“Opening night is not for another two weeks.”
He looked at me with tired eyes. “You have been asleep for two weeks.”
The attic seemed to tilt for a moment. I felt time slipping around me, like it did inside dreams.
I leaned closer to him and whispered, “They are dangerous. We have to get Oscar out of here.”
“We will all go to Rome after the show,” he said, standing up and walking away. “But first we have to perform. The Circle is already here.”
I turned to Oscar and grabbed his hand. “Do you remember?”
He looked at me with that strange softness in his eyes. “Howcan you forget something worth remembering?”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
I nodded.
“Get dressed, Doll,” he said as he stood. He walked to the closet, the one with the doors hanging off their hinges, probably from one of his blows. He grabbed the red dress and tossed it at me. “I love to see you in red tonight.”
He walked out of the attic. As he stepped through the doorway, the others slipped away with him, fading like smoke.
I was alone again.
I rose slowly and turned toward the broken mirror. The shards caught the light and sliced my reflection into pieces. Most of the bruises had already healed. Only a few remained, fading into that yellowish color that comes before they disappear completely.
I picked up the dress he had thrown. This one was a single piece that clung tight to the body, covered with thousands of shiny stripes that brushed against each other along the bottom hem. When I pulled it over my skin, it fit perfectly, hugging every curve of my body.
Beside the closet were thin red tights. I slid into them carefully. Next to them were black ballet shoes. I slipped them on and tied the long silk straps into a firm knot around my ankles. Then I took two red silky ribbons and braided my hair, one braid on each side, weaving the ribbons through until they disappeared into the strands.
At the sink, I started on my makeup. I drew sharp black triangles above each eyebrow and matching ones beneath my eyes. Then I picked up the red lipstick. After smoothing the color over my lips, I traced the scars where they had once been stitched shut and crossed them with small black X marks.
When I finished, I walked toward the stairs and headed down.This time, he was not waiting for me.
Enzo stood in the hallway, smoking.
When I closed the door behind me, he flicked his eyes toward me.
“We have to go,” he said. “He already opened the show.”
We rushed down the stairs. His cigarette smoke trailed behind him, and before I even registered it, we were already at the door.
Outside was nothing like it had been two weeks ago. The carnival felt alive again. People gathered everywhere. Children ran in circles, laughing. There was a line at the Ferris wheel, another line for popcorn, and cotton candy. Lights blinked. Music grew louder, and the whole place breathed.
We walked through the crowd and toward the meadow where the main tents still stood.
“The Circle wears black masks and black suits,” Enzo said as the main tent came into view. Circus music pulsed from inside.
“They are not trying to hide, are they?” I asked.
“It is easy to hide in a carnival when everyone thinks you are part of the act,” he said. “They don’t care about anyone else until they get what they want.”
He glanced toward the tent flap. “Anyway, you are next. Oscar said you are great with the trapeze, so he made you his final act.”
“And then what?” I asked.
“When you land, bow and meet us at his tent,” he said, clapping his hands. “It is showtime.”
I moved closer to the entrance. Oscar stood inside the ring and waved me forward. My heart thudded in my chest.
