Ropes are everywhere. Tied to the wall, hanging across the ceiling, and coiled on the planked floor. To the left, a small set of narrow stairs are tucked into the wall. To the right is a wide hallway full of doors. It smells of sweat, sawdust, and fresh paint. Above, the ceiling is nothing but exposed beams and raised metal walkways with a pulley system.
“Upstairs are the offices,” Nik tells me. “We aren’t allowed up there without an invitation. The dressing rooms are down there”—he points to the doors—“but we aren’t doing a dress rehearsal today so we’ll just be using the stage and practice room.”
We turn left. More ropes and levers surround a platform with a heavy red curtain. Painted sceneries hang overhead and I hurry out from under them. I’ve never seen anything so elaborate. So complicated. It must take a dozen men to work everything. Maybe more.
I lean forward to peek around the curtain. “Is that the stage?”
“Yes. We’ll let the others have a go first while we figure out how we want to arrange the song.” He motions further down the hall to a large, open room. “It was written for Irena but she never used it so we can take some creative liberties.”
My steps falter and I look back at him. Can I learn to sing a new song flawlessly in a handful of days? Doubtful. If the song is a cover, I can feed off the original, but to create something entirely our own? There’s no way. “I assumed it was something popular.”
Nik smiles encouragingly. “It’ll be popular when they hear you sing it.”
“Flattery helps no one.”
He laughs and we step into what he calls the practice room. Six panels of warped mirrors make up most of the back wall and the hardwood floor is covered in dings and scratches. There’s nothing but the troupe and a giant crate in one corner. A couple of the guys pull props from it—cups, a hose, interlocking metal rings—and hand them out.
Chester bounces on his back feet while the twins imitate him. Theresa storms by us with a large feather boa around her neck, her shoes clacking against the wood. Jackie hurries after her with her head down and my chest tightens. I shouldn’t let it bother me. Jackie will have to deal with Theresa long after I’m gone but it still stings. Having a friend would’ve been nice.
“Sorry.” Will rushes after the girls with a slick black cane and pair of white gloves.
“Such a bearcat, that one,” Pedro calls across the room. “Poor Will.”
Mitch snorts. “Glad I’m not a hoofer.”
“You shred it, wheat.” James says. Etta elbows him in the ribs. “Oye, lay off. You know she’s a pill.”
I don’t understand a word of the conversation but some of the tension drains away as they joke with one another. These are nice people just trying to hold everything together, and I’m messing with their dynamic.
“Let’s sit over there. We’ll be out of everyone’s way.” Nik produces a folded paper from his shirt pocket. “The song is only a few lines so we’ll have to be careful how we spread it out. Most of it will be on me, I think, since we aren’t sure of the reaction from the crowd.”
“What do you mean?”
“Symrics have different potencies. If yours is too strong and they hear too much of it, things could get ugly.”
I swallow hard. Why would Augustine take this risk? Surely the money isn’t worth the consequences when she made such a fuss about avoiding scandal.
“Don’t worry. Augustine promised to hire extra muscle until we know what to expect.”
That’s less than comforting.
I follow Nik to the back corner. Everyone else in the room is doing something. Eddie has a top hat stuffed under his arm, counting something inside. Gus tunes his saxophone and Mitch his trombone while Tommy sets up a snare drum. Etta and Gayle stretch their legs out in front of them on the floor and pull at their toes. Ben and Pearl direct Eleanor and Gilly on where to stand. James has Chester rolling over to play dead while Pedro keeps digging through the props.
“Can we watch the others first?” I ask.
“The only thing worth seeing back here is Pedro’s juggling.” Nik flops down on the floor and unfolds the paper. “The rest is mainly a lot of bickering. The real practice isn’t until they get on stage, and even then no one bothers using their magic until show time. It’s too exhausting otherwise.”
Pedro holds up three wooden pins and reaches in for more. My curiosity piques. “Can he really juggle more than three?” One of the farmers’ sons used to juggle empty milk bottles during breaks. He couldn’t do more than two and more shattered than didn’t.
“Are you trying to procrastinate?” Nik asks playfully.
“Of course not.” I settle down beside him, tucking my legs and skirt beneath me.
“Here.” He hands me the lyrics. “Read this over first.”
Wiping sweaty palms on my lap, I do as he says.
* * *
Sometimes my dreams are haunted by a sweet symphony. The darkness takes hold and once again, I wake in agony.
When we met, our future, how it shone. It now seems so long ago. How could we have known our fates were already sewn?
A secret garden in my heart blooms. Under the twinkling sky, I feel you beside me. The fantasy hides our bitter doom.
The fairy tale, my only light. I’ll see you again, my love, when stars are bright.
* * *
“What do you think?” Nik asks.
Tears burn my eyes and I drop the paper. This has to be a joke. Haunted dreams? A shining future ripped away? The memory of a starlit sky shining above Christian and me the night of the dance flashes through my mind. Fate is back to playing cruel tricks on me.
“I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I… can’t.”
Pushing off the floor, I rush back the way we came. The world is a dark, swirling mass of evil, ready to eat innocents at every turn. My mother was right—fairy tales aren’t real. I want to go back to my little corner of the universe and never leave it again. If I can get to the docks, some captain might take pity on me. They don’t have to be going to Holland. I just need to get on the same continent.
“Where are you going?” Nik rushes in front of me.
“Home,” I say in a shaky voice. “To find someone willing to help me get home.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You can’t stop me,” I snap.
“Canary,” he says in a warning tone. Then his face relaxes and his voice softens. “You’re right. I can’t stop you, but rushing off to that part of the city is dangerous. There’s no telling who you’ll run into.”
“Fine, I’ll go to the police and talk to a different officer,” I shout. “They’ll have to help.”
“What do you want them to do, Canary?” His voice is tired. “If they arrest Walter, will that change things for you?”
A hot tear rolls down my cheek. “He deserves it.”
“He does, but even if he’s behind bars, you’ll still be here. They’ll want you to testify at his trial which will only keep you here longer.”
It isn’t about getting justice against Walter, although I would love to. It’s about getting home. I miss my mother and Christian. I miss my tiny bed and the sight of the windmill behind my house. The cool breeze. The aching back from a long day’s work. Everything. I miss everything.
“I need some air.” I rub my forehead and walk away from him. The lyrics don’t matter but surviving this does. “Let me know when it’s our turn. You can set the tempo; I’ll try to match it. It’ll be fine.” Hopefully. I’ll do my best to make it a success anyway. Right now, I need some space from the craziness of the last few days, including Nik. “I’m going to sit outside for a bit.”
“Do you... I mean...” Nik licks his lips and lifts his chin. “Stay out back so no one hassles you, yeah?”
“Okay.” I take uncertain steps toward the back door and stop halfway there. What am I doing? If I go out there alone, I’ll have a panic attack. Well, a more severe one. “Actually, can you come w
ith me? No talking though.”
Nik doesn’t say a word. He simply presses his lips together tightly and saunters after me into the alley with his hands clasped behind his back.
The sun beats down on the concrete; I don’t remember it being this warm when we arrived. Pressing my back against the brick wall, I slide to the ground and ignore the stench of hot garbage. This is a mistake. I must be losing my mind to have let Augustine talk me into this. No. I’m just that desperate. That naive. Life never prepared me for this. Why would it? I lived in a happy world where nothing bad ever happened—nothing I was old enough to remember, that is. The danger my mother warned me of was nothing but a bedtime story. I thought she was being overprotective because things like this never happen in our town. Maybe in other places, but never in my own backyard.
A sob breaks in my throat. When I get home, I’ll never question my mother again. I’ll do anything she says and be glad of it. Everything except leave Christian. That is, if he takes me back. And I’ll never, ever sing again, even if I’m alone.
“You,” a woman hisses.
I press myself against the wall and my eyes widen at the sight of a plump woman standing over me in a woven dress. Her face is so like Walter’s, I’d know her without having seen her before. I cast a look over her shoulder, searching for her son. Why didn’t I just stay inside? I’ll sing the song. I’ll sing it a thousand times if I get the chance.
“Irena.” Nik steps between us and holds his hands out in front of him, blocking the entrance. “What are you doing here?”
“Me? What is she doing here?” she demands.
“Ask your son,” I snap.
“You were told never to come back,” Nik says without missing a beat.
“I’m here for my wages.”
“Fine. Augustine is in the office. Be quick.”
One second Irena looms over me, the next only air and a lingering scent of powder. I blink. Nik still blocks the doorway with a tick in his jaw. Magic. Walter told me his mother was able to… transmit without seeing her location but seeing it happen—believing it—is different.
“Is she alone?” I ask.
“Yes.” He turns, holding a hand out to help me up. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“You sure?” When I stand and nod, he chews his bottom lip with a vacant stare. “Let’s kick them off the stage and give things a go.”
“That won’t go over well with Theresa.”
“Nothing ever does.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper when we reenter the dark theater. I’m not sure if I’m admitting to being afraid of Walter, his mother, or singing on stage. Each one is battling its way to the front of my mind, demanding I be more terrified of it than the others.
“I know,” he whispers back, squeezing my hand. “I’ve got you.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” Nik says. He had wheeled a large black piano into the center of the stage after asking Jackie, Theresa, and Will to let us give things a try. As expected, Theresa threw a fit. Or, as Will put it on his way backstage, she cast a kitten. Nik poises his fingers on the ivory keys.
Sing the song, I tell myself. Sing it and go home.
I smooth the paper with the lyrics between my hands. The seating area is invisible with the bright lights shining on the semicircle stage. The darkness sends fear trickling down my spine. I squint into the abyss and feel someone looking back. They can’t be though. Everyone is practicing their own act backstage and Nik told Irena she’d find Augustine upstairs.
I swallow and force myself to turn away. I have to learn this song, earn money, and get out of this place before paranoia rules my life.
“Can you play it once while I listen?” I ask.
Don’t look back. Look at the words. Listen to the music. Don’t turn around.
Nik’s fingers dance over the keys. The music is sweet and light, tickling the senses. It’s different than I expect, given how depressing the song is. As the melody continues, it lifts a weight from my chest, chinking away at the bitterness. I had meant to read the lyrics and figure out how to pace them with the melody, but I’m caught up in the essence of it. It washes over me, carrying me to another place, far, far away. Somewhere bright and happy. The song isn’t sad, but hopeful. Something bad happened to rip the lovers apart, but they have a promise to see each other again. Even if some nights are filled with nightmares and the memories hurt, their love is still a treasure worth hanging onto.
When it ends, I float back down to reality. Nik stares at me with his unreadable expression and I shift dab the moisture from the corner of my eyes.
“Well?” He raises his eyebrows. “Do you approve?”
A smile cracks, spreading across my face. I more than approve. I desperately want to sing this song, to let myself be swept away in the spirit of it. Tonight I’ll dream of Christian, and perhaps he’ll dream of me, too.
“It’s amazing,” I say. “You’re amazing. You play so well.”
“Thank you.” He runs a finger down the length of the keys. A fire ignites behind his eyes and his cheeks flush. I can tell he loves it as much as I do, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s missing someone too. “Now, what will we do with it?”
I bite my thumbnail. I’ve never created my own song before. He’s given me the foundation, but so much of it lies in my hands. “Can you play it one more time?” I ask. “I’ll try something.”
Nik stretches his fingers, smiling across the piano at me, and strikes the keys again. I fill my lungs with air and wait for my opening. When the music picks up an extra note, the first line slips across my tongue.
Sometimes my dreams are haunted by a sweet symphony. The darkness takes hold and once again, I wake in agony.
I wait a beat, glancing up at Nik. He holds my gaze, his face alive with excitement, and dips his head in approval.
When we met, our future, how it shone. It now seems so long ago. How could we have known our fates were already sewn?
Fate is cruel. I understand that now, but it doesn’t have to be the end. There’s always hope.
A secret garden in my heart blooms. Under the twinkling sky, I feel you beside me. The fantasy hides our bitter doom.
I pause again, shaking the feeling back into my fingertips. I can almost feel Christian holding my hand in his car that night—his strong fingers intertwined with mine as he asked me to go with him to the garden party. The party where our lives should’ve changed for the better.
The fairy tale, my only light. I’ll see you again, my love, when stars are bright.
I laugh as Nik plays the final chorus, ending the song. It wasn’t my best but it released something in me. Singing, really singing, broke down a wall I didn’t know I built. Nothing existed for those two minutes on stage outside of Nik, the music, and myself. All the stress, all the worry, I buried deep inside fled somewhere behind the red curtains. Out here I was free, if only for a few minutes. I can’t remember why it ever scared me. Purposely keeping my voice locked up around others seems so silly now. It doesn’t take anything away—it gives me something: Peace. I want more.
“Wow, Canary.” Nik leans back on the stool and his mouth turns up in a lopsided grin. His eyes are slightly glazed. “I had no idea you could sing like that. I mean, I heard you sing for Augustine, but that was nothing like today.”
“I can do better,” I say. “It was just my first time.”
A laugh falls from his mouth. “Give yourself a little credit.”
I stick my tongue out at him. “I just know I can do better. I can feel it.”
“All right, then. Let’s try starting it here instead.” He plays the beginning again and stops when he thinks I should join in.
“Yes.” I round the piano and step closer to him. He hasn’t mentioned my magic, just my skill, which I’m surprisingly grateful for. Maybe all Symrics sound good to the people they affect. Did I affect him? He seems fine. I decide to take the compliment at face value and am eager to try again. �
��And maybe I should stretch out the part about the garden?”
“Maybe. Let’s try.”
I don’t know how many times we go through the song before we agree on the timing. My jaw aches and my throat is raw, but I haven’t felt so alive since the kidnapping. I pull in as much oxygen as my lungs can hold and collapse into the side of the piano, laughing. It’s amazing.
A line of sweat beads along Nik’s upper lip and his sleeves cling to his arms. His smile matches my feelings exactly. “That’s it,” he says. “If you sing it exactly like that this weekend, I guarantee you’ll get a standing ovation.”
My cheeks burn. A standing ovation is too much, but I can only hope that’s all that happens, the extra security nothing more than a precaution. Nik’s eyes have gone from glazed to glassy and there’s a definite change in the way he’s looking at me, as if he’s star struck. He seems to pick up on my discomfort—either my expression changes or because he’s an Amplifier—and his gaze shifts away.
“What do you guys think?” he calls.
I spin around to see the rest of the troupe peeking around the side of the curtain.
“Brava!” one of them yells.
“Indeed.” Augustine pushes through them with her cane. “Very inspiring. You’ll soar right to the top as our new headliner.”
I breathe in through flared nostrils. The only place I will be soaring is across the Atlantic on the fastest ship money can buy. If she puts me as her headliner, she thinks I’ll be around longer than I will but I won’t burst her bubble yet. Maybe just deflate it a little. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to end the show. Maybe a more permanent act should have the spot?”
“Don’t be silly. Now, come,” she says. “I have someone waiting in my office who wants to meet you.”
My stomach drops and any joy I felt a moment before vanishes. “Irena?” I whispered to Nik. “Do you think she wants us to work something out? For her to come back? I can’t do it. I can’t face that woman. What if she wants Walter to come back too?”
When Stars Are Bright Page 11
