A Magician Never Tells His Secrets
Pink Chiffon
By the time I found my out to the Lost Kid’s camp it was almost eleven. I knew I had to start helping clear last night’s mess, restock the tickets, count the takings, and all my other jobs at twelve, so my search for her caravan had to be a quick one.
Luckily I saw her leaning against the large oak from before, holding a steaming thermal flask. She was wearing a pink chiffon nightie over white pyjamas, her brown hair in curlers. She looked like she was from the nineteen fifties. I crunched over the pebbles in my work boots and the tee-shirt I slept in, my jeans already smeared with dirt on the knees.
“Hey,” I called, scratching the back of my head awkwardly as I ambled toward her.
She smiled indulgently, and I caught the smell of honey and tea from her flask.
“How was your performance?” I asked eagerly. My jealously was quickly forgotten in her presence.
She sighed. “So tiring. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was.”
“I know what you mean,” I agreed. “Stuck all night in that tiny box.”
“Yes, I’m sure that was awful,” she said, looking away.
I breathed in deeply, suddenly acutely uncomfortable. “What’s with the get-up?” I asked, nodding to her rolled hair and pink night-gown.
“Chiffon makes my skin glow in the stage lights,” she told me. Her tone made it sound like commonsense. “And Anton likes my hair curled.”
A knot of anguish tightened in my stomach, but I smiled tersely.
“Cool, well, when I go for my break tonight I’ll come and see you perform,” I told her, trying to work my voice to sound cheerful.
Tori immediately beamed.
“Oh would you, it would be so great if you could watch!” She begged. “You’ll get to see my costumes and my hair and everything.”
You know, not to mention the actual magic tricks or anything.
“Yeah, I’ll come,” I said with another tight smile.
“It’s ten-thirty at the bunny door. I’ll tell Barry your coming,” she said eagerly, meaning the doorman. “Dress sharp.”
I didn’t have time to tell her I would be coming straight from work and wouldn’t be able to change, when a dark haired girl with pouting lips called her name, regarding me with a suspicious eye.
“That’s Galina,” she said, looking at the girl. “Must dash, but promise you’ll be there.” Her eyes came back to me on the last part and I saw the plea in her eyes. I nodded, confused. One minute she seemed fully content to distance herself from me, the next ready to pull me back. She’d always been like this.
She pecked me on the cheek and dashed off, chiffon flying.
Luckily I saw her leaning against the large oak from before, holding a steaming thermal flask. She was wearing a pink chiffon nightie over white pyjamas, her brown hair in curlers. She looked like she was from the nineteen fifties. I crunched over the pebbles in my work boots and the tee-shirt I slept in, my jeans already smeared with dirt on the knees.
“Hey,” I called, scratching the back of my head awkwardly as I ambled toward her.
She smiled indulgently, and I caught the smell of honey and tea from her flask.
“How was your performance?” I asked eagerly. My jealously was quickly forgotten in her presence.
She sighed. “So tiring. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was.”
“I know what you mean,” I agreed. “Stuck all night in that tiny box.”
“Yes, I’m sure that was awful,” she said, looking away.
I breathed in deeply, suddenly acutely uncomfortable. “What’s with the get-up?” I asked, nodding to her rolled hair and pink night-gown.
“Chiffon makes my skin glow in the stage lights,” she told me. Her tone made it sound like commonsense. “And Anton likes my hair curled.”
A knot of anguish tightened in my stomach, but I smiled tersely.
“Cool, well, when I go for my break tonight I’ll come and see you perform,” I told her, trying to work my voice to sound cheerful.
Tori immediately beamed.
“Oh would you, it would be so great if you could watch!” She begged. “You’ll get to see my costumes and my hair and everything.”
You know, not to mention the actual magic tricks or anything.
“Yeah, I’ll come,” I said with another tight smile.
“It’s ten-thirty at the bunny door. I’ll tell Barry your coming,” she said eagerly, meaning the doorman. “Dress sharp.”
I didn’t have time to tell her I would be coming straight from work and wouldn’t be able to change, when a dark haired girl with pouting lips called her name, regarding me with a suspicious eye.
“That’s Galina,” she said, looking at the girl. “Must dash, but promise you’ll be there.” Her eyes came back to me on the last part and I saw the plea in her eyes. I nodded, confused. One minute she seemed fully content to distance herself from me, the next ready to pull me back. She’d always been like this.
She pecked me on the cheek and dashed off, chiffon flying.
♠ ♠ ♠
story:another bit of insight into Tori. I sometimes find myself unintentionally catagorising her into the 'bimbo' stereotype, and I really don't want to. I like her as a bit of a challenge to understand, because people in general are challenges to understand. Meg too. I don't like her just being the obliging best friend protagonist. I like her with some negative qualities as well. They just aren't that obvious.
Ooh, I wrote a chapter with a big surprise in it just then. It's big on the 'omg' factor. Oh, well, I hope it is at least.
life:
not too bad. i had a bit of a freak-out over exams last night. So much I got really ill and had to miss maths and elective history this morning. Oh well. I have science tomorrow. EEK!