Cirque Magnifique performed on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Sasha and Toddy liked to sit near the old train tracks and watch for the first set of lights at the top of the hill that told them the ferry had arrived and the audience was on its way. The lights came, breaking the indigo twilight with beams of yellow, and came some more as the cars descended into the valley, a single line of people mesmerized with the possibility that they, too, would touch a bit of magic that night.
Cirque Magnifique’s shows were always sold out, the big tent always full of travelers from just across the sound, from over vast seas, from beyond mountains and deserts. They were tourists from all the far-flung locations of Sasha’s imagination. The only people who never came to the shows were the people who lived on the other side of the island. They avoided the Cirque at all costs.
Sasha sighed when the last car topped the hill and began descending down to the Cirque. She stood slowly, her body aching all over, and took her brother’s hand.
“Come on. Storm’s going to be back on tonight.”
The storm season had kept its promise, as it did every year, bringing magnificent squalls to the island, but tonight the drops held off until every last ticket holder was safe and warm inside the big tent, and then the skies opened, pouring buckets of rain, joining the audience’s applause until it sounded like the whole world was being trampled under the thundering of horses.
Sasha paced in the dressing tent, pulling her hair tightly back from her face and yanking on the straps of her leotard. The costume was getting too small—or she was getting too big—and the straps dug into her shoulders. Mom noticed and promised a new one before tomorrow night’s show.
“You’re going to be amazing tonight,” Mom said.
It was the first night of the new show, Reflections, and the first time Sasha and Dad would perform their new trick. But Sasha was disgruntled. Her parents didn’t know just how not-amazing she was. Which was why Sasha hid all the school event notices and pretended school conferences never happened. Her mom said she kept up on Sasha’s progress in school, but Sasha never asked what her mom and her teacher talked about. She didn’t want the shame of her family knowing how awful she was.
Sasha sighed. Her fingers twitched around the book she’d brought into the dressing tent—it was such a luscious fantasy—but even that story had lost its luster. With a frown, Sasha pitched the book under her mom’s makeup table to gather dust, then plopped on the floor, joining Toddy and the puzzle he was putting together until it was her turn to make an appearance in the big tent.
Toddy was the only one in the family who didn’t have a part in the show. Tonight Sasha wished she didn’t have a part either. She wanted to sit on the floor and listen to the rain and curl under a blanket with her brother when the inevitable thunder began its rumble across the sky.
Aunt Chanteuse was putting her makeup on in front of the big mirror and caught Sasha’s eye in the reflection. The old woman pursed her red lips, seeming to know what dark thoughts permeated Sasha’s mind, so Sasha looked away quickly. She was tired of having to pretend everything was all right. Instead, she watched her mom choose a glittering headdress for her performance.
“Jenny Myers is having a slumber party tonight and she invited all the girls from our class,” Sasha said to her mom, as she tugged at the leotard straps again. Sasha didn’t know why she told her mom about the party. She never told her mom about the things that happened at school.
Mom paused with a red feathered headdress in her hands. “Why didn’t you bring me the invitation? We would have let you go. I’m sure one of the stagehands could have taken you over in their truck after the trapeze.”
“Because she invited everyone but me.”
“Why would she do that?”
It was the first time Mom had asked Sasha that question—why?—and she looked genuinely puzzled. Mom thought Sasha was a different person than everyone else thought she was, Sasha figured. Mom didn’t know the truth, that Sasha was horrible. Unlikeable. A freak. Sasha knew things about Smoke and Light that the other kids didn’t know, and they mocked her for knowing. They all hated her, and it was Cirque Magnifique’s fault. It was her mom’s fault, for coming to the Cirque in the first place. It was her dad’s fault for being here even before that. And it was both their faults for not knowing how she and Toddy were treated. It all made Sasha furious.
She threw a puzzle piece onto the floor and pushed her fists into her eyes. The air in the room changed, becoming heavier and taking on a slightly sour smell. “Because we’re the Cirque freaks! Everyone hates us.”
“Sasha. That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is! They make fun of Toddy and call us names and won’t play with us at recess.” Sasha opened her eyes and stared at her mom. But something else caught her attention. Smoke lingered lazily at the edges of the dressing tent entrance, as though waiting for an invitation to come all the way in. The color on the bottom of the walls began to fade, and a pinch of dust fluttered down from the ceiling. “I wish I were a normal island kid and not a Cirque freak. I wish I had a pretty house like Leslie and normal clothes like—”
“What’s wrong with your clothes? I can take you shopping tomorrow morning, if you want.”
Sasha huffed. She felt like she was growing. Being filled with something hazy and thick. “I don’t just want new clothes. I don’t want to be here at all. I don’t want all these other freaks around us. I want . . . a new life. I want a new family. One that’s normal. I hate this. And I hate all of you!”
Sasha’s mom picked up the puzzle piece Sasha had thrown and gently set it on the floor near Toddy. She stood. The beads on her costume rattled and glinted. Normally Sasha would think the rows of glitter the most beautiful thing in the world, like jeweled lamps bobbing on dusky water, but right now it all looked garish. The colors gleamed at her maliciously, taunting her with their brilliance.
Mom brought Sasha’s fists to her daughter’s side slowly and brushed the hair out of her face. “Every family who loves as much as we do is normal, even if we seem different from every other person in the world.” She tucked a finger under Sasha’s leotard strap and frowned. “You’re right. This is much too small. Why don’t you take the night off? I’ll do your part, and you can finish the puzzle with your brother. Tomorrow we’ll go to the store.”
“I don’t want to take the night off, and I don’t want to go to the store. I want to . . .” And finally Sasha yelled the thing she wanted most, the terrifying and awful thing she wanted to happen to the Cirque. “I want to disappear. I want us all to disappear forever!”
Aunt Chanteuse chirped disapprovingly. “Miss Sasha! That is not a thing you wish on your worst enemy.”
“I don’t want to wish it on them. I want to wish it on me! I want the Smoke to come and gulp us down!”
“Oh!” Aunt Chanteuse gave a last sweep of her makeup brush and stood.
Sasha’s mom said nothing more, but she gathered her daughter in her arms and held her tightly, then let go and left for the big tent with Aunt Chanteuse. The mix of anger and sadness rolling in Sasha’s chest confused her. She wanted to do her job, because she loved responsibility, but she didn’t want to do it, because it made her a freak.
“I don’t want the Smoke to come,” Toddy said calmly. He didn’t look up at Sasha—she wasn’t sure she could handle the look in his eyes if he did—but Sasha could feel waves of disappointment rolling off him.
I don’t want it to come for you, Sasha wanted to say, but her tongue seemed to twist in ten different directions and she couldn’t get the words out.
Instead Sasha plopped onto the floor and immersed herself in the puzzle so that the icky feeling in her chest would go away. She thought if she ignored it long enough, it would fade, but many minutes later, with the moon overhead and surges of lightning cutting the sky, Sasha still had the urge to scream and cry. The feeling had only gotten worse. A simmering, dark thing. The puzzle was finished by now, and Toddy was curled up with a book. Sasha couldn’t sit still, though. Smoke kept filtering into the tent, and Sasha watched it obsessively. Would it be better if they all transformed now and went into the world in their new animal disguises? What did it mean for it to be someone’s time, anyway? No one had ever told her the whole story of what the Magician had done all those years ago, but she wanted to know. She wanted it to happen again. Sasha was so tired of the way people treated her that she was sure it was her time. Time to run away, time for relief from the things that squeezed her heart until it felt as shriveled and tiny as a raisin.
Sasha looked at her brother. He looked content, and that made Sasha even angrier. How could he be so calm?
“I’m going to the big tent,” Sasha announced. She had to get away from all the quiet in the dressing tent. It helped her think too much. “Stay out of trouble,” she said to her brother. Toddy didn’t answer, but he turned the page in his book and kept reading, and Sasha thought that was as good as a yes.
Sasha pulled her ballet flats on, snapping the elastic across the top of her foot so that it smarted, smoothed her flyaway hairs as best she could back into her snug ponytail, and ducked into the rainy night.