November isn’t the coldest month nor the darkest, but somehow it’s the hardest one on the road. People don’t want to be entertained in November. They’re saving their money and good cheer for the Christmas season ahead. Seeing the arena half empty night after night is disheartening for the performers, and having to cope with that along with the cold casts a pall over everyone.
I have personal reasons for hating November.
Ryah and I break the ice that’s formed atop the buckets of drinking water with the handles of our pitchforks. This morning she’s swathed in so many scarves that I can barely see her nose peeping out.
She straightens and rests on her pitchfork as Dandelion takes a drink of the icy water. I wonder if she’s thinking of the mostly empty tent we had last night, and the dismal crowd we have to look forward to tonight.
“Okay, I’ll admit it, but only to you. I don’t like November,” she mutters.
I look slowly round at the frosty landscape. The churned up, muddy field around the wagons. The hill that rises behind the village, full of skeleton trees. I remember how the trees stood out just like that against the heavy gray skies up on Red Hill. November tenth. It’s today.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Neither of us has spoken about the kiss. I can’t even see any signs on her face that she remembers it.
I do. I remember it vividly.
We work silently side by side, and then take our horses for a ride. We race up the empty field next to the camp, our horses’ hooves thundering and the icy wind stinging our cheeks. Then we slow to a trot and head into the woods. Where the path widens out we’re able to gallop again.
“That’s better,” Ryah says breathlessly, and we come to a halt at the field and start to walk back.
I turn and look at her. Her cheeks are red with cold and there are wisps of hair stuck to her lips. Seeing her smiling makes some of the darkness disperse in my chest. I’m aware of her for the rest of the day, going about her chores, talking to the others, and November tenth isn’t as horrible as it usually is.
As I walk across the camp that evening, the sound of Ryah’s name catches my attention. I stop and look around, wondering who’s talking to her, or about her. Not that it should matter. I just can’t let things go when it comes to Ryah.
Tanno is talking to one of the jugglers, and I don’t like the overfamiliar tone of his voice and the way his thumbs are tucked confidently int
o his jeans. “Yeah, Ryah was really impressed with my whip work. I’ll ask her as soon as she comes out of her wagon.”
The back of my neck prickles, and I make a beeline for the pair. “What’s going on here?”
Tanno’s face closes as soon as he sees me. “Nothing, man.”
Fuck off with nothing. “You were talking about Ryah.”
“Yeah. Why are you butting in? You her dad or something?”
I feel my jaw tighten. The age difference between Ryah and me has been on my mind a lot, but that doesn’t mean I want it thrown in my face. Tanno is in his early twenties and is good looking, and I felt like stepping on his throat just for that. When I realize he’s the closest man to Ryah’s age in the circus, I want to use both feet.
“You were talking about your act,” I say tightly.
He looks like he wants to tell me to piss off, but replies stonily, “I’m doing whip work and I’m going to ask Ryah if she’d like to be part of my act.”
I picture Ryah with lash marks around her neck and wrists because Tanno hasn’t been careful. I imagine him seeing her how I do, sweet and vulnerable and oh so willing. Then I imagine her looking back at him like the way she looks at me, like he’s her whole world.
“No. Out of the question.”
“Why?”
Because I fucking say so. “She’s got enough to do between her act and ours.”
Tanno’s chin juts. “Then I’ll ask Elke or Anouk.”
He’s just pissing me off now. Ryah asked if she could join me, not the other way around. This asshole isn’t entitled to a girl in his act just because he wants one. “No, you won’t. If you want to do whip work, fine. But leave the others out of it.”
“What, you want them, too? Getting greedy aren’t you, Cale?”
I take a step toward him, enjoying looking down at him from the three inches I have on him. “I said, leave the others out of it. You’ve been practicing for five goddamn minutes and it’s not safe.”