sorry, but this was never going to be a permanent arrangement.”
“But you said I could perform. You said if we—” I start.
“You did perform,” Simon interjects. “And you can perform through the rest of the week. But as soon as the new aerialist has the routine down, I’m swapping you out.”
My eyes burn hot.
“Don’t take it so hard, kid,” Simon urges, his voice void of empathy. “There’s still a place for you at Maison du Mystère. Just not as the closing act.”
Vas clenches his fists beside me. “You tricked us. You manipulated us into coming up with an act knowing full well you would replace Harley.”
Simon tuts. “It’s business. It’s not personal.” He turns for the door but looks over his shoulder. “And I’m still keeping your song, so it’s not all bad news.”
I close my arms around my ribs. Usually I have such a hard time keeping my words in, but I’m not sure words even exist in my head anymore.
Everything is dark.
Empty.
And I can’t breathe.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
I must be balancing on a spinning top, because the world is wobbly and shifting and I can’t focus on anything in front of me. Even Vas appears to be swaying, his hands trying to hold me up by my shoulders, but I’m sinking fast onto the floor.
The tears don’t stop pouring.
Why did I think I could do this?
Why did I think I was good enough to be here?
I feel like I’ve learned this lesson before, a hundred times, but never like this. Never so clearly thrown in my face.
Simon is replacing me.
And at first I’m wondering where I messed up, and if my poses weren’t good enough or my leg extensions not high enough. I wonder if I looked too much like an amateur on that stage, and if that’s why Simon changed his mind.
But he didn’t change his mind. This was his plan all along. There was nothing I could have done to make him keep me as a performer.
Because I’ve never been good enough—not from the start, and not at the end—and maybe everybody knew it but me.
Why did I have to get so carried away?
And why did people let me?
I see my tears fall onto the floor. One, two, three drops, all morphing together to form a puddle.
Vas is trying to call me back to him, but I don’t know how to recover. I don’t know what to do next. My head is screaming to run forever, through the walls and across water if I have to, to get as far away from here as possible.
But where would I go?
I’ve burned every single bridge I’ve crossed.
My chest aches and aches and aches, until I’m not sure I can take another second of it. I’m not sure I can come back from this kind of fall.
My body feels broken. Everything feels broken.
I’m squeezing the fabric of my costume because I need to hold on to something that feels real when I hear her voice.
“Harley?”
And then his.
“Are you okay?”
I look up and see Mom and Dad standing in the doorway. But are they real?
And if they are, how are they really here?
In that moment it doesn’t matter if they hate me. Because I need my parents more than anything.
I’m on my feet and in their arms, sobbing into Dad’s checkered shirt that smells like home. My real, tangible, grounded home, and not the fantasy I’ve been so desperate to live in.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I say through sobs. “You were right—I don’t belong here.”
“Oh, honey,” Mom says, kissing me on the top of my head. “I don’t understand. What’s happened?”
“I just want to go home.” I pull my face up and look at them both. “Please, can I come home?”
Mom’s face softens. She looks at Dad, who is only looking at me.
He pulls me into his chest. “You can always come home, Harley,” he says. “Come on. Let’s go get your stuff.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
I’m stuffing all my clothes into my duffel bag when I hear the trailer door fall shut. The noise makes me jump, and I find Vas standing a few feet away, his eyebrows as furrowed as ever and his mouth half open.
“You’re leaving? Just like that?” I can hear the hurt in his voice.
But this has nothing to do with him.
I turn back to my bag, shoving the last pair of socks into the corner and pulling the zipper closed. “I don’t belong here.”