Our final performance starts at four in the afternoon.
With so much to do before then, I expect the rest of the day to fly, but it doesn’t. It crawls.
Before lunch, we pack. Then we strip our beds and leave the blankets, sheets and pillow-cases in a pile on the dorm floor.
Hana makes me promise to Skype her once a week. “That way,” she says, “I can see you and also practice English.”
“Hey, what about my Korean lessons?” I say. “So far, all I know is pal-kkum-chi and boricha and…what’s the name of that flower on your back again?”
“Mugunghwa,” Hana says. “But please do not say anything about tattoos to my parents when you meet them.”
Suzanne has given me permission to skip flex class and juggling so I can keep working on my star rolls with Terence. Genevieve won’t be in la palestre with us. When she tells me Suzanne needs her help putting together the program for this afternoon, I wonder if it was Terence’s idea. I think he wants a break from Genevieve.
We spend the first half hour reviewing my double and triple star rolls. After I do two triple star rolls in a row without making a single mistake, I look at Terence. Before I even open my mouth, he gives me the answer to the question I was about to ask. “Maybe,” he says.
Everything about circus camp feels different this afternoon. Partly it’s because the building is so much quieter without Leo and Guillaume’s laughter. Partly it’s because we all know circus camp is almost over. Though most of us have only known each other for two weeks, it’s hard to imagine not being together anymore. And, of course, things feel different because we’re excited—and nervous—about today’s performance.
At lunchtime Suzanne comes to the cafeteria to make a few final announcements. She reads them from a list. “As you all know,” she says, looking up from her sheet, “Leo has been sent home to Brussels. Like all of you, he was warned about breaking camp rules. Though we consider what he did a serious offense, it is his first, and I thought I’d let you all know, since Leo is your friend and I know you care about him, that his application to MCC will still be considered.”
Guillaume jumps up from his seat, slaps his thigh and calls out, “Yesss!”
Suzanne continues reading. “I also want to let you know I had an email this morning from Anastasia. Her father’s condition has stabilized, and she asked me to wish all of you good luck this afternoon. There will be a short reception after your performance. If your parents are here, be sure to invite them. Dormitories must be vacated by six. Good luck to all of you this afternoon. I hope I’ll see some of you at circus camp next year—or in the building, if you come back to attend MCC.”
I get shivers when Suzanne says that. I know my chances of being accepted into MCC are better now that Genevieve is injured. But if I’m accepted, will I be able to talk my parents into letting me move to Montreal and do high school here? I think my mom would say yes. But would my dad come around?
When I’m putting away my tray, Suzanne taps my shoulder. “I need to speak to you privately, Mandy.”
“Is something wrong?” I’m remembering how Suzanne needed to talk to Anastasia privately after her father’s heart attack. “Is it my dad?” It’s the first question that pops into my mind.
“Everyone’s fine,” Suzanne assures me. “But your mother’s plane has been delayed. She telephoned my office just now from the Vancouver airport. She was hoping we could delay the performance until she got here, but I explained that that was impossible. I’m sorry, Mandy.”
I tell myself I’m not the only one whose parents won’t be at the performance. Guillaume’s parents live too far away to make the trip, and it’s too expensive for Genevieve’s parents.
After lunch, it’s back to la palestre. Terence and I have another forty minutes to work together. Halfway through our session, he looks at me and says, “Okay.”
I’m confused. “Okay?”
“Okay, I’m thinking I might let you do the triple star roll this afternoon. Once—for your finale. To make it pop. You’ve been doing so well and working so hard. But only if you think you’re ready for it.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
“Just make sure you keep your back straight.”
After that, the time does fly. In fact, now it’s going too quickly. I only get to practice the move twice more because the riggers need to set up la palestre for the show. There are metal folding chairs in every corner of the room. It will be a three-ring circus, a tribute to the old circus tradition. Throughout our performance, there will be three separate acts for the audience to follow.
There is only time for a hurried rehearsal. Outside la palestre, relatives and friends gather for the show. We can hear the excited hum of conversations. Gillian, the flexibility coach, is wearing a whistle around her neck, and when she blows it, we follow her out the back door of la palestre to the equipment room. We’ll be back in ten minutes, after the audience is seated.
When we hear the first chords of “Gonna Fly Now,” the theme song to Rocky, it’s our cue that the show is about to begin. We form a line and jog back into la palestre. I can feel the music filling me up. Soon I’ll be doing the triple star roll, which is about as close as I’ve ever come to flying. If only Mom could be here to see me do it!
Those of us not performing in the first act move to the back. Guillaume is doing the phonecall routine Genevieve and I saw Leo do at the beginning of circus camp. Genevieve is sitting up at the front, near the rope and tissu. I catch her eye, and she nods at me.
Guillaume pretends to telephone an older lady who is sitting in a chair near him. When he blows the woman a kiss and she blushes and covers her mouth with her hand, the audience cracks up.
Guillaume saunters over to the lady and sits down in her lap. He’s slipping his arm around her shoulder when he notices the man sitting in the next chair—it must be her husband.
Guillaume lifts his hands into the air so the audience can see them trembling. He pops up from the lady’s lap and slinks away in the direction of the equipment room. On his way he pauses, catches the lady’s eye, takes out his pretend phone and calls her again. From the way he grins, we can all tell he’s trying to arrange a date to see her later. He puts the phone back into his pocket, winks at the audience and disappears.
There’s more laughter from the audience and applause too.
Hana and two other girls are on the mats, doing the pretzel. Hana’s feet are over her head, and I can see right into her eyes. She looks at me without blinking, and when she smiles, I know her smile is for the whole audience, not just me. Hana might have been homesick, and her English still needs work, but I’m beginning to understand that she has what it takes to become a circus star. Sure, she’s hardworking and talented. But she’s got courage too.
I’m waiting by the rope when I hear Carly Simon’s voice begin to sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” The riggers have just finished arranging the flowerpots and garden hose. I don’t know why, but I’m not nervous. Maybe it’s because my mom’s not here. Except for the friends I’ve made at circus camp, no one in the audience knows me. If I screw up…I stop myself. I’m not planning to screw up.
I’m excited. I’m ready.
I’ve practiced hard and long, and I want to share what I’ve learned at circus camp. I want to show the audience what I can do—and how much I love my rope.
My arms and legs work together as I climb. I feel strong, confident. My act is becoming automatic, the way Terence told me it would if I practiced hard enough.
The audience lets out an appreciative aah when I do my single star roll. Wait, I think, until you see my triple.
I’m working and I’m playing. And now, already—how did the time go so quickly?—it’s nearly the end of my act and time for my triple star roll.
I climb nearly to the ceiling of la palestre and gaze out at the audience beneath me. Genevieve is in the first row. Her injured leg is elevated on a chair, and she is craning her neck to watch me. Terence must be there too.
I take a deep breath and prepare to invert. The rope is hanging on my right side. I concentrate as I wrap it over my right thigh, then three times around my waist. I tug on it to make sure it’s secure. I look up at the carabiner. When I do, I think of Louise.
This time, though, thinking of her doesn’t make me feel afraid. Louise died a terrible, senseless death, but she died doing what she loved. I am lucky to be able to do what I love too. If one day I make it and become a professional aerialist, I won’t climb only for myself or for the audience. I’ll climb for Louise too.
I take another look down at the audience. Why is Genevieve waving her hands? My first thought is that she’s trying to distract me. Trying to ruin my performance. How dare she do that?
I look up and away from Genevieve. I can’t let her rattle me.
I hook my toe on the rope. I can almost hear Terence’s voice in my ear, telling me, “Release! Now!”
But I don’t. Something stops me.
That’s exactly when I realize what I’ve done. I’ve wrapped the rope over the wrong thigh. And now I can see Terence waving at me too. They both know that if I let go now, the rope will set me on the wrong side. I won’t be able to move at all. I’ll be trapped in the air like some dumb bug caught in a spider’s web.
Carly Simon is singing, “Down came the rain and washed the spider out…”
There’s just enough time to make the fix. My fingers are shaking, but I manage to loosen the rope from around my thigh. When I wrap it around my left thigh and then three times around my waist, I start feeling more like a spider again. I hook my toe, and as I release it from the rope, all I can think is, Thank you, Genevieve!
When I dangle in the air, and when I slide down to the mats, the audience is clapping. Except for Genevieve and Terence, no one else seems to realize how close I came to screwing up my finale.
A few people are actually standing up and giving me an ovation. I feel proud and embarrassed at the same time, but I take a bow.
Only when I’m lifting my head and looking at the people who have stood up do I realize who is in the audience. My mom. She must have caught another plane. How else could she have made it to the performance on time? I feel myself starting to tear up. Not only because my mom just saw me do a triple star roll at the MCC, but because my dad did too. He is standing next to her, clapping his hands.
I can’t hug them until the reception, which is being held out on the terrace.
When I get there, I spot my parents talking to a distinguished-looking Korean couple. Hana’s parents.
I expect Hana to rush to them, but she walks over calmly. “We are so proud of you,” they tell her, and then they kiss her.
Hana’s mugunghwa tattoo is covered by her leotard. I wonder if she will show the tattoo to her parents when she is back in Korea, or if she will continue to keep it a secret.
“Mom! Dad! You made it in time! Dad, I didn’t know you were coming.” My voice breaks a little.
“He decided at the last minute,” my mom says. “When he saw me packing my suitcase, he got on the computer and booked another ticket.”
Mom won’t stop hugging me. On another day I might feel embarrassed, but not today. “You were amazing,” she says. “You never told me you were practicing the triple star roll.”
Dad is watching us. “I nearly screwed up that last move,” I tell him. “I was about to make a really dumb mistake—”
“But you fixed it,” he says. “I saw you adjusting the rope up there, so I figured something must’ve gone wrong. You made a mistake. It happens.” He’s watching my face. “But you fixed it. That’s what’s important. Fixing things. I’m proud of you, Mandy.”
Dad is hugging me now too.
Hana taps my shoulder. “I want you to meet my mother and father, please,” she says. And then I spot Genevieve hobbling toward us.
This reception is starting to feel like another three-ring circus.
I want to hang out with my mom and dad, and I want to meet Hana’s parents, but first I need to talk to Genevieve. I tell Hana and my parents I’ll be right back, and I walk toward her. I’ve never seen anyone get around as quickly on crutches as she does. Something tells me she’ll be back on the tissu sooner than anyone expects.
“Hey,” I say to her. “Thanks for what you did. You saved me from looking like a total idiot out there.”
“That would have been something, wouldn’t it?” Genevieve says. Her eyes are dancing. I think she’s picturing me trapped in my rope. “Anyway, you don’t have to thank me. You’d have done the same thing for me.”
I nod my head. It’s too hard for me to speak. I think the reason I’m getting all emotional is that this time, Genevieve is right.
I would have done the same thing for her.