by Sarah Noffke
Zuma studied him. Her eyes made Finley realize how vulnerable she made him. In that moment, Finley was dangerously close to his determination crumbling. “And Zuma, you may not know me but you can trust me. I would never let something happen to you.”
She gave him a sideways skeptical look.
“It’s true,” he said, a new lightness in his voice. “If the big top implodes I’ll throw my body over yours to keep you safe.”
She laughed and it brought a carefree smile to his mouth. There were few things that sounded as attractive as her laughter. And now he’d been the one to bring it out of her.
“Okay, well then I guess that means we are getting along yet again.”
“Well, yeah,” Finley said, “how could we not after you totally just groveled at my feet with that apology?”
Her mouth popped open. “I did not.”
“That’s not how I’m remembering it,” he said, hooking his arm around her shoulder and heading them in the direction of the big top.
Zuma’s face flushed from the contact. She’d hoped to smooth things out with Finley but to have his arm casually draped over her was unexpected. It unsettled her in all the right ways, stirring a cluster of butterflies in her stomach. She kept her eyes trained on the tent as they walked. Finley was a tornado, changing every second, beautiful and dangerous and unpredictable. But Zuma loved storms. Always had.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
From the moment Dr. Raydon introduced the circus to the finale, which was Zuma and Finley’s big act, the entire show was seamless. Fanny’s kids sat in the front row, Emily and Benjamin both jumping up and down in their seats several times. The employees of Vagabond Circus were people who took an insurmountable challenge like rearranging and changing an entire two-hour circus and made it look easy. Middlings would never be able to pull off such a feat. The success of the circus wasn’t just because the performers had super powers, but because they could spend sleep hours training. All things take time and Dream Travelers have more of it than anyone.
Finley and Zuma took their final bows as the lights dimmed overhead. They stayed in the ring, ready for the dress-rehearsal after-meeting. The performers all spilled out of the backstage area and stadium, wide grins on most everyone’s faces. Fanny was still clapping, unabashed tears swimming down her cheeks.
“That was marvelous,” she said in her warm voice so everyone in the ring or nearby could hear.
Zuma gave Finley a slight smile, not meeting his eyes entirely. He leaned over and whispered into her ear. “I told you. I won’t let down this circus.”
“I want to believe you,” she said through her smiling teeth as she waved at various crew people in the bleachers, who were throwing her kisses and thumbs-ups.
Finley was about to say something else when something poked him in the leg. He looked down to see little Emily standing beside him, a smile lighting up her blue eyes. He kneeled down. “Well, hey there, Emily,” he said.
“Would you come over here?” the young girl said, pointing to where she’d been seated. “Benny wants to meet you but he’s too nervous.” Finley looked up to see the three other kids sitting next to Fanny, who was now wiping tears away from her cheeks. Between the older girl and Sebastian was a boy of about ten. He had short brown hair and a nervous smile. Finley’s eyes slid over to Sebastian and the boy got up at once and left the tent, looking to be rushed like he just forgot something.
“You bet I will,” Finley said, throwing a glance back at Zuma, who was watching the whole thing with a new interest. Emily slid her tiny hand into Finley’s and urgently pulled him over to the group.
“He says that you’re the new star of Vagabond Circus, and that he wants to be you when he grows up,” she said, her words rushed with excitement.
Jack arrived at Zuma’s side without a word. He was watching her watch Finley. She turned her eyes to him. There was a group of performers behind him who looked eager to relay their compliments to Zuma. It was unspoken but everyone knew Jack got her attention first.
“Great catch,” she said to him. “That’s going to wow the audience more than anything.”
Jack’s eyes were still on Finley, who was signing an autograph for Benjamin. “It is Finley who you should be complimenting. I only catch the quadruple because he teleports.”
“Jack, that’s not true,” she said, a little deflated by his bad attitude, which was oozing off him like bad cologne.
He slid his eyes to hers, a quiet anger in them. “So it appears you and Finley made up after last night.”
“We kind of had to. We are in a ton of the show together and then there’s the last act.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jack said and he could feel the resentment in him building. It was petty and he knew it but he didn’t know how else to feel. Not when it came to Zuma.
“You didn’t like it?” she said, turning to him, half mad and half sad.
“No, of course I did. How could I not like it?” He said, his voice lower than hers, his eyes scanning the curious faces around them. They weren’t being loud but everyone could sense the tension. “The act was breathtaking. You were more gorgeous than I’ve ever seen you. The way you moved, it made me hurt from the force of emotions you unearthed.”
“Then why do you look disappointed?”
Jack stole a glance at Finley, who was talking to the kids, but his eyes kept finding Zuma.
“Because you’ve never moved like that when performing with me,” he said, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Chapter Forty
Dave and Titus didn’t want Zuma doing fortunetelling before the show now that she had more responsibility. Ian replaced her. He was in charge of the rig crew members and preferred the labor of putting up and maintaining the big top. However, Ian also had the gift of divination and clairvoyance. Dave had asked that along with his responsibility on crew, he run Zuma’s booth for an undeterminable amount of time.
Since her conversation with Jack after the rehearsal that morning, Zuma had felt lost. And she also had trouble staying away from the preshow activities. She loved watching the patrons arrive at Vagabond Circus. Some had faces full of anticipation and others only tolerated the experience for their kids. Zuma loved watching them before and then after as they left, transformed.
With a fond gaze she ran her eyes over the blue and green fabric bathing her booth. This was one of her favorite parts of Vagabond Circus. She loved the ring, but her interaction there was impersonal. As the fortuneteller she connected with patrons and helped them, or at least she hoped she did. Most came back year after year to visit the fortuneteller who advised them and therefore saved their business, strengthened their ties with their family, or helped them with a major decision.
Zuma’s black hooded cloak mostly hid her face and entirely covered her white gown. Still, to some she was always recognizable. It was her energy.
“Hey, lovely,” Ian said, pulling his round face up from a deck of cards. “Are you checking up on me?”
“No, I know you’re doing an excellent job. I bet you’ll want to keep the booth after a few shows,” she said, drawing closer, her cloak taking pieces of hay strewn on the ground with her.
“It is fun,” he agreed, “but I don’t know. I prefer the backstage. Dave was right where he cast me, just as he was right with your casting.”
Ian was Zuma’s older brother’s age. Twenty-four. He looked odd in the velvet robe with his broad shoulders and barrel chest. Most would say that he didn’t look like the average fortuneteller, but there was probably no one more accurate than Ian. He had what Zuma only pretended to have when doing the job. Ian could actually see the future and with a precision that most would kill for.
“So, then what brings you here? I thought you were supposed to be resting before each show,” Ian said, his round chin tucked into his chest, eyes discerning.
She cast a sideways look around. “I am resting…”
“Are you?” he said, a challenge in his words,
although he wasn’t trying to intimidate the girl.
“Well, I’m trying,” she said, taking another step forward, keeping her voice low, her eyes constantly scanning.
“Is it that you can’t rest because of the stress weighing on your heart?” Ian said, sliding the deck of tarot cards, used only as a prop, to the side and clearing the space in front of him.
“Do you know that because you’re a fantastic observer or because of your abilities?” Zuma asked, her eyes ablaze with curiosity.
“Well, psychics are great because of their attention to detail, so call it both.”
They both laughed easily. “True,” Zuma said, taking a seat in the chair across from him. “Ian, can I get a reading?”
He gave her a look of concern. “You know where your expectations need to be if I do, right?”
She nodded. “None of it is true. It’s all potential truths. Potential realities depending on which way the wind blows, what someone else does, and what I have to eat for breakfast tomorrow.”
He smiled, showing a mouthful of braces. “I see you’ve played this little game before.”
Ian’s parents hadn’t wanted him to have braces growing up because it was a cosmetic thing. They also didn’t want to shell out the money for the expense. After he came to Vagabond Circus he saved up enough money for orthodontics to fix his buckteeth. His parents ridiculed him about it every time he visited and also about the fact that he’d turned down the opportunity to go into banking like his father.
“All right, you know how this works,” he said, holding out his calloused hands.
Zuma nodded and offered both her hands to Ian. It was when he touched another person that things about their future were sparked in his mind. It had been like this since he was thirteen and tried to hold Molly’s hand. They had synagogue together and spent most of that time giggling in the back. He grabbed the young girl’s hand one morning and had been assaulted by a vision of Molly stepping out onto the road without looking. A car swerved, missing Molly, but it still hit a tree, killing the driver in the vehicle. However, because of what Ian told Molly about his vision, that never happened and that driver was still alive to this day.
Ian wrapped both his hands around Zuma’s, which were hardened like his but from the flying trapeze. Zuma’s hands were long and slender in contrast to his. He sucked in a breath. Zuma watched as Ian’s eyes roamed around under his closed lids, like he was watching a movie inside his head. After only ten seconds his eyes sprung open. With a jerk he pulled his hands from her, a new stress in his eyes.
“What?” she said, sensing his concern.
“It’s nothing. I mean…you know how this stuff goes?” Ian said.
“But you have information for me, don’t you?” she said, leaning forward, careful to keep herself hidden inside the cloak.
He nodded, his shoulders slumping a little. “You have to trust Finley enough…”
“What? Enough for what?”
“You have to trust him enough that…he drops you.”
“What?” Zuma straightened suddenly, a cold chill zipping down her back. “He’s going to drop me? Like during a show?”
“No,” Ian said, looking to the side like examining the vision in his head. “I think this is during a rehearsal.”
“Why would I want him to drop me?”
“Because it changes everything,” Ian said.
“I don’t understand. I have to trust him enough and then he ends up dropping me and that changes everything?”
“Yes,” Ian said, a strange weight in his eyes now. “It puts things in motion that have to occur.”
“But we don’t know what has to occur. We’re always guessing,” Zuma said.
“I feel strongly that this is important,” he said with a new conviction in his voice. “It’s not ideal, it’s not pretty, but it’s an important catalyst.”
“You realize it’s going to be hard for me to rehearse now?” Zuma said, a shudder vibrating across her shoulders.
“You aren’t hurt physically,” he said, and the implications hung between them.
“But his mistake of dropping me, it sets something in motion?” she asked, needing to confirm every detail of this.
“It is no mistake,” Ian said in a hush.
“He drops me on purpose?” she said too loud.
“Just put this out of your mind and trust him. It’s imperative that you do, that he drops you,” Ian said with that too-wise look in his eyes. His vision was a burden and it made him look older than he was.
Zuma was certain there would be no forgetting this information. There was already too much mystery surrounding Finley and now this potential reality made her heart palpitate. She offered her hands to Ian. “Will you look again? Maybe you missed something.”
He shook his head roughly. “I didn’t,” he said, turning his gaze away from her hands like they made him ill suddenly.
“Ian, what is it?”
“It’s a future that has to come to pass, Zuma. And it brings you much sorrow before giving you the opposite.”
“Then why do you look so sad?”
“Because the things that affect you at Vagabond Circus tend to affect us all,” he said, his voice eerie.
Zuma rose slowly from her seat and gave Ian a look he saw too often: reluctant acceptance. It was difficult for people to hear their future and have the tools to shape it. This was mainly because the tools involved doing the last thing they wanted and Ian knew that for Zuma to trust Finley was almost impossible. Still, it was critical. The future of Vagabond Circus rested on the well-sculpted shoulders of the two acrobats.
Chapter Forty-One
The warm spotlight glowed down on Zuma. She stood on the side of the ring playing the character of the sheltered girl who had escaped the cage she’d been locked into almost every night. She’d already met many creatures of the night, all proving to be entertaining rather than dangerous, as her father had warned. The girl was searching quite melodramatically for a new animal who would enchant her as the others had done. She turned in one direction and a loud drum sounded, making her jump and retreat two steps. Then she turned in the other direction and another bang of a drum stopped her. The acrobat crouched down low, the orchestra playing a spooky arrangement that flowed perfectly with her jumpy movements.
She ran, a series of graceful steps, and stopped suddenly. A curious look lit up her face. With a tentative hand she glided her palm over something. Zuma pressed down on what appeared to be invisible and her hand sprang back. With a look of delight the acrobat placed her hand on the invisible thing again and then hopped up onto it. It was then that the lights shone fully on the wire that the audience couldn’t see before. Like a kid exploring a toy for the first time she practiced a few steps on top of the tight wire, which was only three feet off the ground. Zuma played with the bounce. Shuffled forward and back and then spun herself around. She was elegant on the wire, moving like she would through water. Her arms flowed, her legs swam across the wire, never losing balance.
But in the shadows something appeared. The girl Zuma was playing didn’t see the presence watching, but the audience did. A few in the audience pointed. A kid in the crowd tapped his mom. “Look!” he said, his voice too loud.
Finley moved to the side of the wire, his suit a dark blue, an elegant contrast to Zuma’s pale green costume. His was the color of a darkening sky, hers the color of grass coated in morning dew. Zuma now overflowed with confidence on the wire and leapt along it, sashaying after the move and then jumping straight in the air, one leg coming up behind her and her arms reaching behind her head to grab it before landing again with perfect precision. She didn’t see Finley at her back, crouched down on the end platform where the wire was tethered. He reached down and grabbed the wire and shook it. Zuma startled, almost losing her balance.
Whipping around she fumbled on the wire backwards at the sight of the monster. She played the character so well, acting frightened at just the perfect time.
This was what the girl’s father had protected her from. She held out a hand at the beast and it hissed in return. Then it jumped onto the wire, sending her straight into the air. But she landed back on it in a crouch, her hand reaching down between her bent legs to grab the wire, tethering her to it. On the monster’s next bounce she grabbed the wire with both hands and her hips came down on it as she spun around the wire, before coming off it in a flip like a gymnast dismounting the uneven bar.
Finley jumped straight in the air then flew down on the wire and bounced high before throwing himself into a full twist with a front flip also dismounting from the apparatus. He landed just before Zuma, who played the terrified girl. He bowed to her, offering his outstretched hand. Zuma paused, searching him by trying to look at his shielded face. Finally she reached for his hand and once their grips clasped he wrestled her to the ground, and that’s when the fight scene of their act officially began.
Chapter Forty-Two
The audience was silent when Finley and Zuma’s act morphed into a dance of two lovers’ hearts united. Every eye was trained on them, hypnotized by the pair who moved like water flowed. Only Sunshine was aware of how many audience members were close to tears, feeling the overwhelming emotion under the big top. She watched with Dave and Jack from the side of the curtain. Dave had asked her to scan the emotions of patrons throughout the night to get a barometer of how the new show was working. And the girl would soon report to the ringmaster that never before had the audience had such heightened emotions. And during the finale every emotion was hanging on a hinge, ready to burst open.
