Catch a Falling Star

Thankfully my landing appears prepared, my graceful roll – all muscle memory – bringing me up beside Merigold. She beams, unsurprised, as though I wasn’t a hair away from shaving my face on the floor.

I hear footsteps and spin, but instead of slicing with my dagger, I place my hand in the outstretched palm of the masked actor behind me. I flush bright red; we’re dancing now. Oh gods, am I in the show?

My eyes dart from the actor’s waxed hair — shaped into a bird — to the balcony. Felicia’s laughing. “Rach!” I mouth. “Save me!”