Pigeon crouched, looking at the first tile beyond the doorway. “That tile has a symbol like the sun. When you stood on it, the day was fine, right?”

  “I guess,” Summer said.

  Pigeon walked out onto the tile. The sky remained clear and bright. “This next one has a symbol of a rainy cloud.”

  “Genius point,” Summer said. “You’re an absolute legend.” She walked out onto the first tile with Pigeon. “Let me guess. The next one is wind?”

  “Looks that way,” Pigeon said.

  “So we have to watch where we step,” Nate said. “Avoid the harshest weather.”

  “Everyone back through the doorway,” Summer said. “We need to experiment.”

  The other kids retreated from the room, and Summer moved to the rainy tile. Immediately rain poured down. Summer tilted her face upward. Her makeup didn’t run. “It’s raining harder than before.”

  Nate stepped through the doorway onto the sunny tile, and the rain became gentler. “Maybe that’s because last time some of us were on the sun tile.”

  “They all add together,” Summer said. “Wind and rain if we stand on the rainy tile and the wind tile.”

  “We should keep people on sun tiles when we find them,” Pigeon said. “It should soften the other weather.”

  “Magicians should make more stuff like this,” Trevor said, gesturing to the area. “Weather rooms. I’d play here.”

  “I’ll settle for getting through this,” Nate said.

  “If I go forward one more I land on wind,” Summer said. “Diagonal right looks like a tornado, which we should avoid no matter what. Diagonal left appears to be an especially bright sun. It’s bigger with extra rays. Heat wave? Drought?”

  “We can handle a little heat,” Trevor encouraged. “Try it.”

  She stepped diagonally left, and the rain went away, replaced by an oppressively hot sun. Nate, Trevor, and Pigeon advanced together to the rainy tile, and a humid mist percolated down. The day remained hot.

  “The tile straight ahead has a hurricane symbol,” Summer narrated. “I see lightning to one side of it. And squiggly lines to the other.”

  “We don’t want hurricanes or lightning,” Nate said.

  “That leaves squiggly lines,” Summer announced, going diagonally forward.

  Icy wind blasted Nate from the side, forcing him down on one knee. Frigid pinpricks of snow needled his bare skin. Pigeon moved to the drought square, his marble body untroubled by the storm. The gusting winds became warmer, the snowflakes slushier. Summer advanced again, and the blizzard was replaced by a dense fog.

  They made their way across the room, experiencing a sandstorm, slippery frost, sleet, dust devils, moderate hail, a thunderstorm, and various combinations of wind, rain, and snow. They avoided tiles with icons representing hurricanes, tornados, lightning, tsunamis, and earthquakes.

  “Is an earthquake considered weather?” Pigeon asked.

  “Sure looks like it,” Summer replied. “Unless maybe the symbol indicates a rockslide.”

  The final tile in front of the far doorway produced a bright rainbow arching down to the opposite side of the enclosure. Clothes damp, the kids paused to admire the sight before exiting the courtyard into a short hallway.

  A lone roustabout awaited. He wore the standard outfit of a white shirt, black vest, a flat cap, and work boots. He held up both hands. “I’m not looking for a fight. I came here with a proposal.”

  It was weird to see the tough-looking guy acting a little nervous.

  “What’s the offer?” Summer asked.

  “Growler is not a patient clown,” the roustabout said. “Since you made it this far, he sent me with an offer. He’s anxious to have his fun with you, and doesn’t like waiting. If you’re willing to trust me, I’m here to speed up the process. Save everyone time. Growler understands where you want to go. He knows you have the skeleton key. I’m under orders to lead you to the keyhole that accesses the sleepers.”

  “What’s the catch?” Nate asked.

  The roustabout shrugged. “Growler will be waiting for you. Nobody gets the best of him. But he will also be there if it takes you ten times as long.”

  “Is Growler your boss?” Nate asked.

  “He’s head of security,” the roustabout said with a nod. “Also Master of Mayhem. Among other things.”

  “How do we know you won’t attack us or double-cross us?” Pigeon asked.

  “You have my word,” the roustabout said. “I’m under orders to convey you safely.” He held out his arms. “I have no weapons. Pat me down if you like.”

  “What if this is misdirection?” Trevor asked. “Leading us to the wrong place to keep us from the right one.”

  “I guess anything is possible,” the roustabout said. “My offer is genuine. I can lead you through the mirror maze and down to Growler in a matter of minutes. Without my help, it could take hours. It’s up to you.”

  “Let’s go with him,” Nate said. “Sounds like we have to face Growler sooner or later.”

  “Do we want to reach Growler if he is luring us in?” Trevor asked.

  “If that clown is between us and the sleepers, yes,” Nate replied. “And if the roustabout leads us astray, we can always backtrack.”

  “All right,” Summer said. “But stay at the front, roustabout. Do you have a name?”

  “Steve,” the roustabout said.

  “Do all the roustabouts go by Steve?” Summer asked.

  “What? No. We go by our names,” Steve said. “I’ll give you one guess what I call my friend Dennis. Come on. This way.”

  At the far end of the hall, Steve stopped outside a mirror maze. “Stay close in here. There’s no gravity, so you can easily forget which way is up.”

  He jumped forward lightly and drifted down a hallway mirrored on every surface, including the floor and ceiling. Summer went next.

  “If you’re made of rock, you might break the mirrors,” Trevor whispered to Pigeon.

  “Same with being too ugly,” Pigeon replied. “But they let Steve in. I don’t care if I damage this carnival.”

  Nate hopped forward into the null gravity. Having mirrors on all sides created the illusion of corridors extending toward infinity in multiple directions. Nate kept an eye on Summer, trying not to be fooled into following one of her hundreds of reflections. When she reached the end of the corridor, she pushed off in a new direction. Nate stayed on her tail.

  “Try not to touch the glass,” Steve called from up ahead. “It’s a pain to wash.”

  “Then how do we turn?” Nate called back.

  Steve chuckled. “I’m joking. The glass stays clean by magic or something.”

  Many of the turns were not right angles, and he soon lost all orientation of up and down. If Nate didn’t have Summer to follow, he could imagine going crazy in a place like this. His only hope was keeping Summer in view.

  What if Steve abandoned them in here? It would be a great trap.

  “Can you imagine Mirror Mints in this place?” Trevor asked. “Slipping deeper and deeper into mirror dimensions? You really could be lost forever.”

  “The thought gives me vertigo,” Nate replied.

  “I have some pretty good vertigo going already,” Trevor said. “I’m not taking my eyes off of you.”

  In some places, mirrors rotated or oscillated, making reflections lurch and sway. Nate tried to focus on Summer despite the distraction of reflected tunnels shrinking, elongating, and reorienting around him. Elsewhere, warped mirrors created impossible shapes out of Nate’s reflections or flipped them upside down. Illusory corridors branched and curled in kaleidoscopic chaos. Nate felt if he looked away from Summer for a moment, he would never find her again.

  Eventually, a rectangular doorway appeared in front of him. Steve stood beyond it, upside down. Nate twisted so he would be right side up when he returned to gravity. After stepping through the doorway, he helped Trevor and Pigeon come through.

  “We’re getting there,” Steve said. “You’re lucky I know the shortcuts.”

  “Is that a joke?” Nate asked.

  “Try it without me and you’ll see,” Steve said.

  He led them into a new room filled with clashing colors and patterns. Stripes and polka dots mingled with geometric shapes and fluorescent swirls.

  Steve pointed to a ladder stretching up through a hole in the ceiling. “That’s the escape hatch, if you want to return to the regular carnival.” Then he indicated the opening on the wall where a tube slide descended into darkness. There was a slight sheen to the slide, as if it had been greased.

  A sign on the wall above the slide read

  DO NOT RIDE IF A LOT OF PEOPLE WOULD MISS YOU

  “This is the Speed Slide,” Steve said. “Keep your ankles crossed and lay flat. If you try to slow yourself, you could lose a hand. Just relax.”

  He grabbed the top of the slide and slung himself into the opening.

  “Sounds like a rush,” Summer said, crossing her feet and scooting in after him.

  Nate was a little jealous that her Clown Lips would protect her. Same with Pigeon’s Statue Sticks.

  Pigeon went next.

  “Might be time to try a Drip Drop,” Trevor said, producing what looked like a piece of red licorice. “I imagine it would be hard to tear the hand off a liquid person. Do you want one?”

  Nate hesitated. He did. But he also wanted a Cannon Blast ready when he got to the bottom.

  “How long does a Drip Drop last?” Nate asked.

  “A thousand breaths,” Trevor said. “Preston said it usually lasts roughly an hour.”

  Nate knew that overlapping candy could be disastrous. And he needed his Cannon Blasts available. “I’ll pass.”

  Trevor ate the treat. He held up a watery hand, then it suddenly severed at the wrist and splashed on the ground in a little puddle. Just as quickly, the puddle jumped up and became Trevor’s hand again.

  “This is awesome,” Trevor said. “It’s more intuitive than I thought. I was worried it would be complicated.”

  His entire body, including his clothes, collapsed into a pool on the floor. After laying still for a moment, he reformed quickly. “It isn’t all or nothing,” Trevor explained, pushing one liquid hand through his own chest. “I can liquify myself to varying degrees.”

  “That is awesome,” Nate said. “We better catch up.”

  “Right!” Trevor splashed into the slide and took off.

  Nate briefly considered launching himself down the slide using a Cannon Blast. The candy would protect his body, and he would almost certainly break the speed record on the slide. But what about his friends at the bottom? He didn’t want to hurt anyone.

  Nate put his legs into the slide, crossed his feet, then bucked forward and laid back. He gained speed quickly, the slick slide angling downward. His body slid up the walls on the turns, and the g-forces became almost painful. How would he stop at the bottom? If it was an abrupt ending, he would be smashed like a bug.

  But the slide kept going, winding deeper and deeper into the Earth.

  Would he emerge inside the undercarnival? Beneath it?

  Finally, the slide leveled out. He emerged from the complete enclosure of the tube into a long, open straightaway that produced slightly more friction than the rest of the slide. Gradually his body slowed. Eventually the spongy sides of the narrowing straightaway squeezed him to a stop.

  This new room was crafted from dark, polished wood. Nate climbed out of the slide and caught up to his friends. They stood with Steve beside one of the several doors leading out of the room, each one a different shape or size.

  “This is as far as I go,” Steve said. “Growler awaits behind this square door. I have never seen anyone voluntarily pay him a visit, but that is your business. Mine is finished.”

  Steve walked across the room and exited through an oval door.

  Nate stared at the others in silence.

  Trevor gave a nervous laugh. “You know, with all the difficulty getting here, I sort of lost track of the fact that I was voluntarily going toward an evil clown. Is it too late to go back?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Growler

  I’m not happy about facing Growler either,” Pigeon said. “But we have to brace ourselves and do what we came here to do.”

  “Summer and I will stay in front,” Nate said. “You guys be ready to help.”

  Trevor’s fingers were trembling. He drew in a shaky breath. “We’re just going to open that door—on purpose—and talk to an evil clown?”

  “Pretty much,” Nate said. “Sometimes you have to rip off the Band-Aid.”

  Trevor held up a finger. “And sometimes, you soak the Band-Aid in water so it isn’t so sticky, and then you peel it back a little at a time, so the shock isn’t so extreme.”

  “The more you think about it the worse it will be,” Summer said, grabbing the doorknob. “On three. One.”

  Instead of counting the other numbers, she opened the door and stepped inside. Nate followed closely.

  He found a plain room with a hardwood floor and white walls.

  Keyholes of various sizes pocked the walls.

  Growler stood in the center of the room, showing them his profile. He wore his pin-striped suit and pulled out a large alarm clock as they entered. The sinister clown tilted his head. “You made good time. I have a low tolerance for waiting. Is any chore more tedious?”

  Trevor and Pigeon came timidly into the room.

  With a gesture from Growler, the door slammed shut.

  Nate jumped and almost put the Cannon Blast in his mouth, ready to attack.

  Growler held up a hand. “You four have been causing mischief in my carnival. You mowed down the whole security detail inside the Lux Lounge, stole a bunch of candy, and made a mess of my favorite restaurant. Part of me wants to take you under my wing. You’re like the children I never had but always wanted! Especially you with the pigtails! And especially if that one kid can stop wetting himself.”

  Growler turned to face them. “The problem is, these offenses happened in my house, among my people. It would be hilarious if you busted up some other chump’s luxury lounge. But not mine, see? The gag gets old fast when you play it on me.”

  “So what now?” Nate asked.

  Growler cackled. “Very direct! I like a kid who gets to the point. Let’s talk this out. Nobody communicates anymore. Not about the things that matter. How’s Grandma? Has she taken any falls lately? It’s bound to happen. Those bones aren’t getting any stronger.”

  “I don’t follow,” Nate said.

  “What do you kids have against this carnival?” Growler challenged.

  “You have people trapped in sleep who can’t wake up,” Nate said.

  Growler rested an elbow in his hand and tapped his cheek. “Valid point. People are asleep.” He stabbed a finger at Nate. “Counterpoint. They all chose to be asleep. Every one of them is sleeping voluntarily. Who made it your job to rouse them?”

  “If the carnival keeps growing, it will swallow the world,” Summer said.

  Growler pressed a fist against his forehead. “What’s so great about the waking world? How’s it going out there lately? Have a lot of your dreams been coming true? Or is it still mostly people living in squalor, surrendering their imaginations to a machine that keeps very few on top?”

  “I like my life,” Pigeon said. “The world isn’t perfect, but we keep trying.”

  Growler held up a finger. “Why not try for something better? A place that offers what you actually want. A place with room for everyone to be a king, an adventurer, or a gangster, or to find romance, or to live out whatever most excites them.”

  “We can do that in the real world too,” Nate said.

  Growler shook his head. “Seems that way when you’re young. The real world is limited, kid. If you make it to the top, it will be by climbing over the corpses of your competition.”

  “We don’t need to be at the top,” Pigeon said. “We just want good lives. Real lives.”

  “Do you kids like observational humor?” Growler asked, folding his arms. “You’re all going to grow old, get sick, and die. Same with everybody you know. Unless they die young in some unfortunate way.” He stared at them. “What? It’s funny because it’s true!”

  “Life is a lot more than that,” Nate said.

  “Fine, we can agree to disagree,” Growler said. “Nothing wastes time like philosophy.” He cracked his knuckles. “I know what you kids really want. You passed my tests, so I’m prepared to give it to you. A hundred Carnie Coins each, ten Enchanted Carnie Coins, the Veteran’s Map, and a discount coupon for the Last Ticket Diner. Congratulations! You all win!” He took out a kazoo and blew it, producing a squawk.

  “We’re going to use the skeleton key to visit the sleepers,” Nate said. “If they want to stay asleep, they can.”

  Growler chuckled darkly. “Oh, some of them may want to wake up. That’s possible. But that would be reneging on our deal. They chose to sleep. End of story. No sequels.” He walked to the far wall and tapped a keyhole. “This is the one you want.”

  “Why would you tell us that?” Nate asked.

  Growler shrugged. “I can’t attack any ticket holders unless they attack me first. It’s a public relations thing. Comes down from the top. But I’ll tell you what—none of you are going to see those sleepers with me standing in the way.”

  “So we have to fight?” Nate asked.

  “That’s up to you,” Growler said. “You can clip my toenails instead. Or I could give you haircuts. Maybe we could have a picnic. Did anyone bring Takis? I love those things!”

  “I could eat,” Nate said.

  Growler laughed explosively. “You’re wearing me down, kid. You’re a tough negotiator.” He put his hands on his hips and tapped one foot. “Okay, final offer. We reserve this option for the toughest stalemates. I will bequeath each of you a VIP passport. We’re talking unlimited tickets and coins. Lux Lounge access. Full private suite on the premises. Membership in our vacation club. Let’s face it—this carnival is growing, and you’ll want to go everywhere it reaches.”