“It’s not like we haven’t gone to different schools before. It doesn’t mean our friendship is in jeopardy,” I point out, and the words taste sour, like an underripe lie.
Because I’m not sure what the future holds, but it can’t contain school. It just can’t.
She hums into the sunshine, oblivious to how there’s anguish and desperation creeping around in the pit of my stomach. “You say that, but you’ve never gone to college before. I have three older siblings—it’s a different world.”
A world I don’t want anything to do with.
“Not to mention you’ve always had that look in your eyes, like you were going to fly away at any moment,” she says with a grin, and I can’t tell if she’s joking or not.
I force a smile. “You don’t need to worry. We’re like Ash and Pikachu—nothing is going to break us up.”
Chloe pulls her lip up like she’s snarling. “Can we be Thelma and Louise instead?”
“Way too obvious. Besides, they have the most depressing ending ever.”
“Ash Ketchum has literally spent over two decades trying to become a Pokémon Master. That’s depressing.”
“You’re missing the entire point of his journey, but okay.”
Chloe’s laugh is all bubblegum pop. Light. Happy. Carefree. She stops in front of her car and pulls her keys out of her bag. “If you save some birthday cake, I’ll come over in the morning and we can eat it for breakfast.”
“Deal,” I say.
She waves before ducking into her car, and I walk across the parking lot to the white Toyota Yaris Mom and Dad bought right after graduation. They made it very clear it isn’t my car—it’s just on loan while I go to school because my university is in-state and they’re way too busy to chauffeur me around the city.
I wonder what will happen if I don’t show up to class. Will they take the car away? And how will I get to the gym to train? And will my parents really kick me out of the house and make me figure out a way to pay rent, and bills, and whatever else?
Sometimes I feel like there are so many strings attached to everything they do for me that it makes it impossible to break free. Because I owe them too much. I rely on them too much.
And even though I hate to admit it, not going along with their plans feels like such a deep betrayal.
I’m either making them proud or disappointing them—there are no other options when it comes to my parents.
When I’m in the car, I leave the door wide open, turn on the AC, and lean back in the seat while the air starts to circulate. Tracing my thumb along the steering wheel, I think of all the things I want to say to Mom and Dad. The things I wish I could tell them, about them holding me back, and about feeling like I have so much pressure weighing down on my chest that I can hardly breathe. I think about how much I wish they would hear me, instead of talking over me because they still think being a parent makes them automatically right.
And maybe they are right. But maybe I’m right too.
Why can’t they just give me some room to be me?
I’m already starting to get goose bumps on my right arm, so I pull the door shut and click my seat belt into place. I’m about to press the brake pedal when I glance into the rearview mirror and see Tatya near the gym doors, talking to someone I don’t know. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a tidy beard and tattoos up and down his arms.
And something about her posture—the way she keeps looking toward the parking lot like she’s hoping someone else will turn up, and the way her arms are folded in front of her like she’s putting up a barrier between them—makes me feel like she doesn’t know him either.
I yank the keys from the ignition and jump out of the car. When my foot hits the sidewalk, I use my loudest voice. “Hey, Tatya!”
When she sees me, her shoulders relax. She smiles—the kind of smile a friend gives you when you save them from being hit on by a pushy stranger.
The man’s head snaps to the side like he’s a spider sensing a vibration in his web. And that’s when I notice his eyes—one bright amber, the other mossy green. I’ve never seen eyes like that on anyone before. I mean, I know what heterochromia is because Professor Xavier talked about it in X-Men once. But seeing something so uniquely beautiful for the very first time makes me do a double take.
The man lifts his eyebrows, and I realize I’ve been staring way too hard.
I focus on Tatya. I need a lie—an excuse to get her away from him, whoever he is. “I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to ask you some questions about the new act.” I point toward the gym doors. “Do you have a minute to talk inside?”
She hesitates before letting her face soften into understanding. “Oh. Oh, right! You’ll have to excuse me.” She gives the stranger an apologetic look. “The circus is full of secrets, as I’m sure you know.”
I force an awkward laugh. “Dad would kill me if I ruined the big surprise by blabbing about the new set list in public.”
The man tilts his head. His dark brown hair is peppered with gray and combed flat against his scalp. “You’re Kenji Milano’s daughter?”
He’s familiar with the circus. Maybe I have this all wrong. Maybe Tatya does know him.
I nod. “You know my dad?”
“Only by reputation,” he says with a short laugh before dipping his head toward Tatya. “I should go. But please call me if you change your mind.” He procures a thin black card seemingly out of nowhere. The silver letters glint beneath the sun, but the name is unmistakable.
So are the words underneath.
SIMON TARBOTTLE
MAISON DU MYSTÈRE
RINGMASTER
My heart hammers. And hammers. And hammers.
I once dreamed of running away with Maison du Mystère when I was a little girl, way before I knew how much my parents despised everything about Simon Tarbottle’s business practices.
A circus that travels all over the country—that transforms a quiet, forgotten place of the world into a theatrical extravaganza for just a few nights—was the epitome of magic to me.
Tatya hesitates before taking the card from him.
“I look forward to seeing the performance tomorrow,” Simon says with a smug grin. And then he disappears around the corner as his footsteps fade away.
“Was that—” I start, but Tatya waves her hand quickly.
“Don’t say it. If you say it out loud, it will only make it worse.” She sighs and looks around me as if to make sure nobody is coming. “Please don’t tell anyone. I swear I’m not doing anything sneaky behind your parents’ backs. He just showed up here out of nowhere. But I know what it will look like, and I don’t want the drama.”
I frown. “What did he want?”
She bites her lip. “He offered me a job. He says his aerialist keeps threatening to quit, and he wants to replace her with someone better.”
“Well, that’s quite a compliment. I mean, Maison du Mystère is the most famous traveling circus in the country,” I say.
“And also the shadiest,” Tatya points out almost accusingly. “Everyone knows Simon travels around poaching performers and stealing ideas. He gets away with it because his show is always on the move, but trust me, people in the industry hate him with a passion. Which is why I don’t want anyone to know he approached me. It’ll just upset everyone, especially with all the stress of getting ready for a new season.”