22

DON’T LOSE YOUR HAIR

This ladder doesn’t feel so safe. It sways from side to side as I climb. The Frenchman, who must be the head trapeze artist, is just below me. Three other trapeze artists are already up the top waiting. The ringmaster is describing our act to the audience, but I can’t hear what he’s on about. All I can think about is how high up we are.

‘You are ready, oui?’ asks the Frenchman.

‘I did a wee before I came, thanks,’ I reply. I peer out into the tent and can see Coach Bennett and Justice. Next thing, there’s a booming drum roll.

‘When I say ‘go’, you go,’ instructs the Frenchman, handing me a swing.

The swing feels slippery in my sweaty hands. I brush the pigtails away from my face. ‘But — ’ I say.

Too late! He pushes me off the platform. I swing out over the ring, holding my breath, then swing back to where I came from, holding on for my life. As I swing forward again, it feels like I’m picking up speed. This time, I catch Justice’s eye mid-swing. I swing back again, but the leader is hanging upside down on the trapeze above me. He holds his hands out and shouts at me to let go. But I just swing back towards Justice again.

I swing forward. ‘Justice, it’s me brah!’ I say.

I swing back. I swing forward.

‘What? You lost your bra?’

I swing back. I swing forward.

‘Justice, it’s me man! Dylan!’

I swing back. I swing forward.

‘What the … ? Dylan, is that you?’ yells Justice, looking confused.

I swing back. I swing forward.

‘Yep, it’s me.’

I swing back. I swing forward.

‘You look creepy as, bro!’ says Justice.

I swing back. I swing forward.

‘Shut up!’

I swing back. I swing forward.

‘What are you doing here?’ Justice asks.

I swing back. I swing forward.

‘Saving your butt,’ I reply.

The Flying Frenchman or whatever he’s called is getting angry with me.

‘Let go of the swing!’ he urges, reaching down.

As I swing towards him, I let go and grasp his hands with mine. The audience claps. It must look good from down there. The Frenchman throws me up in the air, making me do a double somersault, and then catches me again. The crowd goes wild as we swing back towards Justice’s platform.

‘The Broncos want Deadly D back!’ cries Justice.

The Frenchman throws me up into the air again and another man on a trapeze below catches me. They throw me back and forth, like a footy. The crowd loves it! As I pass Justice, I can see he looks worried.

‘Um, Dylan?’ he yells.

‘What?’ I say, swinging past again.

‘Your hair!’

‘What about it?’ I say, swinging back.

‘It’s coming off!’

I know that the game is up. My beautiful black wig with the pigtails has fallen off and landed in the safety net below. The Flying Frenchmen look confused. The ringmaster is wild. I let go of the leader’s hands and drop down to the net. I need to get Justice and Coach Bennett off that platform!

Socks and Jocks run towards the net. Jocks has his white pointy hands outstretched and he lunges forward to grab me. I jump down from the net, execute a deadly side step and take off. It sends them off balance but then they take off after me. I probably look ridiculous pulling off wicked moves in my costume, but I reckon the tights help me run faster. The crowd still thinks it’s all part of the show. As I run out of the ring, they clap and cheer. The lion tamer brings his big cats out to distract the audience.

‘Quick, get him!’ shout the clowns.

It’s dark outside the ring and I’m tripping over ropes, chains and boxes. I think I might’ve stepped in some camel poo as well. Luckily, I see a clear path to the pole that Justice and Coach Bennett have climbed up. But when I grab the rope ladder, I realise it’s been cut. So instead I hug the pole like it’s a coconut tree and I hoist my body upwards. I’m close to the top when someone grabs my left ankle. Jocks is on the pole below me! He’s wearing a harness around his waist so there’s no chance of him falling. But if I fall, I’m cactus.

‘Let go of me, you red-nosed, make-up-wearing psychopath!’ I yell.

I try and shake my foot free, like I would in a tackle, but Jock’s holding on too tightly. When his other hand grabs my right ankle, I’m totally stuck. I use all my strength to grip the pole, but Jocks is too strong and my fingers start to slip. I look up at Justice, but there’s nothing he can do.

‘Dylan!’ he yells. ‘Don’t let go! You can do this cuz!’

I wish he was right, but my grip is getting weaker. With one almighty pull from Jocks, I fall.

The last thing I see is Socks laughing up at me, and then I face plant into the ground. Everything goes black.