willingly mentor my own replacement.” Maggie doesn’t blink.
Every word is laced with poison, and my entire body is an open wound.
Shrinking into myself, I try to fight the powerful urge to burst into tears right this very second. “I’m not here to replace you. It’s just an internship.”
“This isn’t a school.” Her voice is black ice in total and utter darkness.
At first I’m only vaguely aware the room has gone quiet, but then I hear the sound of my pulse reverberating through my eardrums. Apart from the sizzling of the fryer below us, it’s the only sound in the room.
Every single person here is looking at me.
Because I am the thing that doesn’t belong.
The rumble of an engine grows outside the Lunch Box. A black motorbike winds around the disassembled rehearsal tent, the rider’s face hidden beneath a dark helmet, before zipping between a row of motor homes and toward the back of the camp.
Maggie doesn’t glance out the window, but a smile creeps onto her face as the sound of the engine fades. She looks down at Vivien and flutters her lashes. “If you want to surprise someone with your new roommate, why don’t you go find Vas? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled—especially when he finds out Simon somehow conjured the entire winter set list from Teatro della Notte this morning.” She turns to me flatly. “When did you arrive again?”
And then she twists her kitten heels and joins her friends in a booth near the back.
My heart is no longer just hammering—it’s a wrecking ball pounding through concrete at the top of a skyscraper.
She knows what I did. And now everyone else will too.
I tuck my arms around myself as I get up and head for the stairs with my head lowered in shame.
Not even Vivien tries to stop me.
CHAPTER TEN
What was I thinking? Of course the lead aerialist of Maison du Mystère doesn’t want anything to do with me.
This isn’t just my dream—it’s hers, too. I’m just some random person who is getting in the way of her job.
Mom and Dad were right. I never think things through.
The realization that I may have made a horrible decision makes me queasy. I made a deal with Simon that he may not have the power to enforce. I mean, he brought me here so I could train with Maggie.
He never said Maggie would definitely agree to it.
And he already has the set list—I have no bargaining chips left.
Besides, I’m not sure it’s as easy as begging Maggie to change her mind. Not with what she knows. It’s not that I want to give up so easily, but I’m not sure how to recover from “the girl who stole Teatro della Notte’s set list and ran off with a rival company.” She already doesn’t trust me.
So why on earth would she help me?
Somehow the weight of my phone hidden in my pocket triples. Quadruples.
Mom’s always been a fixer, but could she fix this?
No, I tell myself. And she wouldn’t want to. Not after what you did.
I’m on my way back to my trailer when I see a young man wearing a leather jacket unzipped in the middle, revealing a gray V-necked shirt and a silver chain around his neck. At first glance I think it’s a cross, but when he gets closer I realize it’s a dagger. He looks about my age. Maybe a year older.
I move to the left to avoid him, but he moves too. We move to the right, left, then right again.
He stops in front of me, his brow furrowed and a black helmet tucked under his arm. He has thick, messy hair that curls at the ends. Beneath the desert sunlight, it shines the color of honey.
He must be Vas—the one Maggie was talking about. I don’t know why he would care about me or the set list, but I gathered from her tone that this is someone who is destined to hate me when he finds out what I’ve done.
The hollow space in my throat grows and grows.
And to think—once upon a time, I was good at making friends in the circus.
When he speaks, his voice is stiff, but it doesn’t hide the accent that rolls off his tongue. “I’m not all that fond of dancing, I must admit.”
He sounds British, and American, and maybe something else, too, like his accent is multiple colors swirling together to make something new. Something blended.