creeping into his head that the Chetwynde’s might have disappeared the same way the Pendragons did, so he took the chance and called her at home. He was relieved when Courtney’s father answered the phone. Mr. Chetwynde said that Courtney wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to talk with anyone. Mark thought the guy sounded tense.
He was glad to hear that nothing bizarro had happened, but he was getting more worried about Courtney by the second. Was she okay? He knew she had been having a tough time of it, even before they hit the flumes. He feared that the realization of how badly they had messed up on Eelong might have pushed her over the edge. Courtney was incredibly proud, maybe too much so, Mark thought. He knew that one of the reasons she had so badly wanted them to jump into the flume was that she was scrambling to prove something to herself, and what better way to do that than save an entire territory?
Mark didn’t blame her for convincing him to use the flume. She may have been the one driving the bus, but he was a willing passenger. She didn’t twist his arm. Much. Now he feared that after having salvaged her self- confidence by saving Eelong, finding out that it was the wrong thing to do would crush her. He desperately wanted to talk to her, but her parents wouldn’t let him. No calls, no visits, no letters. It was like she was a prisoner in her own house. Or a patient.
Courtney hadn’t come back to school for the rest of the semester. He asked around and found out that she was having her school work sent to her house. There were lots of rumors that she was sick, but Mark didn’t believe them. He knew that her problems were more psychological than physical, not that that was much better. After a while he stopped calling. He figured that he’d wait until he got Bobby’s next journal, then he’d somehow get a message to her that it had arrived. He knew that there was no way she could resist finding out what was happening to Bobby.
But no more journals had arrived.
Mark did his best to put Bobby out of his mind and get on with his life. He tried not to think of what a mess they had made of things by jumping into the flume, though he often sat in bed late at night, wide awake, trying to decide what they could have done differently. He never found the answer, which in some ways was comforting. They may have seriously messed up, but after going over every fact, it didn’t seem as if they’d had any choice but to do what they’d done. It gave him a small bit of comfort. Very small.
Mark immersed himself in the Sci-Clops science club. But that was difficult too, since his archnemesis, Andy Mitchell, was now a member. Mitchell was an idiot. A thug. A guy who had bullied Mark his whole life. Yet there Mitchell was, a member of the most prestigious science club in the state. At first Mark thought it was a mistake, but the more he saw Mitchell at work, the more he reluctantly had to admit that the goon did have an aptitude for science. Math, in particular. He may have barely been able to write his name with a crayon, or read a stop sign, but Mark saw that Andy Mitchell had an incredible ability to see mathematics on a 3-D level. It was uncanny. Mark figured he was one of those idiot savant types. Heavy on the “idiot.” On the one hand he was actually creating chemical compounds that might revolutionize manufacturing, on the other hand he’d go out and extort money from the geeks at school to buy cigarettes.
The only real solace Mark took from this twisted situation was that Andy Mitchell didn’t target him for abuse anymore. It was the first time in the history of dorkdom that being the member of a science club actuallysavedsomeone from getting beaten up.
The rest of the semester passed uneventfully. Meaning, there were no journals from Bobby. However, with only a few weeks left of school before summer vacation, Mark received a letter that changed things once again. It was from Courtney.
Dear Mark,
Hi. I hope you’re doing well.
I shouldn’t be avoiding you like this, but as you know, I’m pretty much avoiding everything these days. I’m sorry to say this, but most of all I’m avoiding you. I know, it’s wrong. But I am so disappointed in myself, seeing you makes me feel even worse. I’ve let you down. I’ve let Bobby down. When I start thinking about how I let all the Travelers down, and what that could mean, all I want to do is cry. The idea is too much for me to even think about. I used to believe I could handle anything. Now I can’t even handle seeing you, someone I think the world of.
I’m writing you now to tell you that as bad as I feel, I’m getting better. I’m going to be okay, I think. But I’m leaving. My parents want me to go away to summer school. I agree with them, for a change. It’s a good idea. I’ve got to get my act together. Going to a place where nobody knows me sounds like a good thing to do. I’m hoping that in a couple of months I’ll have sorted things through enough that I can come back and be the kind of person I know I can be: a better friend to you, a better friend to Bobby, and a better acolyte.
I don’t mean to leave you on your own. I’m sorry for that. But I really think for the time being you’ll be better off without me. If another journal comes in before I return, I don’t want to know. I’ll read it when my head is in a better place. Please don’t think I don’t care. I do. More than I can even tell you. I think that’s part of the problem. I’ve got to get some perspective.
As much as I’m trying to put what happened on Eelong out of my head, the one thought I can’t shake is that someday, maybe soon, Saint Dane will set his sights on Second Earth. I believe that when that happens, if it happens, we will be needed again. I want to be ready. It’s the one thing that keeps me focused.
I want to say something happy like “have a nice summer,” but that seems so trivial. Please know that I think about you every day. I’m going to get through this, and I’m going to come back.
I know that’s the way it was meant to be.
I miss you.
Love,
Courtney
Moments after Mark found this letter in his mailbox and took it to his room to read, his ring began to twitch. He jumped in surprise. Bobby’s next journal was on the way in. Mark didn’t even have time to process Courtney’s message before having to think about news from Bobby.
“Perfect,” Mark said to himself sarcastically. “Why does everything always happen at the same time?”
The gray stone in the center of the ring he had received from Loor’s mother, Osa, transformed into a brilliant, clear crystal. He took the ring off, placed it on his floor and watched as the familiar delivery process took place. The ring grew to the size of a Frisbee, opening up a conduit to the territories. Light flashed from the hole, bringing with it the haunting musical notes that carried the cargo along.
Mark closed his eyes and waited until the music stopped. Seconds later the ring returned to normal. Lying next to it on the rug was Bobby’s next delivery. Journal #20. It was a scroll of parchment paper, tied with a leather twine…exactly like #19. In the past Mark would have immediately called Courtney so the two could read the journal together. It was their pact. They would never read the journals alone. The note from Courtney changed all that. Courtney didn’t want to read this journal. Mark was on his own. It was an odd feeling. Even scary. As different as Mark and Courtney were, they were always able to bounce ideas off each other to help understand what Bobby’s pages contained. Now Mark would have to do it on his own. He would be the only one to know of Bobby’s latest adventure. So he read.
SECOND EARTH
(CONTINUED)
The words of Bobby’s Journal #20brought no relief for Mark. The drought problem on Zadaa was bad enough, but Mark was frightened by the fact that Saint Dane tried to flat out kill Bobby. It pained him to hear how his best friend had been hurt so badly, and it put a knot in his stomach to know that Loor was going to teach Bobby how to become a warrior.
As bad as all that was, the idea that Bobby was falling in love with Loor made Mark wince. After learning about what a hard time Courtney was having, he couldn’t imagine how she would react to hearing that the guy she had a crush on since they were in the fourth grade was now turning his affections toward somebody else. Nothing that Bobby wrote in his journal was good news. A whole boatload of worry had been dumped on Mark.
The kicker was, he had nobody to share it with.
The only consolation was that Courtney didn’t want to know about the journal, which meant he didn’t have to
