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Circus Girl ( ifana8 )

Do you know how horrifying it is to hear the sound of your bone—or more accurately, cartilage— breaking? It's worse than the disgusting crack I hear when Derek flogs his beasts. Or worse, when Mr. Twain twists his neck.

I found out on Monday night how terrifying it is.

"Up you go!" Mr. Twain said as I positioned myself in a handstand, his giant hands straightening my back. It was Monday morning, scalding and dusty. I'm allergic to dust. We'd just set up our tents and were practicing for our grand opening tonight. As I jutted out my head, I saw people (mostly yellow-skinned children) peeping through the snake charmer's tent to have a glimpse of what was in store for them. I sighed. Why did I ever come here?

"Straight! Back straight!" Mr. Twain shouted me back into my pole-like position. Russian Twain couldn't speak English well. In fact, he had to learn for my sake when I bolted from Africa to Europe and to the circus. Apparently, I taught him the little I knew from home; he never bothered to learn more despite being the leader of a traveling circus for years. He trained me in the art of aerial acrobatics, as he was a retired— and renowned— aerialist himself.

Blood pooled in my head and my legs lost their sense of touch. I stuck it higher in the air, making sure only my dark fingers, gone pale, remained on the mat.

"Good, good!" I imagined his balding head bobbing approvingly. "Now walk."

And so I did, sweating pouring from my head in hot fat globules. I walked the length of the tent about three times before Mr. Twain ordered me to stop in his nasal voice. I landed on my feet and massaged my hands.

"Brilliant, girl! Brilliant! Tonight, you perform last. Last!" he emphasized. "Derek goes first, Ariel second and so on!"

Derek was the animal tamer, and the first person I developed an incredible dislike for. I don't know if it is necessary to tame animals, but I watched some videos online (on the few occasions I'm allowed to use my phone) and the owners of the domesticated beasts on Natgeo didn't use force like Derek continually does on his animals. I mean, have you seen the way he raps the whip on their delicate skin? Gosh, you'd feel like you were the one being whipped.

Ariel is the tumbler, and one of the few friends I've made here. I build walls around me, you see. Don't like people getting too close. She's one person that cracked my solid walls and slipped in with that pink-dyed mane of hair she has.

"Not eat sugar, Ms. Ebonee! I know you love those things, but you have slow digestion, so no... no, you can't—"

"I understand, sir!" I laughed. That's his way of saying I add weight easily. Frankly, I was a "rotund angel"(as he constantly reminds me) the day we met, and it was quite a challenge shedding some weight, especially since I trained firstly to attain balance on an aerial silk.

I sneezed just as Mr. Twain dashed out of my tent, waving me goodbye. I did a split and rubbed my palms along the length of my legs till it touched my toes; as I repeated this movement, something cold settled in my flat belly.

Hope my parents won't mock me. That is if they come.

I was back home, in the bustling streets of Cairo. With the news of this grand performance circling around town, it was only natural that my charismatic parents lead the way to the event. Probably in the latest version of the trending car.

I bent my head and sighed again. Another ah-choo followed suit.

My parents weren't supportive of my decision to be an aerialist. In fact, the first time I told them, they laughed at me, then scolded me, saying we were the exemplary family in Egypt, so they couldn't have their daughter prancing around with some circus doing air flips. Yep, that's actually what they thought I meant by the word, aerialist.