Benjamin and I lie on the great big pile of pillows in my wagon, out of sight of anyone who might report us back to his mom. Above us, through the skylight, the heavy oak branches sway, and light shines through the browning leaves in shades of ocher and caramel.
“Would Leslie do it?” I ask, burrowing farther into his side, his warmth. Some new instinct that’s grown between the two of us has him curling his arm around me to pull me in tighter. “Help us break the curse and figure out what’s going on with the charm?” I can’t believe the thought never crossed my mind. If the curse is broken, then no one ever has to go through this again. And if I’m not beholden to the carnival, then I can leave, I can find Juliet and my parents and brothers and tell them how sorry I am for all this. With that sitting in the distance like a pot of gold, it’s easy to think this could work.
Ben pushes his glasses onto his forehead and rubs his eyes. “I think so? We’d have to discuss the possibility that the charm is weakening, though I don’t know if we should tell her about breaking the curse just yet. And she needs to know about the creepy twin puppet show back there…but there are too many people here who don’t have a problem with the curse or the charm. It keeps them healthy and happy.
“I never really gave much thought about it all, you know? It was just always the way things had been. But now, knowing what happened with my mom and seeing how you’re affected… It’s not right. And I don’t feel bad about wanting to end things. The problem is there’s no telling what that might mean. I know she doesn’t look it, but my mom is almost seventy. Leslie looks thirty, but she’s in her eighties, I think. What happens to them? Does their aging catch up to them? I mean, I know that Leslie’s dad got cancer after he left—does ending the curse start a timer on anyone who has some disease festering inside them? Are they going to drop dead? I just don’t know what to do.”
If what Ben was saying was true, there could be dozens, hundreds of people affected by breaking the curse. They’d be living their lives, happy and content, only to have illness or age rushing up to meet them when they thought they were safe. And they wouldn’t all be faceless victims, either—what about Lars? Would his cancer come back, too?
That heavy thought hangs between us, and I know it’s one neither of us wants to think about, because we’re both content to lie there in silence. For a long time, I just keep my hand on his chest, mesmerized by the steady rise and fall with each breath, with the persistent beat of his heart. It’s only because of the angle I’m lying in that I’m able to see through the cracked door and spot someone who’s not going to make his day any better walking our way.
“Hey,” I say, “Sidney’s coming. Don’t punch him again, okay?” I get up and walk over to intercept Sidney. “Now’s not a good time.”
The splotchy-pink patch near Sidney’s mouth is starting to blush darker. He reaches up to gingerly touch it, but instead of being pissed, he actually smiles. “Not here about that.” He peers around me to look at Benjamin. “Your mom’s on the prowl. I thought you wouldn’t want her to find you here, so…”
Ben stands and brushes imaginary lint from his jeans. His hand lingers at the small of my back as he walks past, but otherwise he leaves without a word.
“Look at you,” Sidney says once Ben’s out of earshot, brow arched and grinning. “Such a bad influence. What were you two talking about?”
Oh God. How would Sidney take the news of us wanting to break the curse? Would he revel in the curse’s destruction? Feel stupid for not trying it himself? So I just start to walk back toward the carnival and say, “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” he drawls, keeping pace with me. “You really expect me to believe you’re wasting time doing ‘nothing’ when you could be making out?”
I fully expect to spontaneously combust, since what he said would normally have my cheeks on fire. Instead I fix him with my best steely glare. “What does it matter to you anyway?”
“Bored,” he says with a shrug. “I’ve got nothing to do; people still treat me like I’m the Boy in the Box, like I’m not quite one of them. Pretty much only talk to you.” He pivots toward the yard and walks off through the grass, tall stalks swaying in his wake.
The admission feels like a punch to the gut. I chase after him, and as the grasses make their soft shushing sounds around us, I realize the thing I never thought could happen has—I feel pity for Sidney.
“All right,” I say, lowering my voice in case anyone sneaks up on us. “We think the charm protecting the carnival is wearing off. And we think if that’s the case, then maybe it’s time to break the curse instead of passing it on. There might be someone in New Orleans who can help us. We just need to figure out how to get Leslie to change course.”
Sidney strokes the stubble at his jaw, and though he’s looking at me, it seems more like he’s looking through me.
“Won’t work,” he says, and suddenly he’s off again.
“What? Why would you assume that?” I ask, struggling to match his longer stride.
“Trust me.”
I grab his arm, jerking him to a stop. “No. You don’t get to say ‘trust me’ and brush me off. Why do you think it can’t be done?”
Sidney scrubs his palms over his eyes. “Nothing. Forget it.”
My stony fingers dig into his soft arm. “Sidney. Unless you want to drastically reduce the number of people who talk to you, you will tell me what’s going on.”
He draws his lip between his teeth and worries at it a bit. His eyes glaze over as he looks out at the field. Gin rides Tristam at a slow canter. The Ferris wheel rotates in the distance, stopping for long intervals as Lars cleans the cars. “I can get you to New Orleans.”
We’re walking between the family trailers and tents now, and have to watch for anyone who might be listening.
“I’ll just tell Leslie that’s where I want the carnival to drop me off,” Sidney says. “That I have family there or something.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’?” He stares down at me from the corner of his eye.
“I mean you won’t really leave, will you? What about you and Audrey?”
Sidney jerks to a halt and narrows his eyes at me. “What about me and Audrey?”
The wind hurtles down the alley we’re in, strong enough to buffet against my body like it’s a hollow reed. There’s no tickle across my skin, but my body feels cooler, and I wrap my cold arms around me, as if that’s going to do anything. “Come on. Ben punched you, and you let him. You and Audrey had a thing forever ago—” I hold up my hand to keep him from talking because I can already see that he has a rebuttal at the ready. “Don’t bother, Ben already told me. And even if he hadn’t, I’ve seen the way you make googly eyes at her.”
His mouth flops open in indignation, like a fish gasping for air. “I do not make googly eyes at Audrey.”
“Of course you don’t,” I say in the faux-condescending way that says I completely think he does.