by Sarah Noffke
“I left,” Jack said simply.
“And you stormed out of the tent right after our meeting,” she said.
“That wasn’t me storming.”
“Jack…” she said, a warning in her voice.
“What?” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “What do you want me to say right now?” There was a pain in his eyes that she’d seen but never when it had been caused by her.
“I don’t want you to say anything. I’m the one who needs to talk,” she said, pointing her finger to her chest. “You’ve been punishing yourself all afternoon because you think Finley is going to steal your stardom.”
“That’s not why,” Jack said and then clenched his mouth shut, wishing he would have thought before speaking.
“Well, regardless, you’ll always be a star. The people love you.” She paused and watched him visibly soften. Her combat sense made it incredibly easy for her to notice the micro-expressions most people didn’t even know they gave off as they became stressed or let stress slip away. Zuma could read people better than anyone because of this. “So what you’re saying is that you’ve been mostly sulking all day because I didn’t choose you to be my partner,” she stated and watched Jack’s shoulders tense a degree. “If you wouldn’t have run off,” she continued, “then I could have explained and you wouldn’t have wasted a day feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Zuma, I wasn’t—”
“Yes you were,” she interrupted. “And with every right, but what I’m trying to tell you is that you’re wrong. I didn’t choose to work with Finley over you because I wanted to. Believe me, I can’t stand that jerk. He’s one of the last people I want to work with.”
“Then why?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to work with you. It’s because I can’t, Jack.”
He blinked at Zuma like he misheard her. “What?”
“Look, I never told you, but Dave gave me the option of being your main partner when we started the acrobat act together. Jaz had already been at the circus awhile and she didn’t have a preference in her role,” Zuma said.
“Wait, you chose to have the third position in the act? And you made the choice not to be my partner in the other acts?” Jack asked, a crease between his brown eyes.
“Right,” Zuma said through a strained breath. This wasn’t how she wanted to disclose this information to Jack. She always pictured that it would feel different, romantic. Instead it felt contrived, like it wasn’t real.
Jack’s eyes bulged slightly as he gave her a look that begged for her to elaborate.
“I made that choice because I knew I couldn’t spend that kind of time alone with you,” she said, in one long rushed sentence. Jasmine and Jack were required to practice together more often and alone due to their roles in the circus.
If Zuma was Jack’s partner then they’d be together almost all the time, based on how much they already saw each other.
As Zuma’s explanation sunk in, Jack’s expression went from confusion to one of relief and then nervousness.
Zuma nodded at him, realizing he understood. “You and I both know there’s nothing more important than being a part of Vagabond Circus. And I knew that if we had to work that closely together, that there was a chance that…”
“We’d act on our feelings,” Jack said, completing her words.
“Right,” she said.
“But you gave up a chance to have a central role?”
“It was fine,” Zuma said, with a shrug. “The important thing was that I stayed at Vagabond Circus. Us not being partners was the better option for everyone. Less stress. And you’re safe with Jasmine so it was kind of a no-brainer, because we both know how intimately you get to know your partner.”
At this Jack’s face darkened. “And you’ve just made the decision to spend that intimate time with Finley.”
“Jack, did you hear me when I told you I can’t stand the guy? He infuriates me,” she said, her face flushing with anger thinking of how many times he insulted her that afternoon.
Jack nodded. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, wondering why Zuma couldn’t see that Finley was doing what some boys do to the girl they like on the playground: push them down to get their attention. “So that’s really why you didn’t choose me?” he asked, knowing Zuma wouldn’t mind the ego-filled question.
“Yes. And that’s another reason Jaz can’t leave. You and I are able to keep things professional and I think that balance is important,” Zuma said.
“You’re right,” he said, nodding. He watched her watching him, knowing she was studying him as only she could do. He never minded it. “You’re undoubtedly my closest friend here and sometimes I wonder…” Jack trailed off, looking flustered by what he wanted to say, so he didn’t and instead invited Zuma in his head. Due to her telepathic link with him she could feel him pushing the thoughts across the space at her.
She smiled after her brief intrusion. “You think that we just want to be together because we can’t?” she said with a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve wondered that before too. Forbidden fruit.”
Jack smiled with relief. It was always so easy with Zuma. He just let her in his mind and she understood everything he didn’t want to say. “It’s so hard to know what we truly feel for each other. And as long as we’re here we aren’t finding out,” he said. And it had never occurred to Jack that he and Zuma could have had a relationship behind Dave’s back. It had occurred to Zuma, but she figured Jack respected Dave too much to consider the idea. Dave treated Jack as a son, giving him the attention and praise his own father never did. Zuma knew Jack needed that. He needed that more than he needed her and she understood this. Everyone at Vagabond Circus was there for a reason and most of them were not financial ones.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Relief swept over Finley when he finally found Fanny sitting between Emily and the other little girl, who was older. He leaned down over Fanny’s shoulder, making eye contact with Sebastian and then Benjamin on the other side of the table. Benjamin watched Finley, his eyes wide with disbelief. Sebastian pretended he hardly noticed the new acrobat. He ducked his head low and dug into his rice.
“Can I have a private word with you?” he said in a low voice to Fanny.
The older woman turned over her shoulder and smiled wide at Finley. “I’d hoped I hadn’t seen the last of that handsome face.”
“I promised you wouldn’t,” he said with a wink. She was about his mother’s age, he guessed. Maybe if his mother had him on the older side. He didn’t know. Had no idea how old his mother was. Had no idea who she was. Finley wasn’t raised in an orphanage, it was more like a factory, and children the products. “Anyway, I apologize for interrupting your meal, but I need to ask you something. Can we talk in private?”
Fanny wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Of course we may,” she said, putting the emphasis on the last word to show the contrast in hers and his statement. Fanny taught by example. “You may always have the attention I can afford,” she said before turning to the older boys across the table. “Sebastian, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”
He nodded his head, his long black hair falling into his face as he did.
“Sebastian,” Finley said to the boy. “That’s an interesting name.”
“Is it?” Sebastian said, an edge in his voice.
“Yes,” Finley said and his eyes lingered on Sebastian’s cold stare.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you Mr…?”
“Just Finley,” he said.
“Don’t you have a last name, mister?” Sebastian asked.
“I do, but I don’t think such formalities are necessary,” he said. Finley, in fact, had no last name. Not one he knew of. He had actually picked his first name when he was a kid.
“Formalities?” Sebastian said, an icy grin on his face. “That’s a big word. You’re a kid from the streets, like most of us, right?”
“Yeah, I’m a runaway,” Finley said, his voice even.
<
br /> “Wherever did you pick up such a large vocabulary, mister?” Sebastian asked, looking curious, but also cunning, like he was playing a game with Finley.
“The world offers many opportunities for learning. And dream travel is a great way to observe,” Finley said.
“Oh, dream travel…that makes sense,” Sebastian said, his chin low.
“One day you’ll see what I mean. When you’re older,” Finley said, an emphasis on the last word.
“Right, one day,” he said, his words slow, deliberate. “Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Finley.” Then Sebastian extended his hand to Finley, a clever grin on his face.
Finley shook his head. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m totally gross from my practice session.”
“Next time then,” Sebastian said, pulling his hand away.
Finley gave a slow nod. “Yeah, next time.” He turned to Fanny, who watched the whole display with a pleasant smile.
“Shall we?” she said, holding out her arm, directing the way.
“Yes,” Finley said, and followed her out to the recreational yard which was empty since it was meal time.
Chapter Thirty
Zuma pulled Jack to the food truck after their conversation. She hadn’t stopped complaining about her growling stomach until she shoved the first bite of rice dripping with teriyaki sauce into her mouth.
“Mmmm,” she said, filling her fork again. “That almost makes me feel normal once more.”
“You really practiced hard,” Jack said, watching her.
“I did,” she said through a full bite.
“And besides from Finley being a jerk, how did it go?”
Zuma sighed, stuffed more food into her mouth and shrugged.
“Well, do you two have an act?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, but working with him is probably going to kill me,” she said.
“I hope it doesn’t,” Jack said, giving her that look, the one that meant something.
Zuma hadn’t noticed the look. She hardly noticed anything that wasn’t on her plate. “I just don’t understand what his problem is. It’s like he goes to great lengths to make me hate him.”
“What’s going on in his head?” Jack said.
“Beats me. He’s got his thoughts locked down.”
Jack shot one eyebrow up at this. Most couldn’t keep a determined Zuma all the way out of their head. “That’s a true surprise. He’s a mystery for sure. And I’m curious what he’s up to now.”
Zuma brought her eyes up to Jack’s but he was staring at the table two over where Fanny and her kids ate. Finley was speaking to the new kid, Sebastian. Fanny was behind Finley, looking to be waiting.
“Oh, great, that’s all we need is for him to spread his bad attitude to our kids,” Zuma said. And the sight of Finley turned her stomach suddenly, making the food she’d just swallowed churn with unease. She pushed her plate away. Jack eyed her with concern.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No, he makes me sick.” But Zuma was confusing her true feelings for sickness; they were actually something quite different.
Whereas Jack was concerned before, now he was sincerely baffled. Zuma was affected by this guy and nothing affected her. Not her distant family or the crowds or her clients with their problems. She was always stone. Zuma knew the thoughts of the world and it didn’t disturb her. But Finley…
Fanny and Finley then turned and strolled through the tables. When they passed their table Jack slid his hand around Zuma and pulled her over so her head rested on his shoulder. He didn’t like to think that someone was hurting Zuma. Making her vulnerable. But is it such a bad thing actually? he suddenly thought. He sometimes worried Zuma was too hard. Too unaffected.
Finley’s gaze connected with Jack’s as he passed. There was much communicated in the one look.
Zuma didn’t notice this. She was too surprised by Jack’s display of affection. It was nothing to get them in trouble. They were friends. And then she was even more curious how Finley wasn’t shoving a plateful of food into his mouth right now. How could he not be starving after that practice? How was he just casually strolling by with Fanny?
Chapter Thirty-One
How old are you?” Fanny asked, her voice low.
“Seventeen?” Finley said, his voice cracking.
“You really don’t know how old you are, do you?” she said her voice warm, accepting, and richly coated in her southern accent.
“It’s a guess,” he said, pushing his hands into his pockets, his nervousness showing. He couldn’t help but be who he was with Fanny. It must be her gift.
“And you still can’t—”
He shook his head quickly, almost as if begging her not to say it again.
“Not even a little bit?” she asked skeptically.
He shrugged and the look of self-loathing on his face made Fanny grab her chest with emotion. “No you don’t,” she said, and then reached out and clasped his hand. “Don’t you feel bad about this. Actually I’m not that surprised. Kids come to me in all different states. I’m just impressed you’ve gotten by so long. Your skills must be very good.”
Again Finley shrugged, not bearing to fake confidence with this woman. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, I simply can’t wait to see what your skills are and watch you perform. I’m going to be in the front row for your first show,” Fanny said proudly.
At this Finley smiled, something raw opening up in his chest.
“And yes, darling, I’ll help. We will find time when the kids are sleeping or at a lesson with their phys ed instructors.”
“Thank you,” he said and squeezed the woman’s hand again.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Finley hadn’t been starving after his long practice with Zuma for two reasons. The first was he was used to going without food. He could survive on very little. The second reason was that he was full on adrenaline and the emotions rolling around inside him. He wanted to believe they were the result of the creative process, but he knew Zuma had something to do with it. He fed off the looks she gave him, and was strangely fulfilled by her attention. It was such a foreign feeling to Finley. To feel nourished by another person.
Again it seemed so weird to just walk by the food truck and grab food. Finley felt like he was stealing, but he wasn’t. Never again did he want to steal.
Zuma was still seated at her table when he turned with the plate of rice and vegetables. To Finley’s relief her head wasn’t resting on Jack’s shoulder. It had taken everything he had to walk by them and not say something earlier when he and Fanny passed them. But he didn’t even know what he would have said. Why in such a short period of time did he feel possessive of Zuma? This consumed his thoughts. She wasn’t his. Actually Zuma was one of those people who seemed she would never belong to someone. She would always be her own person, never relying fully on the support of another. But she had laid her head on Jack’s shoulder like she was in need of comforting. Why did she need comforting? Finley questioned.
He slowed as he passed Zuma’s table, hoping she’d look up. He’d had her attention all day and it wasn’t enough. When she didn’t look up at him, Finley picked up his pace and took the spot next to Sunshine. The girl was speaking to the boy with a black Mohawk.
Sunshine paused in mid-sentence and checked out Finley as he sat down. “Well, well, well. Look who has picked us over the royalty over there,” she said, pointing at Zuma’s table. “I saw you slow at the acrobats’ table and almost thought you were going to sit there, with them.”
“Didn’t realize you were watching me,” Finley said, looking creeped out. “That’s kind of bordering on stalking, you know?”
“Yeah, it’s something I do,” Sunshine said without guilt. “My own life is fairly boring, so I entertain myself by watching other people. I invite myself into everyone’s affairs secretly.”
“You really shouldn’t say that out loud,” Finley said, poking at a mushroom with his fork. He’d never had
half the stuff on this plate. And although he was grateful for the food he was nervous to try it in fear that he wouldn’t like real food. He also feared he’d eat the food the wrong way. Like the bud-looking thing he was pushing around with his fork. It looked so foreign.
“That’s an artichoke heart,” Sunshine said, pointing at the food beside his fork.
Finley shot her a frustrated glare. How specific of information does her empathesis give her? he wondered. “I know that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Why do you feel it necessary to educate me, huh?”
“Just sensed that you were a little unsure about some of the food on your plate,” she said, that glum tone always present in her voice. It was like an undercurrent in the girl.
“Don’t worry,” Oliver said from across the table. He had a rough voice of someone three times his age, like he spent years smoking. In truth, the boy’s voice was a result of years living on the streets, hunched over barrels of fire to stay warm. “Sunny does that to all of us. It means she likes you.”
“I don’t like him,” she protested at once.
“Well, not like that,” Oliver admitted. He turned his eyes on Finley. One was green, the other brown. “Sunshine here doesn’t really like anyone. It’s kind of what makes her so endearing to our group. She likes me, the triplets, Dave, and on occasion, Titus. And now it appears she likes you, so get used to her rummaging through your emotions and making observations and giving advice. It gets really old, really fast.”
“Oliver, why don’t you go make out with Padmal,” Sunshine said and then playfully threw her hands to her cheeks, looking suddenly melodramatic. “Oh, dear me, I totally forgot. You can’t.”
From the other side of the table the girl with hair the color of dark chocolate and eyes to match swiveled her eyes to them. Finley recognized her from the juggling and magician’s act. Her eyes were large and almond-shaped and she was incredibly petite, especially sitting next to both her tall, lanky brothers.
