(Tiger Saga #1) Tiger's Curse, Page 2

  My grandmother made that quilt when I was little. I was very young, but I remember her stitching it together, the same metal thimble always on her finger. I traced a butterfly on the worn-out, raggedy-at the-corners quilt, remembering how I had snuck the thimble out of her sewing kit one night just to feel her near me. Even though I was a teenager, I still slept with the quilt every night.

  I changed into my pajamas, shook my hair free from its braid, and brushed it out, flashing back to how mom used to do it for me while we talked.

  Crawling under my warm covers, I set my alarm for, ugh, 4:30 a.m. and wondered what I could possibly be doing with a tiger so early in the morning and how I would survive the three-ring circus that was already my life. My stomach growled.

  I glanced at my nightstand and the two pictures I kept out. One picture was of the three of us: Mom, Dad, and me at a New Year’s celebration. I had just turned twelve. My long brown hair had been curled but in the picture it drooped because I’d thrown a fit about using hairspray. I’d smiled in the shot, despite the fact that I had a gleaming row of silver braces. I was grateful for my straight white teeth now, but I’d absolutely hated those braces back then.

  I touched the glass, placing my thumb briefly over the image of my pale face. I’d always longed to be svelte, tan, blond, and blue eyed but I had the same brown eyes as my father and the tendency toward chubbiness of my mother.

  The other was a candid shot of my parents at their wedding. There was a beautiful water fountain in the background, and they were young, happy, and smiling at each other. I wanted that for myself someday. I wanted someone to look at me like that.

  Flopping over on my stomach and stuffing my pillow under my cheek, I drifted off thinking about my mom’s cookies.

  That night, I dreamed I was being chased through the jungle, and when I turned to look at my pursuer, I was startled to see a large tiger. My dream self laughed and smiled and then turned and ran faster. The sound of gentle, padded paws raced along after me, beating in time with my heart.

  2

  the circus

  my alarm startled me out of a deep sleep at 4:30 in the morning. It would be warm outside today, but not too hot. Oregon almost never got too hot. An Oregon governor must have passed a law a long, long time ago that said Oregon had to always have moderate temperatures.

  It was dawn. The sun still hadn’t climbed over the mountains, but the sky was already brightening, changing the clouds to pink cotton candy in the eastern horizon. It must have drizzled rain last night because I could smell an appealing fragrance in the air—the scent of wet grass and pine mingled together.

  I hopped out of bed, turned on the shower, waited till the bathroom turned good and steamy, and then jumped in and let the hot water pound my back to wake up my sleepy muscles.

  What exactly does one wear to a circus job? Not knowing what was appropriate, I tugged on a short-sleeved T-shirt and a good pair of work jeans. Then, I slipped my feet into tennis shoes, toweled dry my hair, and wove it into a quick French braid that I tied off with a blue ribbon. Next, I applied some lip gloss, and voilà, my circus primping was complete.

  Time to pack. I figured I wouldn’t need to bring much, just a couple of things to make me comfortable since I would only be at the circus for two weeks and could always make a pit stop at home. I rifled through my closet and selected three outfits, which were organized by color and hung neatly, before pulling open my dresser drawers. I grabbed a few sock balls, which were also meticulously arranged by color, and shoved everything into my trusty school backpack. Then I stuffed in some pens and pencils, a few books, my journal, some toiletries, my wallet, and the pictures of my family. I rolled up my quilt, stuffed it in the top, and jiggled the zipper until it shut.

  Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I headed downstairs. Sarah and Mike were already awake and eating breakfast. They woke up insanely early every day to go running. That was just crazy, and at 5:30 a.m. they were already done.

  I mumbled, “Hey, good morning, guys.”

  Mike said, “Hey, good morning back. So, are you ready to start the new job?”

  “Yeah. I get to sell tickets and hang around a tiger for two weeks. Great, huh?”

  He chuckled. “Yep, sounds pretty great. More interesting than Public Works anyway. Want a lift? I drive right past the fairgrounds on my way into town.”

  I smiled at him. “Sure. Thanks, Mike. I’d love a ride,” I replied.

  Promising to call Sarah every few days, I grabbed a granola bar, quickly forced myself to gulp down half a glass of their soy milk—barely containing my gag reflex—and headed out the door with Mike.

  At the fairgrounds, a big, blue sign posted on the street advertised upcoming events. A large slick banner read

  POLK COUNTY FAIRGROUNDS

  WELCOMES THE

  CIRCUS MAURIZIO

  FEATURING THE MAURIZIO ACROBATS

  AND THE FAMOUS DHIREN!

  Here we go. I sighed and started walking along the gravel path toward the main building. The central complex looked like a large airplane or military bunker. The paint was cracked and peeling in places, and the windows needed to be washed. A large American flag snapped and rolled in the breeze as the chain it was attached to clinked softly against the metal flagpole.

  The fairground was an odd cluster of old buildings, a small parking lot, and a dirt path that wound between everything and around the border of the grounds. A pair of long, flatbed trucks were parked alongside several white canvas tents. Circus posters hung everywhere; there was at least one large poster on every building. Some featured acrobats. Some had pictures of jugglers.

  I didn’t see any elephants and breathed a sigh of relief. If there had been elephants here, I probably would have smelled them already.

  A torn poster fluttered in the breeze. I caught the edge and smoothed it out against the post. It was a picture of a white tiger. Well, hello there! I thought. I hope they have just one of you . . . and that you don’t particularly enjoy eating teenage girls.

  Opening the door to the main building, I walked inside. The central hub had been converted into a one-ring circus. Tiers of faded red stadium chairs were stacked against the walls.

  Chatting in the corner was a couple of people. A tall man, who looked like he was in charge, was off to the side, writing on a clipboard and inspecting boxes. I made a beeline for him across the black springy floor and introduced myself, “Hi, my name’s Kelsey, your two-week temp.”

  He looked me up and down while chewing on something, and then spat on the floor. “Go around back, out those doors, and turn to your left. A black and silver motor home is parked out there.”

  “Thanks!” The tobacco spit disgusted me, but I managed to smile at him anyway. I made my way to the motor home and knocked on the door.

  “Jus’ a minute,” a man’s voice yelled. The door opened unexpectedly fast, and I jumped back in surprise. A man in a dress robe towered over me, laughing heartily at my reaction. He was very tall, dwarfing my five-foot, seven-inch frame, and he had a rotund potbelly. Black, curly hair covered his scalp, but the hairline ended just a little bit past where it should be. Smiling at me, he reached up to shift his hairpiece back into place. A thin black mustache with both ends waxed to thin points stuck straight out from either side of his upper lip. He also had a tiny square goatee patch on his chin.

  “Don’t be-a intimadated at my appearance,” he insisted.

  I dropped my eyes and flushed. “I’m not intimidated. It just seems I caught you by surprise. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  He laughed. “I like de surprises. It keeps me-a young and a most handsome man.”

  I giggled but stopped quickly after remembering this was probably my new boss. Crow’s feet surrounded his twinkling blue eyes. His skin was tan, which showed off his toothy, white smile. He seemed like the kind of man who’s always laughing at a private joke.

  In a booming theatrical voice, with a strong Italian accent, he asked, �
��And who might you be, young lady?”

  I smiled nervously. “Hi. My name’s Kelsey. I was hired to work here for a couple of weeks.”

  He leaned over to grasp my hand. His completely enfolded mine and he shook it up and down enthusiastically enough to make my teeth rattle. “Ah, Fantastico! How propitious! Welcome to the Circus Maurizio! We are a little, how you say, short-handed, and need some assistenza while we are in your magnifica città, eh? Splendido to have you! Let us get a started immediatamente.”

  He glanced over at a cute young blonde girl about fourteen years old who was walking by. “Cathleen, take this giovane donna to Matt and informare him I desideri—that I wish him to work with her together. He’s incaricato to teach her today.” He turned again to me. “Nice to meet you, Kelsey. I hope you piacere, ah, enjoy, working here at our piccola tenda di circo!”

  I said, “Thanks, it was nice to meet you too.”

  He winked at me, then turned around, went back inside his motor home, and closed the door.

  Cathleen smiled and led me around the back of the building to the circus’s sleeping quarters. “Welcome to the big—er, well, small top! Come on, follow me. You can sleep in my tent if you want. There are a couple of extra cots in there. My mom, my aunt, and I all share a tent. We travel with the circus. My mom’s an acrobat and my aunt is, too. Our tent’s nice, if you can ignore all the costumes.”

  She led me into her tent and to a vacant cot. The tent was spacious. I stowed my backpack under an empty cot and looked around. She was right about the costumes. They were hanging everywhere—racks and racks of them. Lace, sparkles, feathers, and spandex covered every corner of the tent. There was also a lit mirrored table with makeup, hairbrushes, pins, and curlers strewn haphazardly over every square inch of the surface.

  We then found Matt, who looked to be about fourteen or fifteen. He had brown hair, an average short haircut, brown eyes, and a happy-go-lucky grin. He was trying to set up a ticket stand by himself—and failing miserably.

  “Hey, Matt,” Cathleen said as we grabbed the bottom of the booth to help him.

  She was blushing. How cute.

  Cathleen continued, “Um, this is Kelsey. She’s here for two weeks. You’re supposed to show her the ropes.”

  “No problem,” he replied. “See ya around, Cath.”

  “See ya.” She smiled and flounced away.

  “So, Kelsey, I guess you get to be my sidekick today, huh? Well, you’ll love it,” he said, teasing me. “I run the tickets and souvenir booths, and I’m the trash collector and stock boy. I basically do everything around here that needs to get done. My dad’s the circus animal trainer.”

  “That’s a cool job.” I replied and joked, “It’s sounds better than a trash collector anyway.”

  Matt laughed. “Let’s get going then,” he said.

  We spent the next few hours hauling boxes, stocking the concession stand, and preparing for the public.

  Ugh, I’m out of shape, I thought as my biceps protested and tried to unionize against me.

  Dad always used to say, “Hard work keeps you grounded” whenever Mom would come up with a massive new project like planting a flower garden. He was infinitely patient, and when I complained about the extra work, he’d just smile and say, “Kells, when you love someone, you learn to give and take. Someday that will happen to you too.”

  Somehow, I doubted this was one of those situations.

  When everything was ready, Matt sent me over to Cathleen to pick out and change into a circus costume—which turned out to be gold, glittery, and something I normally wouldn’t have touched with a ten-foot pole.

  This job better be worth it, I muttered under my breath and crammed my head through the shiny neckline.

  Donned in my new sparkly getup, I walked out to the ticket booth and saw that Matt had put up the price board. He was waiting for me with instructions, the lock box, and a ring of tickets. He had also brought me a sack lunch.

  “It’s show time. Chow down quick because a couple of buses of summer camp kids are on their way.”

  Before I could finish eating, the camp children descended upon me in a raucous, violent flurry of little bodies. I felt like tiny buffalo were stampeding over me. My customer service-like smile probably looked more like a frightened grimace. There was nowhere for me to run. They were all around me—each one clamoring for my attention.

  The adults approached, and I asked them hopefully, “Are you all paying together or separately?”

  One of the teachers responded, “Oh, no. We decided to let each child buy a ticket.”

  “That’s great,” I muttered with a fake smile.

  I began selling the tickets, and Cathleen soon joined me until I heard the music of the performance begin. I sat there for about twenty minutes more, but nobody else came in, so I locked the money box and found Matt inside the tent watching the show.

  The man I’d met earlier that morning was the ringleader. “What’s his name?” I whispered to Matt.

  “Agostino Maurizio,” he replied. “He’s the owner of the circus, and the acrobats are all members of his family.”

  Mr. Maurizio brought out the clowns, acrobats, and jugglers, and I found myself enjoying the performance. Before long, though, Matt elbowed me and motioned to the souvenir stand. Intermission was going to start soon: time to sell balloons.

  Together we blew up dozens of multicolored balloons with a helium tank. The kids were in a frenzy! They ran to every booth and counted out their coins so they could spend every penny.

  Red seemed to be the most popular balloon color. Matt took the money while I inflated the balloons. I’d never done it before, and I popped a few, which startled the kids, but I tried to make the loud pops into a joke by shouting, “Whoopsie!” every time it happened. Pretty soon, they were yelling, “Whoopsie!” along with me.

  The music began again, and the kids quickly filed back to their seats, clutching their assorted purchases. Several of the kids had bought glow-in-the-dark swords and were waving them around, threatening each other gleefully.

  As we sat down, Matt’s dad came into the ring to do his dog show. Then the clowns came out again and played various tricks on audience members. One threw a bucket of confetti over the kids.

  Great! I probably get to sweep all that up.

  Next, Mr. Maurizio came back out. Dramatic safari hunting music began, and the circus lights extinguished quickly, as if they had been mysteriously blown out. A spotlight found the announcer in the center of the ring. “And now . . . the highlight of our programma! He was taken from the harsh, wild giungla, the jungles, of India and brought here to America. He is a fierce hunter, a cacciatore bianco, who stalks his prey in the wild, waiting, watching for the right time, and then, he . . . springs into action! Movimento!”

  While he was talking, men brought out a large, round cage. It was shaped like a giant upside-down bowl with a chain-link fence tunnel attached to one side. They set it in the middle of the ring and clamped locks onto metal rings embedded in cement blocks.

  Mr. Maurizio continued. He roared into the microphone, and the kids all jumped in their seats. I laughed at Mr. Maurizio’s theatrics. He was a good storyteller. He proclaimed, “This tigre is one of the most pericoloso—dangerous—predators in the entire world! Watch our trainer carefully as he risks his life to bring you . . . Dhiren!” He jerked his head toward the right, and then he ran out of the ring as the spotlight moved over to the canvas flaps at the end of the building. Two men had pulled out an old-fashioned animal wagon.

  It looked like the kind of wagon on a box of animal crackers. It had a white, curvy gilt-edged top, big black wheels painted white around the edges, and ornamental carved spokes that were painted gold. Black metal bars on both sides of the wagon curved in an arch at the top.

  A ramp from the wagon door was attached to the chain-link tunnel, as Matt’s dad entered the cage. He set up three stools on the side of the cage opposite from where he stood. He had changed i
nto an impressive golden costume and brandished a short whip.

  “Release the tiger!” he commanded.

  The doors opened, and a man standing by the cage prodded the animal. I held my breath as an enormous white tiger emerged from the cage, trotted down the ramp, and into the chain-link tunnel. A moment later, it was in the big cage with Matt’s father. The whip cracked, and the tiger jumped up onto a stool. Another crack and the tiger stood on its hind legs and pawed the air with its claws. The crowd erupted into applause.

  The tiger leapt from stool to stool while Matt’s father kept pulling the stools farther and farther away. On the last leap, I held my breath. I wasn’t sure if the tiger would make it to the other stool, but Matt’s father encouraged it. Gathering itself, it crouched low, assessed the distance carefully, and then leapt across the breach.

  Its entire body was airborne for several seconds, with its legs stretched out ahead and behind. It was a magnificent animal. Reaching the stool with its front paws, it shifted its weight, and landed its back feet gracefully. Turning on the small stool, it rotated its large body with ease, and sat, facing its trainer.

  I clapped for a long time, totally in awe of the great beast.

  The tiger roared on command, stood on its hind legs, and batted its paws in the air. Matt’s father shouted another command. The tiger jumped down from the stool and ran around the cage in a circle. The trainer circled as well, keeping his eyes centered on the animal. He kept the whip just behind the tiger’s tail, encouraging it to keep moving. Matt’s dad gave a signal and a young man passed a large ring though the cage—a hoop. The tiger leapt through the hoop, then quickly turned around and jumped back through again and again.

  The last thing the trainer did was put his head inside the tiger’s mouth. A hush fell on the crowd and Matt stiffened. The tiger opened its mouth impossibly wide. I saw its sharp teeth and leaned forward feeling concerned. Matt’s father slowly moved his head closer to the tiger. The tiger blinked a few times, but it held still, and its powerful jaws gaped even wider.