“This doesn’t involve you, nerd,” Megan says coolly. Her sisters flank her like a pair of blond bodyguards, though neither of them look entirely comfortable with what Megan just did. Especially Sara, who’s staring at her sister like she’s the biggest jerk in the world.
Which, of course, she is.
Riley’s knuckles go white. Even Tyler and Kevin are standing on the other side, watching the show warily. I reach out and grab Riley’s arm to prevent a swing. I’m still sitting down; I’m not about to engage in this. Not with all the coaches around.
“She’s not worth it,” I intervene.
“Funny, that’s what Branden told me last night.” Megan’s words slash at my heart. Sara puts a hand on her arm, though Megan’s not gearing up for a fight. Physically, at least. She’s working the emotional damage angle. “Guess that’s why he chose me.”
I grit my teeth. My own hands clench.
“Is there a problem here, ladies?” comes Leena’s voice. She strides up behind the sisters and places a hand on Megan’s shoulder.
“Of course not, ma’am,” Megan says, putting on her sweetest voice. “Jennifer was just a little clumsy, that’s all. Leaned back and accidentally bumped into me. That’s all.”
Then she flips her hair and walks away, her sisters trailing obediently behind. Another apologetic glance from Sara. Which is fine and all, but I really do wish she could put a leash on her sister or something.
For a moment, all of us stand there, staring at the retreating sisters. Leena looks bewildered.
“There’s always one,” she mutters to herself. Then she shakes her head like she just caught what she said, her cheeks flushing pink. “Is there something going on between you two that I should know about?” she asks, going all businesslike again.
I shrug. “Not really.”
Riley opens her mouth like she’s about to protest, but I yank her arm and force her back to sitting down. She says nothing.
“Okay,” Leena says, disbelief clearly laced through her words. “If something happens, let me know. We don’t want any bad blood in this show.” She glances back to the triplets, sighs, and looks to me. “Anyway, great job last night. We’re looking forward to what you guys pull off for Saturday. Enjoy the show tonight.”
Then she leaves.
“Ugh,” Riley grumbles once Leena’s out of earshot. “I really want to deck that girl.” She looks to Kevin. “If only you were doing hand-to-hand with her. You could drop her on her stupid face.”
Kevin tries to hold in his laugh.
“Just leave it,” I say, before they can start complaining. “She’s not worth the waste of breath.”
Thankfully, they don’t push the subject, and we go back to talking about the show. Well, they do. I just sit there and stew silently. A part of me really wants to ask Sara what’s going on. But I have a funny feeling that, nice to me though she is, she’s still on Megan’s team.
Which is interesting, because I don’t ever remember signing up to be part of this game.
Chapter
Twenty
I’ve seen the Karamazov Circus every year for as long as I can remember, but the show we go and see—which is almost an hour away by van—is a completely different sort of spectacle. The Karamazov show was always in a big top; even though there were sparkling outfits and grand music and bright lights, it had a sort of old-world charm, like it was all kind of antique. But this show, which is just called Nine Limbs, is entirely different.
For one thing, the show takes place in a theater. Riley and the boys and I grab a row of seats together near the front and pass our giant tub of complimentary popcorn back and forth between us. The stage is curtained with light-blue fabric that almost lets you see what’s going on behind it; there are shadows moving back there, shadows that look like people warming up and setting up props.
“This is going to be amazing,” Riley whispers into my ear. Then she pauses. “Uh-oh.”
“What?” I ask. But I follow her gaze, and the question is answered. Megan and Branden are sitting down a few rows in front of us. I can just see their heads sticking out above their seats. “Great.” Now I get to watch them make out the whole show!
“Ignore them,” Kevin murmurs beside me.
Thankfully, I don’t have long to watch. A few moments later the lights in the theater dim, and the show begins.
Like I said, I’ve seen the Karamazov Circus for years. What happens onstage with Nine Limbs takes my breath away.
Once the houselights go dark, the shadows behind the curtain start to move in unison. The music is driving but somber, all instrumental, and the shadows join and separate, making shapes that look like buses and skyscrapers and taxis. Then the backlights go bright and the curtain billows away.
Everything that happens onstage is a gorgeous mix of dance and circus and theater. The first act is a duo acro pairing that is honestly beyond words. They leap and twist in each other’s arms, the ballerina-like girl contorting into impossible shapes with her partner. It’s breathtaking, and the aerial silks routine that follows is just as spellbinding. It’s almost impossible to tell where one act ends and the other begins—everything weaves together, drawn by the gorgeous music and a trio of clowns that are dressed like lawyers.
Even though it’s beautiful, even though it’s impossible to look away, I can still see Megan and Branden. I don’t see them kiss, but she does lean her head on his shoulder once the show starts. For his part, he doesn’t wrap an arm around her. It’s a small victory. Very small.
Still, their presence taints the entire show. By the time intermission comes around—right after a really fast-paced juggling act done by five guys to jazz music—my stomach is in knots. Megan stands and stretches, arching her back more than is probably needed. Show-off. Branden stands a moment after. She takes his hand and guides him out into the lobby.
“Did you want to mingle?” Riley asks.
“No, thanks,” I respond. “I think I’ll just stay here.”
“Suit yourself.”
She and the boys leave. I stand and stretch but don’t leave my spot. It’s stupid and I can’t believe I’m hiding in here, but I really don’t want to see Megan and Branden together. It’s bad enough knowing they’re out there right now.
Ugh. I’m so pathetic.
“Jenn?”
I turn around. It’s the boy from earlier, the one who complimented me after practice. I almost didn’t recognize him without his practice clothes—he’s in a button-down shirt with a bow tie. It looks like he’s going to the opera, rather than a circus. He starts walking down the row toward me.
“Hi, um . . .” I trail off, because I don’t think I ever got his name.
“Luke,” he says. He extends his hand. “Sorry, guess I never introduced myself before.”
“It’s okay.”
“Enjoying the show?”
I glance around. The place is still empty, but I’m not really looking for anyone. Staring at empty space is just a lot easier than making eye contact with Luke; his gaze is intense, and I don’t know the last time a guy’s looked at me like that besides Branden. Like they say: When it rains, it pours.
“Yeah,” I respond, not meeting his eyes. That’s when I catch a familiar silhouette in the door. Well, two silhouettes—Branden and Megan have perfect timing. I look back to Luke immediately.
“Cool,” he says. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and for a moment he bites his lip, which makes him look incredibly young. “Hey, um. You seem really cool and stuff. Would you maybe want to go to the dance with me?”
I open my mouth, slightly aghast. Definitely not where I thought this conversation was going: I’m used to being the girl who’d be asked if her best friend was taken or not. Why in the world was he asking me? Especially when I don’t even know him. I think of Josh and being stood up, wonder if maybe this is the same thing. I’m about to say no out of habit—I mean, obviously this is some sort of mistake or mix-up—but then I see the way Megan’s clinging to Branden. They’re only a few rows away. Branden makes eye contact with me for just a second, then looks the other way, somewhat abashed. That’s all the sign I needed. There’s no way he’ll be asking me, and I don’t want to be going alone. Even Riley mentioned having her boyfriend Sandy driving out for the dance and final show.