into a smile. “I suppose everyone knows your parents own Teatro della Notte too?”
The world slows to a stop. If I were able to breathe, I’m sure I would see the cloud of air still in front of me like I’m trapped in a photograph.
“Who told you that?” My voice is hollow.
Maggie shrugs. “The circus is a small world. We trade gossip as often as we trade performers. And my boss going to Las Vegas to poach a performer he intends to replace me with is most definitely gossip.” She lets out a sigh. “Look, I’m not here to reveal you or anything like that.”
“Then why are you here?” I ask angrily.
“To tell you I get it now. I understand you.” She shrugs.
Is that… resignation on her face?
I don’t believe it. I can’t.
“I thought you were just a girl with a circus fetish who desperately needed a rude awakening, but now I realize you’re just like me.” Maggie blinks, her gray eyes as bright as glass. “You’re ready to put your ambition in front of everything—even your relationships.” She pauses. “Even your family.”
“That’s not—” But I can’t finish my sentence.
Because she’s right, and we both know it.
Feeling remorse or wishing things could be different doesn’t change the fact that I came here because I cared more about myself than about anyone else.
Not wanting to hurt people doesn’t change the fact that I did.
Maggie steps closer, her pink heels leaving temporary dents on the padded floor. “People automatically call me a bitch because I’m driven and I don’t waste my time on distractions. But if I were a man, do you think for a moment they’d associate those qualities as negative? No. They’d praise me as a hard worker. They’d find my initiative and determination impressive. But women are snobs and brats and whatever else. Because I don’t smile and take people’s shit, or accept less than what I deserve.”
She circles around me, her voice growing less patient. But she’s not being aggressive—she wants to be understood.
“I don’t doubt any of that’s true, but you tried to get everyone to ignore me. You tried to alienate me. And I know assuming you’d teach me anything wasn’t right, but you didn’t have to make it so difficult for me. I just wanted to belong.” It feels good to let my thoughts out.
“Like I said, I didn’t understand you at the start. But that’s also why I’m telling you this now.” She stops in front of me, eyes calculating. “You can’t get through life always being the good guy. At some point, someone is going to take advantage. And the nicer you are, the more often it will happen. People call me a snob and a bitch, but so what? I’ll embrace it if it means my voice will actually be heard. Ambition doesn’t always work well with nice.”
I bite my lip. “I… don’t know if I agree with that.”
“You don’t want to agree with it, because you don’t like the idea of people hating you. But the higher you climb, the greater you might fall—every trapeze artist knows that. So toughen up your heart, because ambition is more than a sword—it’s armor, too. Wear it well on your way up the ladder, and fight off the people who want to drag you back down.” Maggie shrugs. “Consider that the most important lesson you’ll ever learn from me.”
I pause. “Why are you helping me all of a sudden?”
Maggie laughs. “Because if someone early in my career had told me this, it would’ve saved me a lot of time holding myself back over some ridiculous feeling of belonging.”
“Sounds kind of lonely,” I argue.
“It’s lonely at the top because the truth is, nobody wants to see you up there,” she warns.
Her words swirl around my mind like they’re trying to find a place to fit. And I so desperately want to reject her advice, but parts of it make more sense than I want to admit.
Silence consumes the room for a long, long time.
I look back at her not as someone who did something unforgivable, but as someone who might be a little closer to a reflection than I let myself realize. “Have you changed your mind about training me?”
Maggie’s laugh fills the room. Dazzling, cruel, and so unbelievably beautiful. “No. I think you’re doing just fine on your own.”
She leaves the tent, her soft lavender hair hanging near her shoulders, and I wonder whether I’ve underestimated her just as much as she’s underestimated me.