A Magician Never Tells His Secrets

“You want to . . .” I trailed off incredulously.
Her green almond eyes averted my wide grey-blue ones.
“But . . . why!?” I demanded.
Her eyes moved back to mine with a vengeance. They burned as she whipped around. “I don’t have to justify myself to you,” she spat as she began to walk away. “If you want my advice, go talk to Dimitri.”
I stared after her as her long, many layered skirt swirled like smoke around her ankles.
Dimitri.
“Prokhor!” I called out as I leapt down the stairs. He had come stumbling back from the fire, his hair messed-up and clothes covered in soot; empty water bucket in his hand and looking bemused. I hurtled to a stop in front of him.
“Where can I find Dimitri?”
Prokhor looked at me for a moment, blinked, then answered.
“He should be fooling around here somewhere,” he said. “I can go get him for you.”
“Would you?” I pleaded. “Thankyou so much.”
He just smiled at me and turned on his heel. I tapped my foot on the packed earth impatiently. For some reason Vera had said Dimitri would be able to help me. I was curious to bursting point to find out why.
He soon ambled into view. I had only seen the tumbler from afar; constantly being the entertainer. He definitely had the right hair for a clown; long, frizzy and dark red. He wore a pair of traditional suspenders with gold clips over a bare chest, holding up some track pants.
“Well hello,” he said, stopping a few feet short of me and plunging his hands into his pockets with a relaxed smile. Though I had never spoken to him there was something familiar about Dimitri. Maybe it was his low-key manor, or his normalcy. I was so used to people who acted like they were on heavy drugs, that someone easy-going was a breath of fresh air.
“Hi,” I said easily. “We haven’t formally met yet but . . .”
“Your Meg Woodville,” he finished for me. “I know, of course. What can I do for you?”
I sighed, not sure how to tell him. Or even what to tell him.
“Well . . . it’s a long story,” I warned.
“Shall I save us some time?” He offered. “That mysterious girl Vera told me you wanted to start a new business venture with me.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh? Oh! That’s right. Yes. I do.”
I had always been an awful liar.
He didn’t seem to notice, instead he grinned, his thick lips splitting over a set of wide, white teeth.
“That’s great! I have been looking for a Pirouette for too long!”
“A what?” I said, forgetting that I was supposed to know.
“For my Harlequin clown act,” he explained excitedly. “None of the other girls wanted to be part of it because they think they’re too pretty to be covered in makeup; even when I explained that Harlequin clowns are actually really cute.”
My smile was frozen in place and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a joke.
If it was I didn’t find it very funny.