I am still sitting there at lunchtime when Frankie (who turns out to be a girl with a boy’s name) and Mish come in to run through audition pieces with Sarah. They’re both about my age. Mish comes in wearing a white leotard with a short fluorescent pink skirt. She’s small and compact, and she’s stuffing some kind of muesli bar down her throat before she starts stretching out on the acromat. Frankie is laughing loudly and swinging her suntanned arms, which all at once seem strong and soft. She’s got those kind of eyes that crinkle up and shine so her face gets taken over by cheek. She’s wearing a bright bold blue singlet and knee-length black leggings. She flashes an inquiring grin at me.
‘I’m Frankie,’ she says, sitting down opposite and taking off her sneakers.
‘I’m Cedar.’
‘Oh, you’re Kite’s friend?’
‘Yep.’
‘Well, we all love Kite here. Hey Mish, this is Cedar, Kite’s friend.’
Mish lifts her head from the acromat and waves.
‘You’re auditioning, aren’t you?’ says Frankie. She’s pulling on some kind of leather pads over her ankles.
‘Yeah,’ I blush a bit. I’m embarrassed to admit it. I feel like they might be scornful; they might think I’m an upstart.
‘It’d be great if you get in. Good luck,’ she says, and her eyes are sparkling at me.
‘Thanks.’ I feel shy in front of her because she seems entirely comfortable, like if she was a tree she’d be a very strong, shining, happy big one. Maybe she’d be that spreading elm tree on Punt Rd, the one I’d like to become.
‘How long have you been in the circus?’ I say.
‘Since I was eight. Me and my friend Elsie joined at the same time. But lots of kids come in older. Have you met Matthew?’ She nods her head in the direction of a tall, thin, freckly boy who’s trying to balance a red bucket on his nose while juggling clubs.
‘Matt,’ she yells at him, ‘come and meet Cedar.’
Matthew drops his head, lets the bucket fall into his hands and lifts his nose towards us, squinting. Then he nods and lopes over, with a club in each hand. He looks awkward.
‘Hi,’ he says. Frankie takes over.
‘Tell her how you joined. She’s auditioning. Tell her what a great family we are, so she feels welcome.’ Frankie leans her head back and lets out that loud peal of laughter again as she wanders out to the mat to warm up.
Matthew is wearing a big baggy black T-shirt. He sticks a finger in his ear and scrunches up his face as if he’s not sure what to do. So I start.
‘How long have you been in the circus?’
‘Two years. I was fourteen when I came.’
‘I’m thirteen.’
‘Yeah? Well it’s great here. Changed my life.’
‘Are you a tumbler?’
‘Nah. They’re trying to teach me. You have to learn it, but I’m so stiff. I’m a juggler. Taught myself in my bedroom while I was at school.’
‘Did you go to school in Melbourne?’
‘No, I’m from Sydney. But hated school. See, I had a lisp. So I was bullied. I found out about this circus, wrote to them, sent them a video, and now I board here with another family.’
‘Doesn’t your mum mind?’
‘A bit. But she’s glad because I’m happy. I’m much more confident now. I used to be shy of being myself. Now I am myself. ’Cause people here appreciate you. Back home, no one appreciated a bedroom juggler.’
‘Yeah, right. I can imagine. I was a closet cartwheeler.’ He laughs at this, and because I’ve already asked too many questions I don’t ask another, and since he doesn’t ask me anything we both start watching Mish, who’s on the flying trapeze. She’s wearing a harness, and Sarah’s holding the other end. She’s swinging it high, and then she drops off backwards and hangs from her knees. I love the noise it makes, the whoosh and the thump when she drops. It’s all so dramatic.
‘Oh, she’s good!’ I say.
‘Yeah. But you wait till you see Frankie. She’s the best.’
Obviously, I think to myself, I’m not the only one to notice Frankie’s star quality. Matthew picks up his clubs and wanders back over to pick up his bucket trick. I watch him for a minute, thinking how he looks like an ordinary guy but the thing is, he’s not. He’s doing something brave, and he’s doing it himself. He’s made his own decision and he’ s determined. I watch that bucket fall off his nose three times and each time he catches it, props it back up and starts juggling again.
When Frankie climbs up the rope for her routine, I watch the whole thing. Matthew is right of course; she seems to fly higher, float longer and flow through tricks effortlessly. There’s one crazy thing she does where she tries a huge upside-down twist in the air and the first time she falls, though the harness suspends her in mid-air and Sarah goes flying up because she’s the weight on the other end of the rope. The second time, Sarah’s yelling out, ‘Feet, feet,’ but Frankie gets it. Mish claps. Someone else whistles.
‘Boy, what’s that called?’ I ask Mish.
‘It’s a hocks, full twist to clicks. Clicks is where you hang from your feet.’
‘Looks hard.’
‘Only Frankie can do it.’
‘Doesn’t it hurt, to catch yourself with your feet like that?’
‘Kills. But you get used to it.’ She points to her feet and shins. They’re bruised and red. I let out a sympathetic breath.
‘Ouch. Still, must be fun.’
‘It’s the best. You’ll love it.’
I smile at her. One thing’s clear, I think, as I wander out to find some lunch, no one here seems to be one bit protective or exclusive, or even snobby. That sure makes me feel good. Though, I guess I haven’t really met Lola yet.