That was right. Along with increased strength and speed, I had some seriously excellent accuracy now and, like any girl right out of a breakup, I saw the appeal of making things explode.
I approached the booth, going to pull five bucks out of my pocket, but Ryan waved my money away. “No, this is on me. Harper Price, shooting things? Totally worth it.”
Rolling my eyes, I smiled anyway. “Shooting balloons with a bright yellow plastic gun,” I reminded him. “Not exactly superhero stuff.”
He flicked his auburn hair out of his eyes. “I’ll take what I can get.”
So for the next ten minutes or so, I shot the heck out of some balloons with a dart gun. And to be honest, it was fun. Not just the shooting things—although I have to admit that was a lot more enjoyable than I’d ever thought something like that could be—but the joking and laughing with Ryan and Bee. It felt so good not to worry about Oracles or Ephors, or if a vision was suddenly going to come out of nowhere, making me have to lie to everyone around me.
Part of me felt guilty about that, like having fun wasn’t allowed.
But then I reminded myself that David was the one who had broken things off, David was the one who had chosen the Paladin over the girlfriend, and if I wanted to have a good time with my best friend and my ex-boyfriend, I was more than allowed.
After the shooting gallery, we went in search of other games that might test my and Bee’s Paladin skills. That thing where you throw balls into goldfish bowls, more dart games, even an archery booth with foam-tipped arrows—I did them all, grinning at the surprise on the barkers’ faces when I hit target after target, laughing with Bee as she struggled to hold all my stuffed prizes.
Finally, when we’d hit pretty much everything we could, we headed away from the carnival games..
“Can I stand next to Bee so people think I won all those for her?” Ryan asked, making us laugh.
“No need to feel emasculated,” I reminded him as Bee handed yet another one of her prizes to a passing kid. “You did win the basketball thingie.”
“Only because you let me,” he reminded me, and I shrugged.
“What can I say, I’m a good friend.”
Ryan stopped, turning to face me. The lights overhead brought out the red in his hair, and once again, I was forced to acknowledge that he was handsome. Maybe he didn’t make my stomach flutter anymore, but there was something nice about feeling this way about him now. Like I actually saw him for the person he was—loyal, stubborn, easygoing—and not the trophy he used to be for me.
“You are a good friend, Harper,” he said. “And I kind of like being your friend.”
“Same,” I told him, smiling.
Over his shoulder, I caught Bee watching us with an expression I couldn’t read. Probably thinking more Parent Trap thoughts, I decided, and went over to take more of the fluffy animals from her hands.
“Stop,” I told her in a low voice, joking, but she gave me a sort of wan smile in return, handing her last prize, a bright green stuffed frog, to a little boy in an Auburn Tigers T-shirt.
Once we were out of prizes to hand out, we made our way to the food trucks. “Did all that winning work up a hunger for something super caloric?” Bee asked, tugging at the hem of her light pink blouse.
Look, I’d love to tell you I was totally disgusted by the fried food on display, but A) some of those trucks were raising money for various charities and schools, and B) deep-fried Oreos were sent from heaven to prove God loves us.
“Yes, please,” I told Bee. “Preferably something covered in powdered sugar.”
She laughed at that again, and started tugging me toward the cotton candy machine. As we made our way down the midway, I bumped into someone, and I turned, an apology already on my lips.
The man I’d bumped was wearing stained jeans and a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt, so nothing unusual for the fair, but there was something about the way his eyes focused on mine that had the words dying on my lips.
“Paladin,” he said with a little nod, and a jolt went through me. It wasn’t the feeling I got when David was in trouble; this was just normal fear, slithering through me, making food the last thing on my mind.
The crowd swallowed the man, but I stood still, making Bee turn to look at me with a little frown. “Harper?”
“Something’s wrong,” I told her. “It’s . . . I think it’s a trial.”
Chapter 22
BEE REACHED OUT, squeezing my hand. “I’ll come with,” she said, “whatever it is.”
But I shook my head. “No, you heard what Alexander said. If anyone helps me, I’m disqualified.”
Which I was pretty sure meant “dead,” even though Alexander hadn’t spelled it out that specifically.
I could see a white circle forming around Bee’s lips as she pressed them together, but in the end, she nodded. “Okay. But is there anything I can do?”
“Leave,” I told her immediately. “You and Ryan get out of here, and if you see anyone we know, try to get them to leave, too.” The last trial had involved fire, after all. There was no telling what might happen this time, and the fairgrounds were full of people. Kids.
“Will do,” Ryan said, already taking Bee’s elbow and pulling her away. I turned from them, heading in the direction the man had gone. My heart was pounding, palms slick with sweat, and with every step I took, my knees seemed to go more watery. The colored lights that had seemed so pretty when we came in now cast weird shadows, making me jumpy as I kept pushing my way through the crowd.
I couldn’t see the man who had called me Paladin, but I somehow knew where to go, walking down the midway before turning left, then taking a right. All the rides on this side of the fairgrounds were crowded, lines of people waiting to get on the Ferris wheel or ride something called the Galactic Centipede. But one attraction was completely deserted, almost like there was a bubble around it, making it invisible to the rest of the people here.
The Fun House.
Sighing, I studied the dark building with its garish green door. “Of course,” I muttered, visions of possessed carnies dressed as clowns filling my head. I didn’t have a weapon, and I’d worn low sneakers tonight, so my footwear wouldn’t be of any use.
Glancing around, I looked for anything I could use, but the only thing I saw was a couple of corn dog sticks, batter still clinging to the ends, stamped in the dirt. Um, no, thank you.