The sun beat down on the circus grounds, glinting off the bright banners strung between caravans. Children trailed after vendors selling roasted plantains and puff-puff, their laughter echoing louder than the drumming rehearsal inside the big top.
Naki was slipping quietly into the rehearsal tent when a juggling pin flew past her ear. She flinched.
"Gotcha!" a mischievous voice crowed.
Ama and Kojo, the inseparable twin jugglers, grinned like cats with cream. They twirled their pins in perfect synchronization, their eyes fixed on Naki.
"Evening practice, eh?" Ama teased, tossing a pin high into the air."Or should we say… midnight practice?" Kojo added, smirking.
Naki froze. "What are you talking about?"
The twins leaned closer, their voices conspiratorial. "We saw you last night," Ama whispered. "Up on the ropes. Flying."
Naki's stomach dropped. No, no, no.
Kojo balanced a pin on his nose, grinning. "Don't worry, your secret is safe… for a price."
"What do you want?" she hissed.
The twins shared a look, then shouted together, "Your help!"
They explained their scheme in rapid-fire chatter: a new juggling routine with fire torches instead of pins. It would be daring, dangerous, unforgettable—and completely forbidden.
"If we pull it off, we'll be stars!" Ama said, eyes gleaming."But if Ma finds out, she'll kill us," Kojo admitted cheerfully.
Naki shook her head. "You're insane. You'll burn the whole tent down."
"Then I guess we'll just have to tell Madam Efua about your little… trapeze stunts," Ama said sweetly.
Naki's heart clenched. Trapped.
Later that night, the three of them gathered in the rehearsal tent. The twins handed her a bundle of unlit torches.
"You're lighter on your feet," Kojo explained. "You'll pass the torches between us while we juggle. Make it flashy."
Naki glared at them. "One wrong throw and we'll be roasted like kelewele."
Ama winked. "That's why you're here, prodigy."
Reluctantly, Naki climbed onto the practice platform. The twins lit their torches, flames crackling in the dark. Sweat beaded on her brow as she timed her movements—toss, catch, pass. The fire hissed inches from her face, the heat searing her skin.
At first, the act was chaos. Torches clattered to the ground, nearly igniting the sawdust. Kojo yelped when one singed his sleeve. But slowly, rhythm began to form: toss, catch, leap, spin. Naki's aerial grace filled the gaps the twins couldn't manage.
When they finally collapsed onto the floor, panting and soot-streaked, Ama whooped. "We did it! We'll bring the house down!"
"Or burn it down," Naki muttered, rubbing her sore arms.
Kojo wagged a finger. "Don't forget our deal, Naks. You're part of this act now. Keep our secret, and we'll keep yours."
As the twins scampered off, Naki slumped against the ropes. She had wanted the sky, not blackmail. Yet the fire still sparked something inside her: if she could balance danger and comedy, maybe she could create something truly new.
Still, she knew one thing for certain—keeping secrets in the circus was like juggling fire. Sooner or later, someone was bound to get burned.