Love Is in the Air (18 page)

W
e start the group rehearsal
almost immediately after lunch. As one, the entire camp assembles in the one tent none of us has stepped foot in since the camp started: the big top. Chills roll over my skin the moment we step inside; this is it. This is my dream coming to life. Today, even though it's still technically just a rehearsal, I make my debut as a big top performer.

I settle in on the bleachers beside Riley and Tyler. Olga is in the center ring, chatting with a few of the coaches. The rest of the staff is sitting on the ring curb—the red ring that encircles the ­carpet-covered stage. Once the entire camp is assembled, Olga claps her hands for silence. The whole tent goes still.

“This is it, troupers,” she says, walking back and forth like a ringmaster taking control of the stage. “Today is the day all your
efforts culminate into a show. You've all worked very hard for the last few days, but I'm afraid the hard work isn't over just yet. This is where your dreams become a reality. To get there, however, we'll need to push just a little bit more. I'm hoping the show last night inspired you to dream bigger, strive harder. You'll need that motivation for the training ahead.

“Over the last few days, you've not only learned new skills and routines, but you've also learned about your fellow campers. You've made new friends and creative allies, and hopefully you've discovered more about yourselves and your art form in the process. Our sincerest hope as your coaches and confidants is that this is just the beginning of your circus career. Consider tomorrow's show a stepping-stone. The applause is all yours, but it is just a taste of what's to come.”

Then she begins to discuss the show order. My dreams of going on first and getting it all over with are short-lived. Juggling is right after the intermission, which means I not only have to wait through an entire first set, but twenty minutes of milling around with family and friends as well. The only perk is that my nerves will get a small puncture right away; the entire company will go on at the start of the show for an opener called the
charivari
. Apparently, this means I'll come out juggling and end in some group pyramid we'll be practicing soon. I just hope this means my stage fright will be able to take a backseat for the rest of the show—maybe the adrenaline will last?

And then, after a few minutes of discussing how the overall show will run, we get right into practice.

If I thought rehearsal with Riley this morning was work, group rehearsal is an entirely new level of stress. We spend a good thirty minutes blocking out the
charivari
, making sure everyone knows their entrance cues and choreography. Riley and Tyler and I do a three-person pyramid for our final pose that consists of me standing on both of their knees while they hold on to each other's hands in a sort of chair pose. I don't know the name of the pose, but I do know I wasn't made to do partner acro: It takes all my willpower not to shake so hard that I topple over. Turns out standing still on two people's knees is actually a lot of work.

The perk of this is that my focus is entirely on the work at hand. It's only when we take our first break that my brain switches over to worrying about later tonight. There's a small part of me that's still hoping Branden will dump Megan and ask me to the dance—not that I want to let Luke down like that—but when I look over and see him standing at the water cooler, those hopes drown. He's standing there with Megan at his side, her arm looped through his. As if on cue, he looks back to me right then and catches my eye. Once more, I can't figure out his expression; it almost looks a little apologetic and a little hurt. Then again, I'm probably just projecting.

Megan turns her head when he looks away and stares straight at me. She winks. I'm
definitely
not projecting there—her expression is smug, and it puts me on edge.

I turn away and spot Luke in the crowd, practicing backflips with some other acro kids. He notices my glance and
gives me a wave, then goes back to spotting his friends.

You're being ridiculous,
I chastise myself.
A week ago you would have killed to have a cute boy ask you to a dance. And now you're dragging your feet because he's not the one you thought you wanted. Just give him a chance. You never know—he might be a real gentleman.

So I swallow what little pride I have and convince myself to give tonight a chance. Stop hurting myself because Branden isn't stepping up to the plate and actually enjoy my time with the boy who did. It still feels like walking into some weird trap, but that's probably just nerves as well.

I know one thing for certain: Showbiz certainly messes with your perception of things. It's hard to tell where the stage ends and real life begins.

After the break, we go into the actual run-through of the show. It's our first chance to see everyone perform their acts, and the pressure is on. I mean, I know everyone's supportive—this is our collective show, and we all want it to be good—but I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through the tent. I'm not the only one who's never performed in a big top. I'm not the only one whose dream is about to be realized. Or trashed.

We run through the
charivari
once more and then disperse into the bleachers to block the rest of the acts. The clowns go on first, wearing some crazy tie-dye lab coats and saying they've discovered a way to go back in time. Their skit is actually really funny, and that's coming from a girl who usually doesn't like clowns. They don't do any pie-in-the-face humor. It actually has some wit to it.

Near the end, the three clowns stumble into their time machine—which is just a giant cardboard box decorated with stars and painted-on clocks—and the lights dim. The music changes to some time-warp-sounding synth. When the lights come back on, the clowns fall out of the box just in time to nearly get run over by the Cyr wheel group.

Luke and the other three performers—two girls and one other guy—are amazing. Luke seems to be the leader. As they all roll and spin around one another in perfect time to the music, he rolls to the center of the ring and starts spinning incredibly fast, cartwheeling at dizzying speeds before rolling around like a spun penny, going faster and faster and lower to the ground until I'm sure he's going to fall. He doesn't. He manages to spin back up to standing and then rolls back into the group for a few more tricks and spins. When they all stop and take a bow, I know I'm clapping louder than anyone else.

Suddenly the fact that Luke asked me to the dance seems like some sort of honor, like it's a miracle he even noticed me, let alone asked me out. I'm not normally one to look at the people around me like we're all ranked, but when I watched Luke perform, he definitely seemed like he was on an entirely different level. Out of my league.

If only I could convince myself that my singing actually was good enough to capture his attention.

Right after their act, the contortionists take the stage. My excitement from before immediately melts into a sick sort of envy.

The Triplets are stunning. They're wearing sleek checkerboard-sequined leotards and perform on a raised golden pedestal. When the music starts, they begin twisting all over one another, contorting into moves I'm pretty certain aren't humanly possible. I hear Tyler mutter, “Cyborgs,” beside me, and I stifle a laugh. But it's hard to make fun of them; their act is solid. I sit through the entire thing with my mouth agape and this growing knot in my chest.

This is why Branden chose her,
I think, as Megan does a one-armed handstand on top of her sister's raised leg.
She's talented. She's more than talented. She's a goddess. She takes risks. And you were too scared to climb a stupid ladder. What made you think you had a chance?

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I'm my worst enemy. I can't focus on the rest of the contortion act once those vile thoughts seep into my mind. Thankfully, the act is up before I can get too aggravated—both at Megan's smug grin and my own frustrating lack of courage. The next group to go on is the clowns again, but their skit is dulled by the dialogue racing back and forth in my head.

I should have just climbed that dumb ladder. Then Branden would have chosen me and I wouldn't be sitting here, wishing I was good enough.

But then some small, rational voice in me whispers that I shouldn't have to try so hard, that I should just be myself. After a few rounds of this back-and-forth, I realize it's not just about
Branden. This is about me. This is about being good enough for myself.

Not climbing that ladder meant I copped out on the one dream I'd been harboring for years. Branden was just a side note. The real disappointment was that I'd given up on myself.

And I wouldn't have another chance to make it right.

Riley taps me on the arm, snapping me from my reverie. I glance at her to ask what she wants, then catch the movement on the stage.

Branden.

It's time for the flying trapeze routine. Time to see just what, precisely, I was missing out on by being a coward.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

W
atching Branden do his routine
is just another reminder of how far out of my league he is. After the coaches confer for a few minutes about the choreography and the flying trapeze net is rigged in place, he and the other performers begin climbing the rope ladders on each side of the ring. Branden goes up and mounts a trapeze first, flipping himself upside down and latching his legs to the bar. Just watching him makes my heart soar up into my throat. Vertigo snakes its way through my chest. My palms go cold and break into a sweat.

Branden swings back and forth a few times while another guy climbs up and grabs the trapeze on the other side of the ring. Branden claps his hands and the other guy jumps out on the trapeze, swinging fast toward Branden, until he reaches his peak and
lets go, doing a double flip in the air and catching Branden's hands. My terrified heart stops during the entirety of that leap, right until the two boys' hands clasp and it's clear no one's going to fall to their deaths.

“He's good, isn't he?” Megan whispers from behind. I can practically hear the smile in her words. “So talented. So
brave
. I'm so lucky he asked me to the dance. I can't wait.”

If my jaw clamped any tighter, my teeth would grind to dust. Branden switches off with another performer, completely oblivious to the two girls quietly warring it out over him less than fifty feet away.

At that moment, Riley steps in—she turns around in her seat and gives Megan a death glare.

“If you don't shut up,” Riley whispers, “I'm going to use your eyes as juggling balls. Got it?”

Megan just laughs to herself and leans back in the bleachers. She smiles and waves, and my attention goes back to the center ring. Branden is staring right at us. He looks concerned.

Probably because Riley's face is almost as red as her hair. I think she's angrier than I am.

I shake my head and take a deep breath, try to force down the fight-or-flight response that—for the first time ever—seems to be geared toward
fight
. I don't know how Megan manages to get under my skin so easily, but I'm more than ready to have her out of my life. I try to focus on the trapeze artists. Well, all of them except for Branden, who's once more grabbing the trapeze and
swinging across the ring. My palms are still freezing with vertigo. What made me think I could ever do that?

Maybe that's why Branden didn't ask you out.
If only I could get Megan's taunts out of my head. I think I'd have a greater chance of getting her to apologize—like I said, I am my own worst enemy. And that's including Megan on the list.

The trapeze act finishes with every performer taking turns on the trapeze bars and doing insane flips, then plummeting to the net below. My pulse speeds up every single time they dismount. By the end, I'm actually a little glad it's over; I don't think I could handle much more adrenaline.

I don't know what brought on the switch. I always loved watching the flying trapeze before this, always daydreamed of doing all the daring tricks and flips. Maybe it's because I now know just how terrifying it is up there. Well, sort of. Halfway up the ladder doesn't really count.

The trapeze group filters off to the bleachers. Branden gives one more glance my way—or maybe it's at Megan, hard to tell and I don't really want to know—before sitting down beside Luke. Uh-oh. I know it's conceited to think they're talking about me, but when they both glance over, I can't help but think the worst. At least neither of them starts laughing and pointing.

Not that I know why they'd do that, but if this were a movie, it would be a prime moment for some embarrassing gesture, when Branden convinces Luke he picked the wrong girl.