Among The Stars (Heinlein's Finches Book 2)

by Robin Banks

  “Shit, man, never been in a place where people squealed on you like that. Not twice, anyway. They’d get sorted out after the first time.”

  “Here if they are friends with boss they have all the power. All about connections. Who is your family, who is your friend. Little bit what you do. But easier to do more if you know the right people.”

  “Ain’t that always the case?”

  “Maybe,” he sighs. “I am glad you kids know the world. Is not so dangerous for you. But I am sad that you have to know it. You talk to Alya. Maybe tomorrow you watch show. Get nice food, nice drink, sit down, have fun. Like kids, for two hours.”

  The day after’s no good: Jameson is on site, Alya’s busy, and instead of skiving off we end up finishing late and missing a chunk of our breaks. The day after that, though, works out fine. Better than fine, in fact, because Alya swoops in and sends us both into the show. “Get. Shoo. We were doing this without you two twerps before you came. I think we can manage a measly show. But for the love of the gods, don’t cause trouble while you’re in there, or I’ll have to justify your presence.”

  “What classes as trouble?” asks Tom.

  She flaps her arms in the air in frustration. “Just don’t get noticed, ok?”

  “Ha. We’re good at that.”

  “Could you be more conceited?”

  “Probably not, but if you really want I could try.”

  She stomps off without bothering to answer him. I smile at Tom, who rolls his eyes at me.

  “Can you believe her? Talking to us as if we were troublesome kids.”

  “Technically, we kinda are.”

  “Yeah, well, but she ain’t got to rub it in our faces all the time.”

  “Tom?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re going to the circus!” I’m trying real hard not to skip. This is awesome.

  “Luke?”

  “What?”

  “We live and work on a fucking circus.”

  “Yeah, but now we’re going to the circus!”

  He rolls his head back to stare at the sky. “Why me? What did I do wrong? Do me a favor: at least try and behave like you’re normal, ok?”

  We wait outside, by the gap between the foyer and the big top, until we hear the show music start, which means that the doors have closed. We cut in through the gap, then walk sideways through the door curtains. The two boys behind them start up, about to challenge us, until they recognize us and wave us in. We find seats right by the door, in the raised dais. We’re straight across from the doors at the back of the ring. It’s a much better view than the one we got last year from underneath the seats. The big top looks much bigger from the inside. The roof seems impossibly high in the near dark.

  When the music changes and the ring curtains open, my brain stops functioning altogether. It doesn’t start up again until the end of the show, although Tom tries to talk to me during the interval. The combination of light and music would be enough to suck me in, but with the acts on top of that, I just can’t do anything but stare open-mouthed at the wonders before me. When the ponies come in, it takes me a while to realize that they’re our animals. They look majestic in the ring, nothing like the goofy beasts who try to chew my hair and mug me for extra treats.

  I realize what we’re actually part of – a small part, admittedly. Most anyone could fill food bowls, shovel shit, pick hooves, and brush coats. But we’re the ones doing it. We’re here. We’re part of this organism that travels the universe turning tech and human endeavor and pain and sweat into pure fucking magic.

  After the show is over, we stay seated while the public files out. The artists are all lined up at the doors, greeting people as they leave. I still feel punch drunk, but an elbow in the ribs from Tom made me shut my mouth. As the last few people are leaving the tent, I suddenly remember who I am.

  “Shit! We were supposed to be at the stables!”

  “You’re alright. Well, no, you’re not. You’re incapable of responsible behavior. Lucky for you, I am. I kept an eye out. No stable visitors. Everyone went out the front. You’re welcome.”

  “Alright. Shit. Thank you.”

  I’m nearly fully aware now. Half my brain’s still replaying the show, but I can mostly function. As soon as the place is clear of public, we get up to get back to work.

  I don’t get very far before one of the girls collars me. I recognize her from my party and from the show, but I can’t remember her name. She does the thing where she stands on her hands and bends herself in impossible ways. She’s looking dazzling – literally. She’s all covered in glitter and sequins. Even her eyelashes are all glittery. She’d look better if she weren’t scowling at me, though.

  “You did not clap during my act. Not once. Well, you did when I first came out, and then you stopped. Do you think I couldn’t see you?”

  “I…”

  “Not good enough for you?”

  “I just… I just couldn’t. I forgot. Too much. Just, you know, too much. Forgot I had hands.”

  Her face splits into a smile even more dazzling that the shiny stuff she’s covered with. She grabs my face, pulls it down to hers, and kisses me on each cheek. “Just making fun of you. You make a good audience.” She walks off towards the backstage.

  Tom and I just stand there, until Tom snaps. “Well, shit. So being naturally zonked out is good for getting girls?”

  “Must be.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  “That’s part of the job description for you, isn’t it?”

  “I guess.”

  We get back to the stables and I’m still buzzing. Alya’s sitting on the floor, leaning back against the pony stall, a couple of the horses snuffling her hair. When we walk in she looks up and grins.

  “Ok, so I don’t need to ask you if you like it.” I’m just about to tell her and everyone else who’ll listen how wonderful it all is, but she lifts a hand up. “No, seriously. I get it. You look like you found religion. Or magic. And I have the horrible feeling that for someone like you, that feeling’s not going to fade. You’ll catch the bug and that’ll be it.”

  “The bug?”

  “Circus bug. Soon you’ll be sneaking into all the shows…”

  “Can I go again?”

  “See? There you go. You’ll be watching circus threedees and reading circus books and following circus artists on the com and talking and dreaming and breathing about circus. The only reason I’m sure you won’t get totally obsessed is that you already have a full-time obsession. I don’t see you dumping music for circus.”

  “No way!”

  “So we’re quite safe from you turning into a full-on circus bore. But you’re going to be a circus bore, for sure.”

  Tom snorts. “I liked the show too, thank you for asking.”

  “Of course you did. There were girls in it. And that’s why you’re safe from becoming a circus bore, too.” Alya gets up off the floor, stretching as she goes. “And now you will have something to talk about with your little friends. You can spend hours telling them how wonderful they looked.”

  “They did!” I blurt out.

  “Who was your favorite?”

  I don’t have to think about it. “The lady with the two bits of cloth hanging from the ceiling.”

  “Kelly, on silks. That’s what they’re called. She’s nice. You should tell her that you liked her.”

  Tom frowns. “Isn’t she too old for him?”

  “I didn’t know there was an age limit for compliments. Or friendship. Ok, I’m off. I’m tired now. I forgot that you two squirts have an actual job.”

  The next time we go to the café, I happen to end up sitting next to Kelly. I’m almost sure it’s Kelly, anyway. It’s kinda hard to recognize them when they don’t have their make-up and costumes on. I’d like to tell her that I really enjoyed her act, but I’m not sure about talking to her. She’s the other quiet girl of the bunch. Every time I try to talk to Mee
na, I just get grunted at and end up feeling like crap. I don’t think Kelly’s like Meena, but the possibility that she’ll react the same way worries me.

  I sit there dithering for so long that I get annoyed at myself and decide to just go for it.

  “I saw your act yesterday. I really liked it.”

  “Oh,” she blushes. “Thank you.”

  “I really liked the bit when you wrapped yourself up and then dropped all the way down.”

  “It’s nothing special. Most people who do silks do that.”

  “I’ve never seen it before.”

  I don’t know what else to say. I guess she doesn’t either. This is awkward as hell. So much for making me feel less like an outsider. I’m starting to wish I had my shovel, so I could dig myself a hole to crawl into, when she blurts out “Do you have a screen?”

  “What? No.”

  “That’s a shame. I have some threedees of shows. Really good performers. I’m nowhere near as good as them.”

  “We have a screen on-ship.”

  “I could lend them to you. I have a screen here but it’s tiny.”

  “Yeah. That’d be cool. Either way.”

  “Alright.”

  And the conversation, such as it is, grinds to a halt again.

  I’m contemplating running off when Reza, the hand-balancer who gave me a kiss after the show, catches my eye. “What about my act then?” Did you like it?”

  “You know I did!”

  “What bit did you like best?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what any of the bits are called. I liked all of it, really. I can’t fit it in my head how doing any of that is even possible.”

  She proceeds to tell me all about her training, how she got into it, her family, the first job she got, how she got this contract, and so on. All I have to do is nod and make the right faces. It’s all so much easier than talking to Kelly, but at the end of it all I feel that I know a lot about Reza, but I don’t know her at all.

  3.

  Since we watched the show, I feel a little more like I belong. Well, maybe not belong, not quite. I still feel on the sidelines, but at least I know what I’m on the sidelines of. Plus now I can place people. I know them in the context of the show. Most people who decide to make a living in circus have to work damn hard to turn their dreams into realities. What they’re doing is important to them. I might not understand why they want to do what they do, but at least now I know what it is. It makes me feel more comfortable hanging out with them, even though I’m not one of them.

  I’m actually enjoying my time at the café now, and I don’t get as crowded out when people come over to my bunk. I love it, really. I still let Tom do most of the actual socializing, because he’s better at it and he actually enjoys it, but I’m really glad to get the chance to tag along.

  My favorite spot for hanging out is the girls’ bunks. They’ve got two of them, each with four rooms and a ‘fresher, and they always park them in front of each other. If you go there the right time of day when the weather is nice and the girls are doing their thing with their doors open, it’s like being in a street full of shops selling pretty girls. Which sounds kinda messed up, ok, but that’s what it looks like. Anyway, it’s just nice to sit on the ground between the bunks and look up and have eight nice, pretty girls chatting and smiling at you. Well, seven nice girls and Meena.

  I think I know everything there is to know about being shy, feeling awkward, saying the wrong things when you get nervous, and preferring to be on your own and not getting a chance to. I get that. Meena seems to take it to a whole new level, though. For a while I assumed that she didn’t like me, but Tom reckons she’s like that with everybody. The really weird thing is that she doesn’t keep to herself. She always goes wherever the rest of the dancers go, but she never quite joins in. Whatever they’re doing, she’s there, but separate. It makes me feel sorry for her, always at the edge of things watching other people have fun. I know all there is to know about that, too.

  I’ve tried making small talk to her, but I’m not terribly good at it and with her it’s like pulling teeth. I’ve tried being near her but leaving her alone, to see if that would make her come out and talk to me, but that didn’t work. I’ve tried talking to her about the stuff I’m into, but all I got in response were grunts, so I gave up. I don’t like the sound of my own voice that much.

  Today they’re all sitting on their doorsteps, bathing in the light from whatever this star is called. It’s really nice out here. It’s comfortably warm, and something about the light makes all the colors look really vivid. It’s the kind of day that cheers everybody up, but it’s clearly doing nothing for Meena.

  Most of the girls are busy prettifying their costumes. Reza is doing something with some stretchy snakeskin print material that should look bloody amazing once it’s finished. The rest of them are cleaning, re-stitching, and sticking more shiny things so they can look even more resplendent. Tom’s chatting to them, making them giggle as they work. I’m having a grand time just soaking in the joy of it all. It’s the kind of moment I’d like to be able to play on repeat forever.

  Meanwhile, Meena is sitting on her doorstep, reading with a grim expression. She only looks up to glare at the girls if they laugh too loudly. I don’t get it. If she wanted to be alone, she could go inside and shut her door, or go somewhere quiet and read there. But she’s here, so she must want to be, even though she looks like she’s having a miserable time and resenting everyone else for having fun. The rest of the girls are totally blanking her out. I guess they’ve got a lot of practice doing that by now. I feel bad about it, though, and it’s not as if the party can’t go on without me, so I figure I’ll give her another shot.

  I walk over to Meena’s bunk and lean against her steps. Sitting in her doorway, she’s higher up than me. Looking up at her, I realize for the umpteenth time how much I might like her if she didn’t always look like so damn annoyed by everything.

  She ignores me completely for a few seconds, then sighs and looks at me. I smile at her. I don’t expect a smile back, but getting a blank, somewhat disgusted look still hurts. It’s not something I can’t deal with, though, so I carry on regardless.

  “Nice day, isn’t it?”

  “I guess.”

  “What are you reading?”

  “Shakespeare.”

  “I’ve not heard of it.”

  She snorts. “Him. And no, you wouldn’t have.”

  “Is he any good?”

  “He’s only the best writer in the world. Ever.”

  “Oh. Sounds cool. I don’t read much. I’d like to, though.”

  “You wouldn’t like this.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “You wouldn’t get it.”

  “Really? You know me so well, on such short acquaintance.” I’m doing my best to be civil, but the woman’s starting to get under my skin.

  “Ok then. How about this.” She scrolls on her reader until she finds the bit she wants, and then she starts reading aloud.

  “To be, or not to be, that is the question:

  Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

  The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

  Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,

  And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep

  No more; and by a sleep, to say we end

  the heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks

  that Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation

  devoutly to be wished.”

  After she’s finished she looks at me triumphantly, as if she’d won and I’d lost, though what it is she thinks we’re playing at and what for is beyond me.

  “Yeah? And your point is?”

  “My point is that you didn’t get that.”

  “What’s there to get? Whoever said that is full of shit.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “They’re talking about killing themselves, right? And going on about whether it’s nobler to
do it or not do it. They’re grandstanding, I don’t know for whose benefit. They’re not going to do it and they know it. If they were hurting enough to do it, they wouldn’t give a fuck about whether it’s noble or not.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I know what people put up with instead of taking that way out. That’s something I know inside out. But I didn’t learn it from a book, so I guess it doesn’t count.”

  I’m pissed off now. I feel like throwing chunks of my life and my friends’ lives at her to see how she likes that. But I’m also not in the mood to have anything more to do with her, right now and forever, so I walk off.

  Tom catches up with me when I’m halfway to our bunks.

  “Luke, hold on. What happened?”

  “Nothing. Got pissed off. Didn’t want to blow up at someone by accident.”

  “Did she say something?”

  “Nothing special. She reads and I don’t and she’s smart and I’m stupid.”

  “Ha. If she were really smart, she wouldn’t go shitting on the one person who’s still got any time for her. She may be good with books, I’m not denying that, but she really sucks with people.”

  “That she does. I wouldn’t have anything to do with her if you paid me.”

  “Can’t blame you.”

  We carry on walking towards our bunks. It’ll soon be time to get back to work, anyway.

  Tom lets off a soft whistle. “I wonder what the story’s going to be now. Half the show saw you storm off.”

  Thinking about that pisses me off even more. “Given that they heard the whole damn thing, maybe the story will have something to do with reality this time.”

  “It’s possible. It’s unlikely, though.”

  4.

  Ever since we got to this damn site, all I’ve seen of Alya is a blur. She’s hardly ever here. When she is, she dashes around the site for no visible reason, Laika streaking behind her like a black-and-white furry comet. I’ve been busy with my own stuff, but I do kinda miss her. I’m also curious as to what lit a fire under her ass. There’s no way of finding out without stopping her, though, and she’s looking really tired lately, so I figure I can achieve all my goals in one go by inviting her over to dinner. Tom’s up for it too, so it’s all good.