THE DANCER PART 2

THE DANCER PART 2
"What have you been doing?"

The small lady in a long, flared skirt, golden bracelets on her wrists, and hands on her hips stares at me.

"Working," I hiss at her, seeing her mouth tighten and her feet tapping on the ground.

"With pigs..." She comes toward me and walks around me, making me smile at her grumbles. "Look at the state of those overalls! Did you roll in the dirt or something?"

I shake my head, smiling as she stops in front of me and snorts through her nose.

"God, she may be a woman, but the spirit is that of a boy!" She taps her finger on the tip of my nose, turns her back, and goes to the corner of her tent, grabbing a bundle. "I still have to go make dinner. Do you think you could take this to Fredo and leave it in his wagon? He told me he needs bedding for the new circus member."

I lower my face toward the cloth bundle she hands me, nodding.

"Thank you, my dear. You have no idea how happy I am to have you helping me, my little girl." She sighs, closing her eyes as she speaks so kindly, smoothing my face. "Is everything alright, Selly? Did something happen? You look so sad..."

I open my eyes and shake my head quickly from side to side, turning away, not wanting her to worry about me. I can feel Baba’s gaze on my back still, and I know if I stay here, she’ll start watching me more closely, wanting to know what’s going on—and I don’t want to talk to her about what Dior said to me.

"I want you here later, did you hear me?!" she shouts behind me. "Take a shower and come back here, young lady."

I raise my left arm, waving to her as I walk away without turning back, exhaling tiredly through my mouth, thinking of a way not to have to go see Spook tonight. He’s angry because I didn’t go yesterday, and when he’s angry, he becomes cruel, forcing me to dance for him naked.

And I definitely don’t want to dance for him, with or without clothes. Maybe tonight I’ll run away to Arthur’s cage, and I can say I heard him roaring and went to see him, that he wasn’t well, and I ended up falling asleep in the cage. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.

"Selly, when will Baba make me more clothes?" Veruska shouts loudly, glaring at me as I pass her tent. "I’m tired of always wearing the same outfits during the shows."

I shrug, shaking my head, not knowing when that will happen. I keep walking as I hear Veruska curse, starting to speak in Russian, which always happens when she’s angry.

I stop in front of Fredo’s wagon and knock five quick times on the door, letting him know it’s me because that’s my special knock, a way to tell him I’ve arrived. I open it and enter, seeing everything empty, which tells me he’s still working with the other men in the main tent. There’s always work at the circus, setting up tents and checking the stands. There’s never a shortage of work.

I leave the bedding bundle on a single bed near the bare wall and walk slowly to the back of the wagon. But I stop, noticing on the shelf near the bed the little ballerina on top of a wooden box. I watch it, enchanted, seeing its leg bent on tiptoe and its arms raised above its head.

I stretch out my arm and touch it gently, remembering the music box my mother had, with a ballerina just as beautiful as this one. I smile, looking at it affectionately.

Without meaning to, my fingertip brushes the side of the box, pressing a button, and the ballerina begins to spin slowly, with a melody playing, making me forget everything that makes me suffer at this moment, with no worries except admiring her spin and spin, listening to the music coming from the box.

"It’s Swan Lake."

A low male voice sounds behind me, but still, I jump, startled.

My chest rises and falls quickly as my eyes fix on the bare male chest, watching water run down it. But it’s not just his nudity that makes me stare—it’s the tattoos on his skin, climbing up to his throat. He has bone designs tattooed near his throat and shoulders that make his skin look like a skeleton, plus a huge clown skull with a pair of cruel eyes at the center of his chest.

I lift my face, and the second I meet those silver eyes, I notice they’re almost black, looking at me so intensely it feels like my heart stops beating for seconds, only to explode into wild beats afterward. His wet, loose black hair lets the water run down his shoulders, and I see his mouth tighten as he pulls air sharply into his lungs.

I have to throw my head back to look at him, he’s so tall, and I feel even smaller next to him.

"The music box belonged to my mother."

I lower my face, feeling my cheeks heat from the burning way he watches me.

My cheeks burn even more as I look at the white bath towel wrapped around his waist, which perfectly shows the bulge pressed against the fabric. I widen my eyes and take a deeper breath, since I had never stood in front of a half-naked man in my life before.

My heart races, and shame mixes with curiosity and fear. I don’t know why I’m still here, why I didn’t run away the moment I heard his voice and knew I wasn’t alone in Fredo’s wagon.

"She always loved ballet. She would have liked to see you dance."

His low voice has a strong tone, and he inhales more deeply as he steps forward, stretching out his arm.

But he freezes when my body pulls back, and I get scared by his movement, thinking he might touch or hurt me.

"You can hold her in your hands if you want to look at her up close."

He tightens the corner of his mouth, and I see his finger point to the ballerina, making me realize he only wanted to show me the music box, not touch me.

His eyes darken, and he clenches his fingers on the towel as he lowers his hand, his voice growing hoarse as he looks at the floor:

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you."

He turns sideways, hiding the scarred side of his face from me, which makes me realize he thinks I’m afraid of his face. But that’s not how I feel, because I see my own scars every day, and I know what it means to be disfigured.

My eyes scan his shoulders, arms, and torso, all covered in bone tattoos. But even with the tattoos, I can see tougher skin in some places, which tells me there are more scars beneath the designs.

I shyly stretch out my arm and lower my face, looking at my hand with the palm facing up. I slowly pull the long sleeve of my overalls down, gazing at the scars on my skin before shyly lifting my eyes to him.

His lowered face rises as he looks from my wrist to my face. I raise my other hand and brush my fingers across my cheek before pointing at him, shaking my head, letting him know his face doesn’t scare me.

However, I can’t explain that it’s the fact he’s a man that scares me.

Quickly, I turn around, pulling down the sleeve of my overall and run out of Fredo’s wagon.