The news spreads like wildfire before anyone’s even made it to breakfast: Maggie quit last night, got on a plane to London, and is the new lead in a world-class circus show that is no doubt going to skyrocket her to superstardom.
It’s a huge deal. Even I’m impressed on her behalf.
Simon, however, has been in a rage since he woke up and read her resignation letter.
I hear him inside his trailer, objects clattering and animal-like roars escaping through the thin metal walls.
Jin falls into an empty chair next to where Vivien, Dexi, and I are sitting beneath the awning outside the Lunch Box, where Sasha has called an emergency meeting.
“He’s taking it well,” Jin says.
Vivien whistles dramatically.
“It’s not like she hasn’t been dropping hints for the last year,” Dexi mutters, scooping up a bite of fruit muesli.
“I didn’t think she’d quit. I mean, not this soon,” I say, thinking about our conversation last night and searching for a telltale sign.
I guess that was her way of saying goodbye.
Sasha appears near the table, his eyes a bit worn out. He glances around the grassy area, counting heads, and claps his hands together. “All right, everyone. As you know, Maggie left us last night and has taken a job with another troupe. We all wish her the best, and her presence here will certainly be missed.” In the background, Simon throws something so hard that one of the windowpanes rattles. Jin covers a hand over his mouth to hide his laughter, and some of the other performers flatten their lips and stare intensely at the ground.
I think I’m the only one who doesn’t find the whole thing wildly amusing.
Maggie’s gone, which means Simon doesn’t have a trapeze artist.
As of this moment, I’m the only person in Maison du Mystère with a chance of taking her place.
This isn’t amusing—this is an opportunity.
Sasha crosses his thick arms, sending warnings like laser beams from his eyes. “But we now have the problem of replacing our closing act.” The pounding in my chest feels limitless. “The plan is to rework the lineup a little bit and have the Terzi Brothers close. Our thought process is that as long as the audience leaves laughing, they won’t miss out on the magic Maggie’s act brought to the show. Galip and Emin, does that sound okay to you?”
The brothers both nod in agreement, and I feel like I’m watching a sandcastle crumble within my fingers.
After the meeting, I stay beneath the awning. Everyone is running around frantically making decisions to draw out acts in places, and add more comedy in others, all to cover up the gaping hole Maggie has left in the show.
I wait until the late afternoon, watching the door to Simon’s trailer, anxious for even a hint of movement.
Finally, he shows his face.
Dressed in black—his everyday uniform—he has a cell phone in one hand and a notebook and pen in the other. He’s already typing hurriedly on the screen of his phone, and I know if I don’t say something now, he might bury himself in another phone call and disappear somewhere I can’t reach him.
“Simon? Do you have a minute?” I ask.
He doesn’t hear me, so when he almost runs into me, his face crumples in confusion. “Whatever it is, take it up with Sasha. I’m a little busy at the moment.”
I think about what Maggie told me, about being assertive and taking charge of the moment.
I clear my throat. “This will only take a second, I promise.”
He raises a brow, his thumb clicking the end of the pen in a mechanical pattern. “Well, then a second is what you’ll get.”
“I want to replace Maggie as the new trapeze act.” The words don’t tumble out of me—they burst.
Simon doesn’t bother looking amused. “Kid, don’t waste my time.” He starts to move around me, but I cut in front of him. It’s what Maggie said I should do, right?
I won’t let Simon stand in my way—I’ll get in front of his.
He sighs and holds up the paper in his hand. “You see this? This is a list of some of the best trapeze artists in the country, all who’ve been interested in Maggie’s job in the past.” He pauses for effect. “Your name isn’t on it.”
“But none of them know the routine like I do. You’d have to train them—spend time that you don’t have. But I know Maggie’s routine perfectly. I’ve even practiced it. And I know how everyone else works, and what would be