Yesterworld: Down World Series Series, Book 2, page 5
I nodded, knowing there was nothing I could say.
“Is it school? Is it a boy?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that, wishing it could be that simple.
Of course, to a certain extent it was. I missed two boys. Kieren and Robbie. And to be honest, I missed Brady too. Brady was never supposed to go through the portal to Yesterday with us all those months ago. The plan had always been for him to remain above and to forget all about our experience together.
I suppose that had been my gift to him. Letting him forget the reality where Piper left him for Robbie, letting him live in a blissfully ignorant plane where she had never stopped loving Brady back.
But that meant erasing his memories of me too.
“Answer me, honey,” my dad implored. “Do you need help? Do you need to, I don’t know, talk to someone?”
I cleared my throat, wiping my face and taking my deep, calming breaths. Within a few seconds, I had managed to stop the tears but not the worried look on my dad’s face.
“No, Dad, I’m fine,” I insisted, hoping he would buy it. “I’m just, um . . .” Think, Marina. Think of something logical. That’s what you do best. “I’m worried about school. Because I have a paper to write.”
“Oh?” he asked, not quite believing the sudden shift in tone.
“On Genghis Khan. I have to go study now, in fact.” I backed away, but my dad’s eyes followed me. I offered him my best smile.
“I’m fine, Dad, I promise.”
Before I could get to the door to the house, my dad called my name one more time. I turned to look at him.
He seemed at a loss for what to say. “I just want you to be happy, Marina. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
I offered him the best smile I could muster. “I know, Dad. Good night.”
“Good night,” he said as I closed the door.
° ° °
I fell asleep before even opening a book, buried deeply in my cocoon of covers, shutting out the world. I was so immersed in sleep, in fact, dreaming that I was swimming in the middle of the ocean, that the sound of pebbles clinking against glass registered only as a distant drumming. But as the clinking grew louder, the ocean water receded until I was back in my sheets, overheated and sweating.
The next pebble struck with a bit more force, and I was fully awake. A quick glance at my bedside clock informed me that it was after midnight. I tripped my way out of bed and stumbled to the window. When I looked out into the wet, moonlit street, I rubbed my eyes in disbelief.
Kieren was about to throw another stone when he saw me. He flushed, embarrassed, looking awkwardly over his shoulder to see if he had attracted anyone else’s attention. But the street was deserted. A thin stream of visible breath escaped his lips under the blue light.
I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him there, waking me up in the night just like he had in the old dimension. I had no idea how he knew which room was mine. Maybe some weird sense memory. Or maybe the rather girly pink curtains my dad had hung when I was a baby and that I’d never gotten around to taking down. He held my ID tag in one hand and another pebble in the other. Behind him sat a tan Toyota Corol a, the door left open slightly.
His brow furrowed when he saw me—an expression somewhere between relief and annoyance. I held up my index finger to ask him to wait, then turned and threw on a hoodie and some gym shoes. I tiptoed down the stairs, even though I knew Dad and Laura could sleep through a hurricane.
I felt giddy, my stomach gurgling. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this excited about something.
Thinking quickly, I decided to leave the house by the kitchen door, knowing the front door would make too much noise. My feet tingled with anticipation as I all but ran around the house to get to him.
He lingered stock-still in the street, waiting for me.
“You found me,” I breathed as I reached him, unable to fight the urge to smile when I saw his lopsided grimace and his unruly hair.
“I’m sorry it’s so late.”
“That’s okay.”
He stared at me for a moment.
“What is it, Kieren?”
A subtle twitch struck his handsome features. “Stop saying my name like that. You don’t know me.”
The smile was instantly erased from my lips, and I took a step back, chastened by his words. But he seemed to quickly regret his anger, or maybe to just forget about it. His shoulders hunched in the brisk night air. He rubbed his arms with his hands for warmth.
I knew I should feel cold too, but the adrenaline was keeping my blood flowing. I couldn’t feel anything, really, except relief to be so close to him again. “What did you come for?” I asked.
“I was wondering,” he said, clearing his throat, “why were you so upset that night? In my rec room, when we were . . . you know.”
“Oh.” I nodded, realizing instantly that I couldn’t tell him the truth about the night he kissed me on his couch. I was upset that night because my mother had gone missing, and I was desperately afraid that she had followed my brother to the train tracks, that maybe she had even allowed herself to be struck and killed by a train just to follow my brother into death.
My world was shattering that night. Kieren was the only thing holding it together.
“It’s hard to explain,” was all I could say.
“Was that . . .” he began, shy suddenly. Was he blushing? “Was that our first kiss, or whatever?”
“Um . . .” Now I was blushing too. “Kind of.”
I suddenly chuckled, a random thought occurring to me.
“What’s funny?”
“Well, it’s just . . . we’d kind of kissed once before.” I started laughing even harder at the memory, and Kieren stepped closer, searching my face for clues.
“Tell me.”
“Well, we had this dog when we were little—when I was little, I mean. He was a little dachshund, you know, the little hot dog ones.
You used to call him ‘Denny’s’ when you’d come over, and Robbie and I would get so mad at you.”
Kieren nodded, seeming amused although he had no idea where I was going with this.
“Because his name was Denny, but you’d always joke that you were going to eat him. And one day, he was really old. He was like fourteen and blind and diabetic, and one day he went out into the street and just . . .” I took a breath, laughing for reasons that probably made no sense to him.
“And just what?”
“Died.” I laughed again, my nervousness betraying me. “He just laid down and died. And you came over that night, and you were trying to comfort me.”
Kieren shivered a bit, but his eyes never left me.
“You were trying to be all warm and nice, and you said . . .”
Here I had to take a break to laugh again, my cheeks flushing with the memory. “You said, ‘Don’t worry. You can always get another dog!’”
Kieren snorted out a huge laugh, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him. I hadn’t realized at the time what a ridiculous thing it was for him to say, but now it struck me as preposterous.
“I did not say that?” he asked.
“You did! It was awful.”
We both broke into a fresh round of snorting, and I looked around the empty street, suddenly conscious of the neighbors.
“Did I think that would make it better?” He laughed at himself.
“I don’t know what you were thinking.”
I slowed down my breathing, which only made me laugh once more. “And then you leaned down—you were, like, nine I think—and you were trying so hard to be all manly and strong, and I thought it was so cute even though I was so sad. And I had tears on my cheeks. And you leaned down, and you kissed me on my wet cheek.”
I touched my right cheek at the memory of Kieren’s soft, young lips grazing against it.
We were just inches apart now, both coming down from the high of laughing and letting the deadly quiet seep in to take its place.
Suddenly a buzz emanated out of Kieren’s back pocket. He took out his phone and stared at it for a moment, his face falling. I knew immediately who it must be.
“Is she wondering where you are?” I asked, instantly regretting it.
He put his phone away, suddenly wary of me again. “Yes.”
I nodded.
“How did you know I had a girlfriend?”
Shit. I was caught, wasn’t I? Talk yourself out of this one, Marina.
“I just assumed—”
“Are you stalking me?”
“No.”
But he didn’t believe me. He stepped back, his face growing hard and unreadable again. “I have to go,” he muttered, heading for his car.
“Kieren, wait—”
“I won’t be going through the doors again. Nothing good comes of it,” he spat over his shoulder in my direction.
I stood frozen as I watched him walk away, feeling the heat that had been radiating off him seep away from me.
“Do me a favor,” he said, looking at the wet street as he started to put one foot into his car.
“Anything,” I promised.
He hesitated only a moment. “Pretend you don’t know me.”
He slammed the door shut behind him, started the engine, and revved the gas to speed away down my street, leaving me like an ice sculpture, moored in the black sea of concrete.
I always do, Kieren. I always do.
Chapter Seven
Just do it before you lose your nerve.
I faced the door to Today, twirling Mr. Martel’s—Adam’s—coin in my hand and letting the sharp edges of it press against my skin almost to the point of puncturing. It was seven in the morning. I could just leave, I told myself, pretend I hadn’t even considered it.
Give him back his penny after seventh period and tell him never to speak to me again. Tell him I wouldn’t play his games.
Or you could just do it.
The Today door wasn’t like Yesterday, I assured myself for the millionth time. When you went into Yesterday, even the smallest changes could ripple away, affecting everything and everybody.
Yesterday was dangerous. Today was something else entirely. The Today door was just another version of your life.
I had come to think of Down World like the hairs on a human head. They look the same, they may even fall the same, they’re probably about the same length, and when seen from a distance, they look like one body. But really, they are individual strands, twisting around each other, free-falling. And if you pluck one, the others remain.
Today was just another strand of hair. Look at it, touch it, smell it. But the other strands won’t be affected either way.
You’re overthinking this, Marina. Do it or don’t.
Damn you, Adam. You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist.
Before I could hesitate another moment, I slipped the coin into the slot of Today and held my breath. A jolting crash, like something heavy falling in another room, exploded for only a moment.
And then, under the cracks of the door, the yellow light began to glow.
I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and reached into my pocket. There I had stowed away a tattered train ticket stub, found in the crevices of my father’s old briefcase, from when he used to take the commuter train to work.
I clenched it in my fingers now and opened the door.
As always, it started small. Yellow light, fading into colors.
Technicolor reds, deep-sea blues. A breeze struck my face—no, not a breeze, a whoosh of air. From the train.
I was on the platform of the train station, and the train was pulling in, chugging and churning, coming to a stop.
About half a dozen people were around me, suitcases in hand.
This was the long-distance train. Westbound. The one I had taken with Brady two summers before. A suitcase brushed against my leg, metallic silver. Not my usual style. Had I borrowed it from someone?
“I’m so excited.” Kieren spoke in my ear, leaning down from where he had been standing just behind me.
I gasped and tried to pass it off as a cough.
“Do you think Robbie will be surprised?”
I looked up at him, unsure, not wanting to give myself away.
“Hmm?”
“When we show up at his birthday party? You think he’ll be surprised?”
I caught up as quickly as I could and nodded in response. “Yeah,” was all I could think of to say.
“And he doesn’t know we’re coming, right?”
I shook my head, taking in the glint of excitement reflecting in Kieren’s warm eyes. His eyelashes looked blond in the sunlight. He squinted to look down at me.
“Sorry,” he laughed. “I’m nervous, I guess. It’ll be the first time I’ve seen him since he said he forgave me. And I just . . . well . . .”
“It’ll be great,” I assured him. “It’ll be perfect.”
“You think so?” he asked, breathing through tight lips. He chuckled again, jittery and awkward. Beautiful and warm.
An old, familiar sting behind my eyes crept up on me.
“What is it?” He smiled down at me.
“I’m just . . .” His crooked smile. His furrowed brow. “I’m just happy.”
He put his arms around my waist and pulled me closer, tilting my chin up to meet him. “I’m happy too,” he breathed.
I kissed him softly at first, shy suddenly. I hadn’t actually kissed him that many times before . . . before I lost him. But he kissed me back with certainty, his lips firm, his strong nose nestling into the space beside mine.
“Okay, folks,” said a middle-aged man in an official-looking rail-road cap. “The overhead bins are full. If you’ve got luggage, hand it over, and I’ll stow it for you.”
Kieren broke away, laughing a bit. He reached down and grabbed my suitcase. “I’ll give him our bag. Meet you on the train, okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered, watching him approach the porter. I wanted to drink in every moment of this, to see how he walked, how his shoulders had grown broader, how his face had filled out.
I watched him like a fleeting scene in a beautiful film, a perfectly composed image, there one second, gone the next.
I glanced up at the train, forgetting myself for a moment, ready to walk onto it and never come back.
At first, the image in the window seemed normal—just an old ticket taker walking past the rows of passengers. But when he was fully in view of the window, I could see more clearly that he wasn’t just a ticket taker, and he wasn’t just a man.
The ancient conductor turned his head slowly, as though churning through molasses, in my direction. His skeletal face had not changed since I’d last seen it, barreling through space and time with Robbie and Piper on the DW train. The day that I had handed him Kieren’s flattened penny; the day that I had learned the power the coins possessed.
The conductor’s hollow eyes bored through me now, his lipless smile twisting into a wicked grimace. He cocked his head slightly to the side, holding me in his vicious gaze. Then he raised his index finger and shook it from side to side like a pendulum: tsk, tsk, tsk. His wiry mouth mimicked the sound.
The message was clear: You don’t belong here.
Panicking, terrified, I backed away. Farther and farther away.
Until the colors began to melt.
I pushed away the reds and yellows and greens, the colors blending into formless mush, and the mush further melding into red brick.
I was back in the waiting room under the science lab, staring helplessly at the door to Today. My fists balled themselves into angry bombs and smashed away at the cold, cruel bricks over and over again, until my bloody hands couldn’t take the sting of it anymore.
° ° °
“My paper is on Joseph Stalin,” intoned Angela Peirnot in her nasal voice. “So he was, like, the leader of Russia during World War II, right?”
We were sitting in another study group, just me, Angela, and Adrian Washington, while Adam circled the room like a hungry wolf, eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations. I realized that I could only think of him as Adam now, not Mr. Martel, ever since I’d found out he was the guy Brady had known when he was a freshman, the guy who had disappeared after going to see the Mystics.
“And he was supposed to be, like, a Communist, so he was supposed to be all, like, ‘equality for everyone’ and stuff, but really he was just a dictator?”
Angela had one of those voices that shot up at the end of the last word in every sentence, so it came out as a question instead. I found myself resisting the urge to nod in agreement.
My knuckles ached from being scraped red on the brick hours before, and my stomach felt sour from missing the beautiful version of life that had taunted me briefly in Today. How did DW do this to me every time? How did it suck me in when I knew better?
Closing my eyes, I could still smell the sweet odor of brewing coffee emanating from a nearby cart at the train station. I could feel the warm cotton of Kieren’s sweatshirt rubbing against my cheek.
“And so, like, they really hated the Germans, because the Germans, like . . . wait, I can’t remember this part.”
Adrian Washington, who had been grinning like a circus clown the whole time Angela talked, didn’t seem to mind the interruption. He took the opportunity to tickle her kneecaps under the shared desk, which made her lose her place again in her stack of notes.
“Stop it,” she giggled softly.
I buried my face in my hands, exhausted with this exercise and not really giving a crap if Angela Peirnot ever figured out who exactly Joseph Stalin was. It was ancient history now anyway.
“Mr. Martel?” she called out, probably not realizing how flirty her voice was when she said his name. Adrian Washington, however, definitely noticed. “Can you help me with this part? I’m super confused.”
Adam walked over, and I kept my eyes glued to the desk. I could almost feel the weight of him straining to not look at me. “Yes?”
“So, like, I thought Russia was our enemy, right? Like, there was a whole Cold War?”
“That’s right.”
“But, like, in this book I found a picture of Stalin and Roosevelt and the British guy—”
