“You know, he was asking about you. Branden.”
“What? When?”
“Sandy told me. Branden came up to him when he saw you run out. He wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I’d been doing my best to force the image of Branden out of my mind. Her words just bring it all back. Why am I still attracted to him? Why do I still care? Still, knowing he was thinking of me makes me feel a little warmer.
“Then why didn’t he ask me himself?” I mutter.
“I don’t know. Maybe he was worried it would upset you more?” She sighs. “I still don’t think Branden’s a bad guy. I mean, I was watching him dance with Megan. He did not seem into it at all. In fact, he looked like he wanted out. And I definitely caught him staring at you. A lot.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m just saying,” she continues, “Megan paid Luke to ask you out. If she’s willing to stoop that low, who knows what she did or said to Branden to make him go for her.”
I hadn’t thought of it like that. Had Megan manipulated Branden somehow? Was she the real bad guy in all of this?
“We’ll probably never know,” I say after a while. “Anyway, I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She whispers a good night. I can tell she wants to press the subject, but she doesn’t. For that, I’m grateful.
I pull the covers tight around me and curl up. I know I should be thinking of Tyler and Kevin and their struggles. I know I should give up on the whole dating thing. But as I lie there, all I can think of is the look Branden gave me when Leena took us away. He said he was sorry. For what?
I don’t have any answers, and as sleep folds in, I’m pretty certain my dreams won’t either.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
The next morning is a rush of nerves and excitement. Despite the crazy of the dance last night, all Tyler and Kevin talk about over breakfast is their act and how they can fine-tune the moves. Neither Riley nor I mention anything about the fight. If the boys are over it, we will be as well. So she and I talk about our own routine and the show in general and occasionally mention the next time we’re going to meet up. Having her as a friend just furthers my desire to get a driver’s license and car.
After breakfast is another run-through of the show, this one in full dress. Riley and I get into our costumes—a mismatch of tie-dye and neon colors, just like the rest of the jugglers, and head to the backstage area behind the tent. Yesterday was our one chance of seeing the show; today we rehearse like there’s actually an audience. Because in a few hours, the bleachers are going to be packed.
Once we’re all assembled in the grass behind the tent, Olga comes out and makes a few announcements about show order and music cues. Someone nudges into me while she’s talking. I glance over, expecting it to be Riley returning from a prop-gathering mission, and see Branden.
For a moment he just stands there, silent, looking at me with an expression I can’t quite place.
“Hey,” he finally whispers.
“Hi,” I whisper back.
“I need to talk to you.”
I glance over to Olga, who’s finishing up her notes. He takes my cue.
“After?” he asks.
I shrug. I don’t know what he wants to talk about, but I can’t forget Riley’s words last night. I also can’t ignore the little bubble of hope inside of me when he’s near.
“Okay,” he says. “Well, break a leg.”
He seems torn up when he says it, but before I can say anything, he vanishes back into the crowd. Olga’s done with her notes. Showtime.
The show is a blur. Riley appears beside me just in time to dash out onstage for the charivari. We do our routine, and after what feels like no time at all, we dash back behind the scenes and out into the grass. I half expect Branden to show up and try to chat with me, but he doesn’t. He stays over beside his acro group. I catch Luke’s eye and glare. He blushes and looks away.
Riley and I practice our act over and over backstage. There’s nothing else to do, really, and warming up like this keeps my mind off other things. Like Megan, stretching beside the tent with her sisters. If I think about her too much, I may just “accidentally” chuck a juggling club at her head.
Surprisingly, I’m not nearly as nervous as I thought I’d be this time around. Maybe it’s because the practice keeps my brain engaged on not losing an eye. Maybe it’s because I’m actually starting to get used to this performing thing. Whatever the reason, I barely notice the time fly by. Then, out of nowhere, Olga comes back and says that we’re skipping intermission for this run-through. Riley and I take our places. Then, with the blare of music, we run onstage.
Our act goes off without a hitch. The lights blind me with brilliance, and music pulses in my veins. We make every pass, hit every cue. When we finally run offstage, I feel like a rock star. The sensation lasts for the next few acts, while Riley and I sit out back and chat with Tyler and Kevin. I could really get used to this show-business thing and can only imagine it will be a hundred times better with real, live applause.
After what seems like no time at all, we head back onstage for the finale. Everything is perfect. By the time we take our bows, I’m covered in a light sheen of sweat and can practically feel myself glowing with happiness. I take Riley’s hand for the bow. This is where I’m meant to be. Under the spotlights, surrounded by friends. This is what performing is all about.
As we head offstage, I realize that that was our last time to practice. The next time I set foot in the ring, I’ll be surrounded by an audience.
A few days ago, that thought would have terrified me. Today it just makes me excited.
We change out of our costumes and grab a quick lunch before families start to arrive. Our conversations are light, completely glossing over the fact that in a few hours, we’re going to be heading our separate ways. For now, there’s still a show to run. There’s still some time in the spotlight.
A part of me expects Branden to approach during lunch, but he doesn’t come near. The only consolation is that Megan isn’t with him. She stays at a table with her sisters. I feel a little vindicated in that, but also a little bad: Being mean to people has never been my strength, and seeing her so outside the troupe almost makes me want to go up and chat with her. All her manipulating and meanness have set her apart from the company. I glance around at my table, at Riley, who grins and chucks celery stalks at Tyler and Kevin, neither of whom are very good at catching the flying food in their mouths. Probably because they can’t stop laughing.
I smile. In that moment, I know I got out of this camp precisely what I wanted: I found a family of friends. I’m getting my time in the spotlight. Sure, not the way I thought, but it’s still fantastic.
Now, if only Branden had asked me out in the first place . . .
After lunch we head back to our rooms to pack. I’ve never liked packing, even for vacation—it always feels like saying good-bye. Thankfully, Riley blares some cheesy pop music while we pack, so the experience isn’t so bad. We dance around and sing at the top of our lungs and throw our unfolded clothes in our bags. Leena comes in at one point; I expect her to tell us to turn the music down. Instead she sings along to the chorus, with my hairbrush as a microphone. Then she bows, tells us we need to be backstage in twenty minutes, and leaves.
Riley and I exchange a glance.
“Time for one more song?” she asks.
“Always,” I say.
And she plays the song we did for the talent show. I’ve never sung so loud in my life.
• • •
We’re backstage. I haven’t been out to see if my parents are there in the audience; I kind of don’t want to know. But I’ve been back here for the last ten minutes, watching people filter into the tent from the corner of my eye. Riley’s kept us practicing the entire time. Like everyone else, we’re in full costume and makeup. And like everyone else, we have nothing to do now except run our routine over and over and pump ourselves up for our first, last, and only show.