Farther along the midway, six animal wagons sat off to one side, each with a lion inside. Two of the lions sat up in their cages while the rest dozed in the heat, their sides heaving up and down. One slept with his massive head pressed against the cage wall, his brown matted mane spilling out between the bars. When Glory and Lilly walked past, he lifted his head, blinked, and watched them pass, his whiskers twitching. Lilly slowed and stared into his sad brown eyes. She saw how beautiful and perfect he was, locked in a cage and filled with sorrow. She saw his thick fur, his padded feet, his sharp teeth, his black nose. All of a sudden, the walled-in feeling of being locked in her room washed over her, and the heavy, horrible ache of missing home. The sensations were so strong they nearly brought her to her knees. It almost seemed as if she could feel the lion’s longing to be free, as surely as she felt her own grief and fear. Maybe he dreamed of lying on cool grass and running through the open savannah in Africa, like she used to imagine escaping her room and going outside. Maybe he, too, missed his home.
With tears filling her eyes, she fought the urge to go over and unlock the cages. But the lions wouldn’t be any better off than she was. If they tried running into the woods, someone would stop them. If they tried to fight back, someone would hurt them or shoot them. She moved toward the watching lion as if pulled in by an unseen force. She wanted to reach in and touch him, to let him know that if it were up to her, he would be free.
“What are you doing?” Glory yelled. “Get away from there!”
Lilly stopped, startled out of her trance. “I just wanted to—”
“Lions are man-eaters,” Glory said. “He could take off your hand with one bite!”
Lilly moved away from the lion and continued on beside Glory, watching him until they were out of sight. Hearing Glory talk about the lions the same way Momma used to talk about her made her sad, as if the lions were something to be hated and feared. They were wild animals who wanted their freedom, and to be left alone. That was all.
After leaving the lions, they headed to the back lot, toward a tent nearly as big as the big top, but not as tall. As they got closer, Lilly dragged her feet and fell behind Glory. The tent sidewalls were rolled up, and voices and laughter floated out over the lot. People at tables filled the tent, people who might stare and make fun of her, people who might be afraid and try to hurt her. Lilly’s chest constricted and she stopped walking, struggling to pull in air. Glory stopped to look back at her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “There’s no reason to be afraid. This is the cookhouse, where everyone eats. One thing you’ll learn is that the circus travels on its stomach. It’s what keeps us moving.” She pointed to a flag on top of the tent. “See that flag? When it’s orange, the cookhouse is open. When it’s blue, it’s closed.”
Lilly didn’t care about the cookhouse or the flags. She didn’t want to go in there. Glory returned to where she stood.
“Listen,” Glory said, kneeling beside Lilly in the grass. “If there’s one thing you need to know about circus folk, it’s that we’re strangers in every town we go, so we only have each other. Sure, we got our own set of rules so we can get along, and not everyone follows the rules. But when the chips are down, we protect our own. And you’re one of us now. You’re part of our family. No one is going to hurt you. I know it’s hard, but try to calm down and breathe slowly.”
Lilly thought about reminding Glory that Merrick had hurt her, but she couldn’t talk. Her lungs were too tight and her throat felt like it was closing. She drew in a shaky breath and blew it out, long and slow, over and over and over, counting each inhale and exhale. After what seemed like forever, her thundering heart slowed and her chest loosened.
“Okay now?” Glory said.
Lilly nodded.
Glory gave her a weak smile, then straightened and started walking again. Lilly followed.
Inside the cookhouse, a canvas curtain divided the tent down the center. On one side of the curtain, checkered tablecloths and silverware, salt and pepper shakers, and ketchup and mustard bottles covered the tables. On the other side, the tables were bare, their wooden surfaces stained and scratched and dented. Groups of men and women sat eating and talking at the tables with tablecloths and silverware, while only men sat at the bare tables, all with sweaty faces and dirty hands, grimy shirts and torn overalls. To Lilly’s surprise, children sat here and there among the adults at the tables with tablecloths. And other than the men in white jackets and aprons behind the food counter, everyone was dressed in ordinary clothes. For some reason, she thought they would be wearing costumes.
The smell of cooking grease and fried food filled the air, and people with trays lined up in front of a counter filled with eggs and bacon and toast. Following Glory over to the food line, she noticed a giant man at the end of one table, his head and shoulders towering several feet above his fellow diners. Beside him, a second man looked thin as a skeleton, his skin stretched tight over his face. At a table filled with platters of pancakes and bacon, a fat woman with a purple bow in her curly blond hair took up an entire bench. Across from the fat lady, a tiny girl with glossy black hair stood on a stool feeding a man with no arms.
Lilly dropped her eyes and followed Glory’s feet. Her stomach went wobbly and her chest felt tight again. How did a person live with no arms? And why was that girl so small? Her head seemed too big for her neck, and her legs and arms looked extra short and chubby. Was she an elf, or a doll come to life? Lilly wanted to run out of the tent and never come back. There were too many sights and sounds and smells, too many strange faces and bodies, all crammed together in one place. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be in her safe little room with Abby. Thinking of her cat again, her eyes and throat burned. Was anyone taking care of her? Or did Momma leave her in the attic to starve?
Trying not to cry in front of everyone, Lilly followed Glory into the food line, the world a blur through her tears. Glory handed her a dented tin plate and she took it with shaking hands.
“Have whatever you want,” Glory said. “There’s sausage and eggs, bread and jam, pancakes, hash browns, and ham.”
Lilly didn’t think she could eat. Her stomach cramped with grief and fear and nerves, but she took a pancake and piece of toast to be polite. At the end of the line, an oily-haired man with a smoldering cigar in the corner of his mouth sat on a stool taking tickets. When Glory and Lilly reached him, he looked Lilly up and down.
“Who’s this?” he said with a scowl.
“She’s with me,” Glory said.
“Where’s her ticket?”
“She doesn’t have one, Bob, and if you don’t like it, you can take it up with Merrick.”
Bob studied Lilly with narrowed eyes. He paused for a long second, then took Glory’s ticket and jerked his head to one side, telling them to move along.
Lilly gripped her plate with trembling hands and followed Glory toward the far side of the cookhouse. Heads lifted to watch her pass, and thousands of eyes followed her across the tent. Women whispered behind raised hands, and children giggled and stared.
When they finally reached an empty table with a checkered tablecloth, Lilly almost dropped her plate while getting into her seat. She set it on the table and put her hands in her lap, thankful to be sitting down. Glory sat next to her, her plate full of toast and sausage.
“It’s a good thing we’re far enough from town so there aren’t any rubes around,” Glory said. “Otherwise, we’d be boiling hot in a closed-up tent. Because God forbid the townies see a freak for free.”
Lilly said nothing and stared at her food. Her chest was getting tight again and she was starting to feel dizzy. She couldn’t get enough air.