Circa Now Read online

  Circa stopped dead in her tracks and dashed back to the top of the stairs. “Mom!” she called out frantically.

  “He’s gone!”

  Mom ran to the bottom of the steps.

  “His window’s open,” said Circa. “And his backpack’s not there. I even looked out across the backyard in case he was hiding, but none of the grass is smushed.”

  “He had to have climbed down the trellis,” Mom said. “Why in the world would he do that?”

  “Come on,” said Circa. “We’ve got to go find him.”

  Mom grabbed tight to the banister. “Circa,” she said. “It’s late. For all we know, he’s been gone for a while now. I don’t think we should go driving around hollering for somebody at this hour.”

  “Of course you don’t,” snapped Circa. “You’d say that no matter what time it was.”

  “Circa, that’s not fair. You know I’ve gone above and beyond my own comfort time and again to make sure Miles is okay.”

  “So then why would you stop now?” Circa said. “When it’s prickly?”

  “That’s not fair, Circa,” said Mom. “Think about it. Miles has run away from places before. He’ll be okay. And he knows the way back here.”

  “But you said yourself how much he means to us.”

  “And I meant it,” said Mom.

  “But how can you be so sure? Can’t we just—”

  “No, Circa,” said Mom, her voice shaking. “What you’ve got to understand is that Miles handles his fears by leaving. And I handle mine by staying. And neither of us is right.”

  “But I don’t understand,” said Circa.

  “If he’s not back by the morning, we’ll call and report it to the police,” Mom said as she watched anxiously out the front room window. “I just can’t figure why he’d run again,” she said. “It had to be for a reason. Maybe he was listening in on my phone call or something?”

  Circa sat on the top step and put her head on her knees. “I know the reason,” she said.

  “What is it?” said Mom. “Do you think he’s remembered something?”

  “No,” said Circa. “He’s gone because of how I treated him.”

  “How could you say that?” said Mom. “You’ve been nothing but kind to Miles since he got here.”

  “Until tonight,” said Circa. She could still see the dirt on the steps from Miles’s first day there. Aching inside, Circa stood back up and went to her room.

  “Hey, Circ,” called Mom from below. “Don’t blame yourself for this. Miles is a troubled boy, but he’s also a survivor. I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

  “I hope so,” mumbled Circa, closing her bedroom door behind her. Tempted to climb down her pine tree and go search for Miles herself, Circa headed straight for the window and opened it wide, only to discover that her escape would be impossible. For there on the best climbing branch sat that big, clumsy nest, and there in that nest now wriggled three newly hatched baby birds. Taking a bit of comfort in their company, Circa pulled up a chair and joined the tiny family at the window, quietly waiting and hoping for her friend to return.

  She stayed there and watched for hours, even after the hard windowsill made her elbows ache. Because sometimes doing the right thing prickles a little, she heard her dad say. She longed for him to tell her that it was way past her bedtime. All the while, the constant peeping of the nuthatches made her feel terrible about being ugly to Nattie, and she wondered if Nat would ever share a honeysuckle with her again. But mostly, she wondered if she would ever get to see Miles again.

  To drown out her own thinking, Circa tried again and again to sing softly the song Dad loved, but each time, the opening words of it proved almost too much to bear.

  It’s way past midnight. Everyone’s asleep.

  Outside the window it’s quiet on the street.

  By the third attempt, Circa was nearly at her wit’s end with sadness and guilt. In desperation, she looked to the sky and began to mutter a prayer like any other.

  “Oh, Lord,” she said tearfully, “Keep your eye on my friends.”

  Then, suddenly, a shadowy figure approached on the street below.

  Mary Jo would hereafter be famous for dredging up the long-lost key to love and happiness. Someday she would even polish up the key and pass it along to her grandchildren. But for today, for this one shining moment, she was just plain giddy to be wearing that glorious jellyfish hat.

  It was four twenty-one in the morning when Miles wandered onto the driveway, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Circa had become near delirious with exhaustion and regret, but she still scrambled down the stairs, out the door, and into the yard to greet him.

  “Where have you been?” she said breathlessly. “I’ve been watching for you all night.”

  “Yeah, I saw,” said Miles. “Your light’s the only one on the whole street.”

  He sat down on the front porch, in the exact spot he’d been when Circa first saw him. She planted herself on the other side of the porch steps.

  “Miles,” she said. “Wait. Before you answer me, please just listen for a minute. I’m so sorry for what happened in the studio tonight. I just got kind of crazy with the Shopt idea, and I guess it sort of made me not think about who I was hurting.”

  Circa looked at Miles’s hunched profile.

  “I put my head in the hive,” she said.

  Miles leaned back wearily on the porch column.

  “That’s why you ran, isn’t it?” said Circa.

  He nodded.

  “You’re not Shopt,” Circa said.

  “Good to know,” said Miles.

  Circa gathered up the strength to spit out a bitter truth. “You want to know who you really are?”

  Miles looked at her, his tired eyes showing a flicker of anticipation.

  “My mom got the call,” said Circa. “Your real name is Corey. Corey James. And you came to Georgia from Tennessee.”

  Circa watched Miles’s face carefully, to see if her revelation rang any bells for him. He looked just as staggered as she had been by the news.

  “You ran away from a boys’ home…where kids were being hurt,” Circa said, her voice trailing off. She longed to be able to tell him a wild Great-Uncle Mileage tale instead of this sorry one. “Sorry to dump all that on you,” she said.

  The two of them stared out into the weeds.

  “Wow,” he said. “Imagine a life so awful your brain completely blocks it out.”

  Circa squeezed her knees up tight and laid her forehead on them.

  “You know, I’ve kind of had a feeling all along that there wasn’t much good to be found in that load of forgotten stuff,” said Miles to the air.

  Circa couldn’t bear to imagine Miles’s past suffering. “So where did you go tonight?” she said.

  “I didn’t really know where I was going,” said Miles. “But I felt like I had to get out. And I just ran toward town.”

  Circa’s guilt pressed down hard on her shoulders.

  “But then I got a little ways away and something weird happened,” said Miles. “There was this old man and his dog sitting on a park bench on Third Street. He was the only one around, and he kind of spooked me when I first noticed him there, so I crossed to the other side of the road to avoid him. But then he called out after me as I walked by.”

  “He was just sitting out there in the middle of the night?”

  “I know. It’s weird,” said Miles. “I figured he was a homeless guy. Anyway, he called me over and asked me to sit for a minute, so what did I have to lose, right? And besides, from what I could see of him, he looked pretty harmless.”

  “From what you could see?”

  “Yeah, he was wrapped all up in a plaid blanket, with his face mostly hidden, like it was the dead of winter or something,” said Miles. “He never really even l
ooked at me. He just asked me all about who I was and where I was going. His voice was kind of weak and scraggly, like it was an effort to talk. And the dog was bundled up, too, but panting like anyone would under a blanket in the summer. The man said the mutt had wandered up just like me.

  “I kind of unloaded on the two of them,” he said, “since they weren’t doing much of anything but listening. I told the man what little I knew and what lots I didn’t, and about you guys, and about why I left.”

  “You told him about the Shopt stuff?” said Circa.

  “Yeah, sort of,” said Miles.

  “Who was he?” Circa asked.

  “He never told me,” said Miles. “The crazy thing is, his voice sounded kind of familiar.”

  “Huh,” said Circa. “What do you think he was even doing out there?”

  “I don’t know,” said Miles. “All he said was that he liked to come outside to enjoy the moonlight.”

  Circa paused to look at the sky.

  “What light?” she said, but soon as the words had come out, her heart quickened as she saw that the thick clouds were on the move. She held her breath in anticipation for what seemed like minutes as the clouds parted to reveal nothing less than a big, bright, glorious…half moon.

  “What’s going to happen to me?” said Miles, crashing Circa’s attention back down to earth.

  She hesitated big. “Mom says Mrs. Linholt is coming to get you in the morning,” she finally said.

  “Man,” said Miles. “I sure didn’t think I was coming back here tonight just to get taken away.”

  “I know,” said Circa. “Do you wish you hadn’t come back?”

  Miles shook his head slowly. “You know how you hate it when kids say your parents bought you from the circus?” he said.

  Circa nodded.

  “Well, I wish your parents had bought me from the circus. I’d rather live here as a freak any day than go back to being Corey James…whoever he was.”

  Circa’s gut twisted up tight. She searched her own pain for some way to commiserate with Miles. “After you left the studio tonight,” she said. “I got all crazy about the Shopt stuff. Like real bad. Like I actually thought I could use the power to make my dad not dead.”

  Miles eyes widened. “You did?”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s nuts. And get this…I even wondered if I might be Shopt too.”

  “Whoa,” said Miles.

  “Yeah,” said Circa. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, if it had all been real, then we at least could have been freaks together, right?”

  Miles didn’t answer.

  “But don’t worry. Now I know. It’s not real,” she said.

  “Yeah?” said Miles, tilting his head back on the porch column and looking up at the sky. “Or remember? Maybe it’s only half real.”

  He looked at Circa and grinned. She realized it was the first time she’d seen the crinkle all day.

  Circa smiled. “Well,” she said. “Did the moon at least make you half remember?”

  “No,” he smiled. “But it did help me see your street sign.”

  Miles looked at Circa. “Even if none of the Shopt stuff is real, it doesn’t make it any less special, you know,” he said. “I mean, the way that all those pictures in that folder made things better.”

  Miles shrugged. “For me at least,” he said.

  “Yeah. For me too,” said Circa, watching the curtains of clouds close up again.

  “You know, it was Mom that made us wait here instead of going out after you,” she said. “I was mad, but now I’m glad we waited.”

  “Your mom is stronger than you think,” said Miles.

  “Easy for you to say,” said Circa. “She doesn’t seem to have any trouble taking care of you. It’s me that’s the problem.”

  “There might be good reason for that,” said Miles. “Maybe it’s because I see what she can do, and you see what she can’t.”

  Circa felt a sting inside. “So what made you come right back?” she said.

  “Because the old man said I needed to stick around,” said Miles. “He told me I had a job to do.”

  “Really?” said Circa. “That’s what changed your mind?”

  “I felt like I’d run into him for a reason,” said Miles. “So I guess that was enough for me.”

  “A job to do?” said Circa. “What do you think he meant?”

  “No clue,” said Miles, shaking his head.

  “Hey, Miles,” Circa said tentatively.

  “Yeah?”

  “What color was the dog?”

  “Hard to tell,” he said. “He was mostly under the blanket too. Maybe brown? Why?”

  “Nothing,” said Circa. “Habit, I guess. All I know is you better go on in and tell Mom you’re back…before she wakes and calls the police about you.”

  “All right,” Miles said, standing and dusting the dirt off his legs. “You coming?”

  “In a few,” said Circa. “There’s something I’ve got to take care of first.”

  As soon as Miles was inside, Circa searched the yard for the plumpest pinecone she could find. Then she walked over to Nattie’s front yard and lobbed it at her bedroom window, hitting it on the first try. Nattie came to the window, rubbing her eyes.

  “Circa?” she called down. “Is that you?”

  “Nat, I need to say something,” Circa began. “And try not to fall asleep.”

  Nattie stretched big and leaned out the window to listen.

  “I was wrong, Nat,” she said. “I was wrong about the Shopt, I was wrong about Miles, and I was wrong about saying your nature stuff was dumb. You’ve been trying to be sweet to me, and I’ve been way too spaced-out to care. The thing is, you are really great at something, Nattie. And I’m not even talking about nature-ish stuff. I’m talking about friend-ish stuff.”

  Nattie put her elbows on the windowsill. “So you’re not trying to forget me?”

  “What do you mean, Nattie?”

  “I mean, you’re not going to forget me when I’m over there at the other school?”

  “No way, Nat.” Circa hadn’t known anyone to try to forget something good on purpose.

  “Even when people start calling me names for being the new, bug-loving kid with the hat and the big hair and the white shiny sandals?” Nattie said.

  It had never occurred to Circa that Nattie was just as scared about the whole change as she was. “Oh, Nattie, come on. That’s silly. Nobody calls you names.”

  Circa felt a pang of guilt. “Oh,” she said sheepishly. “Except me.”

  “Yeah,” said Nattie. “So what about that shmoo thing?”

  “I was wrong about that too,” said Circa. “Will you please forgive me?”

  “Or course,” said Nattie, smiling sleepily.

  “Thanks,” said Circa. “Now you can go back to bed.”

  Circa turned to leave, but stepped right back as Nattie was closing her window. “Oh, and the baby nuthatches have come out,” she said. “Better be thinking of some names.”

  “Sure will,” said Nattie.

  Circa noticed that the air had taken on a dewy just-before-daylight feel, which urged her to speed up her step as she approached her own front door. Even if they were both half asleep, she wanted to spend as much time with Miles as she possibly could, for in just a few short hours, Mrs. Linholt would be coming to take him away.

  Every birthday cake, a different word showed up in the smoke of the blown-out candles. So far this year, Josephine had collected Nicka, Nacka, Dicka, Dacka, and Choo Choo. She recorded each one on a crumpled piece of paper hidden under her bed, hoping that one day the words would all make sense.

  It was Saturday, nine thirty a.m., and Mrs. Linholt would be at the Monroe house in half an hour. Unable to sleep, Circa and Miles had spent the rest
of the night seated at the kitchen table spinning pie-fueled, near-nonsense tales of the day Great-Uncle Mileage and his nephew finally got to meet. But now that Mrs. Linholt’s arrival grew close, Miles was glumly gathering up his backpack from the floor, Circa was pacing the kitchen solemnly, and Mom was in the front room putting the finishing touches on what looked to be a note.

  “Come on, guys,” Mom said. “Or we’re going to be late.”

  Circa wondered how Mom could be so casual about rushing Miles to his departure. She and Miles went into the front room to find Mom curling a piece of tape to stick to the back of the note.

  “Circa, please stick this to the front door for me,” Mom said. “I’m going to grab me some just-in-case stuff from the kitchen.”

  As soon as Mom was out of sight and rattling a medicine bottle, Circa and Miles huddled to read the note. It said:

  Mrs. Linholt,

  Sorry for your trouble, but we’ve decided to take a little last-minute therapy trip with Miles, per the doctor’s orders. I’ll be in touch when we return.

  Laurel Monroe

  Mom reappeared in the kitchen doorway. Circa and Miles looked at her in astonishment.

  “Like I said, doctor’s orders, right?” Mom said with a shrug. “Mrs. Linholt will just have to come another time.”

  Mom stuffed a bottle of water into her purse. “Now let’s get on out of here, in case the woman’s extra eager to do her job this morning,” she said. “Not to mention before I lose my nerve.”

  As Mom and Miles made their way to the driveway, Circa lagged behind to press the note to the door. Then she ran to join Miles in the backseat as Mom started the car.

  Mom took a deep breath and threw the car into reverse. “To the ordeal,” she said, followed by zero false starts, zero running back inside.

  “But Mom,” said Circa. “I thought we weren’t…I mean, I thought you couldn’t…”

  “Yeah, me too,” said Mom. “But sometimes doing the right thing stings a lot, right?”

  Mom started down Delp Street. “It’s kind of like when I carried your eleven-year-old self up the stairs to your bed the other night,” she said. “I had to shut my eyes and ask your dad for some strength.”