The Carnival of Wishes & Dreams

by Jenny Lundquist

  “Where’s everyone else?” Harlow asked.

  Julia shrugged. “Around. Everyone’s kind of doing their own thing now.”

  They stared awkwardly at each other until Harlow said, “What are you doing here?”

  “I ran into my dad,” Julia answered. “He said you were doing a project? To help reopen the factory? I just wanted to see if it was true.” She paused. “He sounded really hopeful.” She swallowed and looked away quickly. “He hasn’t always sounded like that this year.”

  “It’s true,” Harlow said. “I don’t know if it will make a difference, but it’s true.”

  Julia nodded. “I’ve been really mad at you for a long time,” she said softly. She wouldn’t look at Harlow as she spoke; her attention was fixed on the Tilt-A-Whirl as it spun around and around in an endless circle. “I even asked Audrey to—” She stopped. “It’s stupid. I guess I’m just mad all the time. At everyone.”

  Harlow had no idea what she was talking about so she decided to remain silent.

  “Anyway,” Julia finished, and finally looked at Harlow. “Do you think I could help? With the project?”

  Harlow paused. “Sure.”

  “Do you know what I wished for when we rode the carousel?” Julia said suddenly as they turned and headed back into the tent. “That I lived in a big house like yours.”

  Harlow, startled, took her time answering. “Well,” she said slowly, “it’s big, but it can also be lonely.”

  Julia shrugged. “Small houses can also be lonely,” she said, and once again, Harlow felt like she was getting a peek behind the curtain.

   32

  Audrey

  MIDNIGHT WAS GROWING CLOSER AND the night was growing colder. The crowd had thinned and the ride lines were much shorter now. The grass underneath Audrey’s feet was trampled and littered with bits of trash and popcorn and peanut shells.

  She kicked a stray kernel in frustration. Nothing was working out the way it was supposed to tonight. She had looped around the carnival several times, but she hadn’t seen the woman in the pirate costume. She had seen Grace and Diego running away from Mrs. Chang and Mr. Martinez, a sight that made her laugh out loud. She hoped Grace could work up the courage to finally tell Diego how she felt about him.

  Audrey checked the clock on her phone. She had a little bit of time to kill before she had to go to the Ferris wheel, so she decided to work on her audition for Middle School Daze—that is, if her phone would actually stop freezing up. She figured she’d start with a selfie, so she made her way over to the carousel and stood in front of it. She waited until the ride was stopped—she didn’t want it blurred in the picture—and quickly snapped a photo.

  Audrey examined it critically. Her pipe cleaner tiara was crooked; she’d have to fix that. In the background the carousel shone brightly as riders exited. At the edge of the frame something caught her eye. . . .

  A text from Julia appeared, covering the screen: Can you do me a favor? If you have any good photos of Clarkville can you—

  Irritated, Audrey deleted the text before she finished reading. She was through doing Julia favors tonight.

  Audrey went back to the photo and enlarged it. In the background, walking away from the carousel, was the woman in the pirate costume.

   33

  Grace

  5 MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT

  “DO YOU LIKE JULIA?” GRACE repeated.

  “No,” Diego said.

  A large wave of relief crested in Grace’s heart. “Oh, okay,” she said. “You were smiling so I couldn’t tell.”

  Diego shrugged and cast his fishing line. “I guess it’s just nice to know someone likes you, isn’t it?”

  Diego was staring at the pond, and Grace was staring at Diego. From outside the tent she could hear the sounds of faraway laughter, the carousel music, and water lapping at the edges of the pond. She guessed it was nice to know that someone liked you.

  If they were brave enough to tell you.

  Grace did not consider herself to be brave. She had always been the girl who kept all her thoughts to herself. She secretly hoped when she got to California she’d become a girl who spoke all the words inside her. But what if she became that girl tonight?

  What if she became that girl right now?

  “You know,” Grace began, as Diego reeled in another golden egg, “when we were supposed to meet at the Kissing Booth, I was sort of happy because—”

  “Hey!” Diego said suddenly. “Look at this!” He showed Grace the fortune he’d just opened:

  It’s now or never.

  Grace swallowed; it really was now or never. “I was happy because I like—”

  “You know what?” Diego interrupted excitedly. “I just had a great idea! We should go to the Kissing Booth.”

  Grace sat back, confused. Was this her wish, coming true? She fidgeted with her fishing rod. She wasn’t even sure Diego liked her back. But if he was asking to go to the Kissing Booth that had to mean he did, right?

  “Sure, let’s go,” Grace said.

  After Diego rowed them back he checked his phone—according to his friends, Grace’s mom and his dad were near the Zipper, scanning the crowd. Grace checked her own phone, and her heart plunged. It was almost midnight. She shouldn’t be going to the Kissing Booth. She should be heading to the Ferris wheel, and finding out who would be waiting for her. But she had a feeling if she left Diego now, she’d be losing her last chance.

  Did she really believe anyone would be waiting for her at the Ferris wheel?

  “Hey, did you hear about how Harlow Carlson tricked everyone?” Diego said as they left the tent.

  A finger of ice traced Grace’s spine. “Tricked them how?”

  “Erin Donoghue ran into a couple of my friends and they texted me—I guess Harlow dressed up in a costume and pretended to be some girl named Jean.”

  Jean was actually Harlow?

  But Grace didn’t have time to wonder about it. She had bigger problems. “So, she’s here?” Grace said, her voice rising. “Harlow’s at the carnival?” An alarm was pounding insistently at her brain: Alert, alert! Danger, danger!

  “I guess. Anyway, do you think at the Kissing Booth we could—”

  Grace barely heard him. She was leaving him behind and sprinting to the Ferris wheel as fast as she could.

  Midnight. Harlow Carlson.

  Grace had been right all along.

   34

  Audrey

  AUDREY WASN’T GOING TO LOSE sight of her this time.

  She followed the woman in the pirate costume through the carnival, vaguely aware that it was just about midnight, and that she should be making her way to the Ferris wheel. But, strange as it seemed, that’s exactly where the woman seemed to be heading anyway.

  The woman passed the Snack Emporium and the Zipper, and Audrey’s heart thundered in her chest. There could be no doubt now—the Ferris wheel was squarely in front of both of them. Rising high into the sky, it looked like a shining wheel of color sparkling against the night.

  What if it had been her mother who sent the pumpkin gram? What if she had come back and that was her way of saying she was sorry?

  Audrey would ride the Ferris wheel a hundred times over, scale any height—no matter how much it terrified her—if it could bring her mother back.

  The woman removed her pirate hat as she stepped up to the plank leading to the control box and shook out her long red hair—the exact same shade as Audrey’s mother’s hair. She walked straight to Audrey’s dad and gave him a hug. Audrey hurried closer, feeling like she was going to leap right out of her own skin.

  Until the woman turned and Audrey got a good look at her.

  The face was exactly right—and at the same time, exactly wrong. With a sinking feeling, Audrey realized she’d made a huge mistake.

  The McKinley Family Freak Show, where you can get two for the price of one.

  “Aunt Lisa?” Audrey said as she drew near. “I thought you were watching Mad
die and Mason tonight?”

  “Uncle Dan is with them,” Aunt Lisa answered, her cheeks rosy with excitement. “When your dad told me the carnies needed a little extra help this year, I got a job too. It’s been so much fun! I’ve been running errands most of the night—but I just got to ride the carousel. I’ve been waiting all night to do that!”

  Aunt Lisa’s green eyes sparkled—the exact same shade of green as Audrey’s mother’s eyes. They were twins, true, but it was still eerie how much the two of them looked alike. Even her voice sounded like Audrey’s mom.

  “I wish I’d known.” Audrey swallowed. “I saw you two hug just now and I thought . . .”

  A flash of understanding passed between Aunt Lisa and her father. “Oh, honey,” Aunt Lisa said, reaching out and tucking a strand of red hair behind Audrey’s ear. “I miss her too.”

  “Lisa—could you give Audrey and me a moment alone?” her father said.

  “Sure,” Aunt Lisa said. “My shift ended anyway. I was just saying goodbye.”

  After she’d gone, Audrey’s father said, “You okay?”

  Audrey nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I guess I just thought maybe she’d decided to come home.”

  “Well, actually . . . she does want to come home.” Her father turned away and stared straight ahead, watching as a couple of carnies ushered a few boys from her history class into a cart. He punched a button and the cart began rising as another one swept forward.

  It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. “How would you know that?” Audrey asked. “Have you talked to her?”

  He nodded, still staring straight ahead. “She’s called a few times.”

  Audrey thought back to the odd phone calls he’d received the last couple weeks; it must have been her mother on the other end of the line. “Do you know where she is?” He hesitated, and she said, “You do, don’t you?”

  “She’s been staying with a friend in Fairvale.” He punched another button on the control console. “We’ve been talking and working things out.”

  “Working things out? What does that mean?”

  “We’ve decided to go see someone—a counselor—together. And your mother agreed that she needs to go back to her doctor and start taking her medication again.” He smiled, a real, warm smile, and said, “She’s a brave woman, your mother.”

  Audrey wanted to share in his happiness, but instead a numbness that had nothing to do with the chill in the night began spreading through her. All this time, while she was trying to hold things together—to be a makeshift parent to Maddie and Mason—the real parents were sneaking phone calls to each other like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

  Each cart of the Ferris wheel was full now, and her father punched a button and it began to turn; a colorful moon hanging over the rest of the carnival. Audrey and her father watched it spin in silence.

  Once the ride came to an end and the carts were being refilled again, her father said, “We’ve decided she should come home in a couple weeks.”

  “Oh, you’ve decided?” Audrey said, the numbness suddenly fading. “Are either of you really capable of making a decision?”

  “Watch yourself, Audrey,” he said, a warning flashing in his eyes. “I know you’ve taken on more than your fair share these last couple months, but I am still your father.”

  “A father who stays out all night with his friends,” she retorted.

  “Is that what you think I’ve been doing?” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “I’ve been working, Audrey. I told you that.”

  “You’ve been working?” she said skeptically. “That’s what you keep saying. Where have you been working?”

  He glanced at her and sighed. “At the poultry plant in Fairvale. They were in need of a night janitor and a friend of mine who works there got me the job. I didn’t want to tell you and Ethan until I knew for sure it would work out. It’s hard work—honest work—and they know I used to run the Carlson Factory. They said if I could hang on until after the holidays a management position would probably open up. They encouraged me to apply for it.”

  “Well,” Audrey said, her voice sounding brittle, “it looks like everything is working out just fine then, isn’t it?”

  Except it wasn’t fine. Nothing seemed fine right then. Her mother may have wanted to come home, but she hadn’t bothered to call Audrey and tell her so. Neither of her parents had thought to tell her anything.

  “I know this comes as a surprise. This is not how I wanted you to find out. Your mom and I were working on the best way to tell you guys. We had planned—”

  “Stop,” Audrey said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  She turned away from him, just as another empty cart was sweeping forward. Without thinking, she stepped inside—cutting in front of a short line of people who had been waiting patiently. But no one seemed to care all that much; it was late, and many of them were blearily rubbing their eyes. Even if they had cared, Audrey was too upset to be polite and wait her turn. It was midnight; the sender had asked her to ride the Ferris wheel at midnight, so that’s what she was going to do.

  The carnie in charge of filling the ride didn’t seem to notice that she’d cut in line; he stared at her steadily for a moment before abruptly leaving. When he returned, he had a brown box, about the size of a shoebox, which he slid into her hands. “Here,” he said. “I was told to give it to a girl riding alone at midnight.”

  Her heart began to hammer as she stared down at the package. Was it from the sender?

  Just as he shut the door to the cart, she heard pounding footsteps. The door was flung open and Grace threw herself inside. “Don’t open that!” she shouted. Then she blinked and said, “Wait, you’re not Harlow.”

  “No.” Audrey said. She might have wondered why Grace had shoved her way into the cart, or why she expected to find Harlow inside, but her gaze was drawn to the wrinkled pumpkin gram Grace was holding. Audrey recognized the block letters and the message written on it. Her eyes widened.

  “I received the exact same message,” she said.

  “I know,” Grace answered.

  “How do you know?” Audrey asked.

  Grace took a deep breath. “Because I’m the one who wrote it.”

   35

  Grace

  MIDNIGHT

  IT WAS TRUE. GRACE HAD sent all three pumpkin grams. One to Audrey, one to Harlow, and for good measure, one to herself too.

  The idea had come to her shortly after she’d overheard Julia and Erin talking in the library about pranking Harlow at the carnival—possibly at midnight. She’d also thought she’d heard them talking about the Ferris wheel, but she couldn’t be sure. She’d wanted to say something to Harlow so badly at school. She’d even stopped once when their paths crossed in the halls, but Harlow didn’t see her. Or if she did see her, she didn’t acknowledge her. Harlow didn’t acknowledge anyone, really. She pushed forward, hunched underneath the weight of both her backpack and everyone’s scorn.

  Grace had wondered if that was partly her fault. Had she ever spoken up for Harlow? Had she ever told anyone to stop acting like Harlow had the plague? Had she ever said anything to anyone at all?

  She had not. She had stayed in her fog, where it was just so much easier not to speak.

  She had been thinking about Harlow—and Audrey—a lot lately. She missed her friends and felt bad for how things had gone after the fire. It felt like time was running out to make things right. In just a couple days she’d be leaving for California, where the sun always shone.

  Not only did Grace not want to leave Clarkville, she didn’t want to leave without talking to Audrey and Harlow one last time.

  But would they want to talk to her? After everything that had happened in the last year, if she texted them and invited them to her house, would they come or would they ignore her?

  She also wanted to warn Harlow, and then she’d had a brilliant idea: She could send Harlow and Audrey messages on a pumpkin gram askin
g them to ride the Ferris wheel at midnight. If Grace had heard wrong, great. Maybe she could end the night, her last in Clarkville, on her favorite ride with her two oldest friends. But, if she was right and Julia was planning a nasty prank, Harlow wouldn’t have to face it alone. Grace had learned many things from her father, and one important thing he’d taught her—the very last thing—was this: You don’t leave your friends behind. Not when they’re in danger and it’s in your power to help them.

  Grace had just signed her name to the pumpkin grams when she wondered: Would Harlow or Audrey even bother to show up if they saw Grace’s name at the bottom? Grace wasn’t sure, so she ripped them up and purchased new ones. This time she wrote in big block letters and left the “From” section blank.

  After she’d finished, she’d thought about how she wanted a magical carnival story. Then she’d purchased one more pumpkin gram and wrote the same message to herself. She hoped it would be a keepsake, something to remember one of the greatest nights of her life.

  “I wrote it,” she said again to Audrey, who was staring at her, wide-eyed. “Will you ride with me?”

   36

  Audrey

  “OKAY,” AUDREY SAID, DAZED. “I’LL ride with you.”

  She couldn’t believe this. She couldn’t believe Grace had sent the pumpkin gram and she couldn’t believe she was about to ride the Ferris wheel—even though she was terrified of heights. But the whole night had been so strange and unexpected she figured, Why not? She’d twirled fire and had knives thrown at her. The Ferris wheel seemed almost tame by comparison. Maybe it wasn’t as scary as she’d remembered.

  The cart was circular and roomier on the inside than it looked. A sign near her said CAREFUL: DOOR CAN OPEN! She gulped and clutched the shoebox to her chest and told herself everything would be okay.

  Back at the control booth, her father punched a button that sent the cart moving up into the night—for about fifteen feet, until the wheel came to a sudden stop and their cart began rocking. Audrey gripped the front of her seat; the ground loomed below, shadow-filled and threatening. Then the cart was moving, up another fifteen feet before stopping again.