We step into the cafeteria, and I catch sight of Tyler and Kevin already sitting at the table, talking animatedly. Tyler catches sight of me and waves.

“Well,” I say, trying to come up with a non-insulting reason to leave Luke in the lunch line. I can’t think of anything. “Guess I’ll see you at rehearsal?”

“Guess so,” he says. He sounds a little disappointed, but I don’t know if I can stand much more time chatting with him. When I leave his side and head over to the boys, I realize why.

Branden stands up at a table near the back and my heart does a double take. Even though Luke asked me to the dance, even though Branden’s apparently completely entranced by Megan, seeing him still causes butterflies in my stomach.

You still like him, I think. And because of that, going to the dance with Luke makes you feel like a traitor.

I shake my head and try to push the thoughts out of my mind when I sit down across from Tyler, but it doesn’t help.

I still have feelings for Branden. And unless one of us makes a move soon, camp will be over before it comes to anything.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

We start the group rehearsal almost immediately after lunch. As one, the entire camp assembles in the one tent none of us has stepped foot in since the camp started: the big top. Chills roll over my skin the moment we step inside; this is it. This is my dream coming to life. Today, even though it’s still technically just a rehearsal, I make my debut as a big top performer.

I settle in on the bleachers beside Riley and Tyler. Olga is in the center ring, chatting with a few of the coaches. The rest of the staff is sitting on the ring curb—the red ring that encircles the ­carpet-covered stage. Once the entire camp is assembled, Olga claps her hands for silence. The whole tent goes still.

“This is it, troupers,” she says, walking back and forth like a ringmaster taking control of the stage. “Today is the day all your efforts culminate into a show. You’ve all worked very hard for the last few days, but I’m afraid the hard work isn’t over just yet. This is where your dreams become a reality. To get there, however, we’ll need to push just a little bit more. I’m hoping the show last night inspired you to dream bigger, strive harder. You’ll need that motivation for the training ahead.

“Over the last few days, you’ve not only learned new skills and routines, but you’ve also learned about your fellow campers. You’ve made new friends and creative allies, and hopefully you’ve discovered more about yourselves and your art form in the process. Our sincerest hope as your coaches and confidants is that this is just the beginning of your circus career. Consider tomorrow’s show a stepping-stone. The applause is all yours, but it is just a taste of what’s to come.”

Then she begins to discuss the show order. My dreams of going on first and getting it all over with are short-lived. Juggling is right after the intermission, which means I not only have to wait through an entire first set, but twenty minutes of milling around with family and friends as well. The only perk is that my nerves will get a small puncture right away; the entire company will go on at the start of the show for an opener called the charivari. Apparently, this means I’ll come out juggling and end in some group pyramid we’ll be practicing soon. I just hope this means my stage fright will be able to take a backseat for the rest of the show—maybe the adrenaline will last?

And then, after a few minutes of discussing how the overall show will run, we get right into practice.

If I thought rehearsal with Riley this morning was work, group rehearsal is an entirely new level of stress. We spend a good thirty minutes blocking out the charivari, making sure everyone knows their entrance cues and choreography. Riley and Tyler and I do a three-person pyramid for our final pose that consists of me standing on both of their knees while they hold on to each other’s hands in a sort of chair pose. I don’t know the name of the pose, but I do know I wasn’t made to do partner acro: It takes all my willpower not to shake so hard that I topple over. Turns out standing still on two people’s knees is actually a lot of work.

The perk of this is that my focus is entirely on the work at hand. It’s only when we take our first break that my brain switches over to worrying about later tonight. There’s a small part of me that’s still hoping Branden will dump Megan and ask me to the dance—not that I want to let Luke down like that—but when I look over and see him standing at the water cooler, those hopes drown. He’s standing there with Megan at his side, her arm looped through his. As if on cue, he looks back to me right then and catches my eye. Once more, I can’t figure out his expression; it almost looks a little apologetic and a little hurt. Then again, I’m probably just projecting.

Megan turns her head when he looks away and stares straight at me. She winks. I’m definitely not projecting there—her expression is smug, and it puts me on edge.

I turn away and spot Luke in the crowd, practicing backflips with some other acro kids. He notices my glance and gives me a wave, then goes back to spotting his friends.

You’re being ridiculous, I chastise myself. A week ago you would have killed to have a cute boy ask you to a dance. And now you’re dragging your feet because he’s not the one you thought you wanted. Just give him a chance. You never know—he might be a real gentleman.

So I swallow what little pride I have and convince myself to give tonight a chance. Stop hurting myself because Branden isn’t stepping up to the plate and actually enjoy my time with the boy who did. It still feels like walking into some weird trap, but that’s probably just nerves as well.

I know one thing for certain: Showbiz certainly messes with your perception of things. It’s hard to tell where the stage ends and real life begins.

After the break, we go into the actual run-through of the show. It’s our first chance to see everyone perform their acts, and the pressure is on. I mean, I know everyone’s supportive—this is our collective show, and we all want it to be good—but I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through the tent. I’m not the only one who’s never performed in a big top. I’m not the only one whose dream is about to be realized. Or trashed.

We run through the charivari once more and then disperse into the bleachers to block the rest of the acts. The clowns go on first, wearing some crazy tie-dye lab coats and saying they’ve discovered a way to go back in time. Their skit is actually really funny, and that’s coming from a girl who usually doesn’t like clowns. They don’t do any pie-in-the-face humor. It actually has some wit to it.

Near the end, the three clowns stumble into their time machine—which is just a giant cardboard box decorated with stars and painted-on clocks—and the lights dim. The music changes to some time-warp-sounding synth. When the lights come back on, the clowns fall out of the box just in time to nearly get run over by the Cyr wheel group.

Luke and the other three performers—two girls and one other guy—are amazing. Luke seems to be the leader. As they all roll and spin around one another in perfect time to the music, he rolls to the center of the ring and starts spinning incredibly fast, cartwheeling at dizzying speeds before rolling around like a spun penny, going faster and faster and lower to the ground until I’m sure he’s going to fall. He doesn’t. He manages to spin back up to standing and then rolls back into the group for a few more tricks and spins. When they all stop and take a bow, I know I’m clapping louder than anyone else.