Chapter 9 | Near Misses And Skeleton Kisses
[Song of choice: Taylor Swift // Wildest Dreams]
The next week idles by like a bicycle trying to overtake a bus. I pedal hard to get through a mountainous pile of homework but it keeps on building in a pyramid on my cluttered desk. On the fourth night since my first meeting with Jack and Rani, I close my Modern History textbook and roll over on the carpet floor, bleeding with boredom. Dreamcatchers jingle softly above me, doused in bars of sunset gold from the open window.
My eyes sweep my clustered bedroom, misting over psychic balls, tarot cards and healing stones, before settling on the posters I've been collecting over the span of my life---advertisements for The Riveria Circus. Some are glossy and brand new. Others have started to curl at the corners, ancient as brown-tinged parchment, but I can still see them printed behind my eyelids when I close my eyes. Red background, fancy font in gold: dare to enter only if you can dare to dream.
I close my eyes and smell ripe toffee and cinnamon when I recall the first time I visited The Riviera Circus. I was five, Sam was fifteen, and Dad was still alive. We had to drive for hours to get to Mablethorpe just so we could catch the world's most renowned circus before it departed for the Middle East.
There was an air of excitement when we got out of Dad's rusted red Toyota. Cars and coaches were cluttered on the grass bed, hundreds of families streaming out. Kids were tugging their parents and waving their golden tickets in the air. Rooted in a field of grass that spanned for miles, the canvas tents were striped red and gold, too many to count. Clowns were walking on stilts by the gated entrance and were breathing fire into the cerulean sky. The line was so long it spiralled like the shell of a snail. It was supposed to be the last day of summer and autumn leaves were already pirouetting in the sky, a streaming ribbon of red and gold. I caught one in my hand and crushed it in my tiny fist.
Sam crossed her arms when we finally reached the ticket booth and scowled at the clown nearest to her. "I can't believe I'm missing the back to school party for a freak show."
Dad's eyes sparkled. "The Riviera Circus isn't a freak show. It is a place of dreams. Right, Monkey?"
I nodded solemnly, eyes as wise as an owl and bright as night. "Dare to enter only if you can dare to dream."
Dad reached out to ruffle Sam's cherry-blossom pink hair but she ducked into nearest tent, the largest of them all, muttering scathingly to herself, "I hate my life."
I laughed from my spot on Dad's shoulders, chattering wildly as we took the last remaining seats at the far edge of the stage. The stage lights were already dimmed as the last few latecomers took their seats and quietened down.
A balding man with a tailcoat and powdered face took to the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it is a great honour to introduce the next first act of the night. The greatest escapologist of our time. The boldest of the brave. Every magician's envious flame." He raised his arms and boomed exuberantly, "Put your hands together for Madame Penelope."
A willowy woman magicked out of thin air, hidden behind a cloud of purple smoke. She wore a one-piece bathing suit and a glamorous top hat. Her face was heavily powdered, eyeliner thicker than a marker pen and eyebrows straighter than a needle. She surveyed the crowd wearing an alluring smile and took a deep bow.
Madame Penelope spoke in a clear voice, icy water to the quiet of the audience. "Would a member of ze audience please come forth to inspect ze tank?"
I sprang free from the first row and leapt onto the stage. The audience laughed along with the host magician. I was five. I was no credible eyewitness.
