The Orphan's Tale(49)

I can feel her stiffen with surprise. “Astrid never said anything about it.” Astrid is in charge of all of the aerialists. She calls the shots. No one has changed her choreography before.

“It will work better,” I insist. “And it changes nothing for you. The positioning will be the same. Just catch me.” Before she can say anything else, I climb up the ladder. I reach the top a second late, the spotlight already waiting for me. I wait for Gerda’s call. “Hup!”

I leap without hesitation. When I release there is a moment’s panic: I have practiced only once with Gerda as my catcher. Will she be able to manage as Astrid had? Catching is all Gerda has ever done on the flying trapeze, though. She grasps me easily, with forearms like thick sausages. But she is not skilled and lacks Astrid’s fire. Working with someone other than Astrid feels like cheating, a betrayal. I look around the ring, searching in vain for Astrid. Is she watching somewhere, hating me for going on without her?

I reach the board at the end of the first pass. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Luc. It is one of the first rules I had learned from Astrid upon coming to the circus: do not let the audience—or anyone in it—serve as a distraction. I can’t help it, though. Luc is here, watching me with those same dancing eyes as he had when I first spied him in town. He sees only me and I am happy and suffused with fear at the same time.

I square my shoulders. It is my act now, up to me to see this through. I nod at Gerda. I jump exactly as I had before. Only this time, right before I reach Gerda, I pivot midair so I am facing away from her. But the move takes a second longer than I planned and despite my warning, she fumbles. I am low now, almost too low for her to reach me. There is a slight gasp from the crowd. “Damn you,” Gerda swears as she catches me, fingers digging hard into my wrists to hold on as we swing back, gaining height. Applause thunders as she throws me back toward my bar.

The show breaks to intermission. I step into the backyard, still sweaty and shaking from my near fall. From around the side of the big top, Luc walks closer, looking for me. My pulse quickens as he nears.

“Bonsoir,” Luc says with a shy smile.

“Noa!” a voice booms before I can respond. It is Astrid crossing the grounds and bearing down upon me, her eyes streaking with fury. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demands in German. She is even angrier than earlier when Herr Neuhoff pulled her from the show.

Luc steps forward to protect me but Astrid moves around him as though he is not there. “I told you not to add the twist,” she continues to berate me.

I raise my chin. “The audience loved it.” Astrid does not own the show. She does not own me.

“You were showing off for him!” She jerks her head in Luc’s direction.

My cheeks flush. “That isn’t true.”

Before I can protest further, Herr Neuhoff walks into the backyard. I hold my breath, waiting for him to ask who Luc is, and what he is doing here. “Nice job, Noa,” he says instead, smiling. It is the first time he has praised my performance and I can feel myself standing straighter, vindicated. “That variation was magnificent,” he says with a smile.

I look triumphantly in Astrid’s direction, wondering if she will now finally agree. But she seems to grow smaller. Guilt rises in me, replacing my joy. The ring had already been taken from Astrid. The control over the choreography was the one thing she still had—and I had stolen that, too. She turns and storms off.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell Luc. Then I follow after Astrid, who has started away from the backyard and toward the train. I take a deep breath as she turns back to me. “You were right about the move being foolish. It was dangerous and it didn’t add anything.”

“That’s why I told you not to do it,” she sniffs, partially mollified. “But you were showing off for him,” she says again.

“Him?” Though I know she means Luc, I feign ignorance, stalling for time to respond.

She gestures toward the backyard, where Luc is waiting for me. “The mayor’s son—how do you know him?”

The mayor’s son? I gasp with realization. I recall then what Astrid had said about the mayor, that he is collaborating with the Nazis. Does that mean Luc is helping the Germans, too? It couldn’t be.

Astrid is still watching me, waiting for an answer. “I met him when I went into town,” I say finally. “I had no idea he was coming to the show.”

She crosses her arms. “I thought I told you to stay away from the locals.”

“You did, but some boys were being rude to me and Luc helped,” I finish weakly.

“The mayor’s son just happened to rush to your rescue?” Her tone is mocking. Then she lowers her voice. “Noa, we’re an hour from Vichy headquarters. The mayor of this town is well connected to the Reich...” She stops abruptly as Luc walks over to us. As her words sink in, my blood chills. I had thought Luc was simply being nice. But is there a deeper reason for his interest? Astrid continues, “You claimed that you told Herr Neuhoff about Erich’s colleague being at the show because you were worried about my safety. And then you do this...”

Luc, who is now close to where we stand at the edge of the backyard, interjects. “I just wanted to see the show,” he offers.

Peter steps forward in front of Astrid, almost chest to chest with Luc. “You need to go back to your seat,” he says in French.