Jazz was trying very vigilantly to find some space where she could be alone. But in the overcrowded circus that was now her home, that task was proving to be impossible. She didn't even have her own room to retreat to; due to limited space, all of the Fentons slept and lived in the same one room train car. The same one room train car that a family of acrobats also lived in.
The room had double beds for both sets of adults on either end of the car; these were lofted over abundantly full storage areas. The Fenton parents had half-made inventions and various repair tools for their current job spilling out of theirs. The acrobats' storage area appeared to be much neater and Jazz could only assume that they had acrobaty things in theirs (she was too polite to check.)
Jazz had the top bunk in a set of twin beds that set opposite both what passed as a kitchen and the door leading to the outside.
That was where Jazz was currently. She had the privacy curtain drawn and was curled up on one end of the bed, reading a book about surviving childhood with minimal need for future therapy (it's never too early to start improving your future mental health.) She was also avoiding the still unpacked box on the foot of her bed, but the Fenton's moved around so much that she had gotten used to it by this point.
Jazz threw down her book in anger when it (jokingly) suggested running away and joining the circus as a solution to problematic parents. Like that could help her when she was already in a circus.
It was then that Jazz noticed the set of little hands clinging to the edge of her bed, and the little blue eyes that were peeking out at her from under a black mop of hair.
It was one of the acrobats' sons who shared the bed below hers. Both boys were tiny, thin, and impossible to tell apart, as most identical twins are. Though, for the life of her, Jazz couldn't figure out how the small two year old in front of her had managed to get on the top bed.
The toddler kicked his legs and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull himself the rest of the way onto the bed. Finally, the boy gave up and just dangled from her bed. He looked over at Jazz and said, "Up!" indignantly, as if he thought that she should have noticed his need for help some time ago.
Jazz pulled the boy onto her bed and sat there watching him, waiting for him to explain why he was on her bed. That was until she remembered that 'up' was one of the few English words that the boy knew. This was probably Danny then, and not his brother Dick, as 'up' was one of Danny's favorite words.
Danny climbed into her lap and pointed at the book that she had been reading. This time Jazz got the message and began reading to the strange little boy. Wondering to herself if it was normal for children to want to listen to books in languages that they didn't understand.
A/N: These are the first two chapters in a new story that I'm trying out. Feel free to leave reviews with constructive criticism.