“I’ll be an actual human cannonball,” Nate said.

  “Essentially, yes,” the Dealer agreed. “Inspired by the carnival.”

  “What does my candy do?” Summer asked.

  “While wearing the clown lips, you will be attired completely like a clown,” the Dealer said.

  Nate could not hold in his laughter. Summer reddened a little.

  “I’m not finished,” the Dealer said. “While you’re dressed like a clown, you will be extremely difficult to harm, and you will find yourself able to perform surprising feats.”

  “Like what?” Summer asked.

  “You’ll have to try the lips to find out,” the Dealer said. “Maybe it’s my imagination, but if your actions are funny, the power seems to increase. The lips last until you devour them—normally two or three hours. But if you take them off, they cease working.”

  “That sounds pretty good,” Summer said.

  “Maybe,” Nate said, unconvinced. At least he had managed to rein in his laughter.

  “Can we get more right now?” Summer checked.

  “Until you try out this candy, I will not sell you more,” the Dealer said.

  “We’ll be back,” Nate said. “And we may bring friends.”

  The Dealer spread his hands. “I’m not opposed to customers.”

  “Come on,” Summer said to Nate. “We have places to explore.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Camilla

  The Fun House has a bunch of great backgrounds for filming,” Zac said. “The turning tunnels, the shrinking hall, the room with the swirly lights, the wavy mirrors—I underused it in my last video. Let’s start there.”

  Pigeon tromped along between Trevor and Benji. If he made a remark that was funny enough, was there any chance Zac would include it in the video? Was that even worth worrying about when there were mysteries to solve? It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement of shooting videos that could be watched by millions of viewers.

  It was the hottest day since the carnival had opened. As he navigated through the crowd, Pigeon found himself hoping the few clouds in the sky would cross over the sun and provide temporary shade. He had made the mistake of putting sunblock on his forehead, and now he was sweating it into his eyes, making them sting. Pigeon kept the problem to himself, not wanting to get ridiculed.

  The spiral windmills of the Fun House came into view, and Pigeon studied the building. Had it grown since the last time they had been here? Was it a whole story taller? Was it wider? It was hard to be sure, because the square, windowless structure was monolithic to begin with. The exterior was still a brightly colored hodgepodge of signage and colored lights, the entrance built into the gaping mouth of a giant clown face.

  “Want to get digested by a clown?” Zac asked, filming selfie-style with his phone. “Sounds like a party to me!”

  As they neared the entrance, Pigeon noticed the Jubilee Wagon parked toward the rear of the gaudy building. The door to the wagon was partway open.

  Pigeon slowed his steps, studying the wagon. There was no sign of life.

  Was Camilla’s wagon truly open and unattended? Or could she be inside? Either way, shouldn’t they check it out?

  Pigeon glanced at Benji. The kid had no idea what was really going on at the carnival. It wouldn’t be fair to drag him into danger.

  “Zac,” Pigeon said. “Trevor and I will catch up with you guys in the Fun House. I want to check out that wagon over there.”

  Zac glanced from Pigeon to the wagon. “It looks thrilling,” he said dryly. “Have fun.”

  Trevor started toward the wagon with Pigeon. “What is this about?” Trevor whispered.

  “Camilla White spends time in the Jubilee Wagon,” Pigeon muttered. “The door is open. We should investigate.”

  Pigeon tried to move quietly, but the ground around the wagon was gravelly, so his steps crunched. He reached the portable stepladder leading up to the partially open door, then climbed the first step and knocked on the side of the wagon. “Hello?”

  An older woman appeared in the doorway. She was of medium height, slender, with long graying hair that turned violet toward the tips. She had paired a white peasant blouse with a flowing batik skirt. Multiple necklaces of beads and crystals hung around her neck. Rings and bracelets adorned her hands.

  “I wasn’t expecting company,” the woman said in a melodic voice. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth deepened considerably when she smiled.

  Pigeon froze. Was this Camilla? “Is this wagon an attraction?” he managed.

  “Not usually, but you’re welcome to come inside,” she offered, stepping away from the door.

  Pigeon glanced at Trevor, who shrugged. They mounted the stepladder and entered the wagon. Plentiful plants, many of them succulents, grew in boxes suspended from the ceiling by thin chains. Potted flowers took up much of the space on other surfaces. Bowls of glass beads, clear plastic thread, and a variety of clasps were strewn across one table. The smell of incense hung in the air, though none appeared to be burning.

  “What can I do for you?” the woman asked, fidgeting with one of her bracelets.

  “Do you own this carnival?” Pigeon tried.

  The woman looked mildly surprised. “Where did you hear that?”

  “The Psychic,” Pigeon said.

  The woman gave an exasperated sigh. “That ram blabs too much. Yes, I founded the carnival, and I own it.”

  “But you don’t want people to know?” Trevor asked.

  “I don’t relish attention,” the woman said, pacing as she spoke. “Paperwork makes me ill. I detest lawyers and business meetings. I abhor data and numbers. I started this carnival because I enjoy creating and playing. I wanted a place where people could have adventures and live out their fondest dreams.”

  “Seems like you did a good job,” Pigeon said.

  “Perhaps,” the woman said. “It all depends on the experience you and others have here. As patrons become more involved, I begin to suspect I did something right.”

  “What’s your name?” Trevor asked.

  “Camilla,” she replied. “How about you?”

  “I’m Trevor, and this is Pigeon.”

  “‘Pigeon’?” the woman repeated, clapping her hands softly. “What a delightful name.”

  “This carnival feels larger than life,” Pigeon said. “Almost as if dreams are becoming reality.”

  Camilla grew still, a smile growing on her lips. “That’s the miracle of a carnival. It brings out the child in everyone.”

  “No, I mean the carnival seems to be doing the impossible,” Pigeon said. “Weird things are appearing all over town, and the carnival is growing at an unrealistic pace. How is this happening?”

  Camilla pursed her lips before speaking. “I grew up in a strict household where practicality was emphasized over imagination. I’m trying to create the opposite environment here. As a child, I was taught how light refracts through water, but what I really wanted to know was how a rainbow might taste.”

  “Like Skittles,” Trevor volunteered.

  “Or frozen Otter Pops?” Camilla mused. “Or flavored mist?”

  “You’re pulling dreams into reality because you want to taste rainbows?” Pigeon asked.

  Interlocking her fingers, Camilla reached both hands over her head and stretched her back. “People focus too much on doing what has already been done. Living life according to a tired pattern dictated by others. Imagination precedes all action. The worn templates we follow were once fresh ideas. I want to help humankind break new ground, broaden the options. People need to imagine, innovate, explore. Life should be an adventure we discover for ourselves.”

  “This carnival encourages that?” Pigeon asked.

  “It can,” Camilla said. She swept her hair behind one shoulder. “Has that not been your experience yet?”

  Pigeon shrugged.

  Camilla laughed lightly. “Anything that happens is therefore possible. Some who visit this carnival are surprised by what is possible. I’ve created an environment that ventures into territory some would consider supernatural. Few truly believe in the power of their dreams.”

  “Do dreams come true here?” Pigeon asked.

  “Every day,” Camilla said. “I’m always looking for good people to help me.”

  “Probably to replace the people who disappeared,” Trevor muttered to Pigeon.

  “What do you mean?” Camilla inquired, leaning forward.

  “Lots of people disappeared in Texas when your carnival went through,” Trevor said. “A lot of the missing went unreported, but some people noticed.”

  “Some who come here prefer this carnival to their humdrum lives,” Camilla said. “They follow us wherever we go as devoted customers and co-creators. Others join us and start working here. I see it as proof that we are fulfilling our mission of inspiring people.”

  “Can we work here?” Pigeon asked.

  “You look too young for standard employment,” Camilla said. “But odd jobs occasionally arise. How serious are you?”

  Pigeon glanced at Trevor. This could provide a chance to learn a lot about the carnival. “I’d start today.”

  Camilla gave a nod, then crossed to the door, closing it completely. The wagon became oddly silent. Normally the carnival was saturated with background noise—the steady hum of conversation and laughter, overlapping music from various attractions, screams of fear and delight from people on rides.

  Camilla gestured to a little sofa. “Please have a seat.”

  Pigeon and Trevor perched side by side at the edge of the sofa.

  Camilla knelt in front of them. “This carnival represents my life’s work. But there are enemies who would love to destroy this paradise I have created. And so before you can work here, I must be absolutely certain of your loyalty.”

  Pigeon tried to stay calm under her prolonged stare. His mouth felt dry. It was hard to meet her eyes, knowing he planned to spy on her.

  “We understand,” Trevor finally said.

  “Do you?” Camilla asked. “If so, all I ask is that you verbally grant me permission to access your minds while you take a nap here in this trailer. That will allow me to confirm your good intentions.”

  “Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?” Pigeon asked.

  Camilla smiled. “If I’m going to trust you as my assistants, I must be confident of your intentions. I don’t require perfection. I need helpers who will be loyal and who demonstrate sufficient strength of character.”

  “You can measure that?” Trevor asked.

  “To a degree, yes,” Camilla said. “And I can test it. In your dreams. Pigeon, you rest on the sofa, and Trevor, you can recline on the futon at the back of the wagon. If you need help falling asleep, I can prepare an herbal tea for you.”

  “Actually, this sounds pretty intense,” Pigeon said. “I didn’t know the carnival had enemies. And having anyone probe my mind makes me uncomfortable. I’m not sure this job is for me.”

  Camilla glanced at Trevor. “How do you feel about it?”

  Trevor squirmed in his seat. “My parents always say not to let strangers hypnotize me in their trailers.”

  “Well, this isn’t hypnosis, but I understand what you mean,” Camilla said. “Unfortunately, I cannot hire anyone I have not vetted. That long-standing policy is vital to the security of this carnival.”

  Pigeon stood up. “It was nice talking to you.”

  Trevor took the cue and rose as well. “We should probably get back to the rides.”

  “As you wish,” Camilla said. “Should you change your minds, you know where to find me.” She opened the door.

  “Nice job on your carnival,” Pigeon said as he passed, trying not to hurry down the steps.

  Trevor followed.

  “Boys,” Camilla said from the doorway. “I offer rewards for information about people trying to harm this carnival.”

  “We’ll keep that in mind,” Trevor said.

  “Have fun,” she urged. “Dream big.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Coaster

  Trevor!” Nate called, jumping out of line for the Fun House. “Pigeon!”

  Trevor and Pigeon were coming toward the Fun House from the direction of the Jubilee Wagon. They hurried to meet up with Nate and Summer.

  “We met Camilla,” Pigeon said quietly.

  “Wait, really?” Summer asked.

  “She was in her wagon,” Trevor said. “She offered us jobs.”

  “Did you take them?” Nate asked.

  “The job interview was too invasive,” Pigeon said. “She wanted us to go to sleep so she could check our dreams to determine our loyalty.”

  “That would not have gone well,” Summer said.

  “We got out of there fast,” Trevor said.

  “According to her, this carnival exists to help people live out their dreams,” Pigeon said. “She claims any disappearances from other towns were people who decided to follow the carnival. Or even joined it as workers.”

  “People like Edward, maybe,” Summer mused.

  Pigeon shrugged. “She mentioned the carnival had enemies, but nothing she told us sounded terrible.”

  “Wouldn’t it be great if the carnival wasn’t bad?” Nate said.

  “It would be a huge relief,” Pigeon said. “But don’t count on it. Clever villains keep their real plans deeply buried.”

  “How did it go with Edward?” Trevor asked.

  “Summer and I each got a piece of magical candy that we can use inside the carnival,” Nate said. He explained about the hidden shop above the Swindler. “You two could buy candy there as well.”

  “We also learned how to reach two new secret places,” Summer said. “One by riding the roller coaster, the other inside the Fun House.”

  “Zac and Benji are in the Fun House now,” Trevor said.

  “If we don’t want Benji involved in magical stuff, this might be a perfect time to check out the roller coaster,” Pigeon suggested.

  “We could just tell Benji,” Trevor said.

  “I still can’t believe we trusted Zac this quickly,” Nate said, glancing at Summer. “I hardly know Benji at all.”

  “Let’s do the roller coaster,” Summer said. “If we want to share what we find, we can.”

  They set off through the crowd. The enormously fat clown from the parade was creating a stir, chasing several smaller clowns with an inflatable bat. The little clowns dodged or ducked most of his swings, but when he made contact, they went flying, dramatically flipping and cartwheeling.

  Nate led the way through the tight press of people at the edge of the commotion, their progress slowing to a crawl.

  Eventually they made it to the roller coaster, dubbed Hurricane Hills by a sign at the front of the line. The white wooden roller coaster featured a massive first drop that plunged into a tube, dipping several feet underground before swooping up to other slopes and turns, the track rising and falling at diminishing heights before looping back to the station. The train roared down a nearby incline, the wooden framework of the coaster shuddering, passengers laughing and screaming, some with arms upraised.

  Nate felt sure the roller coaster was significantly taller and longer than when he rode it the first day. The line of waiting riders snaked through several switchbacks before ending at the station. Three trains were in service at the moment—one waiting with passengers ready to disembark, one loading, and one zooming along the track.

  Nate and his friends got in line. They speculated about what would happen when they used a Carnie Coin in the front car. Would the train go faster? Travel different tracks? Nate looked for places where any tracks branched from the main path but couldn’t find any, except by the station where trains could be added or removed. One train stood dormant on a small track parallel to the main one. Their conversation paused whenever a train came near, resuming once the thunderous rumble passed by.

  After nearly half an hour, they approached the front of the line. The day was still hot, and Nate wished for a drink. At the moment, nothing sounded better than ice water.

  “Look, there is an extra line where we can wait for the first car,” Pigeon pointed out.

  “Let’s time it so while two of us are in the front seats, the next two are right behind us,” Summer said. “No use wasting two coins when one will do the trick.”

  They had to wait through seven extra trains to get the front car. Pigeon and Trevor managed to sync up with Nate and Summer, securing the spots directly behind them in the same car. Once seated with a Carnie Coin pinched between thumb and forefinger, Nate searched for a coin slot.

  “Here,” Summer said, tapping an unmarked, horizontal slot set into the front of the car.

  Nate leaned forward and pushed the coin into the opening, then settled back, pulling down his lap bar, which pressed snugly against him.

  An attendant came by and made sure their lap bar was secure, then worked his way back along the train, checking lap bars as he went. When the attendant reached the back of the train, he gave a thumbs-up, which was reciprocated by a young woman in the control booth. The train started forward.

  They ran along a fairly level track until reaching a steep climb. Nate and Summer rocked back in their seats as the train began the ascent, clacking menacingly. The track stretched high above them, ending with a view of the sky, only a few wispy clouds interrupting the field of blue.