“Let’s give it a shot,” Mark said. He cleared his throat and spoke distinctly to the ring. “First Earth.”
The ring came alive. The relief in everyone’s face was obvious. They may not have been able to communicate with Bobby, but at least the rings still worked. The circle opened up, spewing light and music. When it reached its full size, Mark dropped the note into the hole, after which the ring immediately shrank back, ending the event.
Courtney picked up the ring and examined it. “Do you think we’re ever going to figure out how this works?”
“How do we know it worked?” Patrick asked.
“Oh, it worked,” Courtney answered for Mark. “But did it go to
Dodger, or Nevva?” Mark shot a surprised look at Courtney. “She has your ring, Mark. And if she’s still on First Earth…” She didn’t have to complete the thought.
“We’ll know in a couple of hours” was Mark’s answer. “When the bank opens.”
Patrick frowned and looked to Courtney. Courtney shrugged. Neither knew what Mark was talking about. Then it hit Courtney and she brightened.
“Hey, you asked them to put something in the safe-deposit box!” she declared.
“No,” Mark answered, pouring orange juice. “I want them to open an account and make a deposit at the bank. If we’re going to be here awhile, we’re going to need money. They’ve got the KEM money from Forge.”
“Will that work?” Patrick asked. “They can deposit money back on First Earth and it will be in the account today?”
“Should,” Mark answered. “I gave them the number of our safe-deposit box and told them to put the deposit slip inside.”
“Amazing,” Patrick gasped.
“It’s ironic,” Mark said thoughtfully. “We’re going to try to stop Saint Dane by using money from the company he got me to sell Forge to, and that we tried to stop from giving me that money in the first place, so they wouldn’t create the dados and change the future of Halla.”
“Excuse me?” Patrick said, totally lost.
Courtney laughed. “I actually understood that.”
“Then please explain it to me,” Patrick pleaded.
“No problem,” Courtney answered. “If you’re going to be part of this, you’re going to have to get up to speed fast.”
A voice called to them from across the room, saying, “Your waffles are ready.”
Everyone looked at the oven.
Mark said, “I’m not going to get used to this.”
The plan was for Courtney and Patrick to stay at the house while Mark went to the bank. Courtney’s job was to fill Patrick in on all that had happened with KEM and DADO and Forge, while searching the house for clothes that would help them blend in on Second Earth. Mark put on some of his own clothes. He chose jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of old running shoes. Mark never went running. He just liked the way they felt. He decided to leave his hair combed back in the style from First Earth in case anybody might recognize him. It helped that he wore a pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses he got on First Earth and put on a navy blue, short golf jacket of his father’s. That completed the transformation from Mark, to not-Mark. He looked in the mirror and barely recognized himself.
Courtney’s comment was, “You look like some old-dude banker from the ‘burbs. Perfect.”
Mark was afraid that an “old-dude banker” would look odd riding a bike, so he chose to make his way to the bank on Stony Brook Avenue on foot. It was only a few miles, and he wanted to take the opportunity to observe any other changes that might have occurred on Second Earth.
Most of the walk was through suburban streets that didn’t look any different from what he remembered. The houses looked exactly the same. The lawns. The sidewalks. The cars. Pretty much everything. Though something did feel different to him, and it took him a mile of walking before he realized what it was. All the telephone poles were gone. Every last one. His neighborhood used to be full of overhead lines that carried power, telephone, and cable TV. Not anymore. He was surprised that he didn’t realize it right away, but figured he was looking for something new, not something that wasn’t there. Once it clicked, it was obvious. He wondered what had replaced them. Was everything underground? Or was it all sent through signals in the air? Since the main changes on Second Earth were about technology, he figured that anything was possible.
Though he did wonder where the birds were going to hang out.
Stony Brook Avenue looked pretty much the same as well. It was the closest thing that Stony Brook, Connecticut, had to a “main street.” It was lined with shops and restaurants. The cool kids used to hang out there, which was why Mark didn’t. He’d go to the Garden Poultry Deli, get his daily dose of fries and Mountain Dew, and eat as he walked home. He was never a “hanging around” kind of guy.
Mark was also pleased to see that his old friend Ms. Jane Jansen still worked at the bank. Every time he saw something that hadn’t changed about Second Earth, it gave him hope that things weren’t really as bad as he feared. He was a little nervous though that the woman might recognize him and start asking difficult questions about where he’d been so he made a point of going to another bank officer to get the key to his safe-deposit box.
The bank had just opened for business for the day and was next to empty. In no time Mark was in the vault, peering at the journals that he and Courtney had put there for safekeeping. There were two items of note that he hadn’t seen before. One was a journal from Bobby: #28. Courtney had placed it there on First Earth. He was tempted to read it right then and there, but was sure that Courtney had already filled him in on everything Bobby had written. The other item was what he had come for. It was a deposit slip. An old one. It had been sitting in the vault for so long, it had turned yellow. It didn’t matter. All Mark needed was the account number. His dad had deposited twenty thousand dollars. Back then it was a fortune. It wasn’t so bad on Second Earth either. It would be plenty.
Attached to the slip was a handwritten note. It said, “We love you. Good luck. Mom and Dad.” Mark smiled and slipped the note into his pocket. He closed up the box and walked back to the lobby to fill out a withdrawal slip. He didn’t want to raise suspicion, so he decided not to take out a big amount. He figured that four hundred dollars would be enough to start. He could always come back for more. Mark filled out the slip and went to a bank teller he didn’t know. He picked a pretty blond girl wearing a turtleneck. She looked as though she might go to Davis Gregory High, but Mark never hung out with pretty blond girls in turtlenecks, so he figured she wouldn’t recognize him.
“G’morning!” the girl greeted with a bright smile.
“Hi. Just making a withdrawal. Not a lot. Just four hundred. No biggie, right?” Mark realized he was jabbering.
“No problem,” the girl said. “Can I see your ID?”
Uh-oh. Mark had his wallet with his student ID. He’d taken it from his desk at the last second, but he didn’t want to have to flash it. He was the Mark Dimond that people must have been talking about. His parents were killed, and he disappeared three months earlier. Stony Brook was a small town. If she recognized him, it would be all over.
“Y-You sure you need it?” he asked.
The girl gave him an innocent smile. “Yeah, sorry. Policy.”
Mark fumbled through his wallet. “I’m n-not sure what I have.” Mark suddenly wished that the girl was not only cute, but more concerned with being cute and popular than watching news stories about local tragedies. The girl stared at him, the first hint of doubt creeping into her eyes. Mark realized he had to take the chance. He handed her the plastic ID and held his breath.
The girl looked at it and beamed. “Hey, you go to DG?”
“DG?”
“Davis Gregory! I just graduated. What year are you?”
“Uh, senior. I think. I haven’t been around much. I’ve been, uh, traveling.”
“Really? Where?”
Mark figured it was better not to lie. He wasn’t a good liar. “New York, mostly. But I was in England.” He left out the part about it being in 1937.
The girl looked at her computer and said clearly, “Mark Dimond.”
Mark didn’t get it. Why was she saying his name at the computer? He quickly realized it was the new technology. There was no keyboard. It was all about voice recognition. The girl looked at the screen and scowled. Something was wrong.
