Girl on a Wire Read Online Free

bristled. “What are you talking about?”
    Another boy in a suit approached us, apparently not picking up the tension, because he gave a shy smile and asked, “May I cut in?”
    From the voice, I realized the person in the suit wasn’t a boy, but a girl with a pixie cut and a striking, angular face accentuated by a Phantom-style half mask. She was definitely wearing a man’s suit—black and vintage, with wide lapels—but pale pink lipstick too.
    “Not now, Dita,” the boy said.
    I decided I was glad for the distraction. “You certainly may cut in.”
    Smoothly I removed my hand from his and offered it to the girl named Dita. She shot the boy a surprised look. He blinked like I’d shone a spotlight into his face.
    I asked her quietly, “You do know how to lead?”
    A grin slanted across her face. “With brothers like that? Yes.”
    The boy was this girl’s brother. I didn’t understand why that was a relief. He’d called mea First of May, which was insulting enough, and I was almost certain both of them were going to have the dreaded last name Garcia.
    Dita danced us away from him.
    “You’re a talented dancer,” I said. I believe in giving compliments, but only when truthful. People know what they’re good at. And what they aren’t.
    “Thanks. Most new people, I make them nervous,” she said. “They think I’m, well, the girls assume since I dress . . .” She looked away, though she didn’t miss a step.
    “People think too much. It’s one of their main problems. The suit is gorgeous. And you saved me from your brother. He’s good with an insult.”
    “Really? Usually my other brother’s the problem there.” She changed her grip as the music shifted again, to a faster beat. A salsa?
    We picked up our pace to match it. I scanned the crowd for her brother, who was easy to spot in his devil mask. He sat in a chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. I waved, and sent him a falsely bright smile.
    “Why’d you just get here? Are you one of the iron-jaw cousins?” Dita asked.
    Now was the time to find out my answer. “Late arrival. What’s your act?”
    “We’re the flyers.”
    So she and her brother were definitely part of the Garcia clan. “Wow,” I said. “My grandmother was a flyer.”
    Dita seesawed us between couples. “What’s her name?”
    I took a breath. Then, “Nancy Maroni. Have you heard of her?”
    Dita stumbled forward, stomping my left foot. I grimaced at the pain. Apparently not everything Nan had said was mumbo jumbo.
    “S-sorry,” she stammered, but she sounded like she wanted to run away.
    The boy materialized again. “Everything all right here?”
    Dita nodded, but there was strain on her face. “Did you know who she was?”
    The boy shrugged. “Of course. That’s why I was dancing with her.”
    Releasing the light grip she still had on one of my arms, Dita pasted on the worst fake smile I’d ever seen. She wouldn’t be getting any compliments on that. “This is awkward,” she said.
    “No kidding. I’m Jules,” I said, slowly. “Jules Maroni. And you must be . . .”
    “Remy Garcia,” the boy said. “You should know you’re only here because Thurston’s an outsider. He doesn’t understand that nobody wants to work with the Maronis.”
    On the wire, the best walkers have an invisible line that extends the spine up into the sky and down into the earth. Their posture is beyond straight, almost a miracle. Suspended between earth and sky, they always seem like they should float away, but instead they become steadier and more controlled. I wasn’t as good as my father yet, but I tried to find that line. I drew myself up, too subtly for them to see, but not too subtly for them to notice.
    Behind the mask, Remy’s eyes narrowed. Dita elbowed him, and pointed. “Rem,” she said. “Trouble.”
    “What?” His lips had curled into a smile that made him sinister with the devil mask’s black leather hugging the curves of his cheeks. If I