Louise Trapeze Is Totally 100% Fearless
FOR MAZZY, MY EXTRA-FEARLESS SHINING STAR
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2015 by Micol Ostow
Cover art and interior illustrations copyright © 2015 by Brigette Barrager
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ostow, Micol.
Louise Trapeze is totally 100% fearless / Micol Ostow; illustrated by Brigette Barrager. — First edition.
pages cm.
ISBN 978-0-553-49739-7 (trade) — ISBN 978-0-553-49740-3 (lib. bdg.) — ISBN 978-0-553-49741-0 (ebook)
[1. Circus—Fiction. 2. Fear—Fiction.] I. Barrager, Brigette, illustrator. II. Title. III. Title: Louise Trapeze is totally one hundred percent fearless.
PZ7.O8475Lo 2015 [Fic]—dc23 2014021085
eBook ISBN 9780553497410
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
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CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright
1. The Sweet Potato Poster
2. Birthday Eve
3. The Thing About the Circus
4. Taller than an Elephant
5. Ninety-Eight Percent Fearless
6. Ferret-Breath Fernando
7. Time to Fly
8. Extremely Embarrassing
9. Scaredness Things
10. Bad-Mood Feelings
11. The Trick of the Aztec Tomb
12. A Sweet Potato Surprise
13. Scaredy-Snake
14. A Secret of Grown-Ups
15. The Eureka! Plan
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Boing-flip-boing! I bounced into an extra-high backflip.
In between bounces, I was talking to Stella Dee Saxophone (also known as my best friend).
“If I were in charge of the official Sweet Potato Traveling Circus Troupe posters, that’s what they’d say,” I said. “Starring me! Louise Trapeze! On the flying trapeze! Can you even?”
I flipped into another somersault. It might sound silly that we were having such a serious-business conversation while we bounced all around. But actually,* we had an excellent reason:
We were practicing our circus tricks on the trampoline!
It’s a good thing Stella and I are best friends. Best friends means understanding what someone is saying, even when you’re bouncing.
We practice together every morning, after we lead the juggling chickens’ daily constitutional.*
The chickens’ constitutional is just one of our Important Circus Jobs.
We have to get up early each morning to fit everything in. But Stella and I are way too mature to complain.
Being mature is a fancy way of saying grown-up. And grown-up means old enough to fly on the trapeze! I totally, one hundred percent, can’t wait until I’m old enough to fly on the trapeze.
According to Mama and Daddy, old enough is nine years old. But today I’m only six years and three hundred and sixty-four days old.
And tomorrow, when it’s my birthday, I will only be seven. Not nine.
I sank on the trampoline and crossed my legs. My face was frowny. “Seven is not grown-up enough to fly! Boo.”
Stella made one last spring-sproing-spring. She scissored her legs in a side split. Next to us, Clementine the Elephant trumpeted to say the split was perfect. (It was.)
Stella and her parents, Max Saxophone and Ms. Minnie Dee, train and perform with Clementine, and Clementine loves-loves-loves Stella. She follows Stella and me everywhere we go.
Stella says it’s like having a little sister, except if your sister happens to be a well-trained elephant instead of a human person.
Stella flopped down next to me. “Your backflip is superb,” she said. Superb was one of our new favorite words. (It’s much more mature than just plain super.)
“Maybe,” I said. “Except, in the show, you do your splits on top of Clementine way-high-up. I only get to use the solo trapeze. The one that stays still.”
The Easy Trapezees act includes me, Mama, and Daddy. But Mama and Daddy are the only Trapezees who are actually allowed to fly from one trapeze bar to another.
“I have to do all of my tricks in one place, on one bar,” I said. “A Louise-height bar. It’s so low down and so unmature.”
When Stella performs with the Saxophones, she’s the Number One Star of the show. She wears a silver leotard and silver ribbons in her hair, and she balances high-high-high on top of Clementine the Elephant all by herself. Can you even?
It’s a good thing I am way too grown-up to be jealous of Stella.
Stella gave me a squishy hug. “Everyone loves your solo tricks, Louise. You’ll definitely fly soon.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I said.
“Best friends are always right.” Stella smiled. “But who cares about flying right now, anyway?” Her eyes twinkled. “Lou, tonight is your Birthday Eve!”
Stella was right. That was an extra-special thing about today:
I wasn’t turning nine, but it was still my Birthday Eve!
Birthday Eve is one of the very first friendship things Stella and I ever made up. It’s when, the night before your birthday, you get to pick what to do. Like if you want to watch a movie, it can be any movie you want, as long as your parents say okay. Or if you want to play beauty pageant, your best friend has to agree, even if she prefers art projects.
Birthday Eve is fun-fun-fun. And this year, I had a super-secret surprise for us.
“I can’t believe you still won’t tell me the surprise,” Stella said.
We were done practicing, and we were heading back to our circus tents. The Sweet Potato tents stretched red-and-yellow swirls all across the Monkey Town fairgrounds.
Monkey Town* is where we’re performing this month. Next we go to Funky Town*, and then to Teeny Tiny Town*. After that, we go to Cleveland. Then it’s back to Monkey Town again! We move every month. That’s what traveling circus troupes do.
Stella and I held hands while we walked. Clementine followed right behind. “Look,” Stella said. She pointed to the smallest tent, right up front. “Ethel is making her special kettle corn.”
Ethel Teitelbaum, our Refreshments Queen, stood by her popcorn cart. Salty-sweet-goodness smells floated our way. Even Clementine made a drooly face.
“I hope you girls have time for a tasting later!” Ethel called.
“We will!” Stella and I shouted together.
Tasting the snacks is another one of our Important Circus Jobs. It’s one of the most fun jobs of all time ever!
Other Important Circus Jobs we do are:
1. Making sure Dinah-Mite White’s cannon is filled up with glitter for when it explodes
2. Oiling Clara Bear’s unicycle
3. Brushing the Wonder Dogs’ coats
“I have to go try on my new leotard now,” Stella said. “But I’ll come back after to get ready for Birthday Eve. I can’t wait!”
“Me neither!” I waved to Stella and kept walking to the Easy Trapezee tent.
It was extra good that tonight was Birthday Eve. Birthday Eve was exciting.
And exciting was the opposite of maybe-a-teensy-bit-jealous of Stella’s brand-new leotard.
Even without a new leotard of my own, it was still my birthday. Just mine.
And that was totally, one hundred percent, special!
The thing about being in a circus troupe is you have to be brave. Which I totally, one hundred percent, am.
Most of the time.
For instance, like with the rare arachnids.*
I was extremely brave about the rare arachnids. What happened with them was Max Saxophone took Stella and me to the Monkey Town Pet-stravaganza on a day-off Tuesday.
We like it there, because they have animals from faraway places. One time, they even had a capuchin monkey!
(That’s actually why we call it Monkey Town.)
But this time, there were no monkeys. Only creepy-crawly things Stella thought were icky. Stella dared me to peek at the rare arachnid terrarium, and I did! I didn’t cover my eyes even a smidge. That’s how brave I was.
Everyone in the Sweet Potato Circus Troupe is super brave. Right next door to my family’s tent in our circus village is Leo Torpedo’s tent. Leo is a lion, and he leaps through flaming hoops of fire in his act! And his partner, Tolstoy the Clown, is brave because he performs with a fierce lion (and flaming hoops of fire). Sometimes Tolstoy even puts his head inside Leo’s jaws so Leo drools all over his face. The crowd always cheers for that part.
(Crowds like drool.)
Tolstoy and Leo were not being brave right now, though. Leo was hanging out in his cage. Tolstoy was leaning back on a chair, eating a peanut butter sandwich. The peanut butter had rubbed most of his clown lipstick off, so his mouth was just plain mouth-colored now.
Tolstoy waved at me with his non-sandwich hand. “How was trampoline practice?” he asked.
“Bouncy,” I said. “Of course.”
“Of course,” Tolstoy agreed. “A real trick would be to invent a trampoline that didn’t bounce.”
I made a face at him. “That wouldn’t be a trampoline,” I said. “That would just be like the regular ground. Regular ground has already been invented. And also, no one would go to the circus to see it.”
Tolstoy nodded. “You may have a point,” he said.
I love it when grown-ups say I may have a point.
“But, Lou,” Tolstoy said, “your mother was looking for you. She’s around the back of your tent.”
“Thanks!” I said. I ran off lickety-split. Maybe Mama had Birthday Eve news!
Behind the Easy Trapezee tent, Mama was hanging upside down from her aerial hoop. (It’s like a trapeze bar, but actually a hoop. I have one, too. But mine is Louise-sized, and lower down. Of course.)
Even though she was upside down, Mama was having a serious-business conversation with Ringmaster Riley and Daddy. I could tell.
You may think a ringmaster is the one person in a circus who doesn’t have to be brave. But you’d be wrong. Ringmaster Riley is brave for trying to lead “this crazy bunch of loons” (also known as our troupe). That’s what he always says. Also, his official ringmaster top hat is thirty-six inches tall!
He wasn’t wearing his hat right now, though. Now he was whispering to Mama and Daddy. He ran his fingers through his hair so it stood up like porcupine quills. Thinking about Ringmaster Riley with a porcupine on his head made me laugh.
Right when the grown-ups heard me laugh, they stopped whispering. Mama swoop-swoop-swooped from the hoop to the ground.
“Lou!” Mama said. “You’re back early.”
“Stella had to try on her new leotard,” I said. I tried not to sound maybe-a-teensy-bit-jealous. But my voice was loudish.
I made my voice as regular as I could. “I’m going to practice tumbling. So that I can be ready to fly,” I said. “Even though I’m still not exactly nine, tonight is Birthday Eve.”
Ringmaster Riley sneaked a glance* at Mama and Daddy when I said that.
Mama smiled wide-wide-wide. “Actually, Louise,” she said, “we’ve got a special Birthday Eve surprise for you.”
Daddy picked up a giant box tied with a fat gold bow and handed it to me. I popped it open, fast as I could.
I gasped. “Cheeze Louise and holy trapeze!”*
“It’s a brand-new costume for your debut on the flying trapeze!” Mama said.
Debut is a fancy way of saying first time ever. And my new costume was fancy!
It was a magenta leotard. (Magenta is a bright pinkish-purple color.) It had a tulle tutu skirt in magenta and silver ruffles, too, and there were matching sequined tights and also a ruffled headband that would be perfect for holding back my crazy-twisty-noodle curls.
My tutu was maybe even a smidge fancier than Stella’s new leotard, actually. Even though I was too mature to say so.
“Lady Edwina designed that, just for you,” Ringmaster Riley said. Lady Edwina is our Costume Director. That means she’s the boss of what we wear in our show.
I looked at Mama and Daddy. “Does this mean what I think it does?”
Mama smooched me on the top of my head. “Happy Birthday Eve, Louise,” she said. “Are you ready to fly?”
Mama, Daddy, and Ringmaster Riley were making giant happy-for-me faces.
“Your solo routine is in tip-top shape,” Mama said. “And your hip circles and knee hangs are superb.” Mama grinned because she’d used one of my new favorite words.
“So what if you did one of your best tricks—but on the flying trapeze instead of your solo bar?” Daddy asked. “You could swing out and do a split. It’s not a new trick, but it would still be more mature to be higher up, right?”
“Right!” I said. What an excellent plan!
“You can just drop to the net after,” Daddy said. “Like on the trampoline, but more dramatic.”
“Hooray!” I shouted. This plan was getting better and better.
Then I looked at the mature-person-sized flying trapeze rig. It was tall. Much taller than my solo trapeze.
The trapeze net was made of thick, knotty white rope. And the platform to the trapeze bar was high-high-high up in the air.
Mama and Daddy climbed up to that platform every time we performed. But now that it was my turn, those ladders looked tall as giants.
Actually, now that I looked again, the trapeze really was extremely tall. Taller than Clementine the Elephant even.
Also, the ropes of the net were woven very wide and loose-ish. Mama and Daddy were too big to slip through the holes. But I was much smaller than them.
Maybe I was even so small that I’d—swish-swoosh-slam—slide right through the ropes and land smack on the ground on my keister!*
My heart did a skitter-skitter-skitter. Landing on your keister in the middle of a circus performance is not grown-up at all.
Ringmaster Riley cleared his throat. In his most announcer-ish voice, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen! Feast your eyes on the fabulous flying debut of Sweet Potato’s own LOUISE TRAPEZE!”
I looked at Mama and Daddy. They were smiling so hard their eyes were squished up. I tried to squish-smile back at them, but my eyes didn’t want to go.
The trapeze. It was so extra high!
And the net. It was so extra wide!
I opened my mouth. “I think…”
But then I stopped. Everyone looked so happy for me. How could I tell them what I was feeling?
What if they thought I was being babyish?
Eureka! I thought. (That’s the noise your brain makes when a good idea pops into it.) I knew what to say.
“I should wait for Stella,” I told them. “Important times are for best friends.”
“Hmm. You have a point,” Mama said. “Of course you can wait for Stella. For now, we’ll raise your tightwire so you can practice. A higher wire and the flying trapeze would make a great birthd
ay show!”
“Totally,” I agreed. But my voice was quiet-ish. I barely cared that Mama said I had a point. I was just glad I didn’t have to climb the extra-high trapeze ladder yet. I wanted to fly so much. But the truth was, I realized I also had a deepest, darkest secret:
Totally, one hundred percent, fearless means not afraid of anything.
Not even heights or wide nets.
It did not matter that I had bravely peeked at a rare arachnid. I was not one hundred percent fearless. More like ninety-eight percent.
Which was a lot percent for a six-year-old. But tomorrow was my birthday. And on my birthday, I was going to fly.
I was all alone with Mama’s aerial hoop, my teensy-bit-higher wire, and that gigantic, extra-dramatic flying trapeze.
I looked at the trapeze.
I looked at its platform.
I looked at its ladder.
They were all still gigantic. And very high up in the air.
Maybe I’d start with my higher wire that Mama and Daddy had raised. It was much lower to the ground than an elephant. You climb a big-time ladder to get to the platform of a high wire. But mine was so low I just used a special Louise-sized ladder. The low wire was usually about at my waist. Now that it was a teensy bit higher up—not quite at my shoulder—it was still fine for the Louise ladder. So it couldn’t be scary.
Could it?
Step.
Step.
Step.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.