Empty smiles, p.1
Empty Smiles, page 1
ALSO BY KATHERINE ARDEN
Small Spaces
Dead Voices
Dark Waters
The Bear and the Nightingale
The Girl in the Tower
The Winter of the Witch
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York
First published in the United States of America by G. P. Putnam’s Sons,
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2022
Copyright © 2022 by Katherine Arden
Excerpt from Small Spaces © 2018 by Katherine Arden
Excerpt from Dead Voices © 2019 by Katherine Arden
Excerpt from Dark Waters © 2021 by Katherine Arden
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Arden, Katherine, author.
Title: Empty smiles / Katherine Arden.
Description: New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 2022. | Series: Small spaces quartet; book 4 |
Summary: “When the carnival arrives in town, Coco, Brian, and Phil must work together to save Ollie from the smiling man”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022011400 (print) | LCCN 2022011401 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593109182 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780593109199 (ebook)
Subjects: CYAC: Best friends—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Carnivals—Fiction. | Survival—Fiction. | Horror stories. | LCGFT: Horror stories.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.A737 Em 2022 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.A737 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022011400
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022011401
Ebook ISBN 9780593109199
Cover art © 2022 by Matt Saunders
Cover design by Tony Sahara
Design by Eileen Savage, adapted for ebook by Michelle Quintero
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
pid_prh_6.0_140600470_c0_r0
Contents
Cover
Also by Katherine Arden
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Excerpt from Small Spaces
Excerpt from Dead Voices
Excerpt from Dark Waters
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To Lilja Bruhn Adler
On your birthday
April 20, 2022
These books were always for you
Prologue
HIS FRIENDS SAID the carnival that year was special, but Tim Jenkins didn’t believe it. The carnival came every year. It was an August tradition. Why would this one be special?
“I think it is,” his sister Ruth insisted on the ride out to the fairgrounds. A hot August afternoon was turning into a sultry evening. The cornfields lay densely green on either side of the road. “Riley Temperance said it was. Said it’s all different from last year. Different carnies. Different games. Just—different!”
“Sure,” Tim admitted. He was two years older. “Maybe it’s a little different. But that doesn’t mean it’s special. Carnivals are boring. I want to watch the demolition derby. Cousin Maynard’s in it, you know—he’s been working on his car forever.” Their car bumped up and down on the dirt road. Hot wind blew dust into Tim’s face.
Ruth was craning out her window for a sight of the fairgrounds. Tim didn’t think she’d heard him. She said, “Imagine if the carnival was magic. Imagine riding the lion on the merry-go-round and it just comes to life, and it’s your friend and you can ride it anywhere.” Her voice was dreamy. She pushed her head farther out the window, blinking against the dust.
Tim was unconvinced. “Whatever. Demolition derbies are way more exciting. Besides, imagine if your carousel lion wanted to eat you. You wouldn’t be so happy then, would you? Nom nom.” Tim crooked his fingers at his sister and clacked his teeth. Ruth shrieked and whacked him in the shoulder.
From the front seat, their mom said, “Hey! Hey, cool it or . . .” She trailed off.
Ruth and Tim stopped fighting. Suddenly, there wasn’t any sound in the car except the bleat of fairground music and Vermont Public Radio droning on: “Drought continues to blanket the state, with no sign of precipitation in the extended forecast . . .”
“Wow,” Ruth said. She wasn’t talking about the extended forecast.
Ordinarily, Tim and his sister didn’t agree on anything. But he said wow too. They were all staring out the windows.
The mountains were a blur on the horizon, where the heat haze smeared their outline into the sky. The dusty cornfields rippled, and in the middle of them, in the same spot as last year, was the carnival. But it was, as Riley Temperance had said, completely different.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Tim’s dad said.
“It’s amazing,” Tim’s mom said.
Ruth didn’t say anything else, but her mouth had fallen open.
The Ferris wheel arced over the midway like a moving rainbow. The funhouse was as tall as a castle, with turrets and strange windows. Flags flew from all its highest points. It was covered in mirrors and glittered like an old-timey disco ball.
“Let’s go!” Ruth yelled, bouncing in her seat.
“Tim? Stick with your sister, okay?” their mom said. “And don’t eat too much sugar.”
“ ’Kay,” Tim said, not looking away from the window. The carnival filled his eyes with color and movement. Music and delicious smells drifted out into the hot August evening. Tim wasn’t even sure that he wanted to watch the demolition derby anymore. He’d never seen anything as beautiful as that carnival.
His dad said, “We’ll meet up at eight. You know the spot—right by the gate. Here’s some money. Have fun!”
Tim and Ruth hopped out of the car and ran together through the carnival gates. “Ooh, look at the carnies!” cried Ruth. “That one waved at me!”
Tim didn’t answer; he was turning in a delighted circle. The concession stand popped mountains of golden popcorn. The cotton candy machine whirled, spitting out pink clouds of sugar. One of the carnies was tossing handfuls of wrapped chocolates, and kids were catching them and eating them.
Right in the midway, an animatronic clown soared over the fairgrounds. It looked as tall as the Ferris wheel. It was holding a clock in its outstretched hands. Its mouth opened, and its voice boomed across the fairgrounds. Six o’clock, called the clown. HA HA HA.
Tim and Ruth both laughed. It was so silly.
“Looks like we have two hours,” Tim said.
Ruth jumped up and down. “Let’s play some games! How much did Dad give you?”
Tim looked. “Forty bucks.” The carnival smelled so good. Sweet and salty. It was making him hungry. He started toward the concession stand. “But I want popcorn first. And lemonade.”
“And funnel cake?”
“Mom said not too much sugar—” He saw Ruth’s pleading face. “All right.”
They got their snacks. Their faces were covered with sugar and grease. They took long drinks of sour, freezing lemonade. Then they started playing. The games were wicked and fast and fun. Prizes hung from each game-booth ceiling. Most carnivals had boring old stuffed animals, but this carnival had dolls. Not just any dolls. Tim liked dinosaurs and the Titanic and butterflies. He wouldn’t have said he liked dolls. But these dolls were amazing. They looked real. They had normal clothes, and many-jointed hands, and perfect little faces. Tim wanted a doll. “This carnival rocks,” he told Ruth, and she nodded happily.
Tim and Ruth spent the evening in a whirlwind of color. They didn’t stop until the sun was going down. They rode all the rides and played all the games. Spun in the Tilt-A-Whirl, laughed at each other’s reflections in the funhouse. Ruth even got to ride a lion on the merry-go-round. And finally, Tim won a doll. It had a red shirt and a little belly and big, scared eyes. He stuck it in a back pocket.
Tim was thirsty too. Even though the sun had vanished behind the mountains, the sweat still trickled down his back. “Yeah—oh, wait, I don’t have any money left. We should find Mom and Dad anyway. We’re supposed to meet them at eight.” His enthusiasm for the demolition derby had cooled. He didn’t think that even Cousin Maynard’s souped-up old derby car could compete with the carnival. The animatronic clown opened its mouth and called, Eight o’clock. HA HA HA. Eight o’clock. HA HA HA.
Tim pulled out his phone, but to his surprise, it said no service. The shadows of the booths stretched long and black. The music and lights from the midway were starting to give him a headache. “No service. Weird. Let’s go back to the entrance. This way.”
Tim ducked behind the concessions to head toward the front gate, and Ruth followed him. But somehow they managed to turn left instead of right and found themselves walking down a darker path, where the lights and the noise were muted.
Suddenly Ruth grabbed his arm. “What’s that?”
Tim was frowning at his phone again. “What?”
Ruth pointed. “Look! Wait, no—it’s gone. It was yellow. It—looked kind of like—eyes. That corner there, behind that booth.”
Tim looked where Ruth was pointing. Saw nothing. Just an old chocolate wrapper and some spilled popcorn. He huffed with impatience. “It was probably a cat, Ruthie. Or maybe you saw the lights from the midway. This isn’t right, anyway.” He craned his neck to see over the blocky shoulders of booths. Strange, he thought, how dark it was, the second you got away from all those lights. “What we need to do is just go straight, and when we get to the Ferris wheel, go left, and the gate should be right there.”
They started off. But after a few seconds, Ruth stopped again. Tim turned around. “What’s up?”
“Look at that,” Ruth whispered. There was a building on their left. Tim hadn’t seen it before. It wasn’t lit up like the other buildings. Its windows were grimy and broken. A dim sign across the front said haunted house.
Overhead, crouched on the roof, was a giant clown skeleton. Frizzy red hair topped a skull. A scarlet clown mouth was drawn around a huge, bony smile. It looked like a dead version of the clown with the clock on the midway.
Ruth stared up at the clown skeleton. “I don’t like it.”
“Oh, don’t be a baby.” Tim was peering with interest at the haunted house. The front door was shut, paint peeling. Yellow caution tape stretched across.
Ruth tugged his arm. “Let’s go find Mom and Dad.”
“Hang on. This place is cool. Think that door’s locked?” Tim took a few steps closer.
Ruth was backing away. “Don’t know, don’t care. Come on.”
A light flickered in one of the windows.
Tim said, “I want to look inside. Maybe it’s a secret ride!”
“I don’t want to.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on, Tim, let’s go.”
“No, get out of here—go on, darn it. Go,” muttered a breathless voice.
Tim and Ruth both yelped and spun around. A girl was standing in the shadow of the haunted house. It had almost sounded like she was talking to herself. She had curly hair and dark eyes. Had she come out of the haunted house? What was really in there?
A bunch of kids scream-laughed from the midway. They seemed strangely far away.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” asked Tim.
The girl’s eyes widened. “You heard me? Can you see me?”
Tim stared. Maybe she was sick? Having an episode? He said as gently as he could, “Um—yeah. Of course we can see you. Are you okay?” The girl was skinny. Her shoes were dusty. She looked wary. Alert. Maybe even afraid. Her eyes scanned the dusty ground, the black, square shadows.
The girl shook her head sharply. “It doesn’t matter. You need to go. Right now. Go back to the lights. It’s dangerous to get lost in here, do you understand?”
“I— What do you mean, dangerous?”
The girl didn’t answer. Her eyes were on the shadows. As though she might see something there. Something bigger than a cat. She pointed to a narrow gap between the backs of two booths, where the lights of the midway showed clear. “Go that way.”
Tim was getting nervous himself. Tugging Ruth’s hand, he started to edge away.
Then the strange girl blurted a question, as though she couldn’t help herself. “What day is it?”
They both stopped. “What?” Tim said.
“Please.” The girl’s hands were clenched.
“August seventeenth. Are you okay?”
The girl was breathing quickly, her eyes darting all around. “And where are we? What state, what county?”
“Rutland. Vermont.”
The girl let out a sharp breath. “Thanks. Now get out of here.”
Tim said, “Look, you don’t seem okay. Can you— Is your mom here?”
The girl shook her head. “I— Go!”
Her fear was contagious. But Tim felt bad just leaving her scared in the dark. “Well, that’s okay. You can come back with us. We’ll find—someone. For you. Come on.”
“No,” the girl said. “I can’t.”
Ruth tapped his shoulder. In a small voice, she said, “Timmy? Timmy, look.”
Tim followed his sister’s gaze. Back into the shadows. This time he saw a pair of eyes. They didn’t look like a cat’s eyes. Then he saw another pair. And another. Three. Four. Yellow eyes all around. Tim and Ruth started to back away. But the eyes came closer. One step. Then two.
Then Tim saw faces. The faces that belonged to those yellow eyes.
Ruth screamed.
“Get out of here!” the girl cried. “No, not that way, don’t—”
But now Tim was screaming too. Blind with panic, keeping a grip on Ruth’s hand, he sprinted away from the eyes—
And found himself running right up against the wall of the haunted house. He spun around, tripped, and fell with Ruth beside him. She was whimpering. “Oh God,” Tim whispered. “Oh please. Who are you, don’t hurt us, don’t . . .” He couldn’t see the strange girl anymore.
A hand reached out. He had an impression of dead-white knucklebones, long fingernails. A dirty ruffled sleeve.
He tried to get away. Thrashed. Screamed. Beside him, Ruth was screaming too. Fingernails snagged in his shirt. The eyes bored into his.
And then Tim Jenkins stopped screaming.
1
Two weeks later
SUMMER IN EAST Evansburg, and a sun like a hot white eye glared down at the cracked and shriveling earth. It hadn’t rained in weeks. Months. The April showers had come on time, but May was dry as dust, and June brought in a thick, sticky heat that refused to go away. The sun parched the new leaves as they opened, and made them curl up like caterpillars on their twigs.
July came, but the rain didn’t. Families’ wells went dry, so they had to truck in water, and the sticky air lay like a hot puddle in houses and never seemed to go, no matter how often they opened and shut the windows. The only people who enjoyed the heat were kids and the makers of creemees. And even for kids, riding bikes around town started to lose its appeal, with the sun glaring down.
Swimming holes were mobbed every weekend.
The East Evansburg swimming hole was on Lethe Creek. A cold green place in the stream where the water slipped under a covered bridge. Little kids liked to play on the rocks there. On really hot days, parents set up their chairs right in the water, dipping their feet and calling to their neighbors.
On a Saturday in late August, the heat lay on people’s necks like a hand. Parents in chairs kept soaking their T-shirts and wearing them wet against the white-eyeball sun. Kids chased dogs into and out of the water. People shouted and people laughed.
Six parents sat with their chairs arranged in a tight circle, right in the water, so their bare feet stayed wet. Three of them were moms, and three were dads.
They weren’t laughing.
“Coco won’t talk to me,” one said. Her blond hair was plaited down her back, and she wore a plaid shirt over her swimsuit, to protect her skin from the sun. Coco was her daughter. “But something’s wrong. I just know it.”
