My eyes narrow. “What’s your secret? Why aren’t you shivering?” Maybe he has a secret battery-powered space heater in his wagon. That’s cheating. I want one.
He gestures over his shoulder. “After I get up, I go and stand with the horses until I can feel my toes again.”
I look a little way down the field and see how the horses are clustered in a tight knot in their coats and snorting vapor in the crisp air. “I’m so doing that tomorrow morning.”
“Watch out for Jareth. He’s cranky when he’s cold.”
“He’s always cranky,” mutters Elke, who’s joined us at the fire. She looks at me mournfully. “You know what today is.”
I nod, and moan, “Hair-washing day.”
I hate hair-washing day. Over the summer I washed my hair whenever I needed to, cheerfully dumping cold water over my head without a care. Since the weather turned, Elke, Anouk and have cut it back to twice a week. I dread hair-washing day like it’s root-canal-without-anesthetic day.
I finish my coffee and turn to the wagon. “Well, let’s get it over with.”
Cale chuckles. “You look like Marie Antoinette headed for the guillotine.”
“If only.” I flash a smile at Cale, because we both know that I’d rather be here, washing my hair with a bucket of icy water and numb fingers, than at home. He’d rather be here, too, but I don’t know why that is. After all these months, my ringmaster is still a mystery to me.
In the wagon, the three of us take turns hanging over the bucket and scrubbing each other’s scalps, gasping at the cold water. We ignore the instructions on the conditioner to let it sit for a few minutes. It goes on, and then it’s washed straight out again. We have the whole process down to a fine art, and within six minutes of the first one getting her hair wet, we’re all done.
Up on the wall are our glittering costumes, hanging ready for the performance tonight. We’ll be glamorous for about an hour, but this is the reality of circus life. Anouk has a packet of instant hot chocolate powder, and she makes three steaming mugfuls for us to drink while we stand over the fire and shiver as our hair dries.
Across the field, Tanno, the performer who balances plates, is cracking a bullwhip, sending empty tin cans flying into the air and snatching straws that are wedged into a fencepost.
He catches me watching, and grins. “What do you think, Ryah? Not bad for just a few weeks at it.”
I haven’t had much to do with Tanno, but he’s nice enough. He’s about Elke’s age and has perfectly styled blond hair. I smile politely. “Very impressive. Are you going to put it in your act?”
“May well do. May well indeed, if I can find the right partner.”
He grins as he says it, showing his dimples, as if we share some private joke. I don’t really get it, so I turn back to the other girls and finish my hot chocolate.
Later that day I’m about to head into the woods to search for fennel as a treat for the horses, when Tanno cuts in front of me.
“Want to practice with me? I’ve thought of some cool things I could try with the whip, but I need you, as well.”
I look at the whip in his hands and feel a shudder travel down my spine. I’ve never looked at knives in Cale’s hands and felt afraid, and they’re ten times more dangerous.
“Not right now, thanks, I have to feed Dandelion.”
I try to move past him but he side-steps in front of me, still smiling. “Then when?”
His body blocking mine is making my heart race and I can’t take my eyes off the whip clenched in his hands. Ready to hit. Ready to punish. I try to find the words to politely but firmly tell him to back off. It’s what Elke and Anouk would do. My throat closes up, and I push past him and hurry away.
I walk in a wide circle around the campsite, wanting to get away from Tanno but not wanting to get too far from the safety of camp, either. My legs are shaking and I can’t seem to get enough breath in my lungs.
Cale’s over by his wagon, sharpening his knives, the whetstone in his hand rasping against the gleaming metal. I want to go and talk to him and tell him how Tanno’s made me feel. I even take a step toward him.
And then stop. Maybe I’m being needlessly dramatic. Maybe he won’t thank me for stirring up trouble with his performers.
I force one foot in front of the other until I reach the horses, and squeeze through them until I reach Dandelion. I bury my face in her mane, tears leaking from my eyes. I haven’t felt this wretched since I came to the circus, and I don’t know what to do.
Half an hour later I pull away from Dandelion. There’s no need to go running to Cale over every little upset. I’ll just keep away from Tanno from now on.
Chapter Fourteen
Cale