Freeks, Page 3

  “Like you?” he asked, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it’s the earrings.”

  My earrings were dangling feathers, and I touched one. “The feathers? Madonna has an earring like this.”

  He looked down and pointed to my arms. “What about those? Do they mean anything?”

  All down my left forearm, I had tattoos of little black paw prints leaving a trail from my inner elbow down to my wrist. I touched them when Gabe leaned over to get a better look. He was so close, I could smell the mousse in his hair, clean and fresh.

  “Not really. I just thought it’d be cool.”

  “They are pretty cool,” Gabe agreed.

  He reached out to touch them, and the light umber skin of his hand was nearly as dark as my own. His fingers trailed across my skin, sending small tingles down my arm everywhere he touched.

  Then he stopped and leaned back to look up at me. His eyes were mesmerizing, but it was his mouth that really caught me. His lips seemed to have this permanent smile at the edges, even when he wasn’t really grinning, like he knew some kind of private joke.

  His eyes weren’t enchanting because of the rich color, but because of the wicked glimmer to them. Somehow, even when I was outside and too far away to really see, I’d noticed that gleam—a promise of something a little sinful and dangerous—that made my heart pound loudly. As he looked at me now, I felt my pulse quicken and heat flush my skin.

  That’s what I’d thought I should’ve feared when I was downstairs, but in truth, it was that glint of something else that had actually brought me here.

  “Do you have any more tattoos?” he asked.

  “A couple. But they’re hidden under my clothes.”

  He smiled crookedly. “Maybe I can see them some other time then.”

  I laughed but didn’t disagree with him. “What about you? Do you have any tattoos?”

  “None yet, but it’s for the best. My parents would kill me if I got one.”

  The music stopped, followed by the sound of the tape clicking a few seconds later. Gabe got up and went over to the stereo so he could switch it over. While he was up, he took off his blazer and tossed it on his hamper, leaving him in just a white T-shirt that fit nicely over his toned frame.

  The music started playing again, and Gabe sat down next to me again, sitting closer than he had before, but I didn’t comment on the mere inches between us. He leaned back a bit so he propped himself up on his elbows.

  When he did, his shirt rode up just a little bit, exposing the smooth flesh above his jeans. I saw the hint of the outlines of his muscles before he pulled his shirt back down, covering himself, and I looked away before he caught me staring at him.

  “I just realized something,” Gabe said. “We’ve been talking about me the whole time, and you’ve hardly said anything about yourself.”

  I shrugged. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Oh, I really doubt that. You’re all dark and mysterious.” He swirled his hand in front of me, as if to emphasize the mystery. “I bet you’re filled with untold secrets.”

  I laughed. “I’m not, really.”

  “Prove it,” he challenged me. “Tell me a secret. Any secret.”

  “Okay.” I bit my lip, thinking. “What constitutes a secret?”

  “Something you’ve never told anyone before.”

  “Not anyone ever?” I asked.

  He shook his head resolutely. “Nope.”

  I leaned back and crossed my leg over my knee as I thought. Truthfully, I had plenty of secrets. But it was hard to think of something that I would want this guy to know.

  “You tell me something first, then I’ll tell you something.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Now I’m getting a read on who you are, sneaking around the rules like that.”

  “It’s your game, so it only seems fair that I get to name my own terms. Now, it’s your turn. What’s your secret?”

  He absently pulled at a string on his comforter, or at least he tried to do it absently. But his hand was right next to mine, so when he tugged at the string, his long fingers brushed against my hand.

  When I didn’t say anything or move away, he lifted his eyes to meet mine. His smile had fallen away, and though his expression was serious, I could still see the hint of something wicked. Even now, when he was dropping his pretenses and preparing for a confession, he couldn’t completely get rid of the darkness that drew me to him.

  “I really want to kiss you,” Gabe said finally.

  “You’ve never told anyone that before?” I asked with a smile. “You’ve never wanted to kiss anyone?”

  “Well, I’ve never told anyone that I wanted to kiss you, the mysterious Mara Beznik, before,” he clarified.

  I laughed lightly. “Why do I feel like you’ve played this game before?”

  “I haven’t. I swear,” he insisted, but I wasn’t sure that I believed him.

  “So why haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head, still smiling up at me. “It doesn’t seem to be working, so maybe it’s not such a great game.”

  “No, I meant, if you want to kiss me, why haven’t you yet?” I asked.

  “I guess because I didn’t realize it was an option. I thought you might slap me or…”

  His words died on his lips because I leaned down and kissed him. He was already so close, but to avoid an awkward angle, I had to lay down next to him.

  When my lips pressed against his, there was a hesitation. Gabe was tentative at first, as if he thought this might be some kind of trick, but when he realized it wasn’t, he kissed me fully. His tongue parted my lips, bold and hungry. He put his hand on my side, to pull me closer to him.

  My shirt had ridden up, so his hand was pressed to the bare skin of my side, and the instant I felt his skin against mine, a cold pain jolted through me. A blast of arctic air suddenly surged over me—through me, really, piercing my heart like a jagged icicle.

  I pulled away in surprise, and for a split second, I couldn’t breathe.

  But then it was gone. The chill, the pain, everything had disappeared almost the instant it had started.

  “Are you okay?” Gabe sat up, and when I braved looking up at him, I saw the concern in his eyes, warming the burnt caramel color.

  “It’s nothing.” I smiled, but it didn’t come as easily as I liked.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I just got a chill. That’s all.” I tried to play it down, not just for him but for myself. “Now. Where were we?”

  Gabe looked down at me for a few moments longer, as if to decide whether he believed me or not. I must’ve been convincing because an easy grin returned to his face.

  “Let me think. I believe you were right about here.” He put his hand on my waist, and when I didn’t recoil, he pulled me back down so I was lying on the bed. “And I was right about here.”

  His lips hovered right above mine, as close as they could be without touching, and he searched my eyes, almost daring me to kiss him again. But I’d kissed him the first time, and now I was waiting for him to make the move.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of anticipation, he closed his eyes and his lips found mine. His hand was still on my waist from when he pulled me back down, and the instant our mouths met, his hand tightened, gripping me, and I wrapped my arms around him.

  4. judgment

  The bed felt luscious underneath me. I hated sleeping in the Winnebago when it wasn’t moving, but being on a real mattress and wrapped in the downy comforters, I couldn’t help but sleep well. It was how I imagined napping in a cloud would feel.

  Morning sunlight streamed in through the curtains when I opened my eyes, and I stretched. The house was completely silent, so I’d guessed that the party had finally come to an end. When I’d fallen asleep late last night, the sound of the bass had still been thumping through the walls.

  I sat up and peered over the edge of the bed to see Gabe lying on the floor.
A pillow was smashed under his head, and his hair that had been so carefully smoothed out last night stuck out at all angles. The blanket draped over him had slipped off, revealing the bare bronze skin of his chest.

  When I’d fallen asleep, he’d had his shirt on, so I’m not sure exactly when he’d ditched it. Not that I minded getting a view of it this morning. He was more toned than I’d initially thought, and now I wished that I’d taken things a bit further last night. At least to the shirtless stage, anyway.

  We’d made out for a while, but I’d stopped things before they got too heated. I liked having fun, but last night just hadn’t felt like the right time to take things further. Gabe hadn’t seemed to mind when I put the brakes on, and we ended up just talking for a long time.

  I’d told him about my mom and offered a few stories about my life, being as vague as possible when it came to the who, what, and where. I’d intentionally left out anything that might connect me to a traveling circus, dodging his questions as artfully as I could.

  It’d gotten so late that I’d begun to fall asleep, and Gabe suggested I spend the night. I considered going home, but it was a bit of a walk, and honestly, every chance I had to sleep in a real house on a real bed, I took it. I’d said that I didn’t mind sharing a bed with Gabe as long as it was just for sleeping, but he’d insisted on taking the floor.

  I slid out of bed slowly to avoid any creaking or sound. I thought about waking Gabe up, so he could take the bed, but I didn’t want to have that awkward morning-after conversation. Even though we’d both been sober last night and hadn’t done that much, in the harsh light of morning, everything always felt so much more uncomfortable.

  I waited until I was downstairs to slip my shoes and jean jacket back on, and then I snuck out the front door without waking anyone. The walk back to camp was a little confusing, even in a town as small as Caudry, and I nearly got lost.

  I made it back just as people were waking up. Betty Bates had already done a load of laundry and was hanging it out on the line to dry. A voluptuous woman in her forties, she would’ve been considered a real beauty by most if it weren’t for the thick beard below her lipsticked smile.

  Her husband, Damon, was well over six feet tall and as pale as a ghost, but that’s not why he’d joined the sideshow. It was the fully developed third leg he had, that looked particularly odd as he carried a basket of clothes over to Betty.

  As I made my way in through trailers, I saw that the tiger run was being set up for Zeke Desmond’s two tigers, Safēda and Mahilā. It had been six years since Zeke and his tigers had joined our little band of travelers, but I still hadn’t stopped being amazed by the giant cats.

  Safēda was a rare white Siberian tiger, with gray stripes so light, they were barely visible. When I approached the cage, Safēda rubbed her head up against the metal bars. The cage was on wheels, making it easier to slide on and off a trailer, and it sat a few feet off the ground, so I reached through, stroking her thick fur as she walked past.

  Her sister Mahilā was much younger, and she had the light golden-and-white color of the offspring of a white tiger. Zeke had rescued her from a circus that hadn’t been as kind, and her beautiful fur was broken by jagged scars from being beaten. She was much more leery of people, and stayed hidden at the back of the cage.

  “Good morning, pretty girl,” I said as I ran my hands through Safēda’s lush fur.

  “Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Seth snickered, and I looked away from the tiger to see him carrying a heavy metal gate over his head as he walked past me.

  “Funny,” I said dryly.

  I quit petting Safēda, and when I stepped away from the cage to follow Seth, the tiger reached her giant paw out through the bars, trying to stop me, and I had to duck out of the way.

  “So did you stay out all night again?” Seth asked me.

  “It seems that way,” I replied coyly.

  Seth set the gate down next to the other fencing he’d been putting up for the tigers’ outdoor pen next to their traveling cage. It had been built to withstand two charging 600-pound tigers, and yet he moved it with ease. He was well-muscled, but his strength surpassed that.

  Like many of us in the traveling sideshow, he’d been born with something that made him different. Some were more human conditions, like Betty’s beard, but others came from something supernatural. Seth possessed a strength beyond reason, and I’d seen him lift a pickup truck off the ground with his bare hands before.

  “Where’s Blossom?” Seth asked, glancing over at me as he walked back to the trailer to get more pieces of the fencing.

  “What do you mean?” I looked around, as if expecting my occasional roommate to be standing behind me.

  “She wasn’t with you?” Seth paused and turned back to face me.

  Sometimes Blossom went out with me to explore the town, but most of the time, I went on my own. Since we lived on the road in a traveling show with fifty other people, I enjoyed the solitude that the long walks provided.

  I shook my head. “No, she wasn’t with me last night. She probably crashed at my trailer.”

  “I don’t think so.” Seth’s brow furrowed in concern. “Your mom was going around looking for the both of you. Gideon calmed her down by telling her that you guys must be together, so you’d be safe.”

  “Crap,” I whispered. “Thanks for giving me the heads-up. I should go make sure my mom’s fine, and see if Blossom made it back yet.”

  As I rushed through the campsite, I told myself that I shouldn’t be worried. Blossom was sixteen and a runaway. Sometimes she went off on her own, and she could handle herself.

  But I felt that strange chill growing inside me again, the one that I’d felt when we’d arrived at Caudry.

  I opened the battered screen door to the Winnebago and my eyes immediately darted to the small bench where Blossom slept. It was empty, and though I wasn’t really surprised, my heart sank to my stomach.

  The trailer wasn’t empty, though. Gideon was in our tiny galley kitchen, sipping his morning coffee. The little TV sat on the dining table across from him and played a fuzzy morning news show it picked up on its rabbit ears.

  “Morning, Mara,” Gideon said, and he pointed to the beaded curtain that served as a door to the back bedroom. “Your mom’s been looking for you.”

  Despite their age difference—Gideon was over ten years younger than my mom—he and my mother had been dating rather happily for nearly a decade, but they’d never lived in the same trailer. The spaces were so small that it made it impossible for two of them to have any privacy if they shared a motorhome with me.

  Our current Winnebago had much more privacy than any of our previous ones, and that was a small bedroom with two twin beds. It used to have a pocket curtain-door, but it was broken, so we only had the beads.

  “Mara?” Mom asked, and a second later she pushed through the beads, making them clatter. “Finally, you’re home.” Then, after assessing that I was indeed all right, her eyebrow raised, and her gray eyes hardened. “Did you and Blossom have a nice time last night?”

  “I had a nice time,” I replied carefully, and I tried to erase any sign of worry from my face. “But I don’t know about Blossom. She wasn’t with me.”

  “What do you mean?” My mom’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you go out together?”

  “No, I went out on my own to get some air,” I tried to explain as calmly as I could.

  “What about Roxanne?” Mom asked, referring to my best friend and fellow carnie Roxie.

  My mom had this strange habit where she never called anybody by shortened versions of their names. Me, she referred to with the term of affection qamari all the time, but everyone else got their full names.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see her,” I admitted. “I didn’t know Blossom had left, but Caudry seems like a really great small town. I met some really nice people, and Blossom probably did too. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “No, no, don’t give m
e that.” Mom shook her head, causing her necklaces to clatter against each other.

  First thing in the morning, and she’d already donned her jewelry. Most of it was cheap costume jewelry, except for one, the only necklace she actually slept in—a large key that hung on a thin leather strap. The head of the key was a skull with two bright red rubies for eyes, and it seemed to stare at me while my mom began her lecture.

  “You can’t keep doing this,” she said. “Staying out all night in strange places.”

  I groaned in exasperation. “Everywhere we go is a strange place!”

  “No, not like this.” She shook her head again, more fiercely this time. “This place is different.”

  “Lyanka, it’s a small town, and Mara came home safely,” Gideon said. “I’m sure Blossom is fine too.”

  An amethyst bandana was holding back my mom’s thick black hair. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she rubbed the back of her neck. She cast her gaze to the floor, letting her mind run wild with worry.

  Gideon put a hand on her arm, and she let her shoulders relax and leaned into him. “It will be all right, love. We’ll only be staying here a week, and then we’ll be moving on. Everything will be fine.”

  “I know you’re right so often, and I hope you are this time.” She lifted her eyes imploringly to me. “Please, Mara. Can you try not to give your old mother a heart attack and stay close? At least while we’re here?”

  I gave her my most reassuring smile. “Sure, Mom.”

  She walked over to me and put her hands on my face. “I worry about you, qamari. I only want you to be safe and happy.”

  “I am, and you don’t need to worry about me so much. I’m almost nineteen. I can take care of myself.”

  Brushing a strand of hair back from my forehead, my mom smiled sadly down at me. “I only wish that were true. But there are things in this world that no one can ever prepare for.”

  5. carnival

  Unlike many of the other members of the sideshow, I didn’t have a specific job. My mom was a fortune-teller, Gideon did a magic show, Zeke had his tigers, Brendon and his family did acrobatics, Seth was a strongman. My best friend Roxie Smith was in two acts—she helped out Zeke, and did a peep-show revue with two other girls.