My life was perfect. Or, as perfect as a circus can be. My parents were the best acrobats in history, the Flying Graysons. I was going to make the show even better, or that's what my parents told me. We were going to be a family of acrobats. Were, being the key word there.
My life at that point was filled with training, eating, training, sleeping, and more training. Training was important because if we didn't train we could easily die. But I didn't care, it was fun to me. The people were nice too. They always encouraged me and gave me extra food saying things like " He's a growing boy, he needs his food" and stuff like that.
Pretty soon, I was doing the flips with my parents. People would always comment on how good I was, saying that I got my talent from my parents. I liked that. I enjoyed people saying I was like my parents. My parents, John and Mary Grayson, were wonderful people. They risked their lives to entertain people they didn't even know. I had soft blue eyes like my mom and spikey black hair like my father. And I was proud of it. I didn't love anyone more than my parents. And nothing could change that.