Ten Thumb Sam by Rachel Muller Page A

cried.
    â€œYou’re just going through an awkward stage, sweetie,” Irene had assured her son. “You’ll grow out of it.”
    â€œWhen?” Sam demanded.
    â€œI don’t know,” said his mother. “Everyone is different. You’ll just have to be patient.”
    Sam tried to be patient as he waited for weeks, then months, then years. But watching from the sidelines was boring. No one ever cheered for Sam.
He
was never greeted with thunderous applause.
    â€œI’m ready to be in the circus too,” Sam had finally insisted shortly after his tenth birthday.
    â€œBut you are in the circus,” said Max. “You help collect tickets, you sell cotton candy…”
    Sam shook his head. “It’s not the same. I want to be in the show, like the rest of you.”
    Sam’s parents exchanged glances. “Where do you want to start?” Irene asked.
    â€œThe high wire,” said Sam.
    So much for that, he thought now as he entered the Stringbini bus and slammed the door behind him. If only he’d known he was terrified of heights. All that practice, all that hard work—it had all been for nothing!

Chapter Two
    â€œYou’re up early,” his father said as Sam stumbled out into the kitchen the next morning. Max was seated at the kitchen table. There was an empty porridge bowl in front of him and a mug of coffee in his hand. “How’s your stomach feeling?” he asked.
    â€œOkay,” said Sam.
    â€œGood. Then grab a bowl and fill it up. We’ve got our work cut out for us today.”
    The gray lumpy mass in the porridge pot did nothing to improve Sam’s mood. He stared at it gloomily for a moment before lifting the ladle to serve himself. The porridge made a squelching noise as it landed in his bowl. With a sigh, Sam sat down beside his father.
    The Triple Top Circus visited a new town each week, but the routine was always the same. Today was Monday. On Monday mornings the circus performerstook down the high wire, dismantled the trapezes and packed away the tents. By lunchtime the Fritzi sisters’ horses—the only large animals in the Triple Top— were in their trailers. By afternoon the circus was miles down the road.
    They continued driving on Tuesday. On Wednesday they reached their destination and began setting up for their opening night on Thursday evening. There was a second show on Friday night, two more on Saturday and a final matinee performance on Sunday. A week from now the cycle would begin all over again. It was always the same.
    As Sam picked at his porridge, his brothers and sisters began to emerge from the back of the bus. He tried to ignore them as they served themselves and settled noisily around him at the table, but it was impossible.
    â€œIf I sit here, you’re not going to barf on me, are you?” Annabel demanded as she took the chair beside Sam.
    â€œOh, be quiet,” said Sam.
    â€œJust checking.”
    â€œLeave your brother alone,” Max said as he rose from the table. “He’s got a lot to think about.”
    â€œLike what?” said Louise.
    â€œLike what he’s going to do next, right, Sam? The high wire didn’t work, so he’s going to find something else. No room for quitters in the Stringbini family.”
    â€œDon’t even
think
about the trapeze,” Elizabeth warned.
    â€œYou might want to try something a little closer to the ground,” Andrew suggested.
    Sam felt his face grow warm. “Maybe I could try juggling with Martin.”
    Sam’s middle brother shrugged. “Sure, whatever. I could teach you a few things.”

    Sam had his first juggling lesson later that afternoon, once the circus trailers were loaded. He listened carefully to his brother’s directions, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to keep more than one ball in the air at a time.
    â€œLoosen up,” said Martin. “Relax.