“Just watch,” Pippa said.
Sam always started the show. Now, he shuffled miserably onstage, hands shoved deep in his pockets, hair hanging over his eyes, like a prisoner moving toward his own execution.
A quick murmur went through the audience, and there was a faint rustling, as nearly two dozen people consulted their programs. This couldn’t really be Samson Jr., Strongest Boy Alive? This pale, miserable, speckled, scrawny thing, like an overgrown newt, who stood sullenly, blinking on the stage . . . ? Perhaps there had been a typo or a change in the program.
But then Mr. Dumfrey’s voice rolled out over the audience. “And now . . . ladies and gentlemen . . . boys and girls . . . I give you the most amazing, incredible, unbelievable, and inconceivable Strongman of Siddarth!”
Max snickered as Smalls the giant and Hugo the elephant man wheeled out a large block of stone on a dolly. Mr. Dumfrey invited audience volunteers onstage to test it, touch it, sniff it, taste it, and the stone was declared real and solid. All this time, Sam stood slightly apart, looking mortified.
When the audience members were satisfied, Mr. Dumfrey trumpeted: “Hold on to your seats and sit tight on your hats, ladies and gentlemen! What you are about to witness is a superhuman, a supernatural, a superfluous—”
He did not get any further. With an exasperated look, Sam stepped forward and drove a fist straight into the stone. There was a thunderous crack as the stone cleaved straight down the middle and split in two.
For a second, there was utter silence from the audience. Then applause: a smattering at first, then cresting to an appreciative roar.
Sam turned so pink, it looked as though he’d been dipped headfirst into an oven. He rapidly hurried off the stage.
“See?” Pippa whispered to Max. Max was doing her best to look unimpressed, and only shrugged.
Next was the magician, the Great Goldini. He seemed to be speeding through his act. Before she knew it, he had successfully withdrawn an ace of spades from the purse of an ancient woman in the front row, whose face looked like it would crack in half when she smiled. He had extracted a rabbit from a hat, and then, with a wave of his wand, transformed it into a gopher. Even though Pippa knew the secrets behind Goldini’s tricks, she was still impressed, especially since they didn’t always go so smoothly. Just a few days earlier, the magician had reached into his hat for a rabbit and pulled out an ace of spades, while the gopher somehow ended up in the pocket of an unsuspecting audience member.
For his final trick, the magician sawed his assistant, Thomas, in half. And as usual, Thomas looked absolutely miserable—Miss Fitch insisted that the magician’s assistant must dress as a girl, and Pippa could see him glaring at the audience from underneath the thick fringe of his wig’s bangs, as though daring anyone to laugh. Sadly, until they could find a replacement who was as good at managing the illusion, which required him to squeeze his whole body into a wooden container barely larger than a breadbox, Thomas was stuck in the job.
After Goldini came Caroline and Quinn, the albino twins, who performed a perfectly synchronized ballet, although as soon as they retreated backstage, they began arguing furiously, each accusing the other of having been off tempo. Then, a parody: Smalls the giant and Danny the dwarf also performed a dance, which never failed to produce a laugh, especially when Danny sprang into Smalls’s outstretched hand and executed a graceful pirouette on his palm.
After that came the stately procession of Hugo, the elephant man, and Phoebe, the fat lady; Betty, the bearded lady, and Andrew, the alligator boy. Although they did nothing but walk across the stage and stand for a minute under the spotlight, the audience gasped and tittered nervously. It was always particularly momentous when Betty, who emerged from the wings backward, swaying her hips, spun around to reveal her long beard, crimped and tied with a bow.
And suddenly the stage was cleared and the lights were dimmed and it was Pippa’s turn.
“Don’t choke,” Max whispered.
Pippa wanted to respond, but her voice had turned suddenly to sand in her throat. The spotlight was up, and the old gramophone, concealed behind the scrim, began to warble faintly. That was her cue.
As she stepped into the light, there was another gasp. The dark fabric of her dress, embroidered with hundreds and hundreds of reflective, diamond-shaped chips, was dazzling. The effect was supposed to be of jewels, although Pippa knew that the dress was made of tarlatan, sequins recycled from the gown worn by last year’s “mermaid,” and tiny glass pieces.