13. Circus Charlie (14)
13. Circus Charlie (14)
The quarantine was far more comfortable than Anna had imagined. Instead of the old warehouse where dozens were crammed together, they were given private rooms with soft beds rather than hammocks. And instead of the oatmeal gruel and thin noodles they had to grab from a roadside stall near the dormitory, three full meals of fine cuisine were served.
Entertainment was plentiful, too. They could watch every performance held in the memorial hall for free from premium seats. The main hall staged the originals of Christian's works, while the annex offered adaptations and reinterpretations — they could pick and choose as they pleased.
The guests seemed thoroughly satisfied with the arrangement. Some even remarked they wouldn't mind if the quarantine dragged on for another few weeks.
Anna, too, had grown accustomed to spending her dawn hours soaking in a bathtub laden with expensive bath salts. Yet she took no pleasure in any of it. The longer this life went on, the more miserable she felt.
Wrapping herself in luxury while her dreams lay shattered only sharpened her anxiety about the future. Everything she was experiencing now was nothing more than a mirage that would vanish in a few days.
She stepped out of the bath, toweled off, and looked over the book on the table. It was a collection of Christian's writings from the days when he contributed criticism to a small pamphlet.
That book had been her greatest comfort during this time. While reading it, she could shake off the unease of doing nothing, and she could feel her perspective on criticism broadening.
Anna sat on the edge of the bed and opened it. But today, for some reason, the words refused to sink in. Something somewhere in her heart was unsettled.
She had a good idea what was causing it. She closed the book and tossed it onto the bed.
A few days into the quarantine, her master had visited the memorial hall. As her official guardian, he had the right to know the situation. He was normally the picture of composure, but the news of the Curse Plague spreading had visibly shaken him. He'd left after a brief word telling her to take good care of herself.
Her master was always busy when he came to Vegas this time of year, so Anna wasn't hurt that he'd come to see her so late. The person she was hurt by was someone else.
Ella.
After leaving the memorial hall that first day, she hadn't come to see her even once. When Anna asked her master what Ella was up to, she was told she was too busy rushing around watching performances.
Anna stared at the ceiling and let out a sigh.
Isn't that a bit much, Ella?
The other students didn't even know she was quarantined here. This field trip was structured so that everyone scattered to find the performances they wanted to see, leaving no time to pay attention to one another. Like strangers sharing a hostel room, they came and went and shared notes on what they'd watched, and that was it.
Ella was the school's number one circus fanatic. On field trips, she always packed her schedule to the brim, raced through the theater district without a moment's rest, slipped in at dawn for a few winks of sleep, and headed right back out.
Anna knew that. Still, she'd thought this time might be different. She'd thought Ella might show a little more concern for her, stuck in here. But Ella was still Ella. She didn't rearrange her schedule for a friend.
Anna tried to understand.
Right. I'm comfortable here. There's no reason for her to worry about me. I'm not sick. Priests and doctors are on standby around the clock. She's the one who's struggling — barely eating, barely sleeping, running herself ragged.
But no matter how much she talked herself down, she couldn't stop the resentment from bubbling up. It had been accumulating long before this trip.
'Ella, you're leaving school soon. Doesn't it bother you at all? Even if you won't see me anymore?'
When Ella had brought up Wonderstein a week ago, Anna had turned prickly and argumentative for a reason she'd kept hidden.
It was the kind of thing you could never confess if you wanted to stay friends.
The wariness Anna had harbored toward Wonderstein was jealousy — the jealousy of a rival in love. She gazed at the ceiling and sighed.
When had it started? Falling for a girl three years younger than herself.
She supposed she was lucky her eyes were small. Made it easier to hide her gaze.
'I felt it the moment I saw him. He's my destiny!'
When she'd heard those words from Ella, Anna had felt a surge of anger.
Who's the one always looking out for you? Do you know that ever since I took over cooking, your bowl's the only one I heap extra ingredients into? You can't imagine how I sometimes bury my face in your clothes when I mend them. Do you even notice that I always position myself right next to you when we bathe together? You have no idea what runs through my mind every time I catch your scent, every time I see the line of your skin.
There was so much she wanted to say. In the end, she couldn't bring herself to say a single word.
If someone as gifted at acrobatics as Charlie had never made it past being her friend, what could someone like her possibly do to win Ella's heart?
The way Ella had acted toward her during this quarantine only cemented that conviction.
And so, after ten days of isolation, Anna returned to the dormitory. Her friends had heard the news that afternoon and were all waiting for her.
"Are you okay, Anna?"
"Did they treat you well in there?"
"How was the food?"
"Did you see anyone with the Curse Plague?"
Anna answered them while scanning the room. As expected, Ella was nowhere to be seen.
"The Christian Memorial Hall, named one of the Six Great Theaters!"
"Charlie's school, Rekachev, got picked too."
"Didn't you hear anything inside? Like how the exam will work?"
Everyone was buzzing with excitement over news of the Circus Grand Prix. A few kids were already declaring that this time, no matter how much their master objected, they were leaving school and joining a circus troupe for good.
Which troupe would win?
What kind of tests would there be?
How would the Six Great Theaters stack up against each other?
They chattered on like that until they fell asleep.
But Anna alone couldn't sleep, staring up at the ceiling. Ella never showed up.
Just then, with a flutter of wings, a white dove landed on the windowsill.
Gudol. His return meant Ella was nearby. Anna scrambled down from her hammock and ran outside.
Ella was just coming down the far side of the alley.
"Oh, Anna. Did Gudol wake you up? Your quarantine's over, right? I heard."
Anna wanted to demand an explanation. How could she not visit even once in ten days? But face to face with her, the words wouldn't come.
"Where have you been?"
"Watching performances, of course. I've been running around like crazy."
"...Really?"
"I barely slept. My schedule doubled."
"Doubled...?"
Ella stepped into the glow of the streetlamp. Her face was noticeably haggard. Her hair was lank with grease, and dark circles had settled beneath her eyes.
She beamed at Anna and held up a thick wad of paper.
"Ta-da! I saw every performance on the assignment list and wrote up the report to submit to the Christian Guide! Tomorrow — no, it's past midnight, so today. If I send it in before three this afternoon, I'll dodge the disqualification."
Anna took what she was handed and stared at it blankly.
"You... you knew I'd applied to be an evaluator?"
Ella smiled faintly and nodded.
"Yeah. I overheard you talking with Master a few months ago. But I couldn't let on. Guide evaluators are supposed to keep their identities secret even from family, right? I figured it wouldn't help if I acted like I knew."
Ella swayed on the spot. The exhaustion had clearly piled up.
"This time, though, I had no choice. No matter how long an evaluator's career, you get disqualified for failing to submit your report, don't you? So the moment I found out you were quarantined, I followed your schedule to every performance and wrote the reviews for you. Not that anything I wrote is going to pass the exam, but it's better than an automatic disqualification. Right? Writing is so hard. I spent days hunting down every piece you've ever published, trying to mimic your sentences until my hair fell out. I picked up your handwriting fast, but... oh, and I scored everything just by gut feel. Is that okay?"
"Yeah..."
Anna nodded. She felt tears welling in her eyes. Ella hadn't been ignoring her at all. She'd been running herself ragged across the theater district on Anna's behalf, losing sleep to write criticism she'd never once written before.
She'd known all along that Anna wanted to become a critic.
Could she know about her feelings, too? Could she be waiting for Anna to confess?
Suddenly, courage surged through her.
"Ella, I..."
In that moment, Ella abruptly threw her arms around her. Anna felt a jolt of confusion and a shiver at the same time.
Could she really...?
But Anna realized almost instantly that she'd been mistaken.
Ella wasn't embracing her. She was snoring. The exhaustion that had built up over ten days crashed down all at once the moment she'd handed over the report, and she'd fallen asleep on her feet.
Anna looked at her friend slumped against her shoulder and let out a soft laugh.
"Thank you, Ella."
She wrapped her arms tightly around the sleeping girl.
***
Mull walked the back alleys of Vegas late into the night. He was on his way home after drinking his fill at a party celebrating the Christian Memorial Hall's selection as one of the Six Great Theaters.
He chuckled to himself the whole way. He was thrilled that an outsider like him could mingle with the theater crowd, and even more thrilled that nobody dared challenge him. He'd even secured a promise right then and there that he'd have a hand in planning the preliminary the memorial hall would host.
"This is the life of a critic."
In his youth, he'd dreamed of being an author. His writing never found much daylight. Then one day, the reviews he'd dashed off to cover living expenses started making a name for themselves, and overnight he'd tasted a level of prestige and power in the industry he'd never achieved before.
"I had the talent all along. It just finally got its moment to shine."
He stroked his eyes.
Since he was a child, the moment he watched a performance, he could sense its "score." The reputation he'd built as a critic owed much to that ability.
When an obscure newcomer's production scored high in his eyes and he lavished it with praise, it would become an instant box-office hit. When a renowned master's work scored low in his eyes and he tore it apart, the wider reception would turn out just as poorly.
He'd never formally studied criticism. He simply threw out florid metaphors in line with the number he saw — either savaging something as a disaster or swooning over it as a masterpiece. Because his verdicts matched public opinion with uncanny accuracy, he'd become the star critic of Bread and Circus magazine.
That had earned him privileges he could never have dreamed of before.
Even during this quarantine, he'd been treated differently. He'd pressured the director into letting him come and go freely to watch other shows. That was also why his quarters had been kept separate from everyone else's.
'If I do a good job as a Grand Prix examiner, my reputation will only grow.'
He laughed as he pictured the rosy future stretching before him.
Just then, from a dark corner of the alley, someone called his name.
"Mr. Mull."
"Hm? Who's there?"
Mull squinted into the alley.
Standing there was a short, stout old man in a black hat, black suit, and a black cape.