Just seeing her touching his arm sends an equal mix of rage and jealousy flooding through my veins. I would do anything to trade places with her. I know Riley said he wasn’t the type to play me, and I don’t think he is. So why is he with her? Why isn’t he trying to spend more time with me? Did the trapeze thing really bother him more than he let on?
Maybe if he asks me to the dance, I’ll know for sure. I just hope I don’t have to ask him first.
Riley snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Jennifer,” she says, bouncing on her heels. I shake my head clear and look at her. “You’re starting to stare.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
Luckily, I’m not given much more time to make a fool of myself. One of the coaches blows a whistle and the warm-ups begin, first with a few laps around the gym, then jumping jacks, and then some impromptu dancing to “loosen up those joints and get your creative juices flowing.” I don’t know if it achieves the latter, but it definitely makes me feel silly, and entirely unprepared for the actual dance coming up. These circus people know how to move.
After the dancing, we do partner crunches and push-ups, along with some evil thing called “hollow body” that involves lying with my back flat on the ground and my legs hovering inches from the floor. After about ten minutes of sweating through the workout, it’s time for some stretching. In the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder how this is important to juggling, but at least everyone’s doing the same work.
I thought seeing Branden and Megan together at breakfast was bad enough. I was wrong. Seeing them do partner stretches together, well, that’s a whole new level of awkward. Megan’s extreme flexibility just makes it worse.
“Ignore her,” Riley says. She’s leaning against my back, pressing my nose just a little bit closer to my knees as I reach for my toes. It’s easy to follow her advice—it feels like my legs are on fire. In a good way. If it weren’t for the fact that Megan situated herself and Branden practically right across from us, I would have completely forgotten she was there in light of the pain.
“I’m doing my best,” I say, and bury my face back in my knees. Well, I attempt to, anyway.
I almost succeed, too, until we go into a straddle stretch. I actually blush when I look over and see Megan with her legs spread wide and her chest flat on the ground, Branden practically standing on top of her. Her eyes are closed, but he blinks his open and notices my quick stare. He gives me a look that’s impossible to decode. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say he looks a little embarrassed.
I avert my eyes and focus on the stretch. I’m nowhere near getting my chest to the floor, but it still burns.
“More,” I tell Riley, and she presses me even farther past the edge of comfort.
• • •
Riley and I head straight to the little tent outside the gym once warm-ups are over. As we pass Branden and Megan, Riley makes sure to exclaim, very loudly, “I’m so excited for our act tonight, Jenn! You’re going to be amazing.”
I don’t know if it does anything beyond make me blush—those two might not have even heard it. I try not to let myself look at Branden again. Hard to get, hard to get. So I smile and laugh and say I can’t wait either. I just hope I’m half as convincing as Riley. I also hope we’re able to follow through with an act that isn’t a complete disaster.
“What are we going to do?” I ask her once we’re safely out of the gym and away from Branden and his contortionist “friend.”
She shakes her head. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” She gives me a quick glance. “I’m just assuming you don’t have some magical ground act you haven’t told us about yet, do you?”
“Nope,” I say with a shrug. “I already told you—this is the only circus I’ve done.”
“What about something else? Something not circus? Like, if this was just a normal school talent show, what would you do?”
“Watch.”
She nudges me in the ribs. It’s a beautiful, sunny day outside, but I don’t feel the sunny optimism. I was so excited this morning. Funny how seeing Branden stretching with someone else was enough to pop that bubble. If only because I really wish that she had been me.
“Seriously,” she says. “You have to have something up your sleeve. You’re too cool to be boring.”
I laugh. No one’s actually called me cool before. At least, no one outside of my tiny circle of friends. Seeing as our usual pastime is playing video games together, that’s not really saying much.
“Well,” I say, “I was in our school musical last year.”
Riley practically squeaks with excitement. She stalls outside the flap of the tent and grabs my arm.
“No way, really? You can sing and dance and all that?”
“Um, yes? I mean, I can sing. Sort of. I’m not so certain now that you’re staring at me like that.”
She smiles and hops up and down a few times.
“We could totally do a group musical number. I’m positive the boys would be down. You can sing and we’ll be the backup dancers!”
“I don’t know . . . ,” I begin, but she cuts me off with a hug.
“Oh, this is going to be amazing! We’re totally gonna blow that contortionist jerk out of the water.”
And just like that, I’ve pretty much sealed my death warrant. There’s no time to argue, either; Riley grabs my arm and drags me into the practice tent, already rambling on about what song to pick and what we’re going to wear.
Chapter
Thirteen
Juggling practice goes really well. A few hours in and I have a handful of new tricks under my belt, including a few partner passes with Riley. She spends the entirety of our time training together chatting about what we’re going to do for the talent show. She’s dead set on us performing some pop song I’ve only heard once. I say we should just do a song from Wicked and call it good.
“It’s classic,” I say. “Besides, ‘Defying Gravity’ would be pretty perfect, all things considered.”
Riley rolls her eyes and tosses a club at my face. I catch it and toss a second to her.
“It’s overdone,” she retorts. “What about something a little less mainstream?”
“Mainstream? You wanted the pop song,” I say, keeping up the toss and catch. “Besides, I’ve sung this in front of an audience before. It won’t be as bad as a song I barely know.” My next toss goes long.
Riley fumbles the catch and races to grab the club as it rolls away. When she snags it, she jogs back across the tent, darting between a few kids tossing neon rings back and forth to one another.
“You need to work on your force,” she says, giving the club a little flourish. “We may have our artistic disagreements, but I prefer not to get a nose job this summer.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Practice makes permanent. And you’ll practice until you’re permanently awesome.”
• • •
The four of us sit together at lunch, Tyler and Kevin and Riley and me. The moment Riley mentions doing a musical number, Tyler’s eyes light up.
“I’ve always wanted to do a musical,” he says. Kevin nudges him. “What?” Tyler asks.
“Sometimes you’re too cliché for your own good,” Kevin whispers very loudly.
“Quiet, you. I could still bench-press any dude here. I’m so awesome I’m allowed a cliché or two,” Tyler retorts. As if to accentuate his mad skills, he tosses a chicken nugget in the air and catches it in his mouth.
Riley giggles and throws another chicken nugget at him before he finishes chewing the first. This one just bounces off his forehead and into his salad.
“Totally smooth,” Kevin says. Then he turns to me. “Anyway, I’m in. I can’t dance to save my life, but that will just make you look better, right?”