Forty-Three

Finn

“I want to know everything,” Emma breathed.

“Me, too,” Kona agreed.

Finn almost giggled. He’d snagged the front seat of the SUV, right beside Gus. And when he turned around to look at Kona and Emma behind him, it felt like he was seeing double. Not exactly double, of course—Kona’s hair was longer, and Emma’s skin was lighter, and even though she was his sister, Finn couldn’t help noticing that Emma’s chin was just a little bit pointy, and Kona’s wasn’t at all. But their eyes snapped with the same curiosity. And they were both sitting the same way: leaning forward, straining against their seat belts. Kafi had even crawled over onto Lana’s lap instead of her own sister’s, because Kona hadn’t left her enough room.

“Your friend, Gina—how did she even find out the other world exists?” Emma asked.

At the same time, Kona blurted, “Do you know exactly when the two worlds split? And why?”

Normally, Finn zoned out when Emma started spouting off about alternate worlds—or, really, any scientific or mathematical ideas or questions. Emma was the one who loved science and math; Finn loved jokes and pranks. Sometimes she even figured out the science for his pranks, like mixing vinegar and baking soda, or Mentos and Diet Coke. They were a good team that way.

But he was the one who’d figured out the SEE US code on the one coin. He was the one who’d thought of using the TVs for good messages.

And . . . he had questions for Gus, too.

“How come you were the only one who could stay outside when everybody else went back into the cafeteria to watch TV?” he asked. “What made you different?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. And . . . I don’t know,” Gus said as he turned a corner a little too sharply. “I don’t know the answers to any of your questions.”

“That’s not fair!” Finn complained.

Maybe he’d chosen the wrong time to start paying attention and asking questions like Emma.

“If any of us were your double from the other world, would you tell us?” Lana asked softly. “Have you recorded any of those answers on your coins?”

Gus stared straight out the windshield, as if he were driving through a blinding rainstorm or a terrible blizzard, and he had to concentrate hard.

When, really, the sun was shining, and the road was straight and clear and empty ahead of him.

“Gina said she figured out that the other world exists because the atoms were acting weird in some experiment she conducted,” Gus said. “Or maybe it was something with molecules? I’m sorry—her explanation was much too technical for me. And that’s the truth. You’re kids! You’re not going to understand theoretical physics anyway.”

“I would like a chance to try,” Emma muttered, as if he’d insulted her.

Kona high-fived her.

“And how about the way the worlds split?” Kona asked. “Did Gina have a theory about that?”

Gus groaned.

“You’d have to be able to study history—real history—to know that,” he said. “Our leaders don’t allow that. They only let us know the history they tell us. Which . . . is more lies.”

“My mom said it was probably a thousand tiny decisions that made the worlds different,” Emma spoke up.

“That makes sense,” Gus said. “This world, we didn’t reach this point overnight.” He pointed out the windshield toward a house surrounded by razor wire, the glow of TV battles showing through its windows. “It was people deciding again and again not to trust their neighbors, not to care about their neighbors, not to believe the people who were warning, ‘Your leaders are lying. It matters! Look for what’s true!’”

“That’s what my mom and dad were saying,” Finn said proudly. “And, Gus, at least you told the truth when you recorded your coins. And you did resist the TVs enough to stay outside.”

“It’s . . . a fight every minute,” Gus said. The veins in his hands stood out where he was clutching the steering wheel so tightly. A muscle jerked back and forth in his jaw. “I’m not sure how long I can do this.”

Then he clapped his hand over his mouth, as if he hadn’t wanted to admit that.

“I bet you’re stronger against the TVs because you knew Gina,” Emma said.

“And maybe because you’re connected to the Greystones, too,” Lana whispered. “Because you gave them their lever. Twice! And because you were in the other world. Even if it was just in the Greystones’ basement.”

“After all this is over, I’m going to find out all the answers,” Kona said. “So I can know things for sure, not just guessing. I’m going to study everything about the two worlds.”

This time, Emma fist-bumped Kona.

“But is it ever going to be over?” Lana asked, her voice trembling. “Doesn’t it feel like . . . like the TVs around us are getting stronger?”

“Because we’re closer to the most populated areas of the city now,” Gus said through clenched teeth. “Where there are more TVs.”

Finn looked away from all the houses and fences and barbed wire along the street they were on now. Instead, he ducked down to hug Lana’s duffel bag with all her coins. For good measure, he hugged the bag containing the lever, too. Both had ended up on the floor at his feet.

Then he decided it was greedy not to share.

“Here,” he said, lifting the duffel bag to balance it on the console between him and Gus. “It’ll make you feel better to be closer to the coins.”

“Maybe it helps to talk about the coins, too,” Emma said. “I know you said Gina invented them, but who’s making them now? I mean, the earliest version of the coins, before anyone records anything on them. Before you and Lana and people like you smuggle them out.”

“I’m sure there’s a factory somewhere, but we’re not allowed to know its location,” Gus said. “It’d be too dangerous, because if the leaders ever caught us, they’d make us take them there. And . . . they’d destroy it.”

“I guess we could show you where Gus and I get the coins—right, Gus?” Lana asked.

Gus was staring out the windows too intently to answer.

“I’ve never seen these streets so empty,” he muttered. “Normally, this time of day, there’d be cars and people everywhere! We’re almost to the heart of downtown!”

Indeed, they were surrounded by such tall buildings now that Finn couldn’t see the tops of any of them.

That’s fine. That means I can’t see if they all still have those scary blue-and-orange banners, Finn told himself.

But it was eerie to see such empty streets in a place where he’d only ever seen crowds of people packed in so tightly they could barely move.

“It’s like a bomb went off, and we’re the only ones left alive,” Lana muttered. She hugged Kafi even tighter.

Finn tried to think of something to cheer up the others. But just then they passed a soaring building with evil-looking stone creatures carved around all its doors: the Public Hall, where his mother’s trial had been.

Finn’s stomach began to churn.

The twisted mouths of the stone creatures might as well have been saying, Give up! You’re going to lose! You’re just a kid! You can’t do anything!

Maybe the carvings were like the bad smell and the TVs and the coins—maybe they had power, too.

Or maybe they were more like the orange-and-blue banners that wreathed the Public Hall; those just reminded Finn of the government’s evil powers.

That was bad enough.

“What’s with the weird color scheme?” Kona asked, and Finn loved that she could say that so casually.

She hadn’t been with the Greystone kids at the Public Hall the last time, when they had to leave Finn’s mom and Kona’s dad behind. Orange and blue weren’t nightmare colors for her like they were for everyone else.

But Lana gripped Kona’s arm in distress.

“Don’t talk like that!” Lana protested, gazing around as though she feared guards would jump into the car and arrest Kona on the spot.

“Blue and orange are the colors of this world’s main political party,” Emma explained.

“Only political party,” Lana corrected. “It’s the color for our leaders. For our government. For everyone in power.”

“Okay . . .” It sounded like Kona wanted to object, but instead she asked, “Why those colors in particular?”

“The blue stands for the sky and the ocean—meaning it’s all around us,” Lana said. “It sustains us like air and water. The orange represents fire and energy, the passion we should all have for our political leaders.”

She recited the phrases as if she’d memorized them. She probably had.

Finn hadn’t known any of that, but it made him feel even worse about all the blue and orange he’d seen in this world.

“The party’s like air and water and fire, huh?” Kona muttered. “Or . . . maybe those colors mean that if you don’t have any other choice besides ‘the party’ about what to believe in and what to do, it’s like that could suffocate, drown, and burn you.”

Now Lana actually put her hand over Kona’s mouth, as if she was trying to get Kona to take back what she’d said. Kona jerked away.

“Isn’t that true?” Kona asked. “Isn’t the party dangerous? Aren’t your leaders evil?”

“Shh,” Lana said. “It’s not that I disagree, but . . . please, just . . . shh. Someone could hear.”

“We’re in a car!” Finn protested. “Who’s going to hear?”

“Gus’s SUV could be bugged, and we wouldn’t even know it,” Lana said. Her face had gone almost white with fear again.

“And there are security cameras all around us. Someone could read our lips,” Gus agreed.

“But everyone but us is just watching TV!” Finn reminded them. “We’re not in any danger at all right now!”

He looked back at Emma and Kona. Chess and Rocky were peering up from the back seat now, too. Finn grimaced and tilted his head and rolled his eyes, hoping the others could figure out that he was saying, Are Gus and Lana totally losing it? What can we do?

The vein in the side of Gus’s neck throbbed like it was about to explode. Lana was slumped down in her seat now, her eyes closed.

Then the SUV came to an abrupt stop.

“No, no—keep going!” Finn begged. “Until we get to all the coins you promised us!”

Gus turned his head slowly, as if he were fighting for control of his own body.

“I stopped because . . . we’re here,” he said.

“We are?” Finn turned eagerly toward the window.

They weren’t that far past the Public Hall, but this felt like a different part of the city entirely. An abandoned-looking building sagged alongside the cracked sidewalk. Like the Public Hall, though, this building had elaborate wood carvings all over it. And they were the same kinds of grim wooden shapes: demons, wolves, snakes, and . . .

Wait—isn’t that an angel? Finn thought. Down near the ground? With beautiful wings?

He blinked, and suddenly everything made sense. He knew this building. He recognized the green tile on the roof, the cut-out shape of the walls, the arches over the boarded-up windows.

Or, at least, he knew it in the other world.

“Guys, I know where we are!” he cried. “That’s the Cuckoo Clock! This world’s version, anyway!”

“The restaurant?” Kona asked. “Ohhh . . .”

Emma sprang out of her seat.

“And that’s where the coins are stored?” she asked. “That makes so much sense!”