A Bond Through Nonfiction
"Raz, are you dead?"
Mirtala's question stirred him out of his stupor. A quick shake of his head brought him back to reality. He blinked, regaining focus of his surroundings. The soft baby and royal blues of the circus tent came back into view, followed by the heavy, wooden boxes and coils of rope near the entrance. The regular rumblings and grumblings from his family members filtered in around him, in particular, his mother breaking up an argument between his older siblings. As he cleared his head, the odor of melted butter and sugar wafted in the wind from the food stands, and he wrinkled his nose, the smell familiar to the point of nausea.
Mirtala was standing right in front of him. She rocked from side to side, her bells quietly dinging. She stared at him with eyes that always seemed a little wide and curious. She started poking his side until Raz gently pinched her small hand, his fingers larger than her palm, and she giggled.
"Oh, good! You're not dead," she chirped, her smile infectious.
The corner of his lip curled as he said, "Uh, nope. I think if I died standing up, then I would've fallen to the ground by now." When Mirtala chuckled again, he stole a glance at Frazie and Dion. They stood next to each other, the latter crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes on Raz. As if noticing his glare was no longer directed at her, Donatella cocked her head, her hair blocking Raz from Dion's view.
Mirtala hummed. She continued swaying, never taking her attention off Raz. "Are you okay? You got really quiet all of a sudden," she said.
A noncommittal hum bounced around in Raz' mouth. She raised a good point. They had been talking about their latest routine when Dion and Frazie walked by them, quarreling. They hissed at each other in hushed tones, their faces twisting in aggravation, and he even heard a few curses slipping past their lips that would have made their Nona blush.
But the argument was typical. As their fights usually entailed, they squabbled about psychics. Dion had accused her of telekinetically holding his back while he was walking across the tightrope during his act. He snarled she purposefully jeopardized their family's safety. Frazie, her face burning hotter than flames, had snapped back; she had only done it because he would have fallen. She claimed that she would have gladly kept her psychic powers in the dark if he didn't let his right leg slip off the rope.
Raz believed they realized he was listening. When they hadn't bothered lowering their voices, he had wondered if a few of their comments were subtly directed toward him. At times, Raz intentionally lifted objects while he performed. Just last weekend, he had held up three hoops for Mirtala to leap through high in the sky. The shadows in the tent had provided cover for his abilities from the audience. (But his family knew, and his father's scolding lasted for a solid thirty minutes until he was dismissed to clean up the discarded popcorn boxes around the uncomfortable metal chairs.)
Another poke from Mirtala dragged him back to her. She pouted, crossing her arms in a way that entreated his concentration. "Raz, what's the matter?" she demanded in a voice that implied she wouldn't be satisfied with any hint of dismissal.
He sighed. "Well, y'know, I guess hearing them fight over psychic stuff just-" Raz raised his gaze to the sky, the cirrus clouds quickly moving overhead. "-makes me itchy. You don't have to worry about me, Tala."
Mirtala's gaze softened, but a wrinkle remained in her brow. She peered around Raz, and together, they watched Dion and Frazie storming off in separate directions. Dion marched toward their father, who welcomed him with a warm smile. Frazie stomped over to Nona and Queepie, the former gesturing for her to sit on the quilt she had stitched by hand.
Donatella combed her fingers through her hair. She groaned and let her arms slacken, her hands hitting her thighs. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted Raz and Mirtala, asking, "Oh, dears, do you want to come with me? I think I need to take a quick drive into town after dealing with their nonsense, and we do need to buy necessities before it gets too dark."
With a quick cheer, Mirtala bobbed her head up and down. She flashed Raz a bright smile and whispered, "You wanna go, Raz? Maybe they have a new issue of that comic book you like."
"True Psychic Tales is a nonfiction periodical," he automatically muttered. His rebuttal was practiced from the many times Dion rolled his eyes at his collection. But there wasn't any trace of disdain or mockery in Mirtala's tone. They had spent hours together pouring over his issues, particularly the ones featuring Agent Vodello, who had captivated Mirtala's intrigue. (Frazie had once been like their little sister, but she had grown tired of playing psychics.)
It was reassuring to have someone to share in his interests. Even if Mirtala couldn't fully fathom the depths of his somberness, he appreciated that she tried. It was more than what their older siblings had done for him. If he so much as mentioned his powers, Frazie would have looked around to see if anyone was listening while Dion scoffed, their reactions driving deeper wedges between them all.
"We'll go, Mom. Are we going grocery shopping? Because I think we're a little low on bottled water," Raz asked as Mirtala swung their hands together.
"Good reminder, Pootie. I was also thinking we could get a quart of ice cream to split among the family. I'd run someone over for a spoonful of strawberry right now," Donatella said, a cackle rising in her throat.
Mirtala squealed in delight and scampered after Donatella toward the caravan. She pulled Raz along with her, and Raz easily kept up with his energetic little sister. He heard a few coins jingling in his coat pocket, and pressing his other hand over it, he looked forward to acquiring the latest issue of Trie Psychic Tales. If Mirtala wasn't tired when it was time to sleep, then he decided to read it to her, hoping there was a brand new article on Agent Vodello.
