I’m eating lunch with Paul in the kitchen when Richard walks in and points at me. “Hey, man, can you come with me?”
I look at Paul, who’s just taken in a huge mouthful of Cap’n Crunch. He shakes his head. He doesn’t know what this is about.
Corina. I don’t know how they could’ve found out so soon. I make myself nod at Richard, stand up and start to clear my plate, but he stops me. “Actually, leave that—Paul, can you take care if it?” He bobs his head. “Bit of a hurry.”
Paul watches me as I walk over to Richard. He doesn’t officially know about me and Corina, but I think he’s probably guessed. When I get to Richard, he ushers me past him into the gym and points toward his office. “What’s up?” I ask, my voice cracking.
“We need to talk,” he says. He doesn’t sound angry or disappointed. Guarded. That’s the word.
“About something bad?”
He opens the door to his office, turns, and looks at me. He shakes his head. “About something different.” He points at the chairs across from his desk. “Have a seat. I have to get one other person, so I’ll be right back.”
I’m still standing when he steps back out the door. I don’t know how he found out about me and Corina so fast. I try to think of all the things I might’ve said or done where people might have seen me, but aside from the kiss . . .
I can’t think clearly, it’s all a jumble of Corina and me and glides and color and fear. However he learned, it’s over. I’m getting sent away.
I sit down and wait, tapping my foot hard against the floor because I can’t stop. Out of desperation I try and go deep, down to the Jungle to find my Voice, to change what’s happening. It seems hopeless at first. The drain is gone.
I need the drain! I think it hard to try and make it happen. I picture it and then it’s there, a storm drain, but it’s secured with a thick metal grate. I can hear noise from underneath, but I’m too big to fit through the gaps.
I can’t get in, but what I see when I’m down is what I expect to see. If I made the drain cover like I made the walls and the path, then I can change it. I imagine hinges for it, a padlock. Then a key to the padlock.
The lock opens and I pull the grate. It gives, moves, leaving a hole large enough for me.
I descend. The Jungle’s noise is the sound of home to me right now. I follow it.
And then I’m in it. No glide room, just me, out in the open.
I’m free, and momentarily, the excitement overwhelms my worries about Richard.
The strands around me are screaming, pulsing, moving, thick ones like Corina’s, smaller ones like floss, and thread spread everywhere, a mesh of life that covers everything. I focus on the strands closest to me, identify them.
I find Richard, his music like him—a predictable rhythm. There are undertones of emotion, but they’re not what I expect. There’s no anger, no disappointment.
Just concern. He’s worried.
I’m pretty sure closeness in the Jungle reflects closeness in our world, so I turn to the strand closest to him.
It’s not Corina. It’s familiar, but its noise fills me with discomfort and then I know who it is.
I have no idea what’s happening here.
I surface, open my eyes, turn to face the door, ready for Richard and Damon.
Damon has no more idea why he’s here than I do—I got that much from his music. He sees me and wrinkles his forehead a little bit.
“Have a seat,” Richard says, pointing at the chair next to me.
“What’s this about?” Damon asks as though it’s not the first time he’s asked it.
“Why’s he here?” I add.
Richard holds up a palm to each of us as he settles into his chair. “Damon, sit down, man. Nobody’s in trouble, and you’ll both probably find this to be a positive development overall, so let me tell you about it.”
I look at Damon out of the corner of my eye, and he’s doing the same to me so it’s hard for us to ignore each other. He sits.
“So, guys, this is something we’ve never had happen before, and it’s taken some time for us to figure out how to handle it.” He settles back in his chair. “A while back, Alex saw something in a glide that was, to be frank, very strange.”
Vegas. It all clicks. “Why’s he here, though?”
Richard nods. “I’m getting to that.” He looks at Damon. “Essentially, Alex saw himself, in Las Vegas, interacting with a glide target.”
Damon squints, looks at me, then back at Richard. “What does that mean?”
“It means that Alex has to go to Las Vegas”—he points at his wrist like he’s wearing a watch—“and he’s got to go right now, and we cannot send him alone.”
“Hell no!” I don’t know which of us says it first, but we end together like we’re singing.
“I don’t need him,” I add, talking over whatever Damon says, which I don’t hear.
Richard wipes stray hair away from his face. “This isn’t a discussion. We’ve expended a serious amount of Oracle device time and glide resources on figuring out what needs to happen, and this is how it goes. You”—he points at me—“are going to Vegas and you”—he points at Damon—“are going with him. This is the way it’s been seen, so this is how it works out in the way we need it to, understand?”
I wait a moment or two before I nod.
He looks at Damon. I don’t. I stare straight ahead until I hear Damon agree. “When do I leave?”
Richard smiles. “Thirty minutes. Go pack.”