerate. And utterly amazing with his illusions. She stared into his eyes. They were what she liked most about him more than anything else. One green and one brown.

  “You know I want to leave,” she finally said. “I hate being Dave’s puppet, but let’s be honest, you wouldn’t be happy then. Even if we were really together.”

  She was right and they both knew it. Where she hated performing, only tolerating it, Oli
ver loved it. There was nothing like making kids gasp with disbelief. People had thought he was a freak before he came to Vagabond Circus but here he was treated like a star. People stared mesmerized at his two different colored eyes when he signed autographs. Girls gave him their number. Girls who would never have given him a chance before. But that just fed his ego because he didn’t want anyone but Padmal. And whereas she resented Dave Raydon because she hadn’t wanted to be adopted, Oliver loathed the man because of his no dating rule. If he could just love Padmal openly then maybe she’d be happy at the circus. And he’d be a star and have everything he wanted.

  “And you know I can’t abandon my brothers,” she said, staring off with an irritated expression.

  “I know,” he said and checked to ensure they were alone before reaching across the table and covering her hand with his.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sweat trickled down Zuma’s back. They had been practicing for over two hours without a break. Finley’s endurance was incredible. She had demanded a water break and fumed when Finley stayed on the mat practicing. He had more focus than any performer she’d ever seen. It was fascinating to watch him work, like he was a born acrobat, although she sensed his newness to the art. It was like he was fueled by something based on survival. And working with him in the ring was actually quite exhilarating. He wasn’t careful with her like Jack. He threw his kicks straight at her head knowing she would sense and deflect. And his speed tightened her chest every time he moved. And yet he wasn’t too fast for her combat sense. After numerous perfectly timed blocks Finley had flashed an expression at her that almost looked like he was impressed. It was the first one and he covered it quickly with a fierce fighter’s face. Zuma wanted to know what he was fighting inside. She wanted to dip into his thoughts and know one thing about this enigma of a guy.

  When she returned from quenching her thirst, Finley had pulled off his shirt. He used it to wipe the sweat from his face. Zuma strained to keep her eyes up, away from studying the lines of his chest. He turned and when he did she noticed three long scars running down the length of his back.

  Maybe he was finally wearing down because he startled a bit when Zuma said, “How did you get those scars?”

  He hadn’t expected her back yet. That’s what his face said when he looked up. Finley turned at once, putting his back toward the wall. “I don’t remember,” he said too fast.

  “It looks like you were whipped,” she said, and couldn’t believe the tone of her voice. She sounded sympathetic. For Finley.

  He shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

  “You don’t remember how you received three giant scars?” she asked in disbelief.

  “That’s the answer I’m going with,” he said, his voice light, almost playful.

  “Well, then tell me something about you. Like tell me where you learned that stuff you do, your acrobatics,” she said, which earned her a smile from Finley. Again her chest tightened. He had the look of a rebel embedded in every feature of his face.

  “It’s called parkour,” he said.

  “You mean that stuff that people do in urban settings, like jumping between buildings and doing handstands on top of skyscrapers?” Zuma said.

  He sighed. She made it sound unprofessional, like something hoodlums did. “Sure,” he said.

  The way he moved, his flips, they weren’t graceful, they were robust and powerful. Zuma imagined that her movements and his contrasted greatly, which made the story in their act even more compelling.

  “How did you learn parkour?” she asked, intensely intrigued by the idea of doing flips and tricks in such a dangerous environment.

  Finley shrugged. “I just picked it up.”

  “All right, never mind,” she said, taking her position and preparing to do another run-through of the part they were working on. “Don’t share. It’s not like I care.”

  Finley took his place, ready to start. “Oh, you care.”

  And without saying a word Finley turned on his back toe and spun around, throwing a round house kick at Zuma. He was unsurprised when she spun to the side, missing it. No one had ever been able to stand up in a fight against him. His super speed prevented it. His teleporting made it impossible. Again he threw a punch and Zuma ducked. Then she grabbed his arm and spun it around so it was locked behind his back where she stood. She felt his heart racing in his chest. His bare back pressed up against her. The scars an inch from her face.

  On cue he teleported so he replaced her position, holding her from behind. She dropped to her knees and used the momentum to pull him down and throw him over her head in a somersault. Finley landed on his back and popped up at the same second. Zuma crouched low and when he tried to slide a low kick to take out her legs she flipped backward twice. When she landed, Finley had already teleported to right behind where she stood. He grabbed her hand and spun her around. A beautiful blur of movements. And then the act turned more into a dance as the scene shifted into a story of love. The characters they were playing had fallen for the person they couldn’t defeat. They moved as figure skaters did, like they were gliding, every one of their movements complementing the others.

  It felt natural to Zuma, as if she’d always performed like this, although this was the first time. For Finley, there had never been a more freeing feeling than to move beside Zuma. Finley picked Zuma up by the waist and rapidly twirled her around before tossing her in the air and then racing fast enough to catch her on the other side of the ring where she landed. He let her slide down until her feet touched the ground and then when she turned to end the act he spun her around in an impromptu move. She’d expected it and hadn’t moved away, too curious to see what he was doing. He tucked his leg behind one of hers, encouraging her back, dipping her low. Zuma leaned backwards, her back arching as Finley leaned over her, his arms supporting from behind. They looked like a beautiful statue of a couple finishing the tango. He slipped down further. Whispered close to her. “I just thought we needed a more powerful ending.”

  “I like it,” Zuma said through a rattled breath. She was dipped back low but felt secure in Finley’s arms.

  Finley’s breath collided with her cheek. The sensation prickled her skin and pulled at an unhealthy desire. His eyes tampered with satisfaction and he leaned in closer, spying the sudden movements of Zuma’s chest as she fought for oxygen. His lips almost grazed her ear when he whispered, “You know, I’m close enough to kiss you right now. You want to add that to the act?” He looked amused, and unlike Zuma, completely unflustered.

  Her hands around his neck tightened. Zuma cocked her head to the side and looked at him straight on. “And I’m near enough to punch you in the face. Maybe we should add that instead,” she said.

  Finley stood straight, pulling Zuma to an upright standing position, and instantly yanked his hands away from her. He wore a jokester’s smile. “You actually need some distance to throw a punch and just now you weren’t far enough from me. It sounds like you’re as awful a fighter as you are an acrobat.”

  Intent on not looking rattled, Zuma rolled her eyes as if only irritated by the statement. “I’m a fantastic acrobat and fighter, and not only that but I’m the fortuneteller for the circus. I have more than just the skill to dance and flip around like you. Sounds like you’re jealous that I have more talents than you,” she said.

  “Right, and your telepathy, go ahead and use it on me. Read my fortune, would you?” Finley said.

  Zuma narrowed her brown eyes at him. He knew she couldn’t. That he could effectively shield her. “Titus said it would be to the act’s advantage for you to take down that barrier. Jack and I perform better together because we communicate telepathically,” she said.

  “I can outperform Jack with my eyes closed, mind shielded, and a broken toe. I don’t need the advantage of letting you in my head.”

  Zuma was now the one who trespassed the space between them, putting only two inches from her face to his. “Sounds like you’re afraid to
let me in your head. What are you scared of?”

  He patted her on the shoulder with a mock look of sympathy. “Just trying to protect your ego. Wouldn’t want you to find out how badly I think of you.”

  Zuma threw his hand off her and shook her head at him. “Well, if you could read minds then you’d know the same is true for me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Zuma was exhausted after working with Finley. Still, she had to find Jack. She raced to her trailer, intent on taking the world’s fastest shower before she hunted him down. He would know she wanted to see him. Jack always knew these things about Zuma. Just as she knew he was currently punishing himself and would until she explained. And all he had to hear was the truth and then they’d be back to normal. Well, after her confession, not normal, but at least Jack would feel better.

  She grabbed a protein bar as she ran out of her place. Zuma crammed a few bites into her mouth as she raced to Jack’s trailer. Missing lunch had been a mistake. She wondered again how Finley had stayed so strong throughout the practice, never even taking a break to rehydrate.

  With the protein bar clutched in her hand she rapped at Jack’s door, loud this time. The smell of grilled vegetables was already wafting through the air. Bill, the circus chef, would be grilling up crates of organic vegetables and steaming pots of rice for tonight’s meal. Dave provided only the best food for the people of Vagabond Circus. It was all organic and completely vegetarian since that was the optimal diet for Dream Travelers.

  Jack opened his door with a tired expression. His blondish hair was a mess, lying down flat on his head like he’d been sleeping. “Zuma, I don’t really feel like discussing this right now.” Then he looked at her beet red face and her hair still wet. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just flushed from running over here after the longest and most irritating practice of my life.” She stepped past Jack, giving him little opportunity to keep her out of his trailer. She turned around, tossing the half-eaten protein bar on his dining table. “And yes, we need to talk right now. I tried to find you at lunch.”