When the Blue Star Circus arrives on the edge of town, Lena and Philip spot a magician who seems to know more than he should. A midnight note pulls them toward a secret hidden behind the lights.
Lena had been waiting all summer for a real travelling circus. So when the Blue Star Circus rolled into town and raised its huge blue tent on the outskirts, she was the first to the ticket booth. Philip, her best friend from cycling races and cardboard-fortress battles, was right behind her, trying very hard to look calm.
By evening, the whole place shimmered with music, lantern light, and the sweet smell of popcorn and candyfloss. Lena and Philip sat in the front row, close enough to see the sawdust on the ring floor. A troupe of clowns tumbled into the arena, acrobats soared overhead, and dancers spun in bright feathers while parrots flashed red and green wings above their heads.
Then Mr Mirabeau stepped into the spotlight.
He wore a dark coat sewn with silver stars, and when he bowed, the stars seemed to catch the light and move. He pulled a rabbit from an empty hat, made oranges rise from his hands like sleepy moons, and turned a handful of coloured balls into a swarm of golden butterflies that circled the tent before vanishing into the dark.
Lena should have been clapping. Instead, she froze.
Mr Mirabeau was looking straight at her.
He gave the smallest wink, and something blue dropped into her lap. It was a folded scrap of paper, thin as tissue. Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
Learn the secret of the circus. Meet me at midnight at the performers’ entrance. Don’t come alone.
Lena glanced at Philip. He had already read over her shoulder, and his grin had vanished.
After the show, they slipped past the laughing crowd and circled behind the tent, where the music faded into a murmur and the air smelled of sawdust, damp ropes, and something metallic. The performers’ entrance was a narrow door under a crooked blue lantern. Shadows shifted on the canvas walls. Somewhere inside, something heavy scraped across the floor.
Philip reached for the handle, but before either of them could knock, the door swung open.
Mr Mirabeau stood there in his starry coat, his face pale in the moonlight.
“You came,” he said softly. “Good. Because if you heard that sound, then it has already started.”
A crash erupted behind the tent, followed by hurried footsteps racing toward them.