Ignacio scratched his head. “I…um…I’m ready to have the time of my life.”
The ticket agent slid the window shut. Then the door leading into the caboose opened. A cacophony of sounds and smells washed over Ignacio like a sudden storm. He stumbled back.
“Unbelievable,” he breathed.
He couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing.
From the outside, the caboose looked like any old boxcar. But within rocked a speakeasy filled with flappers and sheiks, dancing and drinking and swinging from crystal chandeliers. A woman strolled by, carrying a miniature giraffe with pink spots. Ignacio thought it was a stuffed animal until the little creature stuck out its long tongue. Two men whirled about, bopping to the bouncing jazz in heeled boots as tall as Ignacio.
He rubbed his eyes. How could all this fit inside such a small space?
Perhaps it was the adrenaline finally leaving his body or the shock of the entire day and previous night, or being clobbered by a golden egg, twice, but Ignacio suddenly felt quite ill.
“We’ve got a newbie!” a man with a tattooed face hollered.
People cheered. Arms wrapped around Ignacio’s shoulders and yanked him in. Drinks were pressed into his hand. Calls rang out, urging him tochug, chug, chug.
“What is it?” he asked a young man beside him.
“It’s giggle water,” the boy yelled. “Give it a try.”
Before Ignacio’s brain could argue, he guzzled the liquid down. He was very parched.
He gasped and coughed. Someone patted his back.
“That isn’t water,” he rasped, which caused an uproar of laughter.
The young man pointed at the cup Ignacio held limply. “Good stuff, right? I bought it from a bootlegger at our last stop. The guy said moonshine will put hair on your chest.”
“Alcohol is illegal in Costa Mayor,” Ignacio reminded him.
“But we are on the tracks. We are untouchable here.” The boy filled Ignacio’s cup with something from a silver flask. “Drink up, buddy boy. You’re officially part of the most fantastical menagerie of misfits the world has ever seen!”
Chapter 11
Esmeralda
As the train crossed the tracks on the rickety bridge that towered over the canyon, Esmeralda grabbed the cellophane-wrapped gift from Ángel Veracruz. Her greedy hands tore at the packaging and pried open the box. She sucked in a breath. Lying inside were the most beautiful silk gloves she’d ever laid eyes on. They were pearly white with intricate needlework of doves flying in a starry sky.
“Wow,” she whispered, before hastily shoving them on.
The stitching glimmered as she raised her arms. She squealed at their beauty. She’d stolen lovely things for herself before, but nothing so striking had ever been gifted to her. Ignacio’s mother’s ring didn’t count.
But what could the gloves do? Camila and Pilar’s cloth cuffs gave them extra strength. With that sort of help, their strongwoman act would be hard to beat. The sisters were impressive enough without any sort of enchantments. Esmeralda needed her gift to be damn near miraculous if she wanted to compete.
She tried to lift her cot to see if they made her exceptionally strong as well, but the bed was as heavy as before. She chewed on her lip, contemplating why the ringmaster would gift her gloves.
Inspiration struck. “If the Sánchezes received something that helps them with their act, I must have too!”
She rushed to her cabinet and pulled out her deck. A thrilling buzz shot from the tips of her fingers down the length of the gloves to where they stopped below her elbows. The cardstock used for her deck began to glow a beautiful kaleidoscope of brilliant purples, blues, blacks, and golds.
She turned the cards over, her eyes alight at the shimmering magic, but there was nothing different about them.
She shuffled the deck. Nothing extraordinary happened. She twirled the cards with her fingers. They looked pretty, casting rainbows against her wagon walls, but that wasn’t anything to brag about. She flicked a card with her wrist, aiming for her bed.
But the card did not spin away.
Instead, it twirled in the air, the cardstock folding into itself. Her mouth fell open as the card formed into the shape of a bird. A bird that was now flying in circles around her head.
