“This is not greatness—it is suicide,” I retort, surprised that I dare speak so forcefully to him.
Peter stares at me oddly. “Astrid would never kill herself. She has too much to live for.” There is an uneasy tone to his voice. Maybe he knows what is bothering Astrid. But before I can ask, he walks away.
Taking a last worried look up at Astrid, I pull my wrap skirt and blouse on over my practice leotard. I walk from the big top and start across the fairgrounds. It is late afternoon on Sunday, a little over a week since we arrived in Thiers, and I want to feed Theo myself and spend as much time as I can with him before he falls asleep. Close to the tracks the water truck has pulled up and people are hurrying to fill their buckets at the back of it. There are endless buckets everywhere at the circus, for washing and drinking and other things. The first time I’d spied two with my name on them in the row waiting to be filled at Darmstadt, I’d known that I belonged with the circus just a tiny bit more.
I fill my buckets, one for washing and one for drinking, and carry them to the train, eager to change and reach Theo. I climb the stairs of the railcar, taking care not to spill. The sleeper car, where I expected to find him waking from his nap, is empty. Theo is not there.
Easy, I tell myself, starting back outside. Sometimes the girls who watch the children take them outside for fresh air. A few children are behind the train, rolling a ball, while the two girls meant to be watching them chat idly. Theo is not with them.
Where is he? My heart pounds. Has he been lost? Taken? I start across the backyard to find Astrid again. She will know what to do. Then in the distance I hear a giggle. My eyes dart toward the pens where the animals are kept. Theo is near there, in the arms of Elsie, one of the girls who minds him. I relax slightly.
But as I start across the grassy field, Elsie walks toward the lion’s cage. I see her talking to Theo, pointing as they near one of the animals. The cage here is flimsy—a few metal bars, spaced too widely apart—nothing separating Theo from the fierce beast. Elsie is casual and unafraid as she walks Theo right up to the cage. His hand reaches out as if patting a dog.
“No!” I cry, my voice lost in the wind. Theo puts his hand through the cage, his fingers just inches from a lion’s mouth.
“Theo!” I run toward him, feet pounding against hard earth, kicking up bits of grass and dust.
I reach Theo and grab him from the girl’s arms. The lion, startled by my sudden movement, lunges at the bars with a roar, swiping the very spot where Theo had been.
I leap back, tripping and stumbling to the ground. Theo lets out a wail. A sharp rock cuts into my palm as I break my fall, but I hardly notice. I clutch Theo to my chest, shielding him. I breathe hard, not getting up, trying to comfort Theo, who is more upset than I have ever seen him. Another second and I would have been too late.
“Shh,” I soothe, studying Theo. Though his face is red from bawling, he does not seem to be hurt. Then I stand, brush the dirt from my knees. “How could you?” I berate Elsie, whose face is pale.
“W-we were just playing,” she explains, flustered. “I wanted to show him the lion up close. I meant no harm.”
But I am still furious. “That animal—he could have killed Theo. And this outfit...” Holding him close, I notice then Theo is dressed in a sequined leotard, too large and hastily pinned to fit. “What on earth is he wearing?”
Over her shoulder, I see Astrid coming from the big top. She strides across the field, her face a mix of anger and concern. “What’s the commotion?”
“She was holding Theo right up against the lion’s cage,” I say, my voice rising as I relive my terror. “He might have been killed!”
She takes Theo from me and he stops crying, but gulps for air as he recovers. “He seems fine. Was he hurt?”
“No,” I admit, swatting at one of the flies that buzz perennially around the animal cages. I had expected her to side with me, even through her anger. How can she not be troubled by what Elsie had done? “But look at his clothes!”
“Pretty soon he’ll start training,” she observes mildly.
“Training?” I repeat, puzzled.
“To perform,” she replies. Though we have never discussed Theo joining the act before, Astrid speaks as though it is a given.
I stare at her, caught speechless. I had not imagined Theo performing, or thought about a future for him with the circus at all. “He’s just a baby,” I say. Theo squawks, also seeming to protest.
“I was on the trapeze almost before I could walk,” Astrid says. “Of course it was a fixed trapeze.” I shudder. In Astrid’s world, it is perfectly normal for children to perform. Theo will not learn the trapeze, though, or any other circus act. His life—our life—will be somewhere else.
“He’s too young,” I insist, not mentioning the fact that I will never let him perform at all.
Astrid does not respond. She is looking over my shoulder, squinting at something across the field that leads to town. “Someone’s coming.” I turn and follow her gaze.
“Luc,” I say aloud, more to myself than Astrid. It has been nearly a week since the night he came to the circus. I thought after that he had given up, or was scared away. I had not expected to see him again.
That might have been for the best, I think as he nears. He is the mayor’s son and, as Astrid had made clear, not to be trusted. “What is he doing here?” she asks, her voice curling with displeasure.
“I don’t know,” I say, suddenly defensive. It is not as if I’ve done anything to encourage him. My heart lifts in spite of itself as Luc comes toward us, a small bunch of daffodils clutched in one hand, his black hair lifted by the breeze. “But I’ll find out.” I look down at Theo, hesitating. I do not want to let him go so soon after finding him in danger, or give him back to Elsie to watch. I hate asking Astrid for anything right now, but I am too curious. “Will you mind Theo for a bit?” I muster, knowing how she will respond.
“I’m already your trainer—now I’m supposed to be your nursemaid, too?” she snaps. I do not answer. She is annoyed, but also she adores Theo and cannot deny him. “Oh, fine, if I must. Go. Don’t be gone long.” She takes Theo from my arms and starts back toward the train.
I hang back as Luc approaches. “You again,” I say, trying to sound offhand. I am suddenly mindful of my hair, hastily pulled back, and my cheeks, too red from the strain of rehearsing. “You keep turning up.”
Luc hangs back for a second, looking nervously over my shoulder at Astrid as she walks away with Theo. “I hope it is okay that I’ve come.”
“I suppose,” I say matter-of-factly.