Circus Galacticus by Deva Fagan

Author:Deva Fagan [Fagan, Deva]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

CHAPTER 12

Leeches

IT'S A PUNISHMENT, that's what it is," says Nola glumly. "If this was a random chore assignment, I'm the Wazeer of Deneb."

"Is it really that bad?" I grit my teeth as I shove my foot into one of the tall white spaceboots. I'm already wearing the suit; it's hard to believe something so crinkly-thin is going to keep me safe in the big black void.

"Is it that bad? Hah!" says Theon as she buckles on her own boots. "Ask your know-it-all to find you some pictures of Anvaran dust cloud leeches. No, wait; ask for pictures of the sucker scars, so you see what you're really getting into."

Besides the three of us, there are five others on leech-removal duty: Sirra, Etander, Ghost, a Tech boy named Toothy, and the walking boulder I've seen at the Freak table. He introduces himself as Gravalon Pree in a voice as rich and rumbly as Rocky Road ice cream. He's the only one besides me who seems excited about the mission.

"But we get to fly around with those spacewings," I say. "That's got to be amazing!"

Nola shudders. "That's the worst part."

"But it sounds like fun. Isn't it?"

"Maybe for you. I get sick."

"You should stay midship, Nola," says Sirra. "Trix can handle the aft section on her own. She's always up for a challenge."

Right, like Sirra's suddenly some kind of guardian angel. It has nothing to do with getting me alone out on the hull. Nola looks at me, clearly thinking the same thing. "No, I'm Trix's partner. I'll stay with her."

Sirra shrugs. Clicking down the seal on her helmet, she heads for the airlock, where the others are waiting. She doesn't have any spacewings. I guess with her fancy gravity-bending superpowers, she doesn't need solar-powered jets. Gravalon Pree, on the other hand, doesn't seem to need a spacesuit, but with his extra-large spacewings he looks like some sort of overgrown rock fairy.

While Nola is off checking something on the airlock, I pull on my own wings. They slip on over my shoulders, but I can't lower my arms. I crane my neck, but I can't see what's wrong. Worse, they won't come off. I'm stuck looking like a complete idiot, flailing around with my arms in the air.

I'm about to do something supremely violent to the wings when suddenly they slide down into place. I turn to see who saved me, expecting to see Nola. "Thanks. I was afraid I'd be stuck that way for—"

It's Etander. "—ever."

Immediately my eyes go to his hands. Today they look perfectly normal. I wrench my attention back to his face. "Oh. Hey. Thanks."

"They were caught up in back," he says quietly.

"Um..." Should I ask how he's doing? Or would that only make things more awkward?

He saves me from my social disorder by going on. "About what happened last week ... we shouldn't have tried to kick you out of the Ring. I'm sorry about ... about everything that happened."

"Hey, no problem. We're good," I say. "I mean,

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