“Yeah?” I respond. I pull the blankets tighter around me. Not that I’m cold—I’m still sweating from adrenaline—but I want to hide as much of me as I can.

Leena steps in. Her brown hair is in a braid, and she has ­cosmic-swirl leggings underneath her shorts. I wonder if they pulled her away from coaching the aerial hoop. I wonder if that means the whole company knows by now.

“Hey,” she says. She says it in that voice grown-ups use, like they’re talking to a caged animal or someone very stupid. “Are you okay? I heard what happened.”

“I’m fine,” I lie. See, Jennifer? Not so hard after all.

Sadly, Leena doesn’t take the bait. She steps into the room and closes the door quietly behind her.

“Let me guess,” she says, leaning against Riley’s desk. “Vertigo, right?”

I don’t say anything.

“Ugh, that’s why I hate flying trapeze.” She sighs. “You know, I’ve been doing this circus thing for ten years now and was a gymnast for ten years before that. And not once have I flown on a flying trapeze.”

“Really?” I ask in spite of myself.

“Yeah,” she says. She shrugs. “What can I say? I hate heights.”

I can’t help but laugh. “But you perform, like, every day. In the air.”

“It’s different,” she says. “When I’m on the hoop, I’m in control. I’m not being swung about, and I don’t dismount by landing on my face. Personally, I think they’re crazy. But I guess we all are.”

I don’t say anything when she quiets down. After a few moments, she continues.

“When I first tried out for lyra, I was horrible. I’d done gymnastics for years, like I said, but the hoop was a whole different beast. I still remember, I was with the rest of my gymnastics team—we were doing a weekend intensive for fun. I was the first one to go up and try it out. And I managed to fall flat on my face.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch.”

I expect her to say, But then I got right up there and tried again, like all those uplifting stories my parents would try to tell me when I wasn’t good the first time around. In other words, I expect her to be entirely unhelpful.

“My pride was hurt worse than my body. But you know what?” Here it comes. “I didn’t get back on that thing the entire weekend we were there. I just watched from the sidelines and took down notes and figured out what my teammates were doing wrong. I thought about it every night before bed, going over moves and sequences. And then, about a month later, I went in for a private lesson. It was the first time I’d been on a hoop since I fell, and I figured I’d be scared out of my wits. But I got on the hoop, no problem, and was able to do everything I’d seen my teammates do, but without making the same mistakes they did. I never was the first to be good at something, but I was always the one who refused to give up. I’m pretty sure that’s what made me stronger, and I know that’s why Olga hired me onto her show. She knew I wouldn’t give up, not when I was sick or tired or wanting to do something else. It was persistence, not sheer skill, that made me who I am today.”

I can’t help but look at her in a new light—I’d always seen her under the spotlights, always glittering and perfect. It’s nearly impossible to imagine her as anything else.

“So . . . ,” I begin.

“So, you shouldn’t let this get you down. Maybe flying trapeze isn’t your thing. Maybe it is. This week won’t ruin your career, trust me. If you’re really passionate about something, you’ll do it. Girls like you and me don’t give up so easily.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. I don’t want to be whiny, not in front of her, but I can’t help it. “The whole camp knows I’m a coward by now. I’ll be the joke for the rest of the week.”

She shrugs. “Maybe,” she says. I look at her—that wasn’t the response I expected, but her honesty is, oddly, nice. If a little brutal. “I’m not going to pretend that word won’t spread. But I think you’ll be surprised—the kids who come to circus camp, well, they aren’t your normal jocks or gossip queens. Not usually. In my experience, we were all outcasts in some way, which is why we turned to the circus to feel at home. Give these guys a chance; they might actually surprise you in their willingness to look past your shortcomings.” She looks at me, considering. “That said, if by tomorrow you really want to leave, you’re more than welcome to go. We’ll even refund part of your tuition in hopes you try again next year. No one will hold it against you.”

She pauses to let what she said sink in.

“Lunch is in twenty minutes. The casting announcements will be posted near the end, so I’d recommend you try to make it. And by that, I mean you’re obligated to go to lunch.” She winks. “Can’t have you skipping out on meals—you need your strength.”

“What’s the point?” I ask, once again failing at the whole not-whining thing. “It’s not like I made it into flying trapeze.”

“You never know,” she says. “And there are plenty more skills to learn under the big top. Don’t discount them all just yet.”

She pushes herself from the desk.

“I’ll let you be. No doubt Riley will be back here soon to check on you. Do you need anything before I go?”

I shake my head.

“Okay then. Well, I’ll see you at lunch.”

Then she opens the door and steps out into the hall, leaving me with the empty room and the fragile hope that maybe the door hasn’t closed on my circus career just yet.

•  •  •

Leena was right about one thing. Not even two minutes have passed when Riley comes in, opening the door tentatively like it might set off a bomb. I wonder if she passed Leena on her way here.

“Jennifer?” she asks, peering around the edge of the door.

“Yeah,” I say, and she walks in. A small part of me is ashamed that Riley’s treating this like she’s intruding on my space when it’s her room as well. For some reason, it also makes me a little upset; I don’t want her to think she has to baby me. “It’s okay, I’m not going to snap at you.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that,” Riley says, sitting down on her bed. “I just didn’t know if you were still throwing up all over the place.”

“I didn’t throw up at all,” I say. I wanted to, but I didn’t.

“Yeah, I figured as much. Megan was telling everyone you got really sick on the trapeze. And I mean, really sick, like projectile-vomiting-across-the-field sick.”

I sit up a little straighter and push the blankets off me. Of course Megan was spreading rumors.

“She wasn’t even there,” I say.

“Don’t worry, no one else believes her either.”

“Why would she say that?” I ask, even though I know precisely why. For some reason, that girl has it in for me.

Riley shrugs. “Jealousy is an ugly monster,” she says. Then she looks at me, a little more serious. “How are you doing, anyway? Do you need anything?”

I shake my head. “I just froze. I’m not sick or anything.”

She nods. “Well, the offer still stands. Even if it means you need me to kick Megan’s blond butt.”

I laugh, which admittedly feels strange; I didn’t think I’d have the capacity for that anymore today.

“Thanks,” I say.

“That’s what friends are for—petty revenge.” She smiles, hops off her bed, and tries to pull me off mine. “Anyway, I’m glad you don’t need anything, because I actually just came here to drag you off to lunch.”

I put up resistance, but that eyebrow raise of her speaks volumes.

“Never get in between me and my food,” she says gravely. “Sandy learned that one the hard way. At least, that’s how I explained those hickeys to his parents.” To accentuate the point, she leans over and nibbles on my arm, making loud gnawing sounds.

I giggle and let her pull me off the bed.

“Okay, okay! I give. I need that arm.”

Riley stands straighter and smiles, then takes me by the arm and skips me out the door.