I think I’m the only person in the world I can trust right now.
I just wish it weren’t so hard to remember why.
* * *
Maggie’s feet balance carefully on the metal bar, the static trapeze lifted high above the room like a grand chandelier at the heart of the big top. Except instead of crystal shards or an abundance of candles, there’s a woman with lavender hair and a smile that explodes across the room with all the brilliance of a fireworks display.
I can only imagine what she’ll look like in full costume. She’s wearing pink yoga pants and a black sports bra, and she still looks like magic incarnate.
Dexi told me the flyers and aerialists are the only ones who rehearse in the big top because of the way the equipment is set up. But a few months ago, Simon lost his flying trapeze act to another troupe. Since then, it’s just Maggie who trains in here, four days a week with two spotters, like she’s circus royalty.
Gripping the ropes, Maggie pulls herself off the bar and does a backward roll. She slows into an upside-down pose, the muscles in her arms sharp and lean. With incredible control, she holds herself for five counts, before lowering herself back onto the bar. In one fluid movement she pulls her entire body upward again, this time pointing her toes and stretching her legs into an oversplit, her teeth flashing like every movement is effortless.
I stay close to the back of the ring, trying not to draw her attention while she’s performing, but when the bar lowers and her toes graze the floor, her large eyes snap toward me like a rubber band.
“This is a closed rehearsal,” she says. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
I try not to let her see me flinch as I walk toward the center of the ring, not wanting to shout my thoughts from the stands. I’m not sure my voice would even carry that far—not when I feel flimsy and nervous and desperate for her to train me.
“Simon says I’m allowed to shadow you. I thought maybe—” I start.
“The thing about shadows is that you don’t notice they’re there.” She circles her finger toward me like she’s motioning to every inch of me.
I bite my lip, reminding myself this is not the time to start blurting out whatever pops into my head first. She clearly doesn’t like me. I need to neutralize that somehow.
I could even forgive her for all the rumors she’s spread, if she’s willing to give me a clean slate.
“I don’t want to get in the way,” I say firmly. “I just want to learn.”
Maggie stares at me for a long moment, and hope starts to brew in my chest. I imagine her eyes softening, her shoulders sinking into a sigh when she tells me to come closer so she can teach me about technique and style.
But I guess my imagination has always been too big for this world, because none of that happens. Instead, she points behind me and purses her lips. “Take a seat at the back, where you won’t be a distraction. You can watch the routine—be a shadow, if that’s what you want. But I don’t have time to help you, or answer your questions, or do anything other than what I always do, which is rehearse. Do you understand?”
I clench my teeth and nod.
She fluffs her hair. “I know you think I’m being a bitch, but this is my career. I work hard—too hard to have Simon play his silly mind games, and for entitled, starry-eyed strangers to think I’m supposed to drop everything to teach for free.”
The bright lights send my brain spiraling into a panic, but I try to speak anyway—to tell her she’s wrong. “This isn’t a mind game, and I’m not starry-eyed. I’ve wanted this my whole life. I just—”
She tuts. “You don’t honestly think Simon would’ve taken you on if he weren’t trying to get to me? He calls me his Sapphire Peacock. And do you know the thing about birds? They fly away, eventually. Not because they have to, but because they want to. And it doesn’t matter how many jewels you decorate their cage with—a bird will always be a bird.” She shrugs. “He’s trying to get under my skin—and you’re getting in my way. But when I’m ready to leave this cage for something bigger, neither of you is going to be able to do a thing about it.”