Closer

He woke up first and saw his friend sleeping next to him, holding his hand. Had his eyes deceived him? Did he have a friend? Never in his life had someone been kind to him. Slowly he sat up and looked down at her, sandy blonde hair spread out around her head. Her cheek had a small, almost unnoticeable scar on it from the first day she came to the traveling fair.

Slowly, he took his hand out of hers. She stirred and her eyes fluttered open. Amelia sat up and rubbed her eyes. Neither of them said anything. They had learned to be quiet around the gypsies. If they were too loud, the boy would be beat or they could separate them. Amelia and the boy realized that they should stick together.

A gypsy came into the Devil's Child tent and started to take it down. The two sat on opposite sides of the cage, pretending not to notice each other. He tied the tent down over the cage. They knew that they were going to a new city for another fair. There were wheels on the bottom of the cage, like a trailer that was pulled from town to town. Before they started on the journey, the gypsy came back and tossed a couple slices of stale bread into the cage.

They swayed from side to side because of the movement of the trailer. She was thinking about a fairy-tale she used to read to Abbie. It was called 'Angel of Music'. Her younger sister would always ask her to read this story before she went to sleep. Abbie truly believed in the Angel of Music. She always said that the Angel had blessed Amelia with the wonderful talent of playing the violin. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her.

"My little sister," she said without looking up. "I used to read to her all the time. She believed in the silliest fair-tales…" Finally, she looked over at him. Tears stung her eyes as she said softly, "I miss her."

He got up and sat next to her. Neither of them spoke for a while. The winds outside moaned and made Amelia feel cold. "Her favorite story," she said, swallowing tears, "was 'Angel of Music'. I read it to her every night. 'Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought, am I a fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes or of chocolates? No, what I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed,'" she recited the story. "And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head. The Angel of Music sings songs in my head…" she sang.

He looked over at her when she sang. He liked the sound of her voice, whether she was singing or speaking. Once she told him about her sister, he wanted to know more. After biting his tongue for a while, he finally asked, "What was your family like?"

She made a disapproving sound. "I could hardly call it a family. I was the middle of five kids and none of us had the same father. Paul was the oldest, seventeen, then David, fifteen. David was probably closest to me out of my brothers. Then it was me. After me came Jon; he was ten. And Abbie, she was six. And probably closest of all my siblings because we were the only girls." She sighed.

"And my mother was the reason why I ran away from home. I never felt like she loved me. It was like I was a burden to her; like she had to keep me. The day that I ran away, she hit me. She was a whore. That was her day job. That's how she provided for us. That is why none of us have the same father."

The boy stared at her through the eye holes. She sighed again as silence enveloped them once more. It was unbearably uncomfortable. He tried to think of something to say. So he said the first thing that came to mind, "What are your weaknesses?"

Amelia looked at him for a moment, rather confused by the random question. But she answered, "When people play with my hair, I immediately become relaxed. I have fallen asleep on multiple occasions. And I'm incredibly ticklish." she smiled. "What's your weakness?" He thought, and then shrugged.

"This, I guess," he said, pointing to the wound on his stomach.

"Not physically. Emotionally." she said laughing a little.

"I don't know… Nobody's ever tried to tickle me before, and I don't think I've laughed in years."

Amelia stared at him. Though there was nothing funny about the traveling fair, it made her sad to think that he hadn't laughed for that long. "That's terrible." He shrugged. She moved a little closer to him and slowly lifted up the part of the sack covering his left ear. A light puff of air came from her lips and tickled his ear. He laughed a little and so did she.

Amelia lunged at him, trying to tickle him. They rolled all over the cage laughing and tickling each other. Both of their sides hurt from laughing so much. Finally, when they stopped, he ended up on top of her. They stared at each other. His heart was thumping painfully inside his chest from laughing and from how stunning she looked. Even after being here for only a month, Amelia still looked as beautiful as the first time he saw her.

Her blue green eyes stared up into his dark brown ones. Now her heart was thumping. She couldn't stand feeling this way, so she blurted out, "What about your family?" He got off of her. The spark between them was now extinguished because of that stupid question.

"I… My father… I never knew him. My mother kept me until I was eleven. She let me fall asleep in the carriage when we went to a city I'd never been to. When I woke up, I wasn't in the carriage. So I wandered around the city. Many people, of course, noticed me because I was wearing a mask. Then a gypsy caught me, saw my face, and added me to this fair." He fell silent.

She looked at him. "I'm so sorry, Er –" His hand immediately covered her mouth. She gasped, shaking her head. "Don't say it." Her eyebrows were raised sadly and she nodded. He withdrew his hand from her face, and then turned around. "I didn't mean to. It just slipped out. I'm sorry," she said to his back.

He took the sack off his head, but didn't face her. She heard him sigh. His hair was black and very messy. "Mia…" he whispered. She touched his back uncertainly. His left hand was at his side, and his right was on his face. She bit her lip when she realized he was turning around. Finally she saw his face, or at least the left side.

The uncovered side wasn't ugly at all; as a matter of fact, it was completely the opposite. He was rather handsome in her opinion. His one showing dark eye stared hopefully into her light ones. She attempted to smile, and barely succeeded. Swallowing hard, she pulled him to her, hugging him. At first, he didn't return the hug, but placed his left hand along her back.

Unwillingly a tear fell down his face. When they let go of each other, he saw that Amelia had also unwillingly let a few tears fall. He figured this because she was wiping them away quickly.

After biting her lip she asked, "When can I see your whole face?"

His nice smile slowly faded. "When we're both ready, I guess," he replied softly. He picked up the sack and was about to put it over his head, but Amelia stopped him. Noticing the confused look on his face, she said, "I wanted to have one last glance."

Then almost automatically, she reached up and let her fingers run softly down his cheek. His face had a tingling sensation where she touched him. She allowed a smile to cross her lips. The left side of his lips curled upwards, then he put the sack back on his head. They were holding hands, but didn't realize it. Or at least, Amelia didn't realize it until his thumb caressed the top of her hand. She looked down at their hands, and her stomach fluttered.

She never realized how big his hands were. She let go of it, but ran her index finger down each of his long fingers. "How old are you?" she asked softly, still looking down at his hand. "Thirteen," he responded, looking down at their hands also. She held his hand once more and looked up at him.

"We need to get out of here," she said, a serious look in her eyes.

"You saw what happened when I tried to escape. I don't want them to do that to you as well." There was a stern look in his eyes. She sighed. "Then we should make a plan." "Mia…" he said uncertainly. She put both of her hands around his right one. "Please! We can't stay here. I can't stand to see you after each…" she trailed off. But he understood what she meant.

"Alright, what do you suggest we do?" he asked. She thought.

"I don't know," she said in a frustrated tone after a while of thinking. "There's no way of escaping those…things," he said bitterly. But Amelia wouldn't give up.

The trailer came to a halt. She got up, hearing voice, him at her side. "Paris… a rather nice city…first show in a week." a gypsy woman was saying to another. "Paris?" Amelia mused softly.

"We have a week to come up with a plan."

"What?"

The gypsies got closer, so the two sat on opposite ends as before.

"Girl, unload that trailer." said the gypsy woman, unlocking the cage. She got up and followed the woman to the trailer. It was nighttime when she finished unloading most of the trailers. She crawled back into the cage, exhausted. He got up and went over to her. She collapsed at his feet, and he lay down next to her. They held each other's hands, and then fell asleep.

When he woke up, he saw that Amelia and he were further apart. Her back was to him and her long hair was spread out behind her. A smile was hidden behind the sack. He sat in the corner and tried to think of a plan. Later, she woke up and looked over at him.

"What is it?" she asked, able to see that he was very pensive.

"I'm thinking about what you said last night."

"About escaping?"

"Yes, but one thing could make all the difference."

He turned towards her and ran his fingers through her hair. She immediately closed her eyes, but opened them back up when he took out a hair pin. "Mia, could you pick the lock with this next week?" he asked earnestly. She stared at the pin for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, this is my plan…"

For the next three days, the gypsies had Amelia doing many chores to prepare for the fair. Each night she would come into the cage incredibly exhausted. Every once and a while, she would ask if she could bathe. Finally, the night before the show a younger gypsy said, "Bathe in there. Ten minutes."

There was a giant barrel full of water in the corner. She undressed and stepped into it. The water felt so wonderful on her dirty body. She washed herself as thoroughly as possible. When she finished, Amelia started putting on her slip. Once she pulled it over her head and reached for her dress she heard the door open. It was the young gypsy.

He looked around nineteen. She covered herself with her dress, while he walked towards her. There was a hint of lust in his eyes. Breathing quickly she said, "Monsieur–" But he put up a hand to silence her. He was standing in front of her now. His hands touched her sides; her breathing sped up. Then he moved them up and massaged her stomach. She seemed frozen on the spot, petrified.

Biting her lip hard, she closed her eyes. Suddenly, the gypsy slid his hands up to her chest. A surprised and scared gasp came from her lips. She tried to back away, but the wall stopped her. Why are you letting him do this? she screamed mentally. You're not helpless, do something! His hands went to her shoulders, then back to her sides.

"Why do you fear me?" he asked lustfully. Her eyes shot open. "I don't," she said coldly. Amelia grabbed his wrists and twisted them until she felt something pop. Then she kneed him where it would hurt most. She grabbed her dress ad ran out of the room to the cage with tears streaming down her face.

Sitting on her knees, she cried into her hands. "Mia…?" came a distant voice. His hand touched her arm and she turned to face him. Hands cupping her face, he asked, "What happened?" She let out a scared breath. "He.. He touched me." The boy pulled her to him, with a hand on the back of her wet head.

Then he remembered what relaxed her and ran his fingers through her damp hair. Her breathing slowed down and he eventually felt no more tears. Then they let go and looked at each other. Her bottom lip was trembling, he noticed.

He reached up and dried off her wet cheeks. As he took his hand off her cheek, she took it. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Could she really be falling for him? There was a silence that Amelia did not notice, for she was so absorbed in her own thoughts. But his voice brought her back to the cage and out of her mind.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" She looked up at him and shook her head. He sighed in relief. "Well," he whispered, "at least we won't have to worry about him after tomorrow." She nodded slowly. She couldn't stand being there any more. The only thing keeping her going was that boy. Her eyes closed.

She felt him move closer and opened them back up. His dark brown eyes were staring at her though the eye holes in the sack. She took his other hand and whispered shakily, "You've been my only friend. I – I can't bear seeing you hurt again." There were tears in her eyes. Then she thought she saw that his eyes looked glassy.

He reached up and put his hand on her cheek. Leaning her head into his hand, Amelia closed her eyes and a tear fell. "Mia, I can't stand it when you cry. Please don't." Her breathing was a little shaky. Again, his thumb wiped away her tears. Then she opened her eyes; the expression in them had changed from sadness to curiosity and longing.

She took his hand off her cheek, while staring into his eyes. Slowly, she reached up under the sack. At first he moved back a little, but then he realized her intentions. Her fingertips moved delicately from his temple, down his cheek, the stopped at his chin. The entire time, they were looking into each other's eyes intently.

Her index finger traced his lips a little unsurely. He took her wrist making her stop right on top of his lips. Then, he kissed her finger. She bit her lip and took back her hand. This strange side of her couldn't stand the way she was feeling. And it wouldn't let her continue.

They wordlessly agreed to go to sleep. Once more, they lied down on the floor of the cage for, hopefully, the last time.

The following morning consisted of setting all the tents and other side shows up. The younger gypsy was a little ways away from her. He scowled as he watched her set up a tent. Taking a sideways glance at him, she noticed that he had something wrapped around his left wrist. Amelia smirked a little, knowing that she had caused some type of pain.

That evening, the gypsy who ran the 'Devil's Child' show, locked her in the same room. Soon, the plan they came up with would be taken into action. But for now, Amelia sat impatiently in a corner…. waiting.