private conversation with the lady,” Dez informed him.
“No, you’re not,” Raleigh said lazily.
Dez didn’t look mad. He shrugged again. “Another time, then. I’ll just have to be content to bask in your presence, beautiful Moira, sharing it with the undeserving who don’t appreciate you like I do.”
“Bask away,” I said with bone-dry irony. But I hadn’t liked thinking of Dez being so cavalier about tossing knives into the air and one coming down and slicing his arm deep enough to leave that scar. I also couldn’t conjure a mental image of anyone who would be callous enough to seriously dare someone to do that.
So Dez was a mystery too. Maybe we all were. Maybe being a mystery was what brought people to the Cirque in the first place.
“Why’d you make me do your act with you?” I asked when the silence stretched too long.
“I wanted to make you a heart,” Dez said.
“Uh-huh. How many of those have you made? Hundreds?”
“I told you—you inspired me.”
I looked away, out the window. Don’t believe him. Pretty words.
“A penny for your secrets,” Dez said, nearly whisper-soft. His hand touched mine, and I turned back to him as he flipped my hand over. He pressed a penny into my palm.
I closed my fingers around it.
“It’s thoughts ,” I said. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“I’d take those too, but I think they’re worth more.”
“More than secrets?” I asked.
“You do have some, then. Interesting . . . Care to share?”
He stared at me, waiting, and I forced myself to stillness. As long I didn’t move or react, I wouldn’t give away anything else.
The bus ground to a halt.
Dez smiled at me. “Another time.”
The driver opened the doors, and he stood up in the aisle, waiting for me to go out first and blocking Brandon from cutting in front of me. I walked off the bus behind Raleigh, and only when I stepped onto the pavement beside the same brilliant-blue giant of a bridge that Jules had been crossing in the video did I realize I still had the penny in my palm.
“That guy’s trouble,” Raleigh said, swooping around to face me, as much superhero as Phantom with his long cape.
“So are you,” I said, thinking of his endless slew of beautiful temporary girlfriends.
“True. But be careful.”
“Please. I’m not even tempted.” Hooking up with boys wasn’t why I was here. Besides, Dez’s show of interest probably didn’t mean anything. None of that explained why I put the penny in my pocket, like it was part of my precious sleight kit.
“Places, everyone!” Thurston again.
The herd continued to divide by hierarchy for the parade, though it wasn’t quite as pronounced from high to low as for the bus ride. Thurston in his ringmaster tux was up front with the band and its shiny brass instruments and red, white, and blue marching band uniforms. We miscreant midway performers followed them, saving the Cirque performers, the best, for last.
A massive crowd was waiting for us, overfilling the blocked-off streets that led into downtown Jacksonville and up to the edge of the bridge we would now cross. The bridge itself was all the more enormous when you pictured Jules walking above it. Speaking of which, I hadn’t seen her around all morning. Hmm . . .
As we were lining up, I tried not to gape. I failed.
“You act like you’ve never seen a show before,” Raleigh said.
Dez was talking away to a group of tattooed contortionists and aerial silks flyers a few feet from us, occasionally catching my eye.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I said.
It was true. There were clowns in white face makeup painted with distinctive black or red triangles and classic harlequin patterns, their baggy white outfits billowing around tall stilts. The Garcias were in their tight, glimmery black trapeze outfits with red accents—Dita hardly looked like herself, though she’d pulled on a suit jacket over the tiny scraps of fabric that made up her costume,
“No, you’re not,” Raleigh said lazily.
Dez didn’t look mad. He shrugged again. “Another time, then. I’ll just have to be content to bask in your presence, beautiful Moira, sharing it with the undeserving who don’t appreciate you like I do.”
“Bask away,” I said with bone-dry irony. But I hadn’t liked thinking of Dez being so cavalier about tossing knives into the air and one coming down and slicing his arm deep enough to leave that scar. I also couldn’t conjure a mental image of anyone who would be callous enough to seriously dare someone to do that.
So Dez was a mystery too. Maybe we all were. Maybe being a mystery was what brought people to the Cirque in the first place.
“Why’d you make me do your act with you?” I asked when the silence stretched too long.
“I wanted to make you a heart,” Dez said.
“Uh-huh. How many of those have you made? Hundreds?”
“I told you—you inspired me.”
I looked away, out the window. Don’t believe him. Pretty words.
“A penny for your secrets,” Dez said, nearly whisper-soft. His hand touched mine, and I turned back to him as he flipped my hand over. He pressed a penny into my palm.
I closed my fingers around it.
“It’s thoughts ,” I said. “A penny for your thoughts.”
“I’d take those too, but I think they’re worth more.”
“More than secrets?” I asked.
“You do have some, then. Interesting . . . Care to share?”
He stared at me, waiting, and I forced myself to stillness. As long I didn’t move or react, I wouldn’t give away anything else.
The bus ground to a halt.
Dez smiled at me. “Another time.”
The driver opened the doors, and he stood up in the aisle, waiting for me to go out first and blocking Brandon from cutting in front of me. I walked off the bus behind Raleigh, and only when I stepped onto the pavement beside the same brilliant-blue giant of a bridge that Jules had been crossing in the video did I realize I still had the penny in my palm.
“That guy’s trouble,” Raleigh said, swooping around to face me, as much superhero as Phantom with his long cape.
“So are you,” I said, thinking of his endless slew of beautiful temporary girlfriends.
“True. But be careful.”
“Please. I’m not even tempted.” Hooking up with boys wasn’t why I was here. Besides, Dez’s show of interest probably didn’t mean anything. None of that explained why I put the penny in my pocket, like it was part of my precious sleight kit.
“Places, everyone!” Thurston again.
The herd continued to divide by hierarchy for the parade, though it wasn’t quite as pronounced from high to low as for the bus ride. Thurston in his ringmaster tux was up front with the band and its shiny brass instruments and red, white, and blue marching band uniforms. We miscreant midway performers followed them, saving the Cirque performers, the best, for last.
A massive crowd was waiting for us, overfilling the blocked-off streets that led into downtown Jacksonville and up to the edge of the bridge we would now cross. The bridge itself was all the more enormous when you pictured Jules walking above it. Speaking of which, I hadn’t seen her around all morning. Hmm . . .
As we were lining up, I tried not to gape. I failed.
“You act like you’ve never seen a show before,” Raleigh said.
Dez was talking away to a group of tattooed contortionists and aerial silks flyers a few feet from us, occasionally catching my eye.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I said.
It was true. There were clowns in white face makeup painted with distinctive black or red triangles and classic harlequin patterns, their baggy white outfits billowing around tall stilts. The Garcias were in their tight, glimmery black trapeze outfits with red accents—Dita hardly looked like herself, though she’d pulled on a suit jacket over the tiny scraps of fabric that made up her costume,
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