“This didn’t have anything to do with you. It was about me,” I say, wanting to be firm.
“Oh, believe me, I know that,” she says, but it comes out like a sigh. Maybe she’s going to let this one go. “So where are you?”
I twist my mouth and look around at the desert landscape. “Somewhere in Arizona?”
“Is that a question? How do you not know where you are?” She pauses. “Who are you with?”
“Look, if I tell you, you have to swear you won’t tell my parents. I’ll tell them when I’m ready, but I need time to figure some things out. So this has to be between just you and me. Promise?”
“Of course I do, Harley.”
I take a deep breath. “I joined Maison du Mystère as an apprentice trapeze artist. I’m going to train here, and gain some experience, and maybe even one day perform in the big top. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’ll never get a chance like this again, and I just had to take it. I had to, because my parents don’t support me and they don’t understand what this means to me and things are just so messy at home and I can’t go back there. I can’t give up the circus. I need this like I need oxygen to breathe.”
Another long pause.
“I’m happy for you. Honestly, I am. But, I don’t know…. I think you should call your mom. She’s really worried,” Chloe says. “So was I.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Are you sure about that?” Her voice pounds into the phone like a hammer. “Because your mom said the last time you got this obsessive about something was right before November.”
November. My heart rate picks up, and I feel my fingers dig around my side. I can’t believe she’s talking to my mom about November.
She’s supposed to be my friend, not Mom’s. Since when did she start caring whether my parents are worried or not? Since when did she become so… not on my side?
Besides, it was one bad month. One bad day, really. It’s ridiculous that everyone wants to hold it over my head for the rest of my life. Like I’m not allowed to have one bad day.
“I have to go,” I say thinly. “There’s a lot of stuff to get ready for.”
“Okay.” Her voice sounds sunken.
“Remember, you promised.”
“I know. I won’t say a word.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I hang up, shove the phone back into my pocket, and try to push the bubbling feelings of dread from my stomach. Dread that Mom and Dad will never forgive me, that my best friend is turning on me, and that I have no idea what I’m doing but I feel like I’m on a moving train that I really don’t want to stop.
This is my journey. Maybe someday everyone else will understand, but for now, I really don’t care.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Vivien says it normally takes about twelve hours for the Lucky Thirteen to finish load-in, but that’s only if everything goes smoothly. It could take up to twenty if there are any issues at all—including bad weather, which thankfully the Arizona skies don’t seem to have in the cards.
Though the ring crew is still setting up the big top, most of them visibly sweltering beneath the afternoon sun, the rehearsal tent has already been constructed. It sits a handful of yards away from the Lunch Box, the red fabric as bright and rich as a candy apple.
Vivien and Dexi lead me inside the tent for Monday’s roll call, and my stomach twists and turns like it’s the first day of school.
The floor is lined with foam padding, but the equipment is still mostly in pieces at the back of the room. I spot a net, silk ropes, a hoop, and a mess of wires in the corner that sets my heart on fire.
Simon Tarbottle stands in the middle of the room, and the rest of the troupe circles around him before settling onto the floor. The sound of electric drills and metal hammering onto metal is too loud to avoid, but Simon doesn’t seem fazed, his mismatched eyes darting around the room as he hands out this week’s schedules.
My eyes scan the list. Rehearsal times for every act, show times for Thursday through Sunday, group workout sessions on Mondays and Wednesdays… It’s everything. Everything I’m finally a part of.
I can’t stop grinning. My very first schedule.
I’m so happy, I could explode.
That is, until Maggie walks into the room, her face void