The Carnival of Wishes & Dreams

by Jenny Lundquist

  Julia looked at Harlow. She no longer looked calm; her eyes were filled with fury. “I need to talk to my friends,” she said.

  “Julia—I am so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Harlow,” Julia said, enunciating each word carefully. “Go. Away. Now.”

  Harlow did as she was told.

   29

  Audrey

  1 HOUR TO MIDNIGHT

  ONCE UPON A TIME A couple years ago, Audrey, Harlow, and Grace ran away from home.

  Well, they weren’t actually going to run away from home. They were just going to ride the city bus until they crossed the state line. Ethan had dared Harlow to do it earlier that day, and Harlow wanted some company on her newest adventure. They didn’t get very far, though. They only made it to Fairvale before they were caught by Henry Chang, who radioed all his friends at the Fairvale fire and police departments. When they’d gotten off the bus, a fire tanker was there, waiting to escort them back home. Audrey, who’d been nervous the whole bus ride, had felt enormously relieved when she’d seen the big red truck.

  But now, after walking around trying to find everyone, Audrey definitely didn’t feel relieved when she found Julia standing by herself near the Mirror Maze. Audrey couldn’t put her finger on it, but something seemed . . . wrong, somehow. Julia looked like she was angry about something. An angry Julia King was never a good thing.

  “Hi,” Audrey said as she approached.

  Julia looked over. “Hi,” she said.

  “Is everything okay?” Audrey asked.

  “Tonight has been so dumb,” Julia huffed, and something about the way she said it made Audrey go on high alert.

  “Where are the others?” she asked. Right then she didn’t want to be alone with Julia.

  “Lulu’s parents just picked her up. Erin wanted to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl again before she had to leave. Grace is off somewhere with Diego Martinez—I don’t know where because she’s not bothering to answer my texts.”

  Audrey was tempted to say she knew how annoying that could be—especially since Julia hadn’t been answering her texts all night, but she held her tongue.

  Julia fixed Audrey with an imperious stare. “So, you decided to join the carnival? Well?” she prompted, crossing her arms when Audrey didn’t answer right away.

  Audrey blew out a breath. So Julia was mad. She should have seen that coming. Julia never liked being upstaged, and right now Audrey was occupying everyone’s attention. Online, anyway. Right after she’d left the velvet tent, Audrey had checked her phone and found a ton of pictures posted of her twirling her fire baton! She’d gotten five new followers, which meant she’d reached three hundred first. She’d won, which meant Julia had lost.

  “I didn’t join the carnival,” Audrey said.

  “Oh really? Looked that way to me.”

  “I didn’t—I was getting Grace’s funnel cake, like you asked me to, remember? And I just got a little sidetracked.”

  “A little?” Julia repeated. “More like a lot.”

  Audrey said nothing. When Julia got mad like this, she’d found it was best to be quiet and just wait it out.

  “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Julia said suddenly.

  I don’t know, are we? Audrey thought to herself. Before tonight she would have said so. But what is a best friend? A real best friend? Someone you have to text to receive permission to wear your favorite sweater? Someone you would take a million selfies with, but never in a million years would you tell them how hard life feels sometimes?

  “You didn’t invite me to your birthday party,” Audrey blurted.

  Julia frowned. “What?”

  “Your birthday party—you’ve been talking about it all day, and you said you could only bring two people. But you never actually said I was invited.”

  Julia stared at her for a long time, seemingly thinking very hard. Was it that difficult for her to decide whether or not to take her best friend to her own birthday party?

  Finally, Julia seemed to come to a decision. “You’re invited,” she said. “We’re best friends, and you’re invited. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Audrey said. But she wasn’t feeling sure about anything right now. “We’re best friends.”

  “Right,” Julia said. “And best friends do favors for each other, don’t they?”

  “Definitely,” Audrey said. “I have a huge list of favors you could do for me.” She was trying to be funny, but Julia didn’t seem to get the joke. Instead she gave Audrey a dirty look. Audrey figured she’d better get right down to it: “What do you want me to do?”

  Julia didn’t miss a beat. “I want you to send a text to Harlow,” she said.

  “What?” Audrey said, surprised. “Why can’t you text her?”

  “Because,” Julia answered.

  “Because why?” Audrey pressed, and Julia stuck her hands on her hips.

  “Look—do you want to help me out or not?” she said.

  Behind Julia, a puppeteer was making his marionette dance while a crowd looked on. Audrey watched him, her stomach churning. Something didn’t seem right about all this. Julia wasn’t speaking to Harlow—so now, all of a sudden, why did she want Audrey to text her?

  “What do you want me to say?” Audrey asked finally.

  Julia grinned. “Tell her you want her to take a ride on the Ferris wheel.”

  “The Ferris wheel?” Audrey felt her heart begin to pound. Above them the lights from the Mirror Maze had begun blinking, casting shadows on Julia’s face, and Audrey couldn’t help thinking: What if? But then she had another thought: “Harlow isn’t even here tonight.”

  “Oh, trust me,” Julia said, a fire in her eyes. “She’s here—and I want her to ride the Ferris wheel.”

  “What time should I tell her to ride it?” But even as she asked, Audrey felt sure she already knew the answer.

  “Midnight,” Julia said.

  “Um . . .” Audrey stalled, trying to figure it out. Julia wanted her to send a text to Harlow to ride the Ferris wheel. At midnight. Was it possible that Julia had sent the mysterious pumpkin gram? But if so, why hadn’t she ever said anything to Audrey? And what did any of it have to do with Harlow?

  And why did she have to be the one to send the text? If Julia wanted Harlow to ride the Ferris wheel at midnight, why couldn’t she text Harlow herself?

  Actually, Audrey was pretty sure she knew the answer to that one.

  Every time Grandma McKinley got mad and said a bunch of bad words (which was quite frequently, especially during baseball season) she said a Hail Mary. As far as Audrey could tell, saying a Hail Mary meant you said a bunch of good words and then you’d be forgiven for whatever bad things you’d done.

  Audrey figured texting Harlow for Julia was sort of the same thing. Audrey had done a bad thing. She’d allowed great pictures of herself to be posted online and she’d reached three hundred followers before Julia, meaning Julia had come in second.

  Julia did not like coming in second.

  So now Audrey would have to do this one small favor for Julia. Then afterward everything would be okay again and things could go back to normal.

  The question was, did she want things to go back to normal? What was normal anyway? Nothing had seemed normal in the last year. And nothing would ever be normal, not ever again. Grace was moving tomorrow, and Audrey hadn’t even said goodbye. She’d planned to tonight, even though she’d known it would be awkward. But instead she’d spent most of the night chasing a stranger in a pirate costume or standing in line for a stupid funnel cake.

  Audrey was having a hard time remembering why everyone stopped talking to Harlow last year. But she missed Harlow—and Grace. She missed watching Cubs games at the Carlsons house or doing her homework with Grace and Harlow on the floor of her father’s office at the Carlson Factory.

  Julia, who seemed to have had enough of Audrey’s stalling, turned away. “Text me after it’s done,” she said as she headed in the direction of the Tilt-A-Whir
l. Audrey understood she wasn’t to follow. Not until she obeyed.

  The puppeteer was still putting on a show. The marionettes were still dancing on their strings. And something that was foggy and filmy finally solidified in Audrey’s mind: She was sick of doing favors for Julia. Plus, she didn’t trust her, and hadn’t for some time. Audrey had no idea why Julia wanted Harlow at the Ferris wheel at midnight, or if it had anything to do with the pumpkin gram, but she wanted no part of it.

  “No!” Audrey called to Julia’s retreating figure.

  Julia turned around. “What did you say?”

  “I said no. I’m not doing it.”

  Audrey turned away and started walking. Somewhere at the carnival was a woman in a pirate costume who looked a lot like her mother. She was going to find her.

   30

  Grace

  THEY RAN—THIS TIME NOT holding hands—twisting this way and that through the crowd until the sound of their parents calling their names died away. Diego led them to the farthest edges of the carnival, beyond the carousel, to a darkened tent with a sign on it that read OUT OF ORDER.

  “In here,” Diego said. “Quick, before they see us again.”

  They ducked inside, and Grace said, “Where are we?”

  Beyond the tent flaps was a dirt walkway and a small pond. Colorful lanterns crisscrossed above. Piles of wooden boats and fishing rods were stacked near the tent wall.

  “It’s a ride,” Diego answered. “Fishing for Fortune.”

  “Fortune?” Grace said. “You mean like a fortune cookie?”

  “Sort of. I heard a few people talking about it—a bunch of the boats broke earlier so they had to shut the whole thing down. You row a boat into the middle of the water and hook a fortune with the fishing pole.”

  Grace stared at the pond. The water seemed lit with a warm, golden glow. “You mean there are a ton of fortunes down there, just waiting to be found?” Her gaze strayed to a solitary wooden boat sitting near the edge of the water.

  Diego grinned. “Just waiting to be found,” he repeated.

  While Diego dragged the wooden boat into the water, Grace grabbed a couple fishing rods. They clambered into the boat and rowed to the middle of the pond. Grace cast her line and waited. How would she know when she’d caught her fortune?

  A few seconds later her pole jerked slightly. “I’ve got something!” She reeled the line in. Attached to the hook was a glittery golden egg—sort of like a plastic Easter egg with a loop on top. She cracked it open; inside was a tiny scroll, which she quickly unrolled and read:

  You have something in your teeth.

  Diego burst out laughing, and at first Grace thought maybe he’d read her fortune. But when she looked she saw he had an egg and a scroll of his own, which he showed to Grace.

  Never eat beans before you go on a date.

  “Someone’s got a sense of humor,” he said. “Good thing I didn’t eat any beans!” he added.

  Grace laughed, then wondered: Did that mean he considered this a date?

  She cast her line again, and this time, the fortune she received was more serious:

  It’s up to you to create the moment you want.

  Grace knew what she wanted. She wanted her magical carnival story. She wanted to kiss Diego on her last night in Clarkville. For the first time, she thought maybe that wasn’t something she simply hoped could happen; maybe it was something she could make happen.

  Her phone pinged with a text. It was yet another one from Julia, who kept texting her:

  Are you still with Diego?

  Grace ignored it and tried to think of something to say to Diego. Why couldn’t talking to boys be easier?

  “Did you ride the carousel tonight?” she blurted suddenly.

  “No,” Diego said. “I don’t like carousels.”

  “Oh,” Grace said, trying not to show her disappointment. She’d hoped they could share each other’s wishes.

  “You know what ride I really like?” Diego said. “The Ferris wheel.”

  “Yeah, I like it too,” Grace said quickly, deciding to press on. “I also really like the carousel. I rode it and made a special wish. It’s stupid, but . . . I wished that—”

  She was interrupted by a string of texts exploding from her phone. All of them from Julia.

  Where are you?

  Your mother is looking for you!

  What is going on?

  What’s Diego saying about me?

  WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER MY TEXTS?

  “Who keeps texting you?” Diego asked.

  “Julia,” Grace said absently. “She’s been wanting to hang out with you—”

  “I know.”

  “You do?” Grace glanced over at Diego, and saw he was grinning.

  And then a truly awful, horrible thought dawned on her. “Do you like Julia?” she asked.

   31

  Harlow

  HARLOW HAD LET HERSELF GET distracted, no doubt about it. Between the thrill of hanging out with her old friends, flirting with Ethan, and the magic of the carnival, she’d spent far too much time pretending to be someone else and not nearly enough time on her project.

  But no more. She’d spent the better part of the last hour hiding out in the city council tent and working on her presentation. She’d interviewed several more people who’d stopped by the tent, including Mr. Bradley, who ran the post office; Mr. King, Julia’s father; and Mr. Carter (Lucas’s dad), who was just finishing up.

  “Do you have anything else to add?” Harlow asked, holding up her phone and centering him in the frame.

  Mr. Carter nodded. “I’d like to add that Clarkville is a place that takes care of people.” He stared directly at the camera. “Invest in us, and we’ll invest in you.”

  Perfect, Harlow thought as she tapped the phone to stop recording. She was definitely using that.

  After he left, she got busy arranging and rearranging the photos and videos, trying to put them in an order that would best show those investors how wonderful Clarkville was. She was interrupted by the sound of footsteps and stifled laughter just outside the tent.

  “If someone posted a picture like that of me, I would move to another state,” said a voice, one that Harlow vaguely recognized.

  “Who are you talking about?” said a second voice.

  “Harlow Carlson,” said the first. “Have you seen the picture of her?”

  There was hushed giggling followed by quiet shuffling. A group of people—three of them, it looked like—had stopped right on the other side of the tent. Harlow could see their shadows, nearly twelve-feet tall, stretching up the tent wall.

  “Look!” said the first voice. Harlow couldn’t be completely sure, but she thought it belonged to a girl in her history class. Someone who had never spoken to her before.

  Great. Now people she didn’t even know were talking about her like they knew her. Like both she and that awful picture were just another part of their Friday-night entertainment.

  “What did you just do?” said a third voice.

  “I posted a comment. See?”

  A pause, and then giddy squealing. “That’s hysterical! And true, too.”

  More laughing. On the other side of the tent Harlow closed her eyes and told herself not to check her phone and start reading the comments. Told herself just to stay here for the rest of the night. To keep working on the presentation. To keep hiding.

  Then she thought back to the monster in her closet, the one she was so scared of when she was younger. The one that, once she worked up the courage to open the door, turned out not to be real.

  Maybe some monsters are only real if you let them be real.

  Quickly, before she lost her nerve, Harlow slipped outside. There were three of them, just like she thought. The girl from her history class plus two other girls Harlow didn’t recognize at all. Far from the twelve-foot giants their shadows had made them seem, they were each quite a bit shorter than Harlow. In fact, thanks to her newfound height, she tow
ered over them. They were so engrossed in their phones they didn’t notice her.

  Until one of them looked up, the smile on her face vanishing when she saw Harlow.

  “Oh,” she said, and elbowed the second girl, who looked up and said, “Oh.”

  The third girl was still laughing, oblivious. “She looks so hideous—” She broke off abruptly when she also finally looked up.

  It was lucky for them Harlow didn’t have her phone out, ready to snap a picture and capture the moment. Because all three of them were staring at her stupidly, slack jawed and wide-eyed. Harlow wondered if maybe, just for a little bit, they’d forgotten she was a real person, not just a phantom on the Internet.

  “We’re so sorry,” the first girl said, and the other two nodded vigorously.

  “It’s okay,” Harlow said, even though it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay, not even a little bit. But Harlow really didn’t know what else to say to them. They continued to stare at her, and she added, “There are a lot of other things to do tonight than stare at your phone.”

  “Right, sure,” the first girl said. Then all three of them spun on their heels and ran away, glancing briefly over their shoulders like they all thought Harlow might decide to chase them.

  Harlow watched them run, a smile pulling at her lips. It was nice to remember what it felt like to hold her head high.

  She was feeling so good she didn’t immediately notice that Julia was standing at the entrance to the tent, twisting her hands together like she was working up the courage to step inside. Julia didn’t notice Harlow—Harlow could have just walked away and come back to the tent later, after Julia had gone.

  Harlow was no longer the girl who would unthinkingly bring a brand-new phone to school and brag about it when her friends were hurting. But she also didn’t want to be the girl who kept hiding from everyone. She’d run away from Julia once tonight; she didn’t want to do it again.

  She strode up to Julia and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said.

  Julia flinched when she looked over and saw Harlow. “Hey,” she answered.