Clowns scampered up and down the street, male and female, tall and short, happy and sad. One clown holding a towering cake staggered around, trying to keep the dessert from toppling. A slouching sad clown sobbed into his spotted handkerchief as others teased him. Three female clowns worked together with hoops and string to blow enormous bubbles.

  The purple-faced clown prowled around in his snug, pin-striped suit, occasionally tripping other clowns. He set a bear trap in the street that clamped shut on another clown’s oversized foot, leaving the victim hopping and waving both arms as he tried to shake off the clamp. The purple-faced clown approached the crowd, offering a bouquet of flowers to onlookers only to hastily withdraw the gift when someone reached for it.

  Clowns stumbled over one another, provoking slapstick fistfights. The tallest clown ran in terror from a tiny poodle that chased him relentlessly. Pies were thrown. Horns brayed. Water spurted. Buckets of glitter were hurled into the crowd.

  The clown with the multitiered cake collided with the fat clown, leaving both smeared with great clumps of frosting. A couple of kids darted into the street to snatch hunks of the fallen cake.

  Nate’s gaze returned in puzzlement to the little car. How had all the clowns fit in there? There must be a tunnel under the road, with a trapdoor or something that led into the car. Maybe a manhole? There was simply no way this small army of clowns had fit in the undersized vehicle.

  Unless they used actual magic. He had to remember magicians were involved with the carnival, so legitimate enchantments were an option.

  Chaotic antics complete, the clowns piled back into the little car, shoving, jostling, and wiggling their backsides. When the doors closed, the car zigzagged farther down the parade route, occasionally doubling back and fishtailing like before.

  “Is it over?” Trevor asked, peering through his fingers. “I may need therapy.”

  “That was impossible,” Summer said. “They’re definitely using real magic.”

  “The stunt with animals too,” Pigeon chimed in. “Nobody could fake it that well.”

  Outcries of astonishment from surrounding bystanders drew their attention back to the parade.

  A muscular mountain of a man took halting steps forward, supporting a group of acrobats on his shoulders. They fanned out above him, arms and legs interlocked to form a scaffolding of humanity higher than the surrounding rooftops. The man at the base strode purposefully forward, eyes bulging, chest heaving, curly brown hair soaked with perspiration.

  Nate grinned. “I have a hunch that guy likes parades even less than I do.”

  “He’s supporting nine people,” Pigeon said. “How does he keep going?”

  “This is an amazing parade,” Summer said.

  Nate nodded. “It’s unbelievable. Supernatural. Somebody in this carnival has a lot of power.”

  Another float trundled into view, built to resemble a three-masted sailing ship. Aerialists swung on ropes, ribbons, and trapezes around and between the tall poles, performing shocking feats of dexterity. Tightropes connected the tops of the masts, where daredevils balanced, jumped, and spun.

  “There’s Zac,” Summer exclaimed, pointing.

  Zac Foster sat on a raised seat at the stern of the maritime float, hurling candy to the spectators.

  “Hey, Zac!” Trevor called, waving both hands over his head.

  Zac saw him and pointed, then started heaving candy in their direction. Nearby people scrambled to share in the bounty, but Nate and his friends grabbed enough to fill their pockets before the ship of aerialists glided out of range.

  “He kept his promise,” Trevor said, holding up a pack of sour gummy frogs. “This is decent candy. And a good variety. Not just cheap peppermints and garbage lollipops.”

  “Wait, I like lollipops,” Pigeon said.

  After the ship came a group of bizarre cyclists. Some teetered on tall unicycles. A few rode old-fashioned bicycles with huge front tires. Several piloted strange contraptions that had six or eight or even ten wheels. One long bike featured six riders pedaling together. Many of the riders did tricks, perching on the handlebars or making the bicycles twirl, hop, or glide along on the rear wheel.

  A small float crept forward featuring a man playing a white grand piano. Next to him, a woman sang opera, her voice so pure and powerful that Nate wondered for the first time if he should pay more attention to that style of music.

  A group of people in red vests and yellow pants did tricks on pogo sticks and jumping stilts. Three clowns traveled down the street on a float designed as a small boat, two rowing while the other caught elaborate fish made of paper and sequins.

  Another float came along covered in mirrors and slides. “Find Yourself in the Fun House” a banner across the top invited. The mirrors were positioned so that Nate saw many versions of himself, many grotesquely warped, as the float passed.

  Finally, a huge catcher’s mitt wheeled by on the bed of a long truck, the glove facing the back of the parade. After a long gap, a platoon of life-sized toy soldiers marched woodenly down the street in formation, keys slowly turning in their backs. Each held a heavy black rifle against its right shoulder.

  Behind the soldiers rolled a colossal black cannon mounted on a carriage, at least two stories tall, the barrel longer than any of the buildings bordering the street. A man in a tuxedo sat astride a saddle toward the end of the cannon tube, yelling through a megaphone.

  “Thank you for attending the parade,” the man called. “This is but a sample of the wonders that await inside the Dreams and Screams International Carnival. Our ticket booths open for the first time at the conclusion of the parade. Don’t miss the excitement of opening day! Come one, come all, to the biggest little carnival on Earth!”

  In unison, the toy soldiers lifted their firearms to the sky, blasting spheres that burst overhead and trickled back to the ground as pink gas that smelled like bubble gum.

  Nate rubbed his skin, trying to wipe away the subtle stickiness of the pink mist. He covered his nose, breathing through his fingers just in case.

  With a seismic boom, the cannon fired, and a man in a motorcycle helmet and white jumpsuit shot into the air, traveling in a long arc before landing on his back in the catcher’s mitt.

  “That was the best parade I’ve ever seen,” Summer enthused.

  “And going with Zac gets us into the carnival free,” Trevor said.

  “Don’t forget it’s all a trap,” Nate reminded them. “This whole festival is a spiderweb waiting for flies. A magician is running this carnival and using the parade to lure victims.”

  “Do you think the orangutan Mr. Stott told us about was a fake?” Pigeon asked. “Like the lion?”

  “Maybe,” Trevor said. “Those clowns were real though.”

  “Did the clown rowboat have wheels under it?” Summer asked.

  “It might have just been magical,” Nate said.

  “Let’s get up to the fairgrounds to meet Zac,” Trevor said.

  Much of the crowd was following the cannon, walking up Main Street as an ever-growing tail to the parade. Judging by the crowd, the carnival would not want for customers today.

  “Should we follow them?” Summer asked.

  “That would be like deliberately driving in traffic,” Nate said. “If we cut across town on our bikes, we can get there before Zac.”

  “Do you think the guy on the cannon was the magician?” Pigeon asked.

  “The magicians I know almost never leave their lairs,” Nate said. “I doubt we’ve seen the person who runs everything.”

  “Something tells me we will though, before we’re done,” Trevor said. “Please let it not be a clown.”

  Chapter Five

  Early Admission

  John Dart stepped out from behind a Dumpster, barely leaving Nate enough space for him to hit the brakes. Summer, Trevor, and Pigeon skidded to a stop beside him. The kids had been traveling along a narrow road away from Main Street when John appeared. Despite the warm weather, he wore a gray trench coat.

  “Thanks for the heart attack,” Nate said. “Good thing I have fast reflexes.”

  “How did you like the parade?” John asked.

  “We got free candy,” Trevor said.

  John gave a sniff. “Haven’t you gotten into trouble that way before?”

  “It wasn’t magical candy this time,” Pigeon clarified.

  “I collected a sample of that bubblegum gas,” John said. “It makes me suspicious.”

  “Could they have been drugging us?” Nate asked.

  John shrugged. “If not, it was a wasted opportunity. You kids are heading to the carnival?”

  “Yes,” Summer said.

  “Was that always the plan?” John asked. “Or did the idea strike after breathing the gas?”

  “We were planning on it,” Pigeon said. “A friend got us free tickets.”

  John raised his thick eyebrows. “How did you meet this generous friend?”

  “He’s a kid at school,” Trevor said. “Kind of an Internet sensation.”

  “The Foster kid?” John asked. “The one chucking candy from the back of the ship?”

  “That’s him,” Nate said.

  John shook his head. “That kid is misguided to promote this carnival, but I suspect it’s through ignorance rather than malice. Watch your backs in there. I won’t be able to help you.”

  “Is there anything specific you want us to watch out for?” Nate asked.

  “I want to hear that you successfully exited,” John said. “The rest is gravy. Listen, I have another reason for stopping you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of crackers. “Bestial Biscuits.”

  “Birds?” Summer asked, looking at the shape of the crackers.

  “Four falcons,” John said. “Like your club name.”

  “You want us to become Blue Falcons?” Nate asked.

  “The biscuits will enable you to perform some aerial recon,” John said. “I want to check how high the magical barrier extends. Some don’t shield against entry from above, especially when protecting such a large area. See if you can fly inside. I’ll get your bikes up to the parking lot.”

  “If we find a way through the barrier, would you parachute in?” Pigeon asked.

  “Absolutely,” John replied. He distributed the crackers to the kids.

  “How do we switch back to human form?” Trevor asked. “I don’t want to get stuck as a falcon and miss the carnival.”

  “The fastest way is to hold your breath until you can’t stand it,” John said. “But don’t try that while flying.”

  “Is it hard to fly?” Pigeon asked.

  “Helps if you’re a bird,” John said.

  “I mean, do you have any tips?” Pigeon asked.

  “Should be no problem for a kid with your name,” John said. “I’m teasing. My understanding is it should be simple. Just follow your instincts once in falcon form.”

  “What if my instincts are to walk?” Pigeon asked.

  “Then I’ll carry you,” John promised.

  “Will our clothes stay with us?” Summer checked.

  “With these biscuits, yes,” John said. “Hidden until you change back into humans. All part of the package.”

  Nate ate his cracker in one bite. Immediately, he felt his body compress. He crouched as his head shrank and his nose and mouth combined into a beak. Hands and arms reformed into wings, and his legs became spindly, tipped with talons.

  Looking up at John, he marveled at the clarity of his vision, especially for things far away. It was as if he had needed glasses all his life but never knew it. Did all birds see this sharply?

  Nate’s friends were all falcons now. Pigeon shifted carefully from one claw to the other. Trevor puffed out his chest and spread his feathers.

  “I’m suddenly hungry for rabbit,” Trevor said.

  “Really?” Pigeon asked.

  “He’s joking,” Summer said.

  “Get into the air,” John said. “Don’t fly directly at the carnival barrier. You don’t want to hit it head-on at high speed.”

  “We’ll be smart,” Summer assured him, extending one wing experimentally.

  “Shouldn’t Nate say something awesome?” Pigeon asked. “You know, like, ‘Blue Falcons, take flight!’”

  “You beat me to it,” Nate said. “Let’s go!”

  Nate hopped forward and started flapping his wings. John had been right—in this state, flying was instinctive. He powered upward, soared for a moment, then started beating his wings again to gain altitude. He had felt ungainly on the ground, but now that he was airborne, the form of a falcon made perfect sense.

  “This is amazing,” Summer said, gliding beside Nate.

  “It’s cool we can still talk,” Nate said.

  “Magic has its advantages,” Summer said, doing a little dive before climbing higher.

  As Nate increased his altitude, he became even more impressed with his eyesight. It was like having binoculars that focused automatically. Colson sprawled out below him. As he studied the streets, yards, and rooftops, he saw nuances of color he had never noticed before.

  Colson was uncommonly still, other than the steady crawl of the parade procession toward the fairgrounds. The ghostly trill of an operatic voice soaring above a throbbing percussion echoed from below.

  Finding an updraft, Nate banked in a wide arc toward the carnival. Everything had been reduced to toy size—the bright tents, the food stands, the carousel, the humps of the whitewashed wooden roller coaster. Was this how Rocco viewed the world? Being a bird definitely had its perks.

  As Nate approached the outskirts of the carnival, he slowed and changed his trajectory so he wouldn’t fly straight into the barrier. He could still see the carnival from an angle, but soon he would be over the edge of it.

  “Be careful,” Trevor said from above. His feathers looked ruffled. “The barrier isn’t just a wall. It gives you a jolt like an electric fence.”

  “Good to know,” Nate said. “I’ll try higher up.”

  “We’re pretty high,” Trevor said. “But sure, give it a shot. Brace yourself though.”

  Nate flew away from the carnival, working to gain more altitude. The barrier had to have a limit, right? Unless it curved like a dome. How high could it extend? To outer space? That seemed ridiculous.

  Nate climbed and climbed, pushing his wings for more strength. He used air currents to his advantage as much as possible, but he found that gaining altitude quickly was mostly about muscling upward. It got lonelier and quieter the higher he went. The whistling of the wind became the only sound. Cars shrank to the size of ants, and the carousel looked like a dime on the ground. Below him, Summer and Trevor descended in lazy spirals, while Pigeon glided to the far side of the fairgrounds.

  Nate once again approached the outer limits of the carnival, tensed for possible impact. His wing tip brushed something invisible but solid, and electricity coursed through his body. Swerving away, he glided until he felt steady, then shortened his wings and dove.

  Maybe the barrier really did reach to outer space.

  Nate circled downward, watching his shadow grow as he neared the ground. He watched as the front of the parade reached the carnival parking lot. When Nate landed, the float with the animals was just disappearing behind a fence into a back lot staging area, with the rest of the parade in tow.

  Nate alighted beside a hedge, grateful for the cover. He held his breath until he transformed back into his normal shape. He flexed his fingers and kicked his legs, trying to regain the feel of his actual body. He seemed big and clumsy compared to a falcon, but it didn’t take long before he was comfortable again.

  Nate caught up with Trevor, Summer, and Pigeon, who had all apparently landed before him and had gathered by the carnival fence.

  “I hit the barrier even when I went super high,” Nate said.

  “It’s bad news for John,” Summer said. “But the experience of flying was incredible.”

  Trevor and Pigeon waved at Zac when the ship of aerialists pulled into the parking lot. Zac signaled that he was out of candy and pointed to where they should wait for him. The float covered in mirrors was gliding into the staging area when Zac emerged from a side door.

  Zac pointed at the mirrored float. “Can you imagine if that thing crashed? Centuries of bad luck!”

  “Hi, Zac,” Summer called.

  “That was the most nerve-wracking parade ever,” Zac said as he approached. “I kept expecting people to fall to their deaths. How do they hang on to those ropes for so long? My arms are tired just from throwing candy.”

  “Thanks for hitting us with so much,” Trevor said.

  “I’m glad you got some,” Zac said. “People turn into piranhas when free candy is involved.”

  “Is Benji coming?” Summer asked.

  Zac shook his head. “His family went out of town this weekend. It’s just us five. Are you hyped for the carnival?”

  “Who wouldn’t be, after that parade?” Pigeon said.

  “The whole production was more polished than I expected,” Zac said. “I’ve never seen anything more steampunk than that mechanical elephant. I took so many selfies with it!”

  “There were lots of surprises,” Nate said.

  “When can we go inside?” Trevor asked.

  “Whenever we want,” Zac replied. “The carnival won’t officially open until thirty minutes after the parade ends. A lot of the people in the parade need to turn around and help run the attractions. But my access gets us in early.”

  “Gotta love that VIP treatment,” Trevor said.

  “Don’t forget that I have to leave today with enough material for a video,” Zac said.

  “What do you have in mind?” Summer asked.

  “I like to improvise,” Zac said. “It’s harder with a plan—you have to make everything fit together, and it starts feeling phony.” He patted Summer’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out once we’re inside.”