It’s Sunday, the morning of New Year’s Eve, and I have to wait until tomorrow to see Queenie Grace and her baby.
“I can’t wait!” I say to Grandma and Trullia. “Today’s going to go so slow. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“You know what they say: Patience is a virtue,” Grandma says, making air quotes. She’s frying eggs, wearing her SpongeBob nightshirt.
“Well, I have an offer from Faith that will help you pass the time,” says Trullia. “She wants you to come to trapeze school today. She wants to teach you trapeze. Free. She’s a better teacher than me, much more patient.”
“Uh, cool? But . . . what if I can’t? What if I’m afraid?”
“You’ll be fine,” says Trullia with a grin. “Just throw your heart over the bar and your body will follow.”
So here I am: in a majestic red tent all set up for teaching trapeze. “Trapeze arts,” as Faith says. Faith shimmers in a glittery silver costume, and Henry Jack is here, too.
“Why didn’t you come over last night?” I ask him. “You missed all the TV people.”
“What do you think I am, crazy?” replies Henry Jack. “I’m in the public eye enough. I didn’t want to be on TV. No way.”
I laugh, punch him lightly in the arm.
“Coward,” I say.
“Who’s the one afraid of everything?” asks Henry Jack.
“Not me,” I say, as Faith hands me a costume in my size. It’s glittery green, like Magic Mountain in summer, like Henry Jack’s eyes.
“I’m not afraid,” I say, feeling the cool green of the sequined costume. “I’m not afraid anymore.”
So I change into my costume, feeling a little silly in the outfit.
“You’re gorgeous, Lily!” Faith says when I come out of the cramped dressing room.
“Yeah,” Henry Jack agrees. “You look pretty cool. Like you actually maybe know what you’re doing on the trapeze.”
“No clue,” I say. “That’s why we have Faith.”
First thing we do is called ground school. Faith teaches me all about how to stretch, the importance of listening to her for commands, how and when to tuck my knees.
“Now for your safety belt,” Faith says, cinching me tight into a harness thing.
“Ow,” I say. “It’s tight.”
“Believe me,” says Faith, “you don’t want a loose belt when you’re dangling up there in space.”
I look up at the bar, the trapeze, the ceiling of the high tent. My heart skitters.
“Okay,” I say. “I guess you’re right.”
Faith brings out a piece of wood.
“This is the same size as the platform up there,” she says. “You’re going to practice with ‘Ready’ and ‘Hup!’ Once you’ve got that down pat, you’ll practice pulling your knees through that low trapeze.”
Faith points to a trapeze not much higher than me.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “It gets easier when you’re high up. The force of the swing makes it simpler to get your knees through. Then next thing you know, you’ll be flying!”
An hour later, Faith still has me practicing climbing the ladder and doing this routine again and again. I know it by heart:
Swing out. Tuck knees, swing from trapeze. Let go of the bar with my hands. Look back with hands out, like waiting to be caught. Grab the bar; take off my knees. Keep legs straight behind. Quickly move forward, back, forward! Tuck knees; release! Fall into the net.
“The net will always catch you,” says Faith. “It’s all about trust.”
Later Faith says I’m ready for catch school.
“Um, what’s that?” I ask as Henry Jack grins and pumps his fist.
“That’s where I fly on that trapeze, and you fly on that one,” Faith explains.
Faith points to the bars on either end of the tent, the wire stretched between them. This quivery wire looks way too thin, the bars not strong. My heart thuds.
“You’ll fly, I’ll fly, we’ll meet in the middle, and you’ll let go. You’ll just trust me and let go, and I’ll catch you.”
“Uh, but what if you don’t?” The world inside the tent spins dizzy.
“I’ll catch you,” says silvery Faith with a big smile. “But don’t forget, there’s the net. There’s always the net.”
I climb the ladder, step onto the platform. Breathe. Take a big breath, breathe again. I reach out and grab the bar, put my body over the lower bar. I throw my heart over the bar and my body follows, just like Trullia says.
Another breath, a glance down at Henry Jack. Faith yells, “Ready! Go!”
And so I do. I go. I fly. I let go with my hands and I reach out for Faith. She catches me and we swing, flying high. My stomach is in my head; my head is in the sky; my heart swoops.
I am flying.
And as I fly, I catch a glimpse of someone who has come into the tent to watch. It’s my mother, her face lit up with pride.
“You did great,” Henry Jack says as we walk back toward Grandma’s house after my trapeze lessons. “You weren’t even scared.”
“I was, just a little bit. But I tried to fight it.”
Henry Jack nods, flipping back his hair.
“That’s all it takes sometimes,” he says.
George is walking toward us, all jaunty in his blue jeans and beret.
“Hey, kiddos!” he calls.
“Hey, George,” Henry Jack and I answer in unison. We all stop and give one another high fives. Except for George and us, it’s more of a low five.
“What are you two up to?”
“Oh, just passing time until we go see Queenie Grace and her baby,” I say. “I learned to fly! Henry Jack’s mom gave me trapeze lessons.”
“Fabulous,” George says. “I’m just heading home to take care of Boldo and give him his medicine. Hey, why don’t you guys stop by? Old Boldo loves company, and he especially loves the young’uns.”
“Sure,” says Henry Jack, while I hesitate.
“Um, I’m kind of scared of lions,” I say.
George smiles.
“Boldo will fix that,” he says.
I think for a minute. I need to be brave, to push past my fear. And, what the heck, I’ve already learned to fly today!
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”
And so I’m in George’s tiny trailer, petting an enormous lazy lion. Boldo has green and yellow eyes and soft fur, and he moves his head like a gigantic cat as I scratch him behind his ears. He looks hypnotized, so relaxed, and that makes me relax, too.
“He’s really sweet,” I say, as Boldo gazes up at me and presses his huge head to my chest. His fur feels like my favorite winter coat.
“Of course he’s sweet,” says George. “He’s my baby.”
“I didn’t know wild lions could be this tame,” I say.
“If you work with them and give them love,” he replies, “they will give you love in return.”
“How old is he?”
“Too old. He may not have much longer,” George replies, his eyes sad. George reaches out and strokes Boldo’s head.
“Awwwww. He’s so nice. It’s not fair,” I say.
“But he’s had a great life,” George says. “He’s loved and been loved, and isn’t that all that any of us could want, before we leave this earth behind?”
“Yep,” says Henry Jack, “my brother was really loved, too. And he loved us.”
I swallow hard. I feel so bad that Henry Jack lost his twin.
“You get it, kid,” says George. “Life is short, ya know? So you just gotta go for it. Seize the day! Leap for joy! Eat ice cream!”
Boldo is making this contented growly purr, rubbing his head against me.
“Want a Boldo hug?” George says to me.
I don’t even have to think about it.
“Sure,” I say.
“Stand up. Get ready for the best hug of your life.”
I pull away from Boldo and stand up. The lion does, too.
“Hug,” George says to the lion. “Hug Lily.”
And he does. Boldo the lion jumps up and puts his front paws on my shoulders; I fall back a little from his weight, and George supports me from behind. And then Boldo pulls me into the softest, furriest, best hug ever. It’s tight and fluffy and Boldo is huge, full of power and wildness, but I’m not one bit scared.
I hug him back.