by Sarah Noffke
“What?” he said.
“Really I think your best advantage with Zuma is to allow her in your thoughts. If you do then you two can work together more seamlessly, the way she works with Jack and Jasmine,” Titus said before leaving Zuma and Finley staring across the four feet separating them, a strange tension tethering them to each other.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dave was almost skipping with a new exuberance as he crossed the grounds to his trailer. His meeting with Titus had been the best one in years. The creative director had a renewed energy. He was actually excited about the show. That hadn’t happened in a long time. And they both knew changing the narrator script would take some work before the new show tomorrow, but it could be done. Everyone would be rehearsing during dream travel tonight. That was more than enough time for his circus to reconfigure the show.
The most important part of the show rested on Zuma’s shoulders and there was no one he had more faith in. She was reliable, trustworthy, and she wanted the circus to be a success. Few loved the circus like he did, but Zuma was one of them. Sunshine had disclosed this to him one winter night when he questioned whether he had the support he needed to keep leading the circus. He knew Sunshine didn’t much care for Zuma but she respected her and had been nice enough to share that information. She had said that Zuma’s love for the circus was comparable to nothing else in her life.
Upon entering his trailer Dave’s spirits dropped a degree.
“Again?” he said to the empty trailer. The space looked as it had when he left it this morning, except for three specific things: The mat in front of the sink was flipped up at the corner like someone tripped on it and didn’t bother to fix it. Secondly, there were smudged fingerprints on the door handle. And lastly, the bottle of hand soap by the kitchen sink was turned at a thirty-degree angle. Dave would never leave a mat unfixed. Wore gloves and therefore made no smudges. And ensured everything was always facing forward, with the label showing.
This was the second time someone had broken into his trailer and he couldn’t understand their purpose. They didn’t take anything or seem to be looking for something. Actually it seemed to Dave that they touched everything like they were trying to give him a panic attack. Dave had been clinically diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder and couldn’t stand the idea of foreign germs in his personal space. Maybe this person knew this and was trying to play a prank. He didn’t think most people knew this about him though. Zuma and Sunshine knew due to their skill, and Titus, but no one else. Most people just thought that Dave wore his white ringmaster gloves most of the time out of habit. He had told the kids that they brought good luck when they asked one time.
Dave strode straight for the assorted chemicals he kept under the sink and went to cleaning his trailer. He didn’t really have the time for such a chore, but he wouldn’t be able to concentrate until it was thoroughly clean again. Dave was irritated that his disorder was making him lose time he could be devoting to the new show. But what he didn’t realize was his OCD would keep him alive for another day.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“What was that about?” Zuma asked, pinning her hands on her hips. “One minute you’re hot and the next you’re cold.”
Finley stroked his fingers through his brown hair, shrugged, then grabbed the pad of paper Titus left with his notes and tossed it at her. “You take notes,” he said. The truth was he didn’t know how to act around Zuma. She wasn’t like most girls he met. She had a beautiful confidence. She had grace. And now that he knew what all her skills were, he was even more drawn to her. Drawn to her like the tide to the earth, like the birds to the trees, and like the predator to the prey. Her powers complemented his perfectly and all this was absolutely wrong. Finley couldn’t allow himself this distraction. He looked at Zuma a few feet away, studying him. When he really allowed himself to look at her he saw himself failing. He saw himself turning weak and making decisions based on the wrong motivator.
“I really don’t understand you,” Zuma said, shaking her head and daring to take the seat next to him. She still couldn’t get in his mind and there was no one’s thoughts she’d ever wanted to read more than Finley’s.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jack knew the only way he could clear his head was to get away from the circus. It wasn’t something he did often as he preferred the company of his friends. But the recent events had triggered an old anxiety. He borrowed Titus’s car and drove to a park on the other side of town. He could have gone to one of the more interesting places in Seattle. The city was overflowing with places to dazzle the senses, but Jack’s senses were currently on overload.
Actually, if Jack really wanted to get away then he could close his eyes and go to Egypt or Alaska or anywhere his mind intended by dream traveling. But Jack preferred to get away physically when his stress grew to this level. It was something about being away from everything that gave him hope that when he returned things would be better.
He should have been pleased with the recent events, not stressed. Dave was happier than he’d ever seen him and he was a man prone to happiness. Jack had caught the quadruple for the first time ever. And even he admitted that Finley’s skills would add value to their show. Just advertising that they had a riskier trapeze act would earn them higher sales. And that’s what they’d wanted as a circus. But Zuma… The way that she’d looked at Finley. The girl had caught herself. Rearranged her face into a grimace, but Jack had seen it. There was a connection between her and Finley and it brought up so many of his old insecurities.
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 t
his 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, Oliver 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.
