Nick found this irresistibly tempting. The more he considered it, the harder it was to refuse. “Who’s gonna teach us that?”
“I know a kid who knows a kid,” said Allie.
Nick looked at his room, covered in little bits of paper. If an eternity of that was the alternative, maybe it was time he trusted Allie, and took a leap of faith.
“Tell me more.”
“C’mon,” said Allie. “We’ll talk on the way to the arcade.”
One down, one to go. Allie found Lief exactly where she expected to: practically glued to the Pac-Man machine.
“Lief?”
“Leave me alone, I’ve got to beat this level.”
“Lief, this game is so old, living people don’t even play it anymore. ‘Retro’ is one thing, but this is prehistoric!”
“Stop bothering me!”
Nick leaned his back against the side of the game, with his arms crossed. “He’s found his niche,” Nick said. “Like I almost did.”
“It’s not a niche,” said Allie, “it’s a rut. Mary might think it’s a good thing, but it’s not.” Allie knew now that in the same way water always seeks its lowest point, so do the souls of Everlost — carving a rut that becomes a ditch, that becomes a canyon—and the deeper it gets, the harder it is to escape from. Allie knew it, just as she knew that Lief, if left alone, would play this game until the end of time.
“This is wrong, Lief!”
“Just go.”
She went to the back of the machine to pull the plug, only to find out that it wasn’t even plugged in, and she cursed the fact that the normal laws of science didn’t apply in Everlost. Machines worked not because they had a power source, but because in some strange way, they remembered working.
Allie thought for a moment, then said, “We’re going to a place that has even better games!”
“Don’t lie to him,” said Nick—but she had already caught Lief’s attention. He was looking at her instead of at the machine. His eyes were glassy, and his expression vague, like he was surfacing from a deep, deep sleep.
o;Yeah, but there are other ways to be alive …,” said a kid quietly from the corner. When Allie turned to him, he looked away.
“What do you mean, other ways?” asked Allie.
When he didn’t answer, Meadow spoke up. “He doesn’t know what he means.”
“But you do.”
Meadow crossed her arms. “There are…talents…that some people have, and some people don’t. They’re not nice talents—and they will bring you a world of bad karma. Mary calls them ‘The Criminal Arts.’”
By now everyone had begun to gravitate around Allie and Meadow. By the looks on their faces, some kids seemed to know what she was talking about, but most seemed clueless.
“What kind of talents?” asked Allie. “How would I know if I have them?”
“You’d be luckier not to know.”
“Excuse me,” said a voice from the back. Everyone turned to see Vari standing there. There was no way to know how much he had heard. Meadow instantly put distance between herself and Allie, going back to the game she had been playing.
The rest of the kids moved away from Allie as well, as if she was poison.
“Good news,” Vari said. “Miss Mary just traded with a Finder for a bucket of fried chicken. She says everyone can have a single bite.”
The rush to the elevators nearly swept Allie off her feet. As much as Allie wanted a bite of that chicken as well, she resisted. The fact wasn’t lost on Vari, who patiently waited for the last elevator with her.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Were you a vegetarian when you were alive?”