The Failed Audition (Circus Is Family #1)

by Krista Ritchie

I’m not good with words. At least I’ve known that for a while.

Timo nudges the barely eaten pumpkin pie towards me. “You be the judge, Thora James.” This one gesture somehow unwinds the coiled air. Alone in a gym, surrounded by pies and four siblings who maddeningly, unequivocally love each other—it’s a moment I won’t forget.

Nikolai meets my gaze. “With her, and only with her, the dead in me is alive.”

“you are my Saturday nights. Being with you makes me come alive all over again.”

“You’re supposed to stare at me like I’m a devil, not a god.”

Wittier words actually come to me, my face lighting before I say, “I think you’ve always been both.”

“I’m in love with you,” I whisper.

“Don’t love me more than your dreams, myshka. Because I love you too much to let you give them up for me.”

“I’m going to choose the circus,” I say in a shaky voice, “but it won’t change my feelings for you.” “You’ll always remember me then,” he says softly with a weaker smile. “I’m happy to be a chapter in your life.”

“I know this still feels like failure to you, but there are two things you need to always remember.”

“Regardless of what anyone else thinks, you earned this spot. You trained seven months for it. If you couldn’t land those tricks, they’d never even consider you.”

“What’s the second thing?” I ask. “Every day you’re on stage, prove them wrong.”

“That you deserved to be here from the start. That they made a mistake, that you and only you, Thora James, my little mouse…my demon—were meant for this role.”

Love isn’t a mistake. Neither is courage.

What are you going to do, Thora James?

A girl shrieks. Our head whips towards the trapeze, the group of artists excitedly jump up and down with a magazine in their hand. I squint at the title from afar. Celebrity Crush, a tabloid. “Who’s pregnant?!” Timo calls. The girl gleefully bounces. “They’re coming here!” “What?” I say aloud. Every girl speaks at once and I barely uncover the names in their enthusiasm: Ryke Meadows and Daisy Calloway. The reality stars of Princesses of Philly. A famous family. Famous couple. They’re seeing Amour next week.

The Calloways are infamous.

I trust this man. With my life. My heart. My soul.

In deep Russian, he whispers a phrase that I’ve only heard once before. The day of The Masquerade’s pool party. “What does that mean?” I ask, my pulse beginning to race again as I catch certain words. “Here is my heart.” His thumb skims my neck. “It is full of love.”

“How do you describe the love of your life?” “If you could see yourself, you’d realize you just did.”

“You once asked me if it was impossible to love two things equally. At the time…it seemed like it to me. I never loved someone as much as I loved this, here, tonight.”

“The circus,” I realize. His family.

“But I’ve found the truest form of love,” he tells me. “It’s two loves that can live in harmony.” He looks down at me. I stare up at him. My heart on an ascent. “The circus and you,” he whispers, “amour amour.” Two loves. Two passions. At perfect balance. I finally feel it too.

I thought she had to work. She said that all the girls at The Red Death asked for the night off, wanting to spot Ryke Meadows, the celebrity, so he could sign their boobs. The way Camila reiterated the story—interjecting I am insanely attracted to him, he speaks Spanish, he’s my soul mate—I knew she would’ve joined their mission.

“You just downed the John Ruiz is a gloomy, pessimistic—” “Old man,” Timo finishes with a blinding smile. He slings his arm around John’s shoulders. Camila’s lips immediately rise with mine. It’s hard not to smile at the sight of them, both wearing green glow necklaces. Taken. It’s official. John acknowledges Timo with the roll of his eyes. “All true except the old man, kid.” He stands up straighter and kisses Timo in hello.

I pinch the marker between two fingers and lean close to his ribcage. In my neatest cursive, I write three small words. circus is family

“Where did you come from?” he asks again, shaking his head more. In a daze. I have a better response this time. “Cincinnati, Ohio.”

I’m average. I’ve been average most of my life, but there are moments where I feel extraordinary. Invincible. Able to conquer any fear and step outside any box. There is no illusion, no fantasy. I can climb a forty-foot pole. I can fly eighty-feet in the air. I can be taller than tall. It’s a dream that I’m living. Every day. With him.

Standing in front of the Amour show poster.

“No, keep moving,” I say. Unfortunately, he sets me on my feet and then spins me around to the framed poster. My face. Technically, the side of my face, my profile, stares back at me. My lips are parted, my eyes shut like I’m dreaming, my hair pulled tight. Amour is in purple and pink colors across my cheek with the tagline: love is a circus.

I’m on most of the promotional material for Amour. All because of a quote from Daisy Calloway. One person, one famous person changed another portion of my life with just a sentence: The aerial silk act stole the show for me, dangerous and beautiful.

Hold it tight, Thora James. Don’t let go.