Tiger's Curse (The Tiger Saga #1)(3)

‘I use carob sometimes.’

‘Carob is not chocolate. It tastes like brown chalk. If you’re going to make cookies, you should make—’

‘I know. I know. Pumpkin chocolate chip or double chocolate peanut butters. They’re really bad for you, Kelsey,’ she said with a sigh.

‘But they taste so good.’

I watched Sarah lick a finger and continued. ‘By the way, I got a job. I’m going to be cleaning up and feeding animals at a circus. It’s at the fairgrounds.’

‘Good for you! That sounds like it will be a great experience,’ Sarah perked up. ‘What kind of animals?’

‘Uh, dogs mostly. And I think there’s a tiger. But I probably won’t have to do anything dangerous. I’m sure they have professional tiger people for that stuff. But I do have to start really early and will be sleeping there for the next two weeks.’

‘Hmmm,’ Sarah paused contemplatively. ‘Well we’re just a phone call away if you need us. Would you mind taking the brussels sprouts casserole a la “recycled newspaper” out of the oven?’

I set the stinky casserole in the center of the table while she popped her cookie sheets in the oven and called the kids to dinner. Mike came in, set down his briefcase, and kissed his wife on the cheek.

‘What’s that . . . smell?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘Brussels sprouts casserole,’ I answered.

‘And I made cookies for Sammy’s playgroup,’ Sarah announced proudly. ‘I’ll save the best one for you.’

Mike shot me a knowing look that Sarah caught. She snapped her dishtowel at his thigh.

‘If that’s the attitude you and Kelsey are bringing to the table then the two of you get cleanup duty tonight.’

‘Aw, honey. Don’t be mad.’ He kissed Sarah again and wrapped his arms around her, trying his best to get out of the task.

I took that as my cue to exit. As I snuck out of the kitchen, I heard Sarah giggle.

Someday, I’d like a guy to try and talk himself out of cleanup duty with me in the same way, I thought and smiled.

Apparently, Mike negotiated well because he got put-the-kids--to-bed duty instead of cleanup, while I was left to do dishes on my own. I didn’t mind really but as soon as I was done, I decided it was my bedtime too. Six o’clock in the morning was going to come awfully early.

Quietly, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. It was small and cozy, with just a simple bed, a mirrored dresser, a desk for my computer and homework, a closet, my clothes, my books, a basket of different colored hair ribbons, and my grandmother’s quilt.

My grandmother made that quilt when I was little. I was very young, but I remember her stitching it together, the same metal thimble always on her finger. I traced a butterfly on the worn-out, raggedy-at--the-corners quilt, remembering how I had snuck the thimble out of her sewing kit one night just to feel her near me. Even though I was a teenager, I still slept with the quilt every night.

I changed into my pajamas, shook my hair free from its braid, and brushed it out, flashing back to how Mom used to do it for me while we talked.

Crawling under my warm covers, I set my alarm for, ugh, 4:30 a.m. and wondered what I could possibly be doing with a tiger so early in the morning and how I would survive the three-ring circus that was already my life. My stomach growled.

I glanced at my nightstand and the two pictures I kept out. One picture was of the three of us: Mom, Dad, and me at a New Year’s celebration. I had just turned twelve. My long brown hair had been curled but in the picture it drooped because I’d thrown a fit about using hairspray. I’d smiled in the shot, despite the fact that I had a gleaming row of silver braces. I was grateful for my straight white teeth now, but I’d absolutely hated those braces back then.

I touched the glass, placing my thumb briefly over the image of my pale face. I’d always longed to be svelte, tan, blond, and blue eyed but I had the same brown eyes as my father and the tendency toward chubbiness of my mother.

The other was a candid shot of my parents at their wedding. There was a beautiful water fountain in the background, and they were young, happy, and smiling at each other. I wanted that for myself someday. I wanted someone to look at me like that.

Flopping over on my stomach and stuffing my pillow under my cheek, I drifted off thinking about my mom’s cookies.

That night, I dreamed I was being chased through the jungle, and when I turned to look at my pursuer, I was startled to see a large tiger. My dream self laughed and smiled and then turned and ran faster. The sound of gentle, padded paws raced along after me, beating in time with my heart.





2


The Circus


My alarm startled me out of a deep sleep at 4:30 in the morning. It would be warm outside today, but not too hot. Oregon almost never got too hot. An Oregon governor must have passed a law a long, long time ago that said Oregon had to always have moderate temperatures.

It was dawn. The sun still hadn’t climbed over the mountains, but the sky was already brightening, changing the clouds to pink cotton candy in the eastern horizon. It must have drizzled rain last night because I could smell an appealing fragrance in the air – the scent of wet grass and pine mingled together.

I hopped out of bed, turned on the shower, waited till the bathroom turned good and steamy, and then jumped in and let the hot water pound my back to wake up my sleepy muscles.