Girl on a Wire (12 page)

“That’s not so bad,” I offered.

“I’m surprised it wasn’t the Fool or the Hanged Man.” She sighed. “The fact that you are represented so clearly means this is your story, Jules. Whatever the next cards represent is going to happen to you. You started it when you tricked us into coming here.”

“But that’s not so bad?” I tried again.

“Maybe if there weren’t two more cards still to go.”

She tapped her nail at the top of the third card, skipping over the middle.

“Why are you—”

“Let me speak,” she said. “The cards do not tell a linear story.”

She flipped the card, and I saw it was Blindfolded Justice, perched atop an elephant, a grand set of scales painted on its side. Her sword was extended down, the point tipped toward a nude weeping man covered in heavy tattoos. The audience at the edges of the scene was mixed, some smiling and some sobbing.

“The Fates are weaving a different picture, one of converging points. You on the one side, and on the other, Justice,” she said.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” I said.

I was only trying to stop the sabotage, and find out who was hanging on to old grudges.

“The weight of the past is behind you always, Jules. You don’t recognize it because it has always been there. You were born with it when you were born a Maroni. It doesn’t matter what
you
have done, right or wrong. The sins of your family over all time are balanced against you now. It’s a balance that can’t hold. We should not have come here.”

She turned the middle card. The Tower.

I shivered, despite the heat from the candle. The wick flared, as if the flame were participating in the reading too. As if the fabled Fates—the mother, maiden, and crone Nan had mentioned—sat at a fire, getting warm off my future.

On the card, tongues of flame licked at the sides of a large striped circus tent. But people were fleeing the exit flaps, running into the fire. At the top of the tent was a crown shaped by fluttering rags of canvas.

“The Tower is a shattering of illusion. A sudden shift that will change everything. I only hope this change comes soon enough to prevent you from doing any further harm. Or, worse, you coming to harm. Once your eyes are open, you will see.”

I continued staring at the card, mesmerized as I realized that the rag crown was angling down, plummeting to where it would burn and be destroyed.

I bit my lip. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen the other obvious interpretation. Me. The Princess of the Air. The cards were saying I was going to fall. Justice was going to make me fall.

“And Jules? Try to be careful with that boy.”

I didn’t bother asking who she meant. I should have noticed that she’d said
try
, like she already knew I’d fail. Like she already knew I was falling for him.

It was a good thing I didn’t believe in the cards.

fifteen

When I emerged from a deep sleep the next morning, what was visible of the Virginia fairground out my tiny bedroom window was blanketed in thick fog. The gloomy view perfectly suited what I was thinking about: my tarot reading from the night before. I sat up slowly, trying to snap out of it.

One thing you learned early in the circus was that hesitation could be just as dangerous as acting rashly. You must keep moving or the audience has nothing to follow. With motion comes purpose. With motion comes discovery.

No one had ever accused me of holding back, and I wasn’t about to start. I chose to keep going. There were still answers to be had. I wanted them.

Within minutes, I was dressed and in the kitchen. I expected a question, since I was rarely up and moving at this time of day, and I got it.

“Where are
you
going?” Dad asked.

He and Mom were both at the breakfast table. Sam was already gone to handle the morning feed. Nan wasn’t even up yet, but that wasn’t unusual. I was relieved not to see her at the table.

My plan was to tell Remy that we had to leave Nan out of this from now on. She’d spooked me, and she’d do the same for my parents given half a chance.

“I asked Thurston if I could clock some wire time this morning.”

When Dad frowned, I added, “To fine-tune that arabesque I’m adding.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.

He was two seconds from standing up.

“Nah,” I said, “I’m sure it won’t take long. I don’t want to mess up your morning routine.”

I hated having to lie to my parents, but I didn’t have another option.

“She’ll be fine, Emil.” Mom put her hand on his. “She’s growing up. Leaving us behind.”

Dad’s scowl said what he thought about that, but his only comment was, “Don’t lift your leg until the other foot is completely stable.”

I covered my relief that he hadn’t insisted on coming along. “Ahem, did you think there was an amateur here or were you talking to me?”

Mom patted his hand again when he started to protest. “She’s teasing you.”

“She’s right,” I said, and left before he decided to punish me by tagging along.

The Garcias had an obscenely early rehearsal every day, I knew, so that they could add another later if they missed their marks. Their mother had a reputation as a tough trainer.

Postrehearsal was my best shot to pull Remy aside early in the day. And I was curious whether his mother was as hard on them as I’d overheard people saying she was. After all, Nan had felt moved to give her a peace offering, even if she wouldn’t say why. It made me wonder.

The tent was completely different this early than during shows. I pulled the flap aside and stepped into the quiet, dark backstage area. The only noise was muffled, coming from inside the main tent.

In it, a few spotlights were trained on the rigging where the Garcias were practicing their trapeze act, while other lights shone down on the center ring. To one side, Kat and her dogs were practicing their act, facing the main stands. Two of the larger mutts sported costumes that made them resemble elephants, and two smaller dogs dressed as tigers were riding the backs of their compatriots. Kat waved her arm and encouraged them to trot in a circle. I stepped closer to watch.

“All you need is to add a monkey,” I said, taking a chance at making conversation. She hadn’t been incredibly pleasant to me, but she had said hello once, which was the closest thing I’d gotten to a warm welcome.

She turned. “Monkeys aren’t naturally obedient creatures like mine.”

Reaching down, she scratched the ear of a scruffy brown dog brushing against her knee, and her gaze drifted over and up, to the Garcias. “What brings you here so early? They won’t be happy about your presence.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I wanted to try out something new after they finish.”

“Best stay out of the way until they’re done.” She clapped, and called, “Form up!” The dogs raced around in a twist, weaving by one another until they were in a perfect half-moon around her. They sat on their haunches, tails visible and wagging despite the costumes.

I took her advice and went toward the stands, and then slipped into the shadows underneath the bleachers. No need to have an awkward confrontation, at least not with
all
the Garcias. I could wait.

I generally avoided the tent outside showtime, except for the occasional practice round—a side effect of being one of those late-arriving, much-gossiped-about Maronis. Even though most people were no longer actively rude to my face, possibly due to Sam’s unexpected ability to charm clowns and Garcia girls, we remained apart. I wasn’t going to start hanging out in the common areas joking around anytime soon.

Which was a shame. The big top floor, the grounds—even backstage—looked wildly different depending on the time of day and what was going on. There were so many ways to see the circus. From under the stands was a new one for me.

I stopped when I was at a good vantage to see the net. Remy’s mother was watching the troupe perform with narrowed eyes and a pinched face. She shouted up to them, “Sloppy! Novio, the grab must be crisp, but look soft—she’s supposed to be a goddess, not a beach ball! Your grandfather would turn over in his grave if he saw you do a catch like that.”

I couldn’t help but half smile. Roman was still guilting people from the afterlife. Remy had made him sound like pretty much the worst as trainers went, but his mom was clearly no picnic either.

Peering up through the slats at the trapeze, I watched the goddess in question, Dita, swing back to her platform, release her grip, and jump onto it. She raked a hand through her short hair, and then a body stepped in front of her, blocking her.

“Mom, it was my fault—my speed was off,” Dita called down.

It was Remy, stance more tense than usual. He touched Dita’s arm, supportive.

“Yes, I know it was,” her mother called up. “But that doesn’t mean Novio gets to practice bad form. Do it again.”

Remy called down, “I thought we were done.”

“Do it once more. We’re never getting the finale if you don’t get this act perfect.”

The finale decision’s already been made, lady
, I wanted to say.

“But fine,” their mother called. “Just do your foolish attempt, Remy, and we’re done for now. This morning isn’t going to get any better.”

“I can do it later,” Remy said.

“No, you wanted this in the act so badly you didn’t bother to consult anyone else, so you can do it now. And we will watch your failure, like we do every morning.”

Yikes.
But Remy must have been used to it, because his face stayed exactly the same, as if she hadn’t spoken. My dad respected that my performance was mine. Mine to make final decisions on, mine to shape.

Novio had settled on the swing opposite for a break during the back-and-forth, and now he swung out, knees over the bar. Remy squared his shoulders and took his own bar, began to swing, building up speed. Not enough speed, though. This wasn’t one of his better attempts—how could it be after his mom’s lead-in? In fact, it was the weakest I’d ever seen him do. He only completed two revolutions, and missed Novio’s grab by a mile, then spun into the net. If it was possible to land sarcastically, he did.

He stood, shaking his head, and glanced over. His eyes were gleaming, and he stilled for a moment midmotion. Had he seen me? I assumed I was well hidden in the shadows. He turned his back with no indication that he had or hadn’t caught me there, and said, “Happy now?” to his mom.

“No, I’m not happy. The act was perfect before you started this with the quad. You need to keep doing your extra practice at night, so you can finally make it one of these days during a show. The Garcias won’t be known for failures.”

“Of course we won’t,” he said. “The sky would fall first.”

The others were vaulting into the net behind him now, the twins draping arms over each other’s shoulders and heading out. “See you at the mess,” one of them called.

Dita stopped to talk to her mom, and they walked out together with their heads close, Novio trailing them. No one seemed to notice that Remy lingered, unwinding the tape around his wrists. After they disappeared through the tent flaps, he turned back toward the stands.

There was no doubt he’d seen me now. He cast a glance at Kat, who wasn’t paying any attention, then headed for the edge of the bleachers.

I hadn’t really thought this part through. I figured I’d leave the safety of the darkness and call to him, that we’d talk at the edge of one row, in the light. But Kat’s presence complicated that, and here he was, coming toward me in his snug black practice clothes. He moved silent as a jaguar that had escaped the cage.

“My mom might have seen you,” he said.

“I’d pretend to be spying.”

“She’d love that.” His cheeks were a little pink, and I didn’t think it was just from the exertion of practice. He was ticked at his mother.

“She’s not a fan of the quad, huh?”

“Now I
have
to do it and soon. I was just messing around that night and then you . . . I can’t let them down.”

“I get it.”
Kiss me again
.

He leaned one firm, rounded shoulder against the side of the bleacher. “Why are you here anyway? Did you find out something?”

Nan’s tarot cards say I’m going to fall. You should kiss me again just in case.

“Sort of,” I said.

His eyebrows arched in question.

“That we need to leave her out of it. But she did admit that she gave your mom the cards.”

“Weird.”

“I know. Can you ask your mom if she remembers our grandparents’ act together? If we knew what caused such a public break when they were working as a team, maybe it would give us something to go on.”

“No.” He shook his head. “But I can give a shot at asking my dad. He might know.”

“We still need the letter from Thurston’s file, I guess.”

We stood, awkward and silent. We weren’t supposed to be friends, just partners in figuring out whatever these strange objects were, whatever weird family history was between the Maronis and Garcias. But I didn’t want to leave.

“We do,” he agreed. “You know I come practice here almost every night?”

I hadn’t. But it made sense. In Sarasota, we had our own practice buildings. On the road, the only space for real practice on the wire or the trapeze was the big top. “On your own?”

“After everyone’s gone,” he said. “Mom insists—she only lets me attempt the quad once in our practices. My night sessions are a punishment.”

“Do they feel like a punishment?”

Remy considered. That was something he did often, I realized. He didn’t just answer when I asked him something important. No knee-jerk response. He took time to roll the question over in his mind. Not like a hesitation, but in respect. He was giving my question respect.

“No,” he said, “I like it. There’s less pressure than when Mom’s watching, when everyone else is. Just me and the shadows.” He waved his hand at the pocket of darkness that surrounded us. “Or, like in Sarasota, the occasional spy.” He didn’t say it accusingly, more with a slight challenge. He added, “You could join me tonight, and we could come up with a way to get the letter.”

There wasn’t a sensible way for me to do it. I couldn’t justify it like I had this morning visit. My family would freak out if I asked to practice late at night when Remy did.

My father’s voice interrupted us, calling from the ring, “Julieta?”

“I’ll see you later then,” Remy whispered. He hurried toward the far end of the row.

“Coming!” I called, before pausing to decide on a cover story. Whipping off my silk jacket, I dashed to the closer side of the bleachers and darted into the light to find Dad frowning at me.

I steadied my breathing and held up the jacket. “Dropped this while I was waiting my turn.”

Dad reached out for the jacket, peering up at my wire and then over to the far side of the ring, to the trapeze swings. His gaze searched the tent, but it was only us and Kat. Remy must already have left.

“Best head up before it gets any more crowded,” he said.

I raised my hand to signal whatever crewman was staffing the rigging that morning to lower the ladder.

Whew
. He bought it.

Guilt nibbled at me, but the attraction of being in the big top after dark with Remy to make our plan was stronger. I’d find a way to meet him. He was expecting me, after all.