The rehearsal tent smelled of sawdust and sweat. Performers milled about, polishing props and running through routines. Naki sat alone on a wooden crate, her clown shoes dangling like anchors. The whispers floated around her, sharp as knives.
"Clown girl thinks she can fly now.""She should stick to juggling pies.""If Madam Efua finds out, she'll ground her for life."
The words stung worse than any fall. Yesterday's daring leap had spread like wildfire, and now the other performers treated her like a joke gone too far.
Ama and Kojo, the mischievous juggling twins, tossed pins in a mocking rhythm."Careful, Naki," Kojo called."Wouldn't want you to trip over your dreams," Ama added with a snicker.
Naki forced a clownish grin, hiding the ache in her chest. She had been trained to make people laugh, even when her own heart broke. But when the laughter came at her expense, it hollowed her from within.
She escaped the tent, blinking back tears, and found Kwesi by the fire pit, polishing his torches. Her older brother looked up, flame-light dancing across his serious face.
"What happened now?" he asked.
"Nothing," Naki muttered, wiping her eyes.
Kwesi frowned. "Don't lie to me. I can smell smoke before it burns." He set aside his torch. "Talk."
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "They all laugh at me, Kwes. They say I'll never be more than a clown. That I don't belong up there."
Kwesi's jaw tightened. "Fools. You saved me once when my fire almost went out of control. You've got more courage than half of them combined."
"But Ma—" Naki began.
"Forget Ma for a minute," he interrupted. His eyes softened. "Listen, Naks. You think I breathe fire just because I like the danger? No. I do it to protect this family. To keep the crowd coming so we can survive. You… you've got something bigger. If you want the ropes, then take them. Just don't break your neck while you're at it."
Naki blinked, a watery smile tugging at her lips. "So you don't think I'm crazy?"
Kwesi laughed, ruffling her hair. "You've always been crazy. But you're my sister. And if anyone tries to laugh at you again, I'll breathe fire on their wigs."
She burst out laughing through her tears, the sound shaky but real. For a moment, the pain lifted.
"Thanks, Kwes," she whispered.
"Don't thank me yet," he warned, handing her one of his torches. "If you're really serious about this, you'll need more than Grandpa's midnight lessons. Strength. Balance. Courage. Every prodigy pays in sweat and scars."
Naki gripped the torch, its weight steady in her hand. "Then I'll pay whatever it takes."
The clown's mask might still be on her face during the shows, but beneath it, the prodigy's fire had been lit.
And with Kwesi at her side, the laughter of others no longer seemed so heavy.