The Show of a Lifetime

Chapter One

A/N: This was my prized possession of a story when I was younger. I wrote it after a dream I had when I was 16, but I never completed my idea (because I never do). This gem means the world to me, so much so that it has undergone at least two revisions within the past three years. I hope you can enjoy it in the current state it's in! We shall see where the story goes, and the characters develop. I gotta go find my story notes in my old notebook LMAO

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"Hey, Michael!" I shouted, standing on my tippy toes to see over the bustling crowd of students. I waved spastically to try and catch his attention but had no luck. I could see his curly brown hair above most of the students. I made the choice to rush through the crowd, attempting to run through it. As I said, attempted. I might be small, but it doesn't make me any better at weaving through crowds. I was about to reach Michael, hand an inch away from his shoulder. But just before I made contact I was slammed into, crashing onto the cold cement of the sidewalk.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, looking for the culprit from my spot on the ground. They were already gone, whoever they were. Michael seemed to realize it was me by my shouting, and quickly rushed over to me.

"Wow, what a clutz." Was all he said, grinning as he offered me his hand. I slapped it away, pouting as I pushed myself off the ground.

"How dare ye!" I spoke sarcastically, brushing off my jeans. I finally realized my bag wasn't on my shoulder, my papers and textbooks were scattered on the ground along with my bag. I squeaked in surprise, falling onto my knees and scrambling to pick up my homework. The students didn't seem to realize they were stepping on someone's homework, so most of my worksheets were crumpled and covered in muddy footprints. "No!" I exclaimed, hurriedly shoving the papers into my bag, "These are due today! How are they gonna read it? It took me hours to finish all of these!" I cried out, standing up with my backpack.

"It's not that bad, just explain the situation and hopefully they accept it," Michael said, pushing his hands into his coat pockets.

"I guess so..." I murmured as we made our way towards the school. "How was the show last night?" I decided to ask about his job, trying to distract myself from my situation. He tensed at the mention of the circus, as he always does. I wish I knew why.

"Good enough."

"Something clearly happened, you can't fool your best friend," I frowned, glaring at him as my boots clicked on the tile floor.

"I just fell during the trapeze act, I slipped off the bar." He shrugged, not looking at me. I didn't buy it, but let it go as I always did. He wouldn't talk, he never tells me the truth.

We entered math class, and Mr. Roswell seemed distressed. "What's wrong Mr. R?" I asked as I put my backpack on my desk.

"Eliza didn't come home last night."

"Your daughter?" He nodded, fiddling with his hands.

"Yes. She went to the city circus, but for some reason, she didn't come home afterward. She isn't picking up her phone, and hasn't said a word to me." Michael tensed in his seat, looking away from the gray-haired teacher.

"I'm sure she's okay sir. She's eighteen and can take care of herself. She'll surely be home soon." I wasn't sure if that was true but had to reassure him in some way.

"Michael, you work there, don't you? Did you see her?" Mr. Roswell turned to him, brown eyes filled with desperation. Michael opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth, shaking his head. Mr. Roswell sighed, slumping into his chair. I looked at Michael. He really didn't seem okay. When the bell rang signaling that school would start soon I pulled out the math worksheet, and showing it to the despondent teacher.