I shake my head. “I doubt they want or need high school dropouts.”
“They need brave voices.”
I won’t lie. “I’m scared.”
“I promised I wouldn’t let you be scared. You have so much talent, Ev. Elle wouldn’t want you to sacrifice it all for her. And selfishly, I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t have your worlds to disappear to. They make our world a better place.”
“I’m not a developer, though.” It’s one of the reasons why I haven’t taken Damien up on his offer. One of many. “Or that into computer games.”
“There are other options. He could help you with design too, or creative writing. He knows the con circuit. He could help you build contacts in the tabletop industry.”
Maddy pipes up. “You are talented and dedicated and loving. You were always the best of us.”
Finn squeezes my hand. “Besides, world-building makes you happy. You know you’re allowed to be happy, right?”
I do, rationally. But at the same time, I don’t.
I’ve always considered happiness a luxury. A bonus. Not something I should be focused on beyond scarce, hidden moments. “I don’t know what is waiting for us at the foot of this mountain. I’m not sure I can handle more than we already have to face. I can’t wrap my mind around it now.”
“You don’t have to. It doesn’t have to be immediately. It doesn’t have to be now. But sometime before I leave for college.”
“I…”
“I know it’s scary. Trust me, Maddy and I both do. All we ask is for you to try. Can you do that? For me, if not for yourself?”
To trust is such a radical decision.
With her good hand, Maddy brushes mine. “You are allowed to be happy. Please try.”
“You are too,” I whisper.
She breathes in sharply—and nods.
And for a while there, I stare at her—then at Finn. In the pale light of dawn, his hair seems to shimmer, but his eyes are still haunted.
We live on. We have tomorrow. We’re still going to have to figure out what all of that means. But we owe it to ourselves and our friends to try. If we can face this together, we can face anything. Or, if nothing else, we can face the next step.
And some days, that’s enough.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe hope isn’t a muscle you can train. Maybe life happens, and there is nothing more to it. But the truth is, I don’t want to believe that. I don’t want to believe that life is nothing more than a pile of accidents and there’s nothing I can do to influence it. I want to believe the world is malleable, if not for me, then at least for the people around me.
Because they deserve the whole universe.
I want them to be able to chase their happily-ever-afters. And I should extend that kindness to myself too.
When the darkness comes and the shadows gnaw and even the night has teeth, we fill those voids with love.
“How about—how about I try for both of us?”
“I’d like that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
* * *
The path evens out. The city has disappeared behind the horizon. We’re headed back into pine growth again, though sparser than the grove on the summit. Grass has taken over the gravel path. Our makeshift parking lot behind a last set of boulders is nearly in sight; we’re maybe half a mile out which is all at once so close and so far. A narrow stream appears alongside the path, and Maddy drops to her knees next to it. Without any hesitation, she cups up a handful of water and splashes it into her blotched face. She shivers. She sobs. And I wish I could cry as easily as she can.
The water looks like a solid plan, though. Disentangling myself from Finn, I walk up next to Maddy and slowly lower myself.
I stick one hand in and let the water drip over my face. It feels heavenly, refreshing. I wish I could wash all the dirt and fear off me. Or the hot pain that’s crawling up my other arm.
When I look up again, Finn folds himself onto the ground, cross-legged, crutches resting on his knees. He places his hands up to his wrists into the stream, and he closes his eyes.
Once we’re all sitting, it feels impossible to get up again. The pale blue morning light is restful. The chirping of the birds is almost relaxing. We can take a short rest here, before we head into a new world. Recover some of our stamina. Shore up our defenses. Discuss strategy, even if that strategy is nothing more than how to get to the parking lot and alert the authorities from there.
“I hope we never come back here,” Maddy says. Still she glances back at the road as though she’s waiting for someone to follow us.
“I don’t think I’ll ever look at the mountains the same way again,” Finn says.
His words may be meant jokingly, but at the same time, we’re all broken and empty, sitting on the grass on the bank of a stream. Now that morning has arrived, the sky warms up rapidly, but the only thing I can do is shiver. “Me neither.”
Maddy splashes the water. “What do we do from here?”
“We stick together,” Finn says.
“What will we find back in Stardust?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect anymore.”
“I’m so fracking tired of adventures and uncertainties,” Maddy mutters. “You know what I told Carter once, after he tripped that arcane circle in Kilspindle Fort? I told him, let’s retire and raise clockwork goats.”
It’s such an absurd comment and we’re all so exhausted, that we’re laughing until we’re crying, and crying until we’re laughing again, and the rising sun brightens the sky.
“I keep expecting Carter will catch up with us,” Maddy says softly.
“Yeah.”
I wipe at my eyes, though the tears keep coming, and I lie back in the
