Vagabond Circus Series

by Sarah Noffke

  “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.

  Oliver smiled back at the girl, a smile that transformed his face into something soft, taking away the sharpness it had before. Then he returned his focus to Sunshine. “I see you’re abusing your powers again,” he said to her.

  “Only with the ones I love,” she said, raking her fork through her rice like it was a meditation garden.

  The boy stood. “Can I be deselected from that list of people?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Sunshine said, making a pattern in her rice. “Your emotions are extremely complex and make my own feel normal. I need to surround myself with people who are more warped than me.”

  He shook his head at his friend and then looked at Finley. “Welcome to the circus, Finley. I’m Oliver, and I won’t be the least bit offended if you choose not to sit here again. Sunny has a way of scaring people away.”

  “Is that my cue to light your Mohawk on fire?” she said, with a fake sweet smile that made her face look peculi
ar.

  Oliver didn’t grant the girl a response, but instead just turned and left, glancing once at Padmal on his way.

  “So…” Sunshine said, her eyes still on her plate of rice as she traced one of the tines of the fork through it. “How did it go with Ms. Pink Streak?”

  Finley finished his bite before saying, “I prefer to call her Ms. Entitled Witch. And not so good.”

  Sunshine brought her eyes up to meet his, but didn’t say a word. She was waiting for him to elaborate.

  “I told her she was an awful acrobat and apparently that offended her,” he said like the whole thing actually baffled him.

  Sunshine studied him and Finley realized at once what she was doing. She was using her empathesis on him. It was different from how he’d been taught to sense telepaths in his head. And the shielding technique he knew so well didn’t seem to keep Sunshine’s pilfering all the way out. “Would you stop that?” he said, irritated.

  “Why?” Sunshine said simply. “Because you don’t want me to know that you don’t actually think she’s an evil witch or because you’re in denial about how fascinated you are by her?”

  “I’m not,” Finley said in a hush.

  Sunshine went back to her meditation with the pilaf of rice. “And we both know she’s an amazing acrobat. I won’t even argue that. However, Pinky’s ego is fragile, although less so than most at the circus, but still, telling her she’s awful would have hurt her. Has.” She teetered her head back and forth like weighing something in her head. “So all in all, I’d say you were successful.”

  “Successful at what?” Finley said.

  “At pushing her away. At protecting yourself,” Sunshine said in ho-hum voice.

  Finley was grateful that Sunshine had kept her voice down. And he strangely desired to talk to her more about this. He had never had anyone to talk to and Sunshine made it easy by diving in and stealing a read on his emotions. This was a jumble of desires for him: to want to shield himself and also have help with his emotions. Everything about the circus was complicated.

  “You have a lot of secrets, Finley,” Sunshine said after a long pause. “Most of you is hard to read, but I do feel that you have many contradictory emotions. That must be difficult.” And when Sunshine said this last statement she actually sounded sympathetic.

  “I’m not fascinated with her,” Finley finally argued, thinking he could find a way to stand his ground on that one. “I just find her interesting.”

  “Hmmm…” Sunshine said, studying him again. “No, that’s not what I’m getting. You find this food interesting. You find Pinky hypnotic.”

  Finley noticed again the disdain in Sunshine’s voice at the mention of Zuma. He tried his best to ignore what she’d said and changed the subject slightly. “Why don’t you like Zuma?”

  Sunshine almost smiled, but caught herself. “Is it that obvious?”

  Finley didn’t care to answer, just waited for her reply, which came a few seconds later.

  “To my judgmental eyes, Pink Streak has everything she wants and still she’s not completely happy. She has Dave’s unwavering admiration, friends, a great spot in the circus, beauty, talent, a wholesome upbringing, money and still she chooses every day to be unsatisfied with her life. There’s a lot of people here with less who are happier than her,” Sunshine said.

  “Maybe you’re wrong and she can’t have what she wants. Maybe she really wants to be with Jack, like Oliver wants Padmal, and therefore she’s unhappy,” Finley said.

  “You know,” Sunshine said, something shifting on her face like she had a small epiphany, “I think you might be right. Newbies always help me see things clearly and cut through my own biased readings of emotions.”

  “So she is unhappy because she can’t have who she wants…Jack?” Finley said.

  “It’s close to that,” Sunshine said, seeming to reflect internally for a moment. “But I think it’s more that she hasn’t found what she really wants in life.” Her green eyes lifted from the table, a spookiness to them. “Maybe it’s you.”

  Finley’s own eyes slid over to find Zuma’s seat empty. “I’m not sure if you realize this since you seem to live in an alternate universe, but Ms. Entitlement and I have met.”

  “Yes, and since you have come here her emotions have turned into a storm cloud, brewing with many new feelings. It appears that you, Fin, have an effect on her.” Sunshine whistled through her teeth. “Good thing, because I was starting to think she was a one-trick pony when it came to feelings. I was beginning to think she was the queen of indifference.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The lights shone bright overhead in the big top. Zuma and Finley had been rehearsing in the practice tent before, but Titus wanted to see the act in the big top to ensure it used the whole ring adequately. Zuma pretended to be paying extra attention to chalking her hands when Finley entered. He was five minutes late and Dave and Titus were sitting discussing all the changes.

  “Well, there’s my newest star,” Dave said, waving Finley eagerly over to him. Finley strode over and shook the ringmaster’s gloved hand.

  “Are you finding your way around the circus all right?” Dave asked, his eyes twinkling bright with his new enthusiasm.

  “I am,” Finley said, his eyes skirting to Zuma’s back facing him.

  “Then you might want to work on being on time on occasion,” Titus said, eyeing his watch. His excitement had waned as the stress of making all the changes took over.

  Dave puckered his lips and shook his head. “Don’t listen to him,” Dave said, throwing a thumb in Titus’s direction. “He’s unrelenting about things like time and schedules.”

  “I just don’t want to set the wrong expectation,” Titus said, pulling his reading glasses up on his nose and glancing at the notebook in his hand. “Now I need to know how you want your name spelled for the press release. It’s Finley with an ‘e’ right?”

  The acrobat’s eyes dropped to the ground and he seemed to deliberate on it. “Yeah, with an ‘e.’”

  “And I didn’t catch your last name,” Titus said, scribbling on the notebook.

  “Uh…” Finley said. “Right. I’m not sure I gave it. It’s…uhhh.” Obvious hesitation covered Finley’s face.

  Titus dropped his pad down in his lap. “Oh, great, Dave, you brought a convict to our circus, haven’t you? Are you wanted by the authorities, son?”

  Finley spied Zuma turn around, her attention piqued by the recent questions.

  “No, I’m not wanted. And I’m not a convict. It’s just that…well, I don’t have a last name,” Finley said, his eyes dropping to the ground. He didn’t look nervous, and yet all his confidence had disappeared rapidly.

  Dave playfully slapped Titus’s bicep. “Gosh, Titus, how many times are you going to offend the new talent? Seriously, can you lay off the boy?” The ringmaster turned his attention back to Finley, a sympathetic look in his light blue eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve recruited many a kid like you. You’re not alone. Kids from the streets don’t know their birthday, let alone their last name. Most make one up. It’s actually a lot of fun. What do you want your last name to be?”

  Zuma had arrived beside Finley, a rude smile on her mouth. “I’ve got a few suggestions if you want them,” she said.

  Finley shot her a piercing glare that was supposed to punish her, but instead made her feel rewarded. There was something so beautiful in every one of his looks.

  “That’s very helpful of you, Zuma, but I think Finley should choose his own last name,” Dave said, a smile in his voice.

  “I’m not sure any of your suggestions will be that complimentary,” Finley said to Zuma.

  Dave shot a confused look at Zuma and then at Finley.

  “These two,” Titus said to Dave, pointing at the acrobats, “are having some challenges working together. They’ll get through it.”

  “Oh,” Dave said with a nod, and sat back in his seat. “Sure, sure. This has been very abrupt. So last
name, what would you like it to be?”

  Finley smiled, a glint in his eyes. “Zuma.”

  “What?” she said in response.

  “Zuma,” he repeated. “I want my last name to be Zuma.” He turned and gave her a devious look. “That way when you marry me you’ll be Zuma Zuma.”

  Dave howled with sudden laughter. “Oh, that’s funny. Good one, my boy. I see what you mean, Titus,” he said, tears in his eyes. “He knows how to get under her skin.”

  Zuma narrowed her gaze at Finley. “Very funny,” she said, not amused.

  Dave corralled his laughter. “Okay, okay. That’s enough. Remember the rules.”

  They both nodded, staring at each other with sharp eyes.

  “Seriously this time, Finley,” Dave said. “What’s it going to be?”

  “I’ve always liked the name Anders,” he said.

  Dave erupted again. “How do you come up with this stuff?” he said through the laughter.

  Finley’s face went slack with confusion. “What? I don’t know what’s so funny this time.”

  “It’s your choice of last names,” Zuma said through clenched teeth.

  Titus was almost laughing too. “I like it actually. Anders and Zanders, the newest act of the Vagabond Circus,” he said, scribbling it on his notepad.