The Carnival of Wishes & Dreams

by Jenny Lundquist

  “Sure,” Audrey said. After the drinks were refilled, she lingered at the soda fountain, not quite ready to go back to the table. She pulled out the unsigned pumpkin gram and stared at it. She’d almost told Julia about it earlier, but at the last minute she’d changed her mind. It felt like her own private secret; something you couldn’t text or post or Photoshop. Something a little bit magical. Because who was this mysterious sender who wanted to meet her?

  Just then her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Ethan:

  Do you know where Dad is?

  No, why? Audrey texted back.

  Waiting at the carnival gates. Someone said he hasn’t shown up for his shift yet.

  Audrey sighed as she tapped out her response: He was still at home when I left.

  The next text Ethan sent contained a ton of bad words neither of them were supposed to say. A lump formed in Audrey’s throat as she deleted it. As she was leaving earlier her father had assured her he was nearly ready to go. “Just need to put a little more gas in my tank,” he’d said, raising his coffee cup in salute. Now she wished she hadn’t been so eager to meet Julia for dinner. She should have stayed home and made sure he got to work on time.

  He’s probably just running late.

  Just as she sent her text, she heard Mr. and Mrs. King’s hushed voices. They were in front of the cash register, waiting to pay the bill. Audrey, standing behind a fake tree near the soda fountain, was hidden from view.

  “We’re always paying for that girl,” Mrs. King was saying.

  “Keep your voice down,” Mr. King said.

  “I will not—Why can’t the McKinleys pay for their own kind? That’s what I want to know.”

  “They’ve had a tough run of luck, Doris,” Mr. King retorted. “You know that.”

  “We’ve all had a tough run of luck—what excuse is that? You lost your job just the same as Jimmy McKinley after the fire and you don’t see me disappearing like that mother of hers.”

  “Audrey is Julia’s friend—”

  “I don’t care! I don’t like them spending so much time together. That family is trouble . . .” Their voices faded as they walked back to the table.

  Audrey waited several seconds before following them. She was starting to think she should turn around right now and walk out the diner’s front door. Skip the carnival altogether and just go home.

  But the thought that someone wanted to meet her at midnight kept her moving forward.

   8

  Harlow

  HARLOW SET OUT FROM HER house at the end of Hilltop Street just as the sun was setting. Like many people in Clarkville, she had chosen to wear a costume to the carnival, and she was pleased to see that her black-and-white mask covered her entire face. With her hair tucked up underneath the hot pink wig she was also wearing, she could be anyone. Anyone, but hopefully not Harlow Carlson.

  In the end, it was the note itself that had changed her mind. Come to the carnival. Meet me at the Ferris wheel. The language was vaguely taunting, like a dare.

  Harlow never could resist a dare.

  Once in the fourth grade, Ethan McKinley had dared her to eat one of the live crickets he fed to his pet snake. The cricket had wiggled in her mouth and tasted disgusting, but she’d eaten it anyway. It had been worth it to see the look on Ethan’s face as she crunched her way through not one, not two, but three crickets. Harlow could face any dare because she wasn’t afraid of anything—well, except for spiders, but thankfully Ethan hadn’t asked her to eat any of those. Julia had once dared her to let a spider crawl up her arm; it was the only dare Harlow had ever turned down.

  Another time when she was at the carnival, a friend—back when Harlow was still someone people wanted to be friends with—had dared her to ride the Fun Slide backward. She’d lain on her back staring up at the stars the whole way down. It had been such a great moment; she’d only wished she’d captured it with her camera.

  After her mother left, Harlow had hunted through old trunks in the attic looking for a disguise. Besides the mask and wig, she’d found a black sheath that she’d draped over her jeans and sweater.

  Just before she left she’d decided to put on some new leather boots her father brought back from his last business trip. She’d never worn them; she’d learned the hard way not to bring expensive items to school. But tonight she wasn’t Harlow Carlson.

  Tonight in her disguise she could be anyone she wanted.

  Harlow may have been going to the carnival, but she doubted she’d stay till midnight. If one of her classmates wanted to speak to her so badly, they could track her down at school next week and say whatever it was they had to say straight to her face.

  The sun sank lower, and the sky became soft and lavender. It was Harlow’s favorite part of the day, when each moment seemed to hold magic . . . but all too soon, she knew, the purplish sky would turn dark and foreboding, the moon would rise, and strange things would come creeping out of the shadows.

  Autumn leaves blew out of her path as she walked, and the few that remained on the trees whispered as though they were gossiping to one another. The farther she went, the more crowded the street became with others making their way to the carnival. Three girls dressed in party dresses and gorilla masks walked in front of her. A girl fell in step beside her. Harlow glanced over and saw it was Erin Donoghue. Her spine stiffened; she was sort of mad about the spider incident earlier.

  Harlow and Erin used to be friends; they ate at the same lunch table every day. Back when Harlow was the center of everyone’s attention. Now Harlow sat alone at an empty table in the corner, shoveling food as fast as she could until, mercifully, she was finished and could escape to the library, where she could hide until the bell rang.

  “Nice mask,” Erin said.

  “Uh, thanks,” Harlow answered. Like Audrey and Julia, Erin was also wearing a tiara and a red feather boa, and Harlow realized that someone—well, Julia, obviously—had decided they should wear matching costumes tonight. Erin was also carrying a brown shoebox, which she held out carefully in front of her.

  “What’s your name?” Erin asked, and Harlow realized her costume had worked; Erin didn’t recognize her.

  “Um . . . it’s Jean.” Harlow didn’t like to lie, but she felt that at certain times it was warranted, this occasion being one of them. Besides, Jean was the first name of the movie star Harlow had been named after, so she figured it wasn’t a complete lie.

  “Nice name,” Erin said. “Are you from out of town?”

  Harlow didn’t know why Erin would think that, but being a stranger from out of town suited her just fine right now, so she said, “Sure.” The mask plus the sore throat she was getting over made her voice sound muted and scratchy, like a raspy rock star’s.

  “What’s in the box?” Harlow asked, and Erin shrugged.

  “Nothing important,” she answered.

  They continued to walk. The wind kicked up and the air smelled of ash and broken things. Or maybe she just imagined it did.

  “I hate walking around here,” Erin said, shivering. “I hear it’s haunted.” She pointed to the old factory. Nearly a year after the fire, the place was little more than a burned shell over a black stain on the ground. The only noticeable thing was the old sign, still visible at the entrance. Nasty graffiti covered it now, but the original greeting was still legible:

  WELCOME TO THE CARLSON FACTORY.

  “The factory burned down last year,” Erin said, following Harlow’s gaze. She dropped her voice and whispered. “It was terrible. People died.”

  Not people, Harlow wanted to correct her. Only one person died that night. One man—and you barely knew him.

  “My uncle used to work there,” Erin continued. “He lost his job that night.”

  The factory hadn’t been terribly large, but Clarkville wasn’t a terribly large town. And when the factory went up in flames, so did the jobs of nearly half the people in town. The Carlson Factory—the only factory in town—had made a small
part that went into another part that was in many dishwashers. Harlow had never really understood it, exactly, but she did know that rebuilding the factory was proving difficult. There were a whole lot of places in the world where it was cheaper to make tiny dishwasher parts than in Clarkville, and many families in town were seriously struggling.

  But, as Julia King liked to point out, Harlow and her family were rich—they had no idea what anyone else in town was going through. That’s why few people at school talked to Harlow anymore—Julia had made sure of it.

  The Monday after the fire Harlow had showed up to school with a brand-new iPhone. Julia said Harlow was being mean and insensitive. “How could you?” Julia said as soon as Harlow sat down at their usual lunch table and pulled out her phone to show everyone. “How could you flaunt that in front of us when half of our dads are out of a job now?” Julia had raised her voice, so almost everyone in the cafeteria heard her. Harlow had glanced around the room and saw Julia wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

  The embarrassing thing was she hadn’t thought about it, not even once, that maybe bringing a brand-new phone to school that day was a bad idea. Three days after the fire, Harlow hadn’t been thinking about much at all. She’d been numb. Her parents’ factory was gone. Grace’s dad was dead. Audrey’s dad had just gotten out of the hospital—neither Audrey nor Grace were at school that day. When Harlow had taken her phone out of her backpack she’d been hoping both of them had texted her.

  But from that day on it seemed the story was set: Harlow was rich and insensitive while most everyone else in town was struggling, and it was clear she wasn’t welcome to sit with her old friends anymore. Julia took over Harlow’s spot as their group’s leader, and Harlow was left on her own.

  The Carlsons may have had a lot of money, but they didn’t have enough to single-handedly rebuild the factory on their own. That was why her father was working so hard to recruit investors; without them, the factory couldn’t reopen.

  Harlow was still staring at the graffitied sign, listening to Erin talk about all the bad things that had happened after the fire, when it occurred to her: Welcome baskets and spreadsheets don’t tell a story. But Harlow knew how to tell a story. Wasn’t she doing that already as the editor of the yearbook? Telling the story of the school, one photo at a time? And with all the extra pictures Mrs. Murphy had asked her to take, wasn’t she already telling the story of Clarkville?

  What if tomorrow morning, besides the proposal, the investors had another presentation to watch? One that told them the story of Clarkville—the amazing place that it was, and the amazing place it still could be one day. What if Harlow was the one to save Clarkville? Would that change the way everyone in school looked at her?

  Harlow turned and began quickly walking; Erin practically had to jog to keep up with her long strides. She needed to get to the carnival as soon as possible.

   9

  Grace

  6 HOURS TO MIDNIGHT

  GRACE WAS STANDING IN FRONT of the iron gates twisting her ticket in her hands. The crowd milled around her; some dressed in costumes, some not. Beyond the gates she could see the carnival, brightly lit like a shining city set against the dusky sky. The air tasted of secrets and excitement, and the people around her were chattering. Because when it came to the Carnival of Wishes and Dreams, everyone had a story to tell.

  Grace’s own mother met Chrissy Schwartz—owner of Schwartz Salon—at the carnival right after she’d ridden the carousel and wished to become a hair stylist. The other wish she’d made on the carousel was to fall in love. Two hours later, she’d met Grace’s dad. Well, not exactly. Both Grace’s parents had grown up in Clarkville and had known each other all their lives. But that year—their senior year of high school—they’d run into each other at the Ferris wheel and it was like they’d both been hit with a love spell. Her mother said it was one of the greatest nights of her life.

  Grace wanted her own magical carnival story. Especially since she might spend the rest of her life grounded. Dread was pecking at her insides like pigeons with a stray bread crust. Her mother was going to freak out when she came home and saw Grace’s note. What had she been thinking? She’d never sneaked out of the house before.

  Lulu Pepperton was standing next to Grace, grumbling. “Why didn’t they invite me? Julia knows how much I love banana splits.” Lulu had cornered Grace the minute she arrived so they could examine the pictures Audrey kept posting online.

  “I specifically asked Julia if she wanted to hang out before the carnival, and she said she was busy,” Lulu continued. “Did Julia invite you?”

  “I still haven’t eaten dinner,” Grace said, choosing her words carefully. As punctuation, Grace’s stomach chose that exact moment to make a very loud and very long gurgling sound.

  The loudspeakers crackled to life and a deep voice boomed, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I direct your attention to the skies?” Fireworks exploded into the night—popping, spinning, and whizzing in shades of red and gold and orange and silver. “Welcome to the Carnival of Wishes and Dreams! Enjoy the night; may it be memorable and full of delight!” A cheer went up from the crowd as the iron gates unlocked. Everyone began streaming inside, but Grace hesitated.

  Her dad had loved the carnival. Together they had ridden every ride, visited every attraction. She hadn’t been to this part of town since the fire. Across the field she could barely make out the burned remains of the Carlson Factory.

  Thinking about the fire made Grace want to go home, except right then she caught a glimpse of the Ferris wheel, rising up above the rest of the carnival like a multicolored moon. It had been her and her dad’s favorite ride. She placed her hand on her jeans pocket, where she’d stuffed her pumpkin gram, and couldn’t help but wonder what she’d find at midnight. Who would be waiting for her?

  At the end of the night, would she have her own magical carnival story to tell?

  • • •

  “Grace! Lulu!” The two of them turned and saw Julia approaching, Audrey following along behind.

  “Where have you guys been?” Julia said as though she was the one who’d been waiting near the entrance for the last half hour.

  “How was dinner?” Lulu asked, and Julia waved her hand.

  “Totally boring,” she said.

  “It didn’t look boring,” Lulu mumbled.

  Audrey and Grace smiled politely at each other but said nothing. Grace wasn’t supposed to hang out with Audrey anymore, but it was kind of difficult when they still had the same friends.

  “I thought you couldn’t come because you’re grounded?” Julia said to Grace.

  “She sneaked out of the house!” Lulu squealed. “Can you believe it?”

  “How long can you stay?” Julia asked.

  “Until I feel like leaving,” Grace answered. She didn’t add that she definitely wouldn’t feel like leaving before the early hours of tomorrow morning. She was keeping her midnight appointment at the Ferris wheel a secret.

  Everyone congratulated Grace on her new status as a curfew-breaking troublemaker, and then Julia frowned and said, “Why aren’t you wearing your tiara?”

  “I am wearing it,” Grace said. “See?” She took off her baseball hat and showed them the tiara, which was underneath. No way was she trading in her lucky Cubs cap on her last night in Clarkville. Not for a stupid tiara.

  “Julia! Julia! Wait up!” Erin pushed her way into their group, expertly edging between Julia and Audrey. “I met the coolest girl on the walk over,” Erin was saying. “She’s really tall—I think she’s in high school—she has the best boots.”

  They walked deeper into the carnival. Everywhere Grace looked there were blinking lights, laughing faces, and the striped red-and-gold flags of the carnival flapping over the tops of game and snack stands. Jugglers, puppeteers, and mimes with painted white faces wove through the crowd, and a pair of stilt walkers teetered dangerously close to a man puffing flames into the night. Grace was so caught up in the sight
s she barely heard Erin lean closer to Julia and whisper, “It’s done.”

  “Step right up!” a game vendor called out to Grace. “Knock down these milk bottles and get a prize. Four in a row wins a Clarkville High baseball jersey.”

  “Thanks,” Grace called back, “but I already have one of those.” It was true; she had her dad’s old baseball jersey, which she sometimes slept in. He’d also given her his trophies and his old mitt—everything he treasured from his high school days. Everything, that is, except his state championship ring, which he’d always worn on his right hand. Grace swallowed; the ring had somehow gotten lost the night of the fire.

  Julia detached herself from Erin and slipped back to talk to Grace. “Did your mom pick you and Diego up from school today?” she asked.

  Grace shook her head. “Diego’s dad did,” she answered. Their families only lived a few streets away, and for the last year Grace’s mom and Mr. Martinez took turns driving her and Diego home from school. Getting to sit next to him was the best part of the day, even if she could rarely bring herself to speak to him.

  Grace pulled her phone out. She checked the time and tried to decide just how long she had left before her mother returned home.

  “So, did he say anything to you?” Julia asked.

  “About what?” Grace said. She looked up and saw Miss Miller from her mom’s book club, and her heart nearly stopped. The meeting couldn’t be over already, could it?

  “About me, Grace,” Julia said, clearly irritated. “About the pumpkin gram I gave him.”

  “Oh, right.” Grace shoved her phone back in her pocket. “No—but he probably couldn’t, though, not with his dad in the car.”

  That was all true; his dad had been whistling loudly off-key, and it had been an uncomfortable car ride. Especially since Grace still had the impression Diego had wanted to say something to her. But none of that was the reason why he hadn’t mentioned the pumpkin gram from Julia.