Tiger's Curse (The Tiger Saga #1)(7)

The lights came up and the kids started stampeding out of the arena. My brain was still slightly foggy. Slowly, I got up and turned around to stare at the curtain where the tiger had disappeared. A faint trace of sandalwood and an unsettled feeling lingered.

Huh! I must have hypersensitivity disorder.

The show was over, and I was officially crazy.





3


The Tiger


The kids rushed out of the building in a screaming mob. A bus started up in the parking lot. As it noisily shook itself awake rumbling, hissing, and puffing air out of its exhaust pipe, Matt stood up and stretched.

‘Ready for the real work now?’

I groaned, feeling the soreness in my arm muscles already. ‘Sure, bring it on.’

He started cleaning the debris off the seats, as I followed behind to push them against the wall. When that was done, he handed me a broom. ‘We’ve got to get the whole area swept up, pack everything into the boxes, and then store them all away again. You get started, and I’ll turn in the money boxes to Mr. Maurizio.’

‘No problem.’

I started moving slowly across the floor, pushing the broom in front of me. I wound forward and back, like a swimmer doing laps, as I methodically swept up the rubbish. My mind wandered back to the acts I had seen. I loved the dogs the best, but there was some-thing compelling about the tiger. My thoughts kept drifting back to the big cat.

I wonder what it’s like up close. And why does it smell like sandalwood?

I didn’t know anything about tigers except what I had seen late at night on the Nature Channel and in old issues of National Geographic. I’d never been that interested in tigers before, but then again, I’d never worked in a circus before either.

I’d almost finished sweeping by the time Matt came back. He bent to help me scoop up the giant mound of trash before we spent a good hour packing up boxes and hauling them back to storage.

When this was done, Matt told me that I could have an hour or two off until it was time to join the troupe for dinner. I was eager to have a little time to myself, so I hurried back to the tent.

I changed clothes, wiggled into an only slightly un-comfort-able place on my cot, and pulled out my journal. As I nibbled on my pen, I reflected on the interesting people I had met here. It was obvious that the circus folk considered each other family. Several times, I noticed people stepping in to help, even if it wasn’t their job. I also wrote a bit about the tiger. The tiger really interested me. Maybe I should work with animals and study that in college, I reflected. Then I thought about my extreme dislike of biology and knew I’d never make it in that field.

It was almost time for dinner. The delectable aroma coming from the big building made my mouth water.

This was nothing like Sarah’s vegan cookies, I thought. No, it had the homey feel of Grandma’s biscuits and gravy.

Inside, Matt was setting up chairs around eight long folding tables. One of the tables was set up with Italian takeout. It looked fantastic. I offered to help, but Matt brushed me aside.

‘You worked hard today, Kelsey. Relax, I got this,’ he said.

Cathleen waved me over. ‘Come sit by me. We can’t start eating until Mr. Maurizio comes in to make the evening announcements.’

Sure enough, the moment we sat down, Mr. Maurizio strolled dramatically into the building. ‘Favoloso performance, everyone! And a most eccellente job to our newest salesperson, eh? Tonight is a celebration! Mangiate. Fill your plates, mia famiglia!’

I giggled. Huh. He plays the part all the time, not just for the show.

I turned to Cathleen. ‘I guess that means we did a good job, right?’

She answered, ‘Yep. Let’s eat!’

I waited in line with Cathleen, and then picked up my paper plate and filled it with Italian green salad, a big scoop of spinach-and-cheese--stuffed shells covered in tomato sauce, parmesan chicken, and, not having enough room on my plate, popped a warm breadstick into my mouth, grabbed a bottle of water, and sat down. I couldn’t help but notice the large chocolate cheesecake for dessert, but I wasn’t even able to finish the dinner I had on my plate. Sighing, I left the cheesecake alone.

After dinner, I moved to a quiet corner of the building and called to check in with Sarah and Mike. When I hung up, I approached Matt, who was putting all the leftovers into the fridge. ‘I didn’t see your dad at the table. Doesn’t he eat?’

‘I took him a plate. He was busy with the tiger.’

‘How long has your dad been working with the tiger?’ I asked, eager to learn more about the impressive cat. ‘According to the job description, I’m supposed to help out with the tiger somehow.’

Matt shoved aside a half empty bottle of orange juice, wedged a box of takeout food next to it, and shut the refrigerator. ‘For the past five years or so. Mr. Maurizio purchased the tiger from another circus, and they had bought it from another circus before that. The tiger’s history wasn’t well documented. Dad says the tiger will perform only the standard tricks and refuses to learn anything new, but the good news is that it’s never given him a problem. It’s a very quiet, almost docile beast, as far as tigers go.’

‘So what do I have to do to it? I mean, am I really supposed to feed it?’

‘Don’t worry. It’s not that hard as long as you avoid the big teeth,’ Matt joked. ‘I’m kidding. You’ll just be bringing the tiger’s food back and forth from building to building. See my dad tomorrow. He’ll give you all the info you need.’