Love Is in the Air (8 page)

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch.”

I expect her to say,
But then I got right up there and tried again,
like all those uplifting stories my parents would try to tell me when I wasn't good the first time around. In other words, I expect her to be entirely unhelpful.

“My pride was hurt worse than my body. But you know what?”
Here it comes.
“I didn't get back on that thing the entire weekend we were there. I just watched from the sidelines and took down notes and figured out what my teammates were doing wrong. I
thought about it every night before bed, going over moves and sequences. And then, about a month later, I went in for a private lesson. It was the first time I'd been on a hoop since I fell, and I figured I'd be scared out of my wits. But I got on the hoop, no problem, and was able to do everything I'd seen my teammates do, but without making the same mistakes they did. I never was the first to be good at something, but I was always the one who refused to give up. I'm pretty sure that's what made me stronger, and I know that's why Olga hired me onto her show. She knew I wouldn't give up, not when I was sick or tired or wanting to do something else. It was persistence, not sheer skill, that made me who I am today.”

I can't help but look at her in a new light—I'd always seen her under the spotlights, always glittering and perfect. It's nearly impossible to imagine her as anything else.

“So . . . ,” I begin.

“So, you shouldn't let this get you down. Maybe flying trapeze isn't your thing. Maybe it is. This week won't ruin your career, trust me. If you're really passionate about something, you'll do it. Girls like you and me don't give up so easily.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. I don't want to be whiny, not in front of her, but I can't help it. “The whole camp knows I'm a coward by now. I'll be the joke for the rest of the week.”

She shrugs. “Maybe,” she says. I look at her—that wasn't the response I expected, but her honesty is, oddly, nice. If a little brutal. “I'm not going to pretend that word won't spread. But I think you'll be surprised—the kids who come to circus camp, well, they aren't
your normal jocks or gossip queens. Not usually. In my experience, we were all outcasts in some way, which is why we turned to the circus to feel at home. Give these guys a chance; they might actually surprise you in their willingness to look past your shortcomings.” She looks at me, considering. “That said, if by tomorrow you really want to leave, you're more than welcome to go. We'll even refund part of your tuition in hopes you try again next year. No one will hold it against you.”

She pauses to let what she said sink in.

“Lunch is in twenty minutes. The casting announcements will be posted near the end, so I'd recommend you try to make it. And by that, I mean you're obligated to go to lunch.” She winks. “Can't have you skipping out on meals—you need your strength.”

“What's the point?” I ask, once again failing at the whole not-whining thing. “It's not like I made it into flying trapeze.”

“You never know,” she says. “And there are plenty more skills to learn under the big top. Don't discount them all just yet.”

She pushes herself from the desk.

“I'll let you be. No doubt Riley will be back here soon to check on you. Do you need anything before I go?”

I shake my head.

“Okay then. Well, I'll see you at lunch.”

Then she opens the door and steps out into the hall, leaving me with the empty room and the fragile hope that maybe the door hasn't closed on my circus career just yet.

•  •  •

Leena was right about one thing. Not even two minutes have passed when Riley comes in, opening the door tentatively like it might set off a bomb. I wonder if she passed Leena on her way here.

“Jennifer?” she asks, peering around the edge of the door.

“Yeah,” I say, and she walks in. A small part of me is ashamed that Riley's treating this like she's intruding on my space when it's her room as well. For some reason, it also makes me a little upset; I don't want her to think she has to baby me. “It's okay, I'm not going to snap at you.”

“Oh, I don't care about that,” Riley says, sitting down on her bed. “I just didn't know if you were still throwing up all over the place.”

“I didn't throw up at all,” I say.
I wanted to, but I didn't.

“Yeah, I figured as much. Megan was telling everyone you got really sick on the trapeze. And I mean,
really
sick, like projectile-vomiting-across-the-field sick.”

I sit up a little straighter and push the blankets off me. Of course Megan was spreading rumors.

“She wasn't even there,” I say.

“Don't worry, no one else believes her either.”

“Why would she say that?” I ask, even though I know precisely why. For some reason, that girl has it in for me.

Riley shrugs. “Jealousy is an ugly monster,” she says. Then she looks at me, a little more serious. “How
are
you doing, anyway? Do you need anything?”

I shake my head. “I just froze. I'm not sick or anything.”

She nods. “Well, the offer still stands. Even if it means you need me to kick Megan's blond butt.”

I laugh, which admittedly feels strange; I didn't think I'd have the capacity for that anymore today.

“Thanks,” I say.

“That's what friends are for—petty revenge.” She smiles, hops off her bed, and tries to pull me off mine. “Anyway, I'm glad you don't need anything, because I actually just came here to drag you off to lunch.”

I put up resistance, but that eyebrow raise of her speaks volumes.

“Never get in between me and my food,” she says gravely. “Sandy learned that one the hard way. At least, that's how I explained those hickeys to his parents.” To accentuate the point, she leans over and nibbles on my arm, making loud gnawing sounds.

I giggle and let her pull me off the bed.

“Okay, okay! I give. I need that arm.”

Riley stands straighter and smiles, then takes me by the arm and skips me out the door.

Chapter
Nine

O
kay, I hadn't honestly expected
the entire lunchroom to stop talking and stare at me when I walked in, but the nagging fear was there as Riley half guided, half dragged me toward the cafeteria. So the fact that I'm able to not only walk in, but get my food and sit at a table without anyone so much as looking at me twice, kind of blows my mind. If this was high school, there'd be at least one group of girls snickering behind my back.

That said, I don't even bother trying to find Megan and her sisters in the crowd—I've no doubt that they're definitely talking about me. Maybe they're still trying to spread the rumor that I threw up all over the trapeze rig. Having Riley at my side honestly makes me not care so much.

Riley and I sit next to Tyler and a couple of his acro buddies.
They all give the cursory hello and then go back to chatting about the tricks they nailed or screwed up during auditions.

“I heard what happened,” Tyler says to me, keeping his voice low. “You okay?”

“I didn't throw up.”

“Shame,” he says with a wicked smile. “It would have made such a good story. So what happened? Vertigo?”

I nod. “Turns out I don't like heights.”

“Join the club,” Riley says around a mouthful of her burger.

“You are just the portrait of a lady,” Tyler says, staring at her.

She grins and lets a few crumbs drop from her mouth. “Yep!” she says happily.

Tyler shakes his head in mock disgust, then turns back to me. “Well, don't worry about it. So long as you stay around this one, you'll always appear to have more social grace.”

“I'm going to pretend I don't know what that means,” Riley says.

“Please do. And chew with your mouth closed.”

In response, Riley makes her gnawing noise again and buries her face in the burger.

I laugh, then look across the cafeteria and spot Branden. My humor dies in my chest; he's sitting beside Megan, her other sisters nearly blocking him from my view.

“What is she doing with him?” I say, not meaning to utter it aloud.

Tyler follows my stare.

“Don't worry,” he says. “She doesn't stand a chance.”

But there's a sick feeling in my gut as I watch them talk. He laughs at something she says, and I don't miss the way her hand brushes against his as she reaches for a napkin. Suddenly all I can think of is Josh, the guy who stood me up, and the way he went for a cheerleader not a week after tormenting me.

“You're totally not listening, are you?” Tyler asks, nudging me with his elbow.

I jerk and look back at him. Was I really just staring at Branden like a lovesick idiot?

“Sorry,” I say. Because he's right, I didn't hear anything.

He sighs.

“I said,
how was juggling? ”
He asks the question unnecessarily slowly.

“Good,” I respond.

“Really good,” Riley says, wiping her mouth with a handful of napkins. “Jennifer's picking it up real quick. I spoke with Jim after the audition, and I think we're going to try to set up a partner ­routine.”

I look at her, surprised.

“What?” she asks. “I told him I wanted to work with you, and he agreed. So yeah. You're definitely in.” She wraps an arm across my shoulders. “And you're stuck with meeee!” she sings.

“I feel so sorry for you,” Tyler says.

“Could be worse,” I say. “I could be stuck in contortion with those three.”

Riley snorts with laughter.

“That would definitely be a worse fate.”

“What about you?” I ask Tyler. “What did you audition for?”

“Acro and rope,” he says. “Though I spoke with one of the coaches who works as a hand balancer professionally. I guess they don't technically teach it during the camp, but he offered to train me on the side. Your boy Branden was there as well, auditioning for Cyr wheel. He's good. Really good. Except at backflips—kid nearly broke his own nose. Too bad he plays for your team.”

“I thought you had your eyes set on the acro boy. Kevin?” Riley asks.

“Oh, I do,” he says. He grins at Kevin, who catches Tyler's gaze, returns it, then blushes and goes back to talking with a ­couple of the girls from my hall. “But that doesn't mean I can't admire beauty. And Branden is pretty beautiful.”

I sigh without meaning to and catch myself staring again at Branden, who's still sitting with Megan and her sisters. Branden, who looks so much more at home surrounded by that much talent and beauty. Tyler says Megan doesn't stand a chance, but I think he's just trying to make me feel better. Branden's cut out to be with someone immensely talented. I've already proven that's not me.

After that realization, it's practically impossible to find my appetite. I pick at the fries on my plate and listen to everyone else talking around me. But I'm already drifting. They're already moving faster than I ever will.

•  •  •

Near the end of lunch, right after they bring out a tray of what I thought were brownies but are actually chocolate-chip granola bars—a terrible misconception, albeit still tasty—Olga nonchalantly walks over to a bulletin board on the wall and pins up three sheets of paper. The casting announcements. She's barely taken a step to the side before half the camp is jumping from their chairs to see them. I'm not among the first, that's for sure; I already know I'm not getting into flying trapeze.

Still, when I do make it up there, I'm a little disappointed to see that I was right. Riley stands at my side and congratulates me on getting into juggling with her, even though that was kind of a giveaway. I feel a little sick to see I was the only one who auditioned who didn't get into flying trapeze. Branden's name is at the top, a reminder that he and I are on completely different social levels. And seeing as how we won't have any training together, I might as well get used to that fact now.

“Such a shame,” comes a voice beside me. The drawl makes my skin crawl. “Here I was hoping we'd get to see more of your amazing aerial acrobatics.”

I glare at Megan, who is staring at the announcements with a contented, malicious smile on her face, like a cat who just ate a large and tasty mouse. Every part of me wishes I had some sort of snappy comeback, but I've got nothing. Not that I have any time to respond. She looks at me, her grin widening.

“It's probably for the best. Can't have you thinking you're good enough for Branden, can we?” Then she winks and spins on her heel,
walking off toward the exit, where the rest of her sisters are waiting.

“I really, really hate her,” I mutter.

“I think the feeling's mutual,” Riley replies. I nearly jump—I'd forgotten she was even standing there. Just shows how much Megan gets to me, seeing as Riley's hair makes her stand out in a crowd. I look around the cafeteria but Branden's already gone, probably off to afternoon practice. “Come on,” Riley says, once more taking me by the arm. “Juggling will help. And if you're really frustrated, we can just start throwing clubs at each other. That's always helped me de-stress.”