Authors: Lynne Matson
Then, feeling bold, I’d tagged along with Em when she went to the grocery store. Waiting to check out, I’d spied a wall of photocopied images, grainy black-and-white photos of missing kids, mostly teenagers. Lured by the faces, I’d wandered over to the bulletin board and studied the pictures. Some were girls, some were boys, most had bright smiles, all had their dates of birth printed in black ink. All were missing. Maybe they were on Nil; maybe they’d met an end worse than Nil. At some point, I started crying. Em had to drag me away, and drag me home.
That was two hours ago.
No longer crying, I sat by my window, watching the rain.
Silver drops speckled the window, each one a dazzling prism attacking the glass. I watched them glisten and fall, like if all the drops could run together they’d form a gate—a shimmering wall taking me back to Nil. But one by one, each drop slid down my window, out of sight, gone forever. Like Nil.
For one perfectly uninterrupted moment, I stared at the rain, aching for Thad, aching for the chance to go back and find him. But even if I could find a gate in the great haystack that was Earth, it wouldn’t matter. Thad wouldn’t be there, and Nil would be nothing without him. My world was here. A world full of silver and gray—and rain.
Thunder rumbled, abrupt and startling. It sounded like a quake.
Lightning flashed as a quick double knock rattled my door. My door opened, and my dad poked his head through the crack. “Hey, honey. Can we come in?”
“Sure.”
My dad set a cup on the bedside table while my mom sat on my bed’s edge. “I brought you a Sprite. A Big Gulp, with that crushed ice you like.”
“Thanks.” I managed a smile.
“It’s good to see you smile, shug.” He sat on the edge of my bed, looking as lost as my mom. “Charley, hon, I can’t imagine how you survived what you did. But you’re strong. You always have been. You’ll get through this, love. I promise.”
A promise means nothing
, I thought.
It’s a statement of present want, not future reality.
My dad kept talking.
“Your mama and I are behind you, one hundred and ten percent. We checked with the school, and with all your fancy AP credits, you’ve got college credit. You can take next semester off if you want. Graduate early or get your GED. Travel, or not. Whatever you want.”
I want Thad.
He patted my leg. “Think about it, hon. Think about what you want. If we can make it happen, we will.”
“You don’t have to tell us today,” my mom said soothingly. “Take it slow,” she said, repeating the last counselor’s mantra. “There’s no rush. You have plenty of time.”
Plenty of time.
My mom’s unfortunate choice of words hurt me like few phrases could, and the pain pushed me to act. I took a breath, picturing my sweet Thad smiling at me, and looked at my parents.
“There is something I want,” I said, proud I was able to speak without tears.
No regrets
. With Thad’s voice echoing in my head, I laid out my plan.
Five minutes later, my mom stared at me like I’d just told her I wanted to get a full-body tattoo.
“The University of Washington,” my mom repeated. “You want to play volleyball at the University of Washington. In Seattle.”
“Seattle.” I nodded. “UW. The home of the Huskies.”
My mom glanced at my window, and visibly brightened. “Honey,” she said, employing her let’s-be-reasonable-I-know-what’s-best-for-you tone, “let’s think this through. It rains all the time in Seattle. And when it’s not raining, it’s overcast. People go crazy because they don’t see the sun.” She smiled at me, confident she had a winning argument. “Think about it. Charley, you
love
the sun.”
I just looked at her.
“Charley?” She frowned. “Let’s think this through.”
“I have,” I said softly.
No sun, no shimmers
.
And no pretending.
My mom shot my dad a pleading look.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, love, Seattle’s just so far. What happened to good old UGA? Great college town, Saturday football games. You could room with Em again. And, shug”—now he grinned—“you know the sun always shines on Bulldog country.”
“It sure does, Dad.”
A girl disappeared in west Athens last month. All they found were her clothes.
I loved my dad fiercely, but my mind was set. “Seattle,” I said gently. My voice didn’t waver. “I want to go to Seattle.”
“Seattle!” My mom’s voice rose to a desperate wail. “That’s practically in Canada!”
Exactly.
Dad winked at me, mouthed
I love you,
then gently guided a still-protesting Mom out of the room. I could hear her sputtering all the way down the hallway. “Seattle! My baby, in
Seattle!
”
Seconds behind Dad, Em breezed through the doorway, wearing faded jeans and a university-grown confidence that both fit her to a T.
“Guess who’s back?” she asked, beaming.
For a minute I thought Em meant me. Then Jen popped into the room. Her dark hair was chopped in an edgy pixie cut; it oozed Italian style.
“Charley!” Jen hugged me like a long-lost friend, which I was. She started crying, and squeezed me tighter.
In the background, Mom’s wails rose to a crazy pitch, breaking the moment.
“Wow,” Jen said, wiping her eyes. “Your mom’s totally freaking out.”
“Three thousand miles
is
a long way away,” I said.
“She’ll come around,” Em said. “She just needs some time to adjust. The thing is”—now her voice cracked—“we just got you back.”
Emotion welled, but I didn’t cry. Because I didn’t feel like I was back. I felt trapped in an unnamed place, caught somewhere between Nil and here, and I hadn’t figured out yet how to pull myself out.
Jen squeezed my hand, and just like old times, the three of us sat on my bed. Em took my other hand, her fingers wrapping around mine.
“Charley.” Her voice was tentative. “Do you remember anything yet? It’s okay if you don’t. It’s just—you were gone so long…”
Em’s eyes begged for understanding. I looked away, knowing Jen’s face reflected more of the same: curiosity, worry, fear, hope. It was their hope that hurt the most, because I knew that to lose it was final, and devastating.
I took a steadying breath.
“There was a boy,” I said quietly. “He saved me.” I paused, fighting the emptiness inside. “His name was Thad.”
It was the first time I’d spoken Thad’s name aloud in days.
“And?” Jen said. “What happened?”
No more words would come; they were stuck, in that lonely in-between place. Maybe one day I’d tell Em and Jen the whole story, but not now, not yet. Not until I’d processed it all myself. Right now I needed the one thing this world offered that Nil hadn’t—time.
I knew it was irrational, but one reason I wasn’t ready to tell my story was that I wasn’t ready to admit that it was fully written. That the end—
Thad’s
end—was final. My heart simply refused to accept it.
Watching Jen’s hopeful face, I slowly shook my head.
Not yet
, I thought.
Not yet
.
CHAPTER
69
CHARLEY
DAY 51, LATE MORNING
When my mom’s taillights disappeared into the misty rain, I sagged against the bay window in relief.
I was finally alone.
Being alone meant I was free to remember, and being alone meant I could stop pretending. Stop pretending to be fine, stop pretending I didn’t remember. Stop pretending I was whole. Because fifty-one days later, my heart still begged for Thad. I needed time to grieve and to heal—the kind of time only distance could provide.
That was a huge part of my decision to pursue a volleyball scholarship at the University of Washington, a school as foreign to my parents as Nil was to me.
If you’re gonna be a dog, be a ’Dawg, not a Husky
, my dad had argued. But I was determined, and I’d won. I was also considering going out for the cross-country team, because running was the only time I felt alive, so I ran a ton, and I’d gotten pretty good. But no matter what I did in Seattle, I wouldn’t have to pretend. And I’d feel close to Thad, even though he was gone.
Today was January gray, cool and wet. Not a storm, just gentle sheets of silver drizzle.
I watched it fall, oddly soothed by the colorlessness outside my window. And like I always did when I was alone, I thought of Thad, remembering us.
As I relived our last moment together, anger flared, slashing and painful, then the emotion fizzled as quickly as it had come. Fury had flickered lately in place of the numbness, fueling my latest runs. I was furious with Nil, with Fate, or maybe with both. Fate brought Thad and me together only to tear us apart, or maybe that was Nil; I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. And I didn’t understand why.
Why let me meet my soul mate, only to take him away? Was my purpose on Nil only to solve the mystery of the carvings, rediscovering knowledge that had been lost? And if so, why take me first, when my work on Nil wasn’t done
?
I felt confident that I’d figured out the pattern to the gates, and I was grateful I’d shared my storm theory with everyone in the City. But I never figured out the numbers, not completely.
Maybe I wasn’t meant to know
, I thought, leaning my head against the cool glass.
Maybe the numbers are someone else’s mystery to solve
. Like how Sabine shared the knowledge of the deadleaf leaves, but left before teaching anyone how to brew deadleaf tea.
Maybe I wasn’t on Nil to meet Thad after all
.
Every cell in my body screamed otherwise. The screaming reached a fever pitch, and in that instant, I was furious with Thad. I’d stolen his gate, but he’d thrown me in; his act was selfless, but it felt like quitting. On me, on us. And yet what he did was so perfectly Thad that my anger didn’t last, because I couldn’t be angry at Thad for being Thad. Sometimes I got mad at myself, wondering how I hadn’t seen his slick move coming.
Don’t you dare give up on me
, I’d said.
Never
, he’d promised, his eyes burning with blue fire.
I’d misread him completely.
I rapped my head against the glass, then I let it go. I refused to play the what-if game. It wouldn’t change the past. But while the past was over, it still shaped the present.
I missed Thad so much it hurt.
Out of habit, I touched my bare neck. All Thad’s gifts were reduced to memories; the necklace, the lei, his kisses. Except one: me. His final gift was life.
My
life. To throw it away would diminish it, something I refused to do, because even though no one else would know,
I
would know. And I’d never forget.
My dad was right. I was strong; I would make it. I owed it to Thad, and I owed it to myself.
I’d just have to make it alone.
I thought about going for a run, but I was content to sit and watch the rain, knowing that for the first time in weeks, no one would ask me if I was okay.
The phone rang; I didn’t move. I wondered if it was Natalie. She’d seen the news and found my phone number. When I’d told her what happened, she cried with me, stunned at Thad’s choice. She was the only one who knew how I felt, and yet she didn’t. Because she had Kevin, while I only had memories—memories that everyone else thought I’d forgotten. I loved talking to Natalie, but I hated it, too.
The phone fell silent. The rain kept falling. I caught the flash of someone in a slicker, then the doorbell rang, jarring and intrusive.
Like everything else unpleasant in my life, I ignored it.
Leaning my forehead against the glass, I watched the rain.
CHAPTER
70
THAD
DAY 365, NOON
The ground rocked under my feet.
“Thad!” Rives’s voice was muffled by the quake. “On your left!”
I spun, and expecting the bear, I was shocked to see a gate rising twenty meters out.
RUN
. Nil giggled.
Nil says RUN
.
I ran.
Everything wavered but me. The air roiled, the ground blurred. My feet flew over the shifting rock, but my eyes stayed locked on the gate. On my one last shot. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and death nipped at my heels; my quads burned and I made them burn more; I wanted them to burn like the gate I was dying to catch because the burn said I was still fighting.
RUN.
The noise was deafening, roaring like an avalanche as a massive quake shook the island. The gate glittered ten meters away, but the window to catch it was closing; I sensed it.
Noon was fading, like me.
RUN!
A giant crack split the black four meters out. Barely moving, the gate hovered just on the other side.
Come to me
, I begged.
The gate crept closer, drifting toward the crevice. The seconds ticked in my brain, counting down.
Three … two … one …
I ran for me; I ran for Charley; I ran away from the Reaper and toward the lazy gate, praying that I beat the odds, just this once. I ran without breathing; there was no time left.
I ran—and then I leaped. Because now the gate hung directly over the abyss: to fall meant certain death, but I was dead anyway.
For one instant, nothing shook.
Nothing trembled.
Time stopped; the air wrapped me in peace. I was flying and floating; I had nothing left. Then I was falling, and when the heat hit, I laughed.
And then I blacked out cold.
CHAPTER
71
THAD
DAY 51, MORNING
Pressing the doorbell, I felt like I might burst; I’d been dying for this moment ever since I’d jumped into that gate like a man possessed. I’d woken up naked in Pakistan, finally made it home, and tracked down Charley with everything I had left.