A man’s voice echoes from another room. “Who is it?”
The woman exhales sharply. “Same as yesterday, Bob!” she shouts back. “Look—” She fixes her eyes on me again and I notice for the first time heavy blue rings under her eyes and a pale stain like vomit on her left shoulder. By the way she keeps looking up the staircase behind her, I assume she’s just put her baby to sleep. “I don’t know why you keep coming here or who you are, but I swear I’ll call the police if you don’t leave—”
“That won’t be necessary,” I immediately say, putting my hand on the door as she tries to close it. If the police finds out I was here, then the Protectors will too. And I’m still not completely certain whom I can trust at Headquarters anymore. My search has to remain secret until I have enough proof to clear Xander. “I did not come here to bother you. My colleagues told me that you did not know where the previous owner lives at the moment, but maybe you know something about him that might help me. A name perhaps?”
Hibiscus agreed to give me the address of the Rascal he knows, but refused to tell me his name. I once swore I would never tell anyone what he is, he wrote. You better not cause him harm.
I feel like the woman at the door is about to give in, when her boyfriend walks out of a room. He frowns as soon as he sees me.
“Were we not clear enough yesterday when we told those two guys we know nothing about the—?”
“She only wants to know his name, Bob,” the woman interrupts tiredly.
“Yes,” I add with the sweetest voice possible. The woman is about to break. She clearly just wants to be left alone. As for the man, he seems to be acting all tough for his girlfriend’s sake, but he looks as clueless as a lost kitten. “All I need is a name. You see, my daughter might be in great danger and this man I am looking for is our only hope to make sure she is safe.”
It isn’t as much a lie as it is an altered truth. Samera will do anything to help Xander and it has, last month, put her in great danger with the Rascals. Like I expected, the woman seems to sympathize with me. Unaware of what she is doing, she slowly brings her hand up to her belly and rubs it.
“Bob… you signed the papers for the house,” she says, “and, if I remember correctly, you did see the man once a few months ago. You said he came here to retrieve something he’d buried underneath the tree outside.”
Bob scratches the top of his bald head as his facial expression softens. “He did pay us a visit last year. But he was clear that he did not want us to tell anyone who he was…”
“It’s very important,” I insist.
His girlfriend caresses his arm, staring at him with pleading eyes. “Bob, imagine if it were for Ella…”
“All right, all right. But the guy who came last year was not the owner. He was their son. He lived here until he got married and moved to New York.”
I cannot help a smile. “That would help more than you think,” I tell Bob.
“His name—”
A sharp pain in my shoulder sent me right back to Blue and I cried out.
“What’s happened?” Karl said instantly. “Is Michelle hurt?”
I curved into a ball and winced. “No… it’s my shoulder.”
My Blue-self instantly pushed everyone away from me, took a small wooden flask from a large pocket in her dress, removed the seaweed bandage, and applied the rest of the ointment—well, I did not dare look at the wound, but it had the desired effect. Slowly the pain diminished, but this time, it did not dissipate completely.
“I will need to make some more,” Blue told me, looking inside the now-empty flask. I realized I had thrown myself on the sand and sat upright, feeling better already. “I did not bring enough. I apologize. Samera? Would you join me in the making of more cream? We still have an hour or so before the sun is down and the others come back.”
Sam’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Yes, of course I would.” Blue nodded and turned around, heading toward the palm trees, away from the beach. “I’ve always wanted to know how to concoct medicine from scratch,” Sam told her, leaping on one leg, following my Blue-self. “I believe it is a very important knowledge, especially now…” The rest of her sentence—or speech—was lost as they disappeared into the forest.
Xander laughed and shook his head. “Your Blue-self might regret bringing Sam with her. I bet she won’t stop talking.”
Mr. Jensen ignored Xander’s comment. “How are you feeling, Amya?”
“I’m fine.” I could tell from his wary eyes that he did care about my health, but that wasn’t all that was bothering him. “Michelle was just about to learn the name of the Rascal when I Sojourned back. I’m truly sorry I wasn’t able to stay with her the whole time, but the owners of the house were quite friendly. Your wife wasn’t in any trouble.”
“It is not your fault, Amya.” Relieved, his dark brown eyes smiled. “Do you think she is alone now? Should I call her?”
I thought of how tired the woman had looked. Surely Michelle would not bother the couple longer than she had to. “I believe she’s on her way back now. Or maybe on her way to the Rascal?”
That last sentence alarmed Mr. Jensen more than I had intended. He picked up his coop-hole and dialed Michelle’s number. She picked up right away.
“Oh, I am glad to hear your voice,” he said. There was such intense love in his tone and facial expression that I felt like I was invading their privacy. “Did you—” He paused and peeked sideways at me. I averted my eyes. “No, she wasn’t able to stay with you the whole time—” This time, he listened closely to his wife as he walked away from Xander and me.
“It must be stressful to know that the person you love might be in danger,” Xander said, staring at Karl, who was now too far to hear us.
“He did seem genuinely worried,” I replied. “But Michelle was in no danger. And if the people at the house were telling the truth, this Rascal she is looking for will be as harmless. She might actually have found a way to clear your name!” I smiled brightly at him. This was good news at last.
“I wish I could be as enthusiastic.”
“You should. The fact that there might be other good Rascals proves that becoming one does not turn you into a monster. ‘You might be dangerous to the people around you,’ the book said. It was never certain but now we know!”
The corner of Xander’s lips lifted before he concealed his sudden fervor. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
The news gave me hope and hope was enough to fill me with joy. My shoulder barely hurt anymore. The sun was halfway down, displaying bright scarlet colors mingled with dark pink and royal blue. The view was magnificent.
Xander sat beside me in silence and we listened to the sound of the stream, his fingers brushing mine, sending electricity through my arm and back. My head finally cleared and I felt as though every wave left the shore with an ounce of worry or angst about my sister, the Rascals, Xander… Like I became lighter and my lungs could finally breathe fully without being oppressed by the weight of the world on my shoulders. Minutes passed, and the sun sank into its blue mirror until the sky darkened to a homogenous gray.
At some point, Mr. Jensen came back with Samera and Blue, who were still preparing ointment when more people emerged from the forest. We were introduced to a dozen men and women, all dressed seemingly like my Blue-self and speaking very slowly. Before the sun was down, we were invited to sleep at an old man’s house. His name was Harold.
“Friends of Amya’s are always welcome in my house,” he said, his curly white beard shaking as he spoke.
Apparently, he owned the biggest tree house around because he was the equivalent of a vet in Amani; he cared for animals and fish when they were sick or wounded. His house was twice as big as my parents’ house. It had seven rooms in total, four of them with simple beds. Karl and Xander offered to sleep on the floor but Harold refused. He locked himself in the fifth room for about an hour while we ate berries, seeds, and mushrooms, and came back dragging a big rectangular shape made o
f compact leaves and bent branches.
“Would you fetch the second mattress, young man?” he muttered at Xander, out of breath. “An old man like me will not make the trip twice without having a heart attack.” And then, more to himself, he added, “I wish I’d been young at least once in my life. Being seventy-six years old for fifty years is wearing on me.”
I’d never put much thought into this before. Those people living in the Blue, Yellow, and Red Dimensions did not age. They remained the same all their lives, whether they were one, fifteen, thirty-five, or ninety. They did not know what it was like to change and grow physically. It was a weird concept and I felt very privileged to come from Amani. When Samera had explained the Dimensions to me at the hospital a month ago, I’d felt threatened by the idea of having people in parallel worlds influencing my personality and my emotions. But now, with a better comprehension of it all, I understood that we were the lucky ones. We could travel whenever we wanted, we could experience childhood, youth, adulthood, and old age in one lifetime, and most of all, we could build a family and have children of our own. Those people in other Dimensions did not know what it felt like to have parents who cared for you, or siblings whom, no matter what they’d say or do to you, you’d always love.
Samera had told me once that if my sister’s Red-self ever met mine, they would feel a bond to each other, but they would not necessarily know that they were, in some way, related.
“Amya?” a voice startled my thoughts. “I will apply a big amount of cream on your shoulder before we go to sleep,” Blue explained calmly. “And I need to bandage it tight or your wound might bleed during the night.”
***
The trip to Canada the next morning was relaxing, except that the muscles in my arms, shoulders, back, and thighs burned like crazy. I still held onto the rope for safety, but at least I did not fear the ride as much as the previous day. The sailfish did not stop until we reached a deserted island, in the shape of a serpent, that stretched farther than my eyes could see.
“We’re here,” Blue announced.
According to her, the island was parallel to a river in Amani and thus, nobody in Blue dared live around such a sinuous piece of earth. A wave could destroy their home at any moment. After all, we were in the middle of the ocean.
We built a smaller boat for Blue so that the fish would take her back home faster and, after thanking her for everything she’d done for us, we Traveled to Amani—
And stepped onto wet grass. We were in the middle of a football field and the air was so cold it felt like January.
Without warning, a big dog started barking and racing in our direction. The owner, who’d had his back to us, turned around and seemed surprised to see us. Shaking away his confusion, he sprinted after his dog, who was now a dozen feet from Xander, snarling and showing long yellow canines.
Chapter XIV
Amya Priam
“Betty! Betty, stop this right now!” the guy shouted. He was in his twenties, with a white cap placed backward on his head, and he wore a purple raincoat and half eaten purple rain boots. Halting between his grey Australian cattle dog and us, he pointed his finger at Betty. “Bad, bad girl. Sit.” The dog sat, her ears lowered on her head. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He turned to face us. “She must have been surprised to see you there. She never barks at strangers.” He stared at Karl and Samera, who wore their usual brown Protector outfits. His eyes slowly drifted to Xander and me. “Do you go to Bishop’s?”
“No,” I said—
“Yes,” Samera lied.
The guy frowned.
“Well, not yet,” Sam continued, stepping forward. “We’re exploring our options.” She shot him a brilliant smile.
“Oh, Bishop’s great, if you want my opinion.” He let Betty go free and the dog went directly to Xander and started sniffing his leg. “Lots of students live pretty close to class.” He pointed to a street full of apartment buildings, right next to the football field and a small parking lot. “So it’s an easy walk and the profs are very accessible. Just yesterday I went to the Lion—it’s a resto-pub—with classmates and we had a few drinks with my friend’s English teacher.”
Samera laughed, clearly on her seduction mode. “That sounds great! I’ve only known one person who went to Bishop’s. She kept talking to me about a professor… Hibiscus, I think the name was…”
“Ha! Hibiscus, of course. The weirdest prof around. Teaches classics.”
“Classics? I love classics!” Sam exclaimed, though I would have sworn she couldn’t name a single course that was part of classical studies at Bishop’s. “Would it be possible to meet this prof? I might have a few questions—”
When Betty was done inspecting Xander, she approached me.
“Yeah, sure! Today’s Sunday, so you’ll have to wait till tomorrow. How long do you plan on sticking around?”
Samera’s charm seemed to have worked because a minute later, we learned that the guy’s name was Sheldon and that he played for the lacrosse team; and he even gave Sam his phone number. Meanwhile, Mr. Jensen looked uneasy, about to jump in if things went too far.
“Text me tomorrow after ten-thirty and we can meet in front of McGreer or in the SUB?” Sheldon told Samera, who agreed to meet in front of the McGreer building, even though none of us knew where that was.
When all was settled, Sheldon called his dog back and started to walk away. Sam was about to speak, a satisfied look on her face, when the guy turned around, raising one hand in the air. “Oh, and I forgot! If you guys feel like it, there’s a party at my friends’ tonight at the white house on the corner of Reed and College. It’s open for anyone, really.”
Samera flipped her bright scarlet hair as she turned to face him. “Thanks for the invite! We’ll definitely think about it.”
Sheldon smiled as he walked toward the apartment buildings and disappeared from sight.
No one had expected to find Hibiscus so easily. Karl congratulated Samera on this one and said she reminded him of her mother when she was younger. “Except for your flirtatious habits,” he added, a stern look on his face. “We are not here to attend collegiate parties, Samy, and you know that.”
“I know, I know. I didn’t actually believe he’d know who Hibiscus was. It was a good guess, nothing else. And I don’t want to party tonight either.” She straightened her back, clearly hiding the fact that she was longing to go. Sam had always loved parties. Mingling with people was one of her favorite activities. “We are here on business and that is all.”
Oh God, I thought. What was my best friend turning into? Some robot whose sole goal was to keep her friends safe, like she’d mentioned on the boat? Who was she kidding?
I secretly bet myself that she wouldn’t keep this up for longer than a day or two. Sam’s true nature would prove stronger than her guilt.
After Xander and I exchanged exasperated looks, Karl called Michelle, who gave him the address of her friend living in a small part of Sherbrooke called Lennoxville. Michelle also mentioned that she’d just received a call from my parents, wanting to know how Deli and I were doing.
“Tell me she lied to them, or they’ll go nuts,” I pleaded.
Karl nodded carefully. “She did, but she won’t be able to keep this from them, Amya. Especially from your father; he already seemed suspicious. Let’s just say Michelle isn’t the best liar.”
“Thank you, Karl,” I heard Mrs. Cohen say through the phone.
They exchanged a few more words and then we started heading toward our next destination. The sky had already turned a dark shade of blue and we were all very tired of our long journey. Luckily, Mrs. Martin—Michelle’s friend—lived only a twenty minutes’ walk from the green bridge, which we could see from the football field.
The image of my parents receiving the news of Delilah’s disappearance spun in my head. They had suffered enough complications with my being in a coma for months; they definitely did not need to know their other daughter was in great danger. But at
the same time, I felt bad for having to lie to them…
Starting up on College Street, we came across The Lion, the restaurant Sheldon had mentioned was along the way. There were also a Subway and a McDonald’s close to the main street. And we met a couple of young people prancing on the sidewalk with their friends; some transported books, while others cases full of beers.
I was grateful for the cold wind blowing around as we walked up the long, steep slope—Xander and Karl taking turns helping Samera with her leg—and couldn’t help envying students who were walking downward in the opposite direction.
I was exhausted!
Mrs. Martin lived just up the hill on Deacon Street, in a red-brick house, its ground littered with leaves. Sam and I were perspiring and panting when Karl finally knocked on the white glass door.
The face of a big dog immediately appeared on the other side of the glass, as though it had been waiting for us all day.
Does everyone own a dog here? I wondered.
The dog moved aside when a middle-aged woman took its place in greeting us.
“Bonjour!” she exclaimed.
She wore huge, thick, round green glasses, which contrasted with her bright red hair, loose around her beautifully lined, freckled face. The second she saw us, a big smile full of very small teeth filled her face.
“You must be colleagues and family of Michelle,” she said in a strong French accent.
I was half expecting Sam to jump up and down, speaking incomprehensible French to our host, but she remained expressionless except for a mild twitch on the left corner of her mouth.
“Hi, Mrs. Martin,” Karl said, extending his hand to shake hers. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. My wife has spoken very admirably of your work for the Protectors.”
Mrs. Martin blushed. “Oh, nonsense!” she said, waving the compliment away. “Please call me Madame M. Students of mine gave me that name. Come on in now; the cold tends to lodge in our bones at this time of the year.” We stepped inside a very narrow entryway and had to squeeze together to fit on the green-and-brown carpet. “Take off your shoes and make yourself at home.”
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