Page 41 of The Whispering Night
“Smile, Winnie,” Marcia declares once they reach the striped tent that marks the carnival entrance, where a large silver ribbon awaits. Winnie obeys, not because she wants to smile, but because it’s the closest thing she has to a suit of armor. A sea of bobbing heads and gawping faces await her beyond the silver ribbon, so smiling at them feels safer than recoiling.
When people lined up to be tested for werewolf mutation, they’d formed helpful, single-file queues outside the striped tent. Now they are a mass. A swarm. A nest of manticores ready to attack. And somewhere in there, the signora must be waiting, scheming, laughing like the cartoon villain she is.
Anyone can be a Diana. A Diana can be anyone.
Morning sun glints on Winnie’s glasses, garbling all the faces into splotches on the page. “You’ll cut the ribbon,” Dryden tells her, “once I declare,Enjoy the Carnival. Do you understand?” He doesn’t wait for a reply before pushing enormous scissors into Winnie’s hands. Like, hilariouslyenormous. To the point that she feels even more like a puppet now, holding these human-sized scissors.
“Welcome!” Dryden calls, a megaphone abruptly appearing at his mouth. With the pince-nez on his nose, there is something almost ringleader about him. “Welcome to the fifty-fourth annual Floating Carnival!” Cheers erupt outside the tent, and as Darian’s schedule promised, cameras flash.
Winnie smiles wider. She is a bear. She is untouchable.
“We hope you enjoy the festivities this year,” Dryden continues, “and remember! Although death may be a part of life in Hemlock Falls,lifeis a part of it too! Life and pleasure and defiance against the night!”
Now the crowds really cheer, and Winnie has to admit, what Dryden said wasn’t half bad. The energy, the noise, the animation of it all—it reverberates inside her with a truth she has felt before.That is why we’re called the Luminaries, Winnie. We are lanterns the forest can never snuff out.
“Cut it,” Dryden growls.“Winnie, cut it!”Judging by the circumference of his eyes, he might have been snarling this for several seconds. But—did he sayEnjoy the Carnival? Doesn’t matter now. He wants her to cut, so cut she will.
Winnie hefts open the scissors and arranges them around the ribbon.Crank!The ribbon doesn’t cut.
“Uh…”
“Again,”Dryden snarls.“Again.”
Winnie cranks the scissors again. Nope. Again. Still nope, and oh god, this is turning into a bad dream.Please, please, please, forest spirit, let them work this time—
The ribbon splits. Cameras flash. Luminaries cheer.
And the Nightmare Masquerade finally begins.
Augustus Saturday’s Ferris Wheel: Often called the “jewel” of the Floating Carnival, the central spoke of the wheel is made to looklike a golden full moon. The carts circling are black with silver stars, so when the wheel spins, it looks like a galaxy hovering above the Little Lake.
To Winnie’s vast surprise, she ends up wearing arealsmile shortly after the ribbon cutting. Dryden sets her loose to “mingle” and she almost immediately runs into Bretta and Emma at the goldfish toss. As always, they look amazing. Bretta has on a pistachio maxi dress under a black moto jacket. She munches from a bag of her favorite salt-and-vinegar chips. Emma, meanwhile, wears a jean skirt, thick tights, and a T-shirt with the Goblin King fromLabyrinthon it—no chips.
“Winnie!” Bretta waves her over while beside her Emma unsuccessfully tosses Ping-Pong balls at fish bowls. Emma laughs when one of the balls bounces off the attendant’s head.
“Please stop doing that,” Arthur Sunday (senior class) says.
“It’s not onpurpose.” Emma rolls her eyes in Winnie’s direction. “Obviously it’s not on purpose. I just really want a goldfish.” She tries again; the ball hits Arthur again.
He scowls.
“Maybe just give her a goldfish?” Bretta suggests with a flirty smile. “Then at least she’ll stop bonking you.”
“Or,” Emma counters, leaning onto her casted leg, “I’ll try a different angle—”
“No you don’t.”Bretta shoves the chip bag onto Winnie, then swoops in before Emma can put all her weight on the leg. “Dr. Dara literally said yesterday that you’re doing that too much.” She tucks an arm under Emma’s shoulder, shares her biggest smile for Arthur (who is too busy picking up Emma’s wayward Ping-Pong balls to notice the vibes Bretta is sending his way), and then hauls a complaining Emma onward. “Come on, Win!” she calls without waiting to see if Winnie actually follows.
But of course Winnie follows. For one, she is now Carrier of the Chips. For two, she is grateful for the distraction. Her eyes can’t stop searching for Jay, while her brain keeps catapulting back into Samuel’s office. It wassoempty. And now it will always be empty.
Because of what Winnie did.
And where is Jay? Why isn’t he here?
As if reading her mind, Emma asks, “Hey, where did Jay go last night?”
Winnie’s feet slug to a halt. “Huh?”
“Last night. Jay didn’t come to the show at Joe Squared.”
