We Walked the Sky by Lisa Fiedler

Author:Lisa Fiedler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2019-07-01T16:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

Delaware, 1965

I AWAKE TO THE rhythm of sledgehammers clanging against iron rods—percussion and promise—as gangs of men transform the empty acreage of this Delaware meadow into a kind of dreamscape. Vince is a magician and a mathematician, laying out the angles and corners of the tremendous Big Top with a precision that would impress Pythagoras himself. The sun is just coming up and the tent rises along with it, as if some great tectonic shift has occurred and a striped canvas mountain is being born.

Sharon has raised my practice rope to three feet above the ground. She teaches me a sit-mount, which requires me to first settle the right half of my bottom on the wire; as it bobs gently under my weight, Sharon, with her cigarette poised in the crook of a peace sign, talks me through bringing my right foot up, then my left, tucking it close to my body. We practice until I can lift myself to a standing position—which is to say hours. I feel clumsy and inept, but Sharon assures me that I’m making great progress. We work through breakfast and before I know it, it’s time for lunch and I rush off to the pie car where the cook, Hank, enlists me in handing out dukeys—boxed lunches—to the crew. I spend the rest of the day learning the finer points of scouring a griddle and cleaning out the deep fryer.

Later, unseen in the far corner of the kitchen, I overhear a very glum conversation between the strongman, Alberto, and one of the dog trainers, Hale. Alberto is so enormous he barely fits in the booth. Hank brings them two cups of tea and a small mountain of shortbread cookies. Hale immediately slips one of the cookies into his pocket for Miss Kelly.

Soon enough, the topic turns to money. Or, more accurately, the lack thereof. It seems they’re both dangerously close to being forced to look for jobs with other shows. Neither wants to, of course. But funds are low.

“I’ve talked to Cornelius,” Alberto says, the quaver in his voice belying his monumental muscular bulk. “He says he understands if I decide to go, says he’ll even help me find a position if he can. But this is home.”

Hale sips his tea. “What do you think about that girl who came on board in Boston? The one who’s always wearing that pricey hunk of gemstones?”

“Seems like a sweet kid. Why? Wha’ d’you think?”

“I think if she can afford a brooch like that, she’s got no business being here, taking pay out the mouths of poor workin’ stiffs like us.”

“Aahhh, you don’t mean that, Hale,” Alberto says. “Besides, far as I can tell, she’s workin’ just as hard as the rest of us.”

“Yeah, I s’pose you’re right.” Hale frowns and takes one last long sip from his cup. “Don’t mind me. This whole money thing’s just got me cranky.”

Alberto rises out of the booth like an iceberg swelling out of the sea. “So maybe you should give yourself one of them distemper shots like you give your mongrels,” he jokes.

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