Back up onto the railing we go, me one pace behind him again. My teacup rattles against the saucer with each step. When we reach the middle, Jamie lowers into the lunge, and I prepare to mount his shoulders.

Lightness. Air. Wings.

I give the count, then push off his calf onto his shoulders.

One foot nearly slips, but Jamie catches my ankle. He grips the rail with his toes as if gravity doesn’t exist and we might fall off the world.

Gasps escape. A woman cries out. A child whimpers.

Now for the second part of the leapfrog. I give the count, willing the crockery to stay put.

And I leap.

The cup and saucer lift off my head a fraction. But as I land, they manage to stay on the saddle.

We make it back to the port side, then dismount.

Fong produces his teacup and saucer. This will be our last trick, the final test. I avoid looking at the audience, especially Mr. Stewart.

One more crossing and we’ll have done what no one has done before, and not just because this is the Titanic’s maiden voyage. We’ll have danced on air. For you, Mum and Ba. We’ll have made everyone see not just a couple of worthless Johnnies, but Virtue and Valor, your flying twins.

Something glints below. My breath snags at the sight of the four bottom cutters, not twenty feet away, their backs against the outer rail and devilment in their eyes. Peanut shells fall from their hands. Bledig lifts a bottle of ale to me, and I blink as the glare off it blinds me for a moment.

Shut them out, girl. Don’t you dare let them unnerve you. Not in your moment of triumph.

Filling my lungs, I let the air sweep the worries from my mind and the tension from my shoulders.

Jamie places Fong’s teacup and saucer on his head. I square my crockery as well.

Carefully climbing back onto the rail, we make our way to the middle once more. I can almost hear the breaths held, almost see the eyes opened wide, as they wonder what we’ll do next. Surely, not the leapfrog again, not with a teacup and saucer on both of our heads.

My legs shake with the tension of holding still. Sweat dribbles down my scalp and pools in my ears. I place my foot on Jamie’s calf, feeling him tremble as well.

“Yut-yee-som.”

I leap.

Jamie’s shoulders hold steady, his teacup barely making a sound against its saucer.

I visualize a steady road in front of me, give the count again, and jump.

Something small, like a pebble, glances off my shoulder. My balance crumples, and my teacup and saucer fly off my head.

27

People shriek, even the QM, who gusts out a high note like a soprano.

I manage to land on my feet, though I wobble around for at least five seconds.