A Magician Never Tells His Secrets

“Prokhor seems nice,” I commented uncertainly.
“Seems creepy,” Tori corrected me. “How weird was it when he kissed our hands?” She shuddered. “Old men are gross.”
“He’s only just turned forty,” Peter argued fervently, frowning at Tori. “He’s not old at all. Young for a guy with a nineteen year old daughter.”
“Still,” Tori said as we stood underneath a spruce a fair distance from the Europeans. Peter had brought us bottles of lemonade from an esky in his mum’s caravan and we were sipping them as we watched people bustle around, finishing up their breaks reluctantly and beginning to get to work. “I don’t like him.”
“Well don’t let the other kids hear you say that,” Peter warned. “They’ll skin you alive. Prokhor is like a father for almost everyone who was raised in the carnival. Especially the gypsies. All of them were homeless before he found them, trained them and took them in.”
“Really?” I asked, looking over to where the Russian kids were still clowning around. “He did all that?”
“Yeah,” Peter said, leaning back against the tree with a smile on his face. “He used to work here when he was our age. He left when he was twenty to go back to his home country. There he started to find the lost kids in remote villages, rundown farms, that sort of thing. Some where even sold to him by desolate parents.”
I gasped, a hand fluttering instinctively around my mouth. “They were sold?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Only one. That weird kid over there, called Dmitry.”
I followed the arrow of Peter’s pointed finger, across the pebbled landscape to a small scene unfolding in the midst of the ‘Lost Kids’ camp. A boy in his late teens with a head of uncontrollable curls was standing on his hands, long legs in the air, his face getting steadily redder as the people watching started a countdown. I couldn’t understand the foreign numbers, but I could feel the tense excitement as they started to chant louder. Finally the boy, Dmitry, flipped back onto his feet to a chorus of cheers.
“What happened?” Tori asked impatiently after this display.
“He beat the record for longest handstand,” Peter said dismissively. “Three minutes forty-two seconds, held by Vasha for six months.”
“That’s amazing!” I exclaimed. Peter shrugged. I watched Dmitry tumble over to the nearest tree and flip himself into its branches. “He’s incredible!”
“Yeah he’s pretty good,” Daw said, suddenly appearing at my side. I jumped and she laughed. “Then again, any idiot can do a summersault.”
“Can you Dahkling?” Peter sneered. “Or would you break that giraffe neck of yours?”
Daw glared at him while I eyed her golden wrapped throat. Could it really inhibit her that much?
“Come on,” she said, touching my hand. “I’ll go introduce you to some people nicer than this dumb-ass.”
I laughed lightly, trying to act like she was just teasing him. We turned away, but I noticed Tori linger, her eyes flickering back between Peter and myself. Knowing her inner turmoil I made it easier for her.
“Or you could stay here,” I offered with an inner sigh. She smiled gratefully.
“I think I might. Peter promised to show me around some more.”
Peter grinned victoriously, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “Sure did! Come on gorgeous. We’ll rescue Meg later.”
We separated, and Daw led me in the opposite direction. My insides were bubbling with disappointment. It had been silly of me to think that Tori would have changed at the end of high school. All through our adolescent years we’d been best friends, but Tori was always quick to ditch if it meant furthering her social career. It had made me sad to know that I was the only one who really cared about the relationship. Not that Tori used me or anything like that, but she just didn’t value our friendship as much as she valued boyfriends or a more popular group. And long after the clique had ditched her or the boyfriend dumped her we’d still be friends. Nothing had changed since graduation. Victoria Youdell was still a social climber.
“You okay?” Daw asked kindly. “You can stay with Peter if you want.”
She was reading my facial expression. With an effort I smiled reassuringly.
“Yeah, I’m great. And don’t worry; I’ll catch up with those idiots later. Let’s meet some more people!”
Daw ruffled my hair affectionately, a laugh bubbling from behind her lips.