Alana pulled away and plopped down on the velvet sofa, pouting. Chi-Chi flipped over onto her feet, scurried over to the sofa, and jumped up to sit beside her owner. Alana took a cigarette from a silver case on the table, put it between her smudged red lips, lit it, and blew out a stream of smoke with more force than necessary. Then she cocked her head slightly and fixed her eyes on Lilly, thinking.
“Well, she’s perfect,” she said. “When I saw her, the first thing I thought of was a porcelain doll.” She took another drag from her cigarette, crossed her legs, and leaned forward. “How about ‘The World’s Only Living Porcelain Doll’ or ‘A Real Porcelain Doll, Alive and Breathing’?” Smoke curled from her mouth when she talked.
“Not exotic enough,” Mr. Barlow said. “We want to shock and amaze people, not bore them to death.”
Alana rolled her eyes again, then took another drag from her cigarette. “How about ‘The Swan Girl’? Or we could put her in a wedding dress and call her ‘The Ghost Bride.’ ”
“I think we should bill her as some kind of princess,” Merrick said.
“That might work,” Alana said. “She’s different because her skin is so white, so you’d need something that makes sense, like ‘The Frozen Princess’ or ‘The Ice Princess.’ ”
“I’ve got it!” Mr. Barlow said. “ ‘The Ice Princess from Another Planet!’”
Alana shook her head and leaned back in the sofa, one arm across her middle, the other bent at the elbow, her cigarette in the air.
Mr. Barlow ignored her. “It’s perfect, right?” he asked Merrick.
Merrick shrugged and mumbled something under his breath.
“What’s that?” Mr. Barlow said.
“Nothing,” Merrick said.
“He said it’s stupid,” Alana said.
“Shut up, Alana,” Mr. Barlow said.
Anger pinched Alana’s face. She crushed her cigarette out in an ashtray, got up, and went back to the bedroom. Chi-Chi jumped off the couch and followed her.
“You think it’s stupid?” Mr. Barlow asked Merrick.
“No, but I’m not sure what being an ice princess has to do with being from another planet. Is she supposed to be an alien? Because that’s not what I had in mind.”
“Well, the name of this circus might be the Barlow Brothers’,” Mr. Barlow said. “But I’m the only brother left. Not to mention, I’m the one paying the bills around here. Do yourself a favor and remember that.”
Merrick clenched his jaw, his temples moving in and out. “You know damn well your brother had every intention of leaving me his half,” he snarled.
“Maybe, maybe not. The only thing I know for sure is he didn’t have time to change his will between making a move on Alana and drowning in that river. You’re my cousin, Merrick, and only a second cousin at that. You’re lucky I let you run the sideshows.”
“I own the sideshows.”
“No, dear boy, you don’t. You might own a few of the acts, and Viktor will always be loyal to you, but I own the tents and the banners and the stages. I own the ticket booths and employ the people who run them.”
“Maybe so, but Lilly’s my act. I should decide her billing.”
Mr. Barlow jutted out his chin and took a step closer to Merrick. “Listen, pisshead. Without me you wouldn’t have a circus for her act. I own the big top and the animals and the wagons. I pay the people who set it all up. I even own the train that hauls your sorry ass from one show to the next. Now get the hell out of my car before I throw you out!”
Merrick stomped over to the door and yanked it open, his face the color of beets. He ordered Lilly out and slammed the door behind them. Glory was waiting outside, sharing a cigarette with the bald strongman.
“Let’s go,” Merrick said. He stormed toward the other end of the train.
Glory gave the cigarette back to the strongman and hurried to catch up. Lilly followed. “What happened?” Glory said.
Merrick ignored her and kept going, his hands in fists. Then he stopped and let loose a string of curses. “That arrogant bastard might know what he’s talking about when it comes to the big top. But he doesn’t know a damn thing about the freak show.”
“What did he say?” Glory said.
Merrick started walking again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, I’ve got to get ready for my performance,” Glory said. “I’ll take Lilly over to the twins’ car. She can stay there for now. They’ve got room.”
Merrick shook his head. “No, she’s staying with us.”
“But—” Glory started.
Merrick stopped again and glared at her. “No buts. I’m not giving her the chance to try to escape.”
“Escape and go where? She’s just a little girl.”
“I don’t care,” Merrick said. “She’s staying in our car where we can keep an eye on her, and that’s final. It’s either that, or back in the stock car with the goats and llamas.”
Glory gave Lilly a worried glance. “Okay,” she said. “But I’ll take her to the dressing tent with me while I get ready.”
“No, you won’t make it back to the train before the show opens without the rubes seeing you.” He started walking again. “Now come on.”
Glory and Lilly trailed Merrick past the next three cars, then climbed the steps of the fourth and waited while he unlocked the door. The inside of the car looked the same as Mr. Barlow’s except with faded, torn furniture, dull paneling, and no ceiling fans. Dirty glasses filled the small sink, and a set of yellow curtains hung in the open doorway between the two rooms, their edges stained gray. The air felt hot and thick, like the air in Lilly’s attic bedroom in the middle of summer.
Lilly did not like the place.
Merrick tromped over to a sideboard, opened a bottle, and poured brown liquid into a glass. Glory picked a newspaper and a rumpled blanket off the couch and straightened the pillows.
“You can sleep here,” she said to Lilly. She lifted an overflowing ashtray off a table piled high with magazines and brushed fallen ashes to the floor. “Sorry it’s such a mess.”
Standing frozen by the door, Lilly didn’t know what to do or say. This was her new home, whether she liked it or not. She pictured her old room, her lumpy bed, her stained pillow, Abby sleeping on her woolen blanket. The sudden realization that this was final, that she was never going to see any of it again, that she was never going to see Abby again, hit her like a sledgehammer. It was the worst feeling in the world. Her eyes flooded and her lungs started to close. She tried counting the floorboards to calm down, but it didn’t help. Glory saw what was happening, came over, and knelt beside her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Just breathe. I know it’s a lot to get used to, but I’ll take care of you, I promise.”