Girl on a Wire (6 page)

And I smiled too. The real fun was about to begin.

seven

We arrived in Jacksonville the afternoon before the Cirque
’
s opening night, taking over a giant parking lot and nearby grassy field across the bridge from downtown. The crew got busy setting up the tent right away. I was using the downtime to study at the kitchen table with Sam, with the idea that I should keep a low profile until it was time to hit the mess for dinner. Nan was on the couch, quiet thus far. Mom was grumbling under her breath while washing dishes.

My big announcement had led to some furious discussion, and Mom still wasn’t completely sold. But Dad was out finalizing the remaining details for the next day’s outdoor wire setup with Thurston. Even keeping my head down, I felt a little like I was on a ship, the waves rocky and the arrival at my destination uncertain.

The front door to the RV opened, and Dad came in. I decided to try to slip away to my bunk, but I wasn’t fast enough.

Mom whirled from the kitchen sink to face him. “Emil,
how
could you agree to this?” She dried her hands, then smacked the dish towel against the counter. “And now you’ve committed her with the owner. I can’t believe you helped her cook this up.”

“She didn’t need my help with that. You know our daughter,” Dad said. “Julieta Valentina Maroni always seems to get her way.”

They both turned toward me.

I stared down at the empty sheet of notebook paper in front of me. Sam coughed like he was swallowing a snort, and I looked up, but only far enough to scowl at him.

“Vonia,” Dad said, his tone softer, “you know she’s more than capable and ready for this. And I’m confident now that the crew who’ll be taking care of the wire are the best in the business.”

Speaking up on my own behalf would be like steering directly into the storm, but I had to, in order to make my way through it. “This is a calculated risk. All of it,” I said. “Dad’s right. I’m ready, Mom. This is what the circus is all about. I’ve been training my whole life, and you know that I’m as good as any Wallenda.”

Thurston had been the first to make a reference to the famed family of wire walkers, especially well-known for the latest generation’s stunt walks in places like the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls. The promise of extra publicity from my doing something similar made this a win-win for the Cirque.

“Fine,” Mom said. “I will not stand in the way of this opportunity, if it’s what you want. I trust you, and Emil.” With that, Mom extended her hand to Dad.

I’d won.

Or so I assumed.

Nan cleared her throat loudly enough to command our attention. “I cannot believe you would be so foolish as to attempt this walk, Jules, after everything I’ve told you.” She glared at my parents. “And I cannot believe that you two are considering going along with this.”

Ah, so that was why she’d held her tongue until now. She’d been waiting for my parents to forbid me from moving forward.

“That you would let your daughter risk her life, for what—a publicity stunt? To prove something to people who despise us? Emil, I’ve warned you about the danger here. You should know better. But maybe this will change your mind: Jules
fell
the other night during practice. Someone here is out to get revenge, and they will hurt us however they can.”

I closed my eyes. I hadn’t wanted to talk about my tumble into the net with my dad.

My parents’ hands unclasped, and Dad crossed the few steps to the table. “Is it true? Did you fall?”

“I was just rattled from the night before. And seeing the net there was strange since I’m not used to having one.”

“She’s not telling you something,” Nan said, looking from me to my parents. She took a deep breath. “I found an object, old and still very powerful, that was planted on the rose she was given. She was wearing the flower when it happened.”

And the storm had blown back in, just like that. What if Dad reversed course now?

“Dad,” I said, “that wasn’t what caused it. I can do this. You know I can.”

Sam peered at me over the edge of his silver laptop, but stayed quiet.

Dad gave a short nod, and turned toward Nan. To my surprise, his voice was raised when he spoke to her, pointing a finger. “It was
you
that made her fall, don’t you see that? You started putting doubts in her head as soon as we arrived, telling us constantly about old grudges and danger. Now you’re blaming some flower, some old object, and upsetting her even more.” He dropped his hand. “No. We are here now, and we have to stick together and make our way. I know how you were mistreated back then. I know why we had to stay away, and I’ve gone along with it, all this time. But you will
not
fill my daughter’s head with fears now. Fears are what cause falls.”

Nan stood up from the couch, and raised pleading hands to my mother. “And you, Vonia, you agree with him?”

But whatever Mom thought about the magic talk, she wasn’t easily cowed. “I would never support my child in something she wasn’t capable of. Emil assures me that she is ready.”

“How can you say these things?” Nan asked my father. “I raised you. It was always you and me. You must understand my powers, what I can do. You know there are forces at work in this world that are beyond what can be seen and easily understood. Do I have to remind you of what could happen to her if those forces come into play?”

My dad crossed and put a hand on Nan’s arm, guiding her down to sit beside him on the couch. “I know what Grandmama thought she could do, and what she convinced you that you could do too. But we have to be real here.”

There was a long, quiet moment, and Sam chose it to chime in. “Jules is the one who wouldn’t let us pass up the chance to join the Cirque. She’s already shown that she’s willing to fight for this family. Now she has another big idea, and we should support her.”

“Thank you, Sam,” I said, and touched my eye where his was still ringed with a bruise. “Back at you.”

Nan smoothed her hands across her lap, shaking her head, and I noticed something strange. Her fingernail polish was chipped. Not on every finger, but on her thumb and at least a couple of others. I had never known Nan to have one hair out of place, let alone to allow her manicure to lapse into such a state.

I decided to cut her a break. “Thank you all, actually, for supporting me. And you, Nan, for caring. I promise you, I will be careful. No fears.” I nodded at my dad. “I’m going to go take a look at the tent.”

Sam started to get up to come with me, but I pressed down on his shoulder when I walked past. I needed some time on my own.

Outside, I moved slowly toward where they were raising the big top, my slippers scuffing the gravel, thinking over the promise I’d just made to my dad. It was impossible to have no fears. But I would try my hardest. And when I did feel scared—which was inevitable—I’d remind myself of Bird. I knew her life backward and forward, and I’d let her story inspire me.

She was born into a circus family in 1890, but they must not have seen her destiny shining out of her tiny baby eyes, because they named her Jennadean—Jennadean Engleman. Jennadean may be many things, but it’s not much of a star’s name.

Her parents ran a small store in Colorado, and they traveled here and there playing mud shows. These small circuses—not so different from my family’s before we joined the Cirque—couldn’t afford big tops, but some probably had a cluster of small tents to house a decent freak show and some naked ladies, a horse act, and an acrobat or two. When Bird was six, her parents formed an act for the three of them, the Millman Trio. And half of Jennadean’s real identity was born. She’d walked a wire in the backyard growing up, and she knew how to do some stunt riding on a pony, along with other tricks of the vaudeville trade.

When she was ten, her dad fell from the high wire.

Stopping in the grass and hugging my arms around myself, I had no trouble putting myself in her shoes. She’d have been there. She’d have seen him lying in the sawdust, his bones shattered like broken glass, his fragile body ruined by the impact. Though he lived, that’s not something she’d have ever forgotten.

It would probably have scared many people off the wire, but it did the opposite for her. It was after that, that Bird was finally born. Whatever fear she felt after the accident, she hid it. She conquered the air. Within a few short years, she was one of the most famous women in America. A star in vaudeville, then embraced by the higher-profile circus. She danced and ran on a low wire, and walked the high wire with ease when she wanted to. Sometimes she used a parasol for balance, and sometimes she didn’t. When she was a Ringling star in 1920, the side rings stayed vacant when she was on. No other act could compete.

And, to raise bonds for World War I, she did building walks above various cities. Her most notable outdoor walks took place in New York City, including one twenty-five stories above Broadway, and in Chicago—as captured in the photo on my wall. She made the cover of magazines, with delicately colored illustrations of a grinning Bird above a city.

She was charming, graceful, funny. She is usually called the best “woman wire walker” of all time, but I hate it when people add “woman” to make an achievement seem smaller than it is. She was one of the best wire walkers ever. Period.

Her story didn’t end well, though. She met a rich man and retired from the circus and show biz for good. He died ten years into the marriage, felled by the stock market crash, and left her broke. She moved back home to Colorado and passed away of cancer before her fiftieth birthday. An inspirational tragedy was what she was for most people who bothered to remember her now. Her hometown wanted to build a golden statue of her, perched at the top of their downtown clock tower and about to begin a walk, so she could stay up there forever. Maybe it was even there by now.

For my part, I believed she’d
like
to be remembered in motion, far above it all, a bright light in the sky. And I believed she’d approve of another girl on the wire, proving herself. She’d approve of me.

Not to mention the beautiful big top I finally neared. She’d have fit right in here.

The tent, already up, rose from the gravel and concrete like a striped mirage. It was as if a different world had poked through into this one to improve it. Wrapping my head around the fact that the parade would happen in the morning wasn’t easy. The entire troupe would march and dance and twirl into downtown, hoping to draw people to the opening-night performance.

But I’d be above them all, the real lure.

I could hardly believe my first outdoor walk was almost under way. Well, the first one in front of an audience. I would have pictured it on a wire strung between two buildings, like Bird. But in this case, I was going to be walking a bridge.

Thurston had called Dad and me to his trailer a few hours after our competition performances, and pulled up a picture of Jacksonville’s skyline on his computer. His permit lawyers, after first telling him the whole idea was nuts and shouldn’t be pursued, had been adamant that there was no way to get a permit for this kind of thing in two days, not with a minor involved, not even with parental consent. But these were lawyers who wanted to keep their jobs. One of them finally pointed out that the Cirque already had a half-day permit to close down the Main Street bridge for the parade route. And that the bridge had two towers, jutting high above its middle span. A little more Googling told us the towers were two hundred feet tall with a 365-foot span between them. We’d string the wire between them, and I’d be off.

It was ideal. Illegal, but ideal.

I made it to the tent and kept going, heading inside the entrance flap to the adjoining tent that had been raised behind it. This would serve as the backstage area, and was currently deserted, save for trunks and dressing tables set close together. Not fully unpacked yet.

A light breeze wafted over my bare arms, and I looked up to see Remy step inside and pull the flap closed behind him. He had on a pair of beat-up jeans and another T-shirt, this one dark blue, a uniform he wore so well he could have marketed it as the Remy Collection.

“Hi,” I said, then kicked myself for not coming up with something pithy.

“Hi,” he said back.

Okay, then. We were on equally awkward footing.

“Are you really going to do the walk tomorrow?” he asked.

Remy’s dad was in charge of the rigging at the site Thurston, my dad, and I had agreed on. His dad and mine would be the ones who oversaw the crew responsible for setting up the outdoor wire.

“You must already know the answer is yes. Come to wish me failure?”

He took a couple of steps nearer. “Aren’t you tempting fate?”

“First you bring up magic, now fate. I may need to stage an intervention. You’re just jealous they can’t get your trapeze set up that high. If this does go wrong, the Garcias will be thrilled, from what I can tell.”

He nodded, though it didn’t strike me as agreement. Then, “Seriously, though. You’re going to do it?”

Either he was trying to psych me out in some way I’d never encountered before or he was . . . concerned . . . at least a little, on my behalf. Despite my best efforts, I was touched. Hoping I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself, I offered him an explanation.

“We had an open air setup back home that I spent hours and hours on, growing up. Dad is a big fan of learning to deal with wind currents, because it’s good training for walking in any conditions. And I . . . well, I’ve always idolized this famous old performer named Bird. My whole life, when I walked outside, I wanted to be like her.”

I studied his face, but couldn’t read his expression.

“Don’t make fun, or I’ll kill you, okay?” I cringed as I realized it was perhaps not the best choice of words, but he just raised his eyebrows, and I kept going. “For whatever reason, this is my dream.”

“Birds can fly, people can’t,” he said. But then he added, “I’m not making fun. And I wouldn’t be thrilled.”

“Good.” I swallowed. “Then you can live. Besides, don’t think of it as tempting fate. Think of it as embracing my destiny.”