Race the Night

by Kirsten Hubbard

  Would continue to exist for a long, long time. Maybe forever.

  The endless world.

  ONCE THEY REACHED THE EDGE OF TOWN AGAIN, they rode through a grove of trees. Trees like Eider had never imagined. They were vastly tall and shaggy, with a tangy-strong scent like Nurse’s cough medicine.

  They reached another bridge, a lot like the one Eider had hurried across.

  “Almost there,” Alice called.

  They passed through more of the fragrant trees. Then they were riding over a narrow, dirt-packed road. Up ahead, Eider saw a mailbox that read BIRCH.

  “I’m about to stop again,” Alice said.

  Eider hopped off the bike. Before them stood a house: a big house, made of weathered gray wood, with empty fields all around it. She reached down and scratched her scar, but the twinging wouldn’t quit.

  Alice set the bike on its side. “Hope his stepdad’s not home. I’ve never met him, but apparently he’s a real weirdo. Into lots of end-of-the-world stuff. Crazy radio broadcasts and whatnot.”

  “Radio broadcasts?” Eider’s head was spinning. “What’s that over there? Where the land drops away?”

  “That’s part of the canyon,” Alice said. “Can you imagine living with it in your backyard? Imagine how scary it’d be at night. I’d always wonder if something was living inside it….”

  Eider frowned at the canyon. There definitely could be things hiding down there. People, even. It wasn’t so hard to hide from the world, even right here in town. You didn’t need a desert to do it.

  “Sorry,” Alice said. “I’ve got a reputation for letting my imagination run away with me. Let’s go.”

  They approached the big, old house. Eider’s heart thumped louder with every step. Each one—not just the first—was the hardest.

  Alice knocked on the door. They waited. The house was quiet. “Maybe none of them are home,” she said, knocking a second time.

  Eider bit her thumbnail.

  And then the door opened.

  A boy stood in the doorway. A boy even paler than Finch, with blue shadows under his eyes, which looked like they’d seen a lot. His hair was a shade between blond and brown. His clothes were disheveled, and he wore boots like Eider’s—just as dirty, actually. It made her feel less self-conscious about the state of her own clothes, although she was glad she’d had the chance to wash her face.

  “Hi, Alice,” he said.

  Then he saw Eider.

  “Who…” The boy began. His eyes widened, which made him look like an owl. That was fine with Eider. She liked owls. “Are you from the desert ranch?”

  “The desert ranch?” Alice repeated.

  “My mom and I heard about it on the radio,” the boy said. “Are you Eider?”

  Eider hesitated, then nodded.

  “They talked about you! The kids on the radio. My name’s Jory. I…” He trailed off. “I’m sorry. You just look like…”

  “Her,” Eider said. “I look like her. I know.”

  “And—and you’re wearing overalls. She was wearing them, too, when she—”

  “When she left.”

  “When she got here.”

  It was too good be true, but it felt exactly right. The same way Eider had felt the entire scroll of world history unfurling. Except this time it was Eider’s history.

  Eider’s fairytale.

  ONCE UPON A TIME, EIDER’S world had ended.

  Once upon a time, it began again.

  Or it was about to, anyway. Eider sat with her hands clasped over her knees. They’d cleaned her scrapes and cuts, and covered them with bandages. One had a yellow bird on them. He was tall, with big orange legs. He seemed kind of freaky, Eider thought.

  Beside her, Jory jiggled his foot. He kept glancing at her, then away. Eider didn’t mind. She looked like Robin, after all.

  Protective Services thought the same thing. They were a pair of grown-ups with kind, concerned faces: a woman with curly hair and a man with smiling eyes, who’d given her candy that stuck in her teeth. “Sisters,” they’d said. “No doubt about it.”

  They could see it as well as Alice could. The way Eider always had. Same olive-brown skin. Same dark hair. Same big eyes and cheeks, though Robin’s had always been pinker. Eider missed her sister’s cheeks.

  Jory did, too. Eider could tell.

  So did Jory’s mother. The moment she’d seen Eider, her eyes had filled with tears. She’d brought Eider here, along with Jory and his little brother. Eider barely knew them, but she felt much braver with them sitting beside her.

  Eider had done her best to explain about the desert ranch, which took hours. She described what it looked like. How her life there had been. Everything and everybody. Teacher, who’d made Protective Services shake their heads and squint. Nurse and the Handyman, with his mean dog. The other kids—her best friends.

  They seemed so far away now. Finch and Linnet and Jay and Avis. Eider was so scared for them.

  “We have units heading to the ranch right this minute,” the woman from Protective Services had assured her. “Police officers, too. And an ambulance, even if they don’t need it. They’re going to be just fine, Eider. We promise.”

  Eider wanted to believe them. But she didn’t know yet whether they kept promises.

  They still had a big one to keep.

  She glanced at the door again. She wished they’d left it open, so she could see down the hall. She couldn’t see if anybody was approaching. All her Extrasensory lessons, all her gifts and abilities, all her so-called specialness and not-specialness were useless against that door. Still, she concentrated, willing it to open.

  And then it did.

  Everybody in the room stood. Protective Services, and Jory’s mom, and Jory, too. And Eider. She stood without even knowing it, as her sister entered the room.

  Not skipping or dancing, but cautious, uncertain. Hair like a blackbird’s wing. Eyes like a kit fox’s. Cheeks like a robin’s breast. All of her so very much like Eider, and yet so much her own self, too.

  She saw Jory first. Her face lit up.

  Then she saw Eider.

  Instantly, her smile froze. Her large, dark eyes filled with tears. Eider could see the sparkle from across the room.

  She looked from Eider to Jory. And back again. Her hesitation hung in the air, along with the big question: who she’d go to first.

  Her sister Eider.

  Or her brother Jory.

  It only lasted a moment, though. Because they both ran to her instead.

  Don’t miss Jory’s story, Watch the Sky, also by Kirsten Hubbard!

  KIRSTEN HUBBARD is the author of the middle-grade novel Watch the Sky and two YA novels from Delacorte, Wanderlove and Like Mandarin. She also cofounded the popular blog YA Highway (www.yahighway.com) and she holds a BA in writing from UCSD. Kirsten lives in Los Angeles, California. Visit her online at www.kirstenhubbard.com or on Twitter @KirstenHubbard.