Audrey Under the Big Top
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
A Note from the Author
Making Connections
Glossary
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Copyright
Back Cover
Cover
Title Page
Table of Contents
Start of Content
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back cover
CHAPTER ONE
Hartford, Connecticut
The Adams’ backyard
July 3, 1944
4:30 p.m.
I hoped I could catch her this time. Charlotte took a step forward. Her bottom lip twitched in fear. Our eyes met, and I gave her an encouraging smile, but I wasn’t sure she trusted me. Not after last time.
Behind me the crowd rustled. Someone yawned. A song blared from the record player.
I tuned out the sounds and focused my thoughts on my little sister. I smiled at Charlotte again. She was nearing the end of the fence now. Her balancing act was nearly over. All she had to do was a final twirl, then jump into my waiting arms.
Last time we’d done this routine, I hadn’t been able to catch her. I’d tried, but we’d both tumbled under Charlotte’s weight. We hadn’t been hurt, but the fall had made Charlotte’s fear of heights much worse.
Looking at my sister’s face, I should have realized that she wasn’t going to do the twirl this time. Instead, Charlotte jumped, several seconds too soon.
In the split second she was suspended in air, I rushed forward. Charlotte landed perfectly in my arms. The crowd cheered.
I set my sister on her feet. “Give a round of applause for Charlotte, one of the Amazing Adams Twins!”
Charlotte bowed quickly, then ran to her twin’s side. Charlotte didn’t like the attention, but Patty was the opposite—she waved to the crowd and smiled.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Patty called in her high-pitched, six-year-old voice, “I present Audrey the Acrobat!”
I smirked at the words ladies and gentlemen. The crowd was mostly just neighborhood kids, gathered to watch my sisters and me—Audrey the Acrobat and the Amazing Adams Twins—perform. All the usual kids were here—the Walker girls, the Jimenez kids, the Tucker crew.
But today the audience wasn’t just little kids. This time, Will Murphy, a boy in my class at school, was here too.
I avoided looking toward Will. I couldn’t be nervous now. It was time for the finale. I moved toward the huge oak tree, snapping my fingers at Charlotte. It was her cue to put a new record on the player.
When I heard the first notes coming through the open window, I shimmied up the tree to the lowest branch. I stood on the branch, waving my arms to the beat of the song. As the beat picked up, I climbed higher and higher.
If I fell from this height, I could die. Or worse, I could break my leg and never perform again.
I was only twelve years old, but I already knew what I wanted. I wanted to be a performer someday. If I fell now, I might never perform on a trapeze in front of thousands of people. I might never join the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus.
I sidled along one of the top branches, the strongest and thickest one that I knew could hold me. Then I closed my eyes.
I couldn’t see anything in front of me. I took one cautious step, then another. A hot wind brushed my face.
“Open your eyes or you’ll fall!” shrieked a child’s voice below me.
“Shhh,” hissed another voice. “It’s all part of the act!”
I tried hard to keep a straight face and not break my concentration. I pushed one toe forward along the tree branch. It wobbled a bit, but I knew it would hold me. I had practiced this act countless times before. I couldn’t wait to tell my dad I had finally done it in front of an audience.
If I could pull off the ending, that was.
I missed my dad. More than three years ago, after Japanese soldiers had bombed American ships in Pearl Harbor, the United States entered the Second World War. My dad had enlisted right away.
Now he was off at war, serving as a medic for the U.S. Army in Italy. He’d only been able to come home a handful of times since he’d left. My little sisters barely remembered him.
Last month, the Allied forces had scored a victory when our troops stormed the beaches of Normandy, France. On the radio, reporters said Paris might soon be freed from German occupation.
Maybe that means the war will be over soon and Dad can come home, I’d thought as I listened. Then he can watch my performances and cheer me on like he used to.
Dad had always supported my dream to be a famous aerialist. My mother, on the other hand, always told me to be realistic.
“We’re just an ordinary family in Connecticut,” she would say.
I knew Mom was tired from working all the time to make ends meet. Anything extra, she saved for college for me, Patty, and Charlotte.
I didn’t understand why I needed to go to college if I wanted to be a performer. I would have rather had the money for dance lessons and gymnastics.
All summer, I’d been helping take care of Patty and Charlotte while Mom was at work. And three weeks ago, Mom had given me something special as a thank you—tickets to the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. I couldn’t wait, especially for the aerial act, the Flying Wallendas.
I’d been counting down the days. And now, only two days left.
I peeked at the crowd through my eyelashes and immediately wished I hadn’t. Vivian Lang—my number-one rival—had joined the crowd. She was standing next to Will, arms crossed, a smug look on her pretty face.
Vivian wanted to be a performer too. She always got the lead role in all the school plays. And her family could afford all the dance and gymnastics lessons she wanted.
Now that Vivian is here, I definitely have to pull off my trick, I told myself.
The wind blew again, rustling my hair. The tree branch swayed beneath my feet, and I wobbled, circling my arms to regain my balance.
The kids below hushed. Silence was all around me. The branch swayed again, and my mouth dropped into a surprised O.
Then I fell.
CHAPTER TWO
Hartford, Connecticut
The Adams’ backyard
July 3, 1944
4:36 p.m.
For a moment, I was suspended in air. The silence turned to screams and gasps.
But I wasn’t worried. This was all part of the act. I knew exactly when my fingers would grasp the branch below.
When my hands gripped the branch, I opened my eyes in mock surprise. My legs dangled wildly.
The kids’ shrieks descended into silence again. I heard one giggle, then another. Then they all broke into laughter.
But I wasn’t done. I pumped my legs, swinging back and forth. Then I let go.
I flipped my body in midair, hooking my legs around a lower branch. I kept the momentum going, swinging upside down, going back and forth once, twice, three times.
Then I flipped off the branc
h and did a somersault in midair. I landed on my feet in front of the crowd, just as the song on the record player ended.
Everyone clapped. I bowed and grinned. A yellow daisy landed at my feet.
I blushed, hoping Will was the one who had plucked it and thrown it. I picked it up and snuck a glance at him.
Vivian was still standing next to him. She tapped her foot as though impatient and bored. But I could tell that, despite her demeanor, she was impressed.
“Thank you! Thank you!” I cried, taking another bow.
Even though our spectators today were just little kids, I still relished the applause. I couldn’t wait until I could perform in front of a real audience.
“I couldn’t do it without the Amazing Adams Twins,” I said, motioning for Charlotte and Patty to stand next to me.
The twins shuffled forward. Patty smiled and gave a bow. Charlotte, however, stared at the ground, twisting her toe in the grass.
I frowned. I knew Charlotte didn’t like being the center of attention, but if we ever wanted to be as famous as the Flying Wallendas—the most famous family of aerialists in the world—she would have to get used to it.
Someday we would be just like them—Audrey the Acrobat and the Amazing Adams Twins.
I grabbed Patty’s waist and lifted her high into the air. Then I twirled us both around.
“Let’s hear it for Patty!” I said as the crowd cheered.
When the applause stopped, I set her down and reached for Charlotte.
Charlotte stiffened. She didn’t like when I lifted her up. She liked her feet on the ground at all times.
But we had to give the audience what they wanted. I twirled with her as the crowd clapped a final time.
The applause died away, and I set Charlotte down. She and Patty linked arms with the Walker girls and skipped across the lawn.
I tucked the daisy I hoped Will had thrown behind my ear. He was still standing next to Vivian. When he saw me looking, he waved me over.
“Brilliant performance,” he said in a formal accent. “Quite splendid.”
Vivian smiled, but it looked a little forced. “I only saw the last bit,” she said. “I bet my gymnastics teacher could help you stick the landing better, though.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “I don’t need coaching—” I began.
A screen door slammed. “Audrey!” my mother called from the back steps. “Girls! Come inside. A letter from your father has arrived!”
Vivian’s smug smile drooped a little. Her father had been killed early on in the war. But if anyone at school brought it up, she insisted it didn’t bother her. “I barely remember him,” she would say.
I doubted it was true.
“You better go in,” Vivian said. She nudged Will’s shoulder. “Walk me home?”
I didn’t stick around to hear his response. Instead, I headed for the house, shrugging off Vivian’s unpleasant vibes.
I couldn’t wait to read my father’s letter. He always wrote to each of us girls separately, even though the twins couldn’t read yet. Our mother always had to read theirs aloud.
My mother held the letter out to me as I bounded up the back steps.
“How was work?” I asked her. “You just missed our performance!”
Mom mumbled a tired response. She worked as a launderer at a hotel and didn’t like her job very much. I knew that’s why she wanted to send us girls to college—so we didn’t have to work a job like that ourselves.
In my bedroom, I read my father’s letter. He told me about Italy, the hot sun, and the beautiful villas.
If we weren’t at war, he wrote, I’d think I was on a vacation.
He also told me how he had stayed up late helping one of his patients write a love letter to his girl back home. The soldier didn’t like his own penmanship, so he had my father rewrite the letter for him.
The lesson is to practice your penmanship, he wrote, so you can write your own love letters when you are older.
I laughed. I liked that my father wrote so honestly.
He ended the letter, like he always did, with the words Be brave.
I wrote back right away, paying close attention to my penmanship.
As I wrote, I glanced up at the circus posters that hung on my walls. My father had always understood my love of the circus and performing. I knew he’d love hearing about our performance that afternoon. I knew he would understand.
I would have to be brave to achieve my dream of becoming a performer. My mother might be determined for me to go to college, but I had other plans.
CHAPTER THREE
Hartford, Connecticut
Barbour Street
July 5, 1944
1:50 p.m.
“Hurry up!” I called.
The twins were lagging behind, and I had no patience for it. I couldn’t wait to get to the circus. I’d hardly slept at all last night. My dreams had been peppered with tightrope walkers, big-band songs, bright lights, and the smell of popcorn.
I couldn’t get to the circus grounds fast enough.
“It’s hot,” complained Patty.
She was right. The sun was bright and the humidity was thick. I could only imagine what it would be like under the big top, with thousands of people crammed inside.
I wished my mother would walk a little faster too. I knew she was tired from work, but still. She seemed to be enjoying herself as we strolled toward the circus grounds.
Patty and Charlotte skipped along beside us, their ribbons bouncing in their hair. They always wore the same ribbons—Charlotte yellow and Patty purple. The ribbons helped others tell them apart, although my mom and I knew at a glance. We didn’t need ribbons to tell us.
The twins ran ahead of us, their footsteps matching time. They both launched into a cartwheel at the same time.
It amazed me that my sisters always seemed to know what the other was going to do. They were too young to explain why, but my mom called it their “twin sense.”
“I’m glad you took the day off,” I told my mom.
She smiled at me. “I know how much you’ve been looking forward to the circus,” she said. “You deserve to have fun. You’ve been looking after your sisters all summer.”
“I hope I see Marjory!” I exclaimed. “And Lucia too!”
Marjory and Lucia were my closest friends from school, but I didn’t get to see them often anymore. At the end of the school year, we had promised to try to see each other over the summer. But my responsibilities to my family had taken over.
I led the way up Barbour Street toward the circus grounds. A few cars whizzed past on their way to the grounds, but otherwise the neighborhood seemed quiet—too quiet.
Something is wrong, I thought.
No smells of popcorn and cotton candy wafted through the air. No giggles of children. No shouts from workers at sideshows along the midway, calling for spectators.
When we rounded the corner, my heart plummeted.
There was no big top tent skewering the clouds.
I took off at a run, ignoring the shouts of my mother behind me. I entered the grounds and saw dozens of circus wagons. Horses still stood in their pens. Workers bustled, carrying benches, chairs, and poles.
I looked around, puzzled but relieved. Did we get the time wrong?
I glanced down at my ticket. No, the show was supposed to start at two-fifteen, just a few minutes from now.
A grizzled worker, his arms full of wooden boards and tools, paused next to me. “Can I help you, miss?” he asked. Sweat glistened on his brow. The heat today was brutal.
“I am supposed to attend the circus,” I told him. “Is it running late?”
The man laughed. “I guess you haven’t heard the news,” he said. “The afternoon performance was canceled. You won’t be going to any circus today.”
No performance. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. No circus, no Flying Wallendas. I looked down at my ticket again. The thick tears in my eyes blurred my vision.
“What happened?” I asked.
The man softened his tone when he saw my expression. “Sorry, miss. Trains were late. Been happening a lot lately. War supplies take priority on the rails. Nothing we could do.”
I looked at him. My tears had retreated, and instead anger filled me. “You don’t understand!” I said. “I have to see the Flying Wallendas. I just have to!”
The man looked down at my ticket. “Tell you what. Come with me. We’ll see if we can exchange this for tomorrow’s show instead.”
I looked back and saw my mom and sisters lingering on the sidewalk, watching. “Theirs too?” I asked.
The man followed my gaze and nodded. “We’ll give it a try.”
I ran to my family and told them the news. Then I returned to the man.