I couldn’t see the mirror anymore, or the shadows of my face. Just the light, and bits of images as they flashed by.
I tried to focus and make sense of what I was seeing, but everything was coming too fast, rushing by me, jerking up and down, like I was on a ride. I saw the street—wet, shiny, and dark. It was only inches away from me, which made it seem as if I was crawling on the ground. But that was impossible because everything was moving so fast. Tall, straight corners jutting out into my field of vision, the street rising up to meet me.
All I could see was the light and the street that was so awkwardly close. I felt the cold porcelain as I gripped the sides of the sink, trying not to fall. I was dizzy, and the flashes kept coming at me, the light getting closer. My view shifted sharply, as if I had turned the corner in a maze, and everything started to slow.
Two people were leaning against the side of a dirty brick building, under a streetlight. It was the light that had been jerking in and out of focus. I was looking up at them from below, like I was lying on the ground. I stared up at the silhouettes in front of me.
“I should’ve left a note. My gramma will be worried.” It was Lena’s voice. She was right in front of me. This wasn’t a vision, not like the ones from the locket or Macon’s journal.
“Lena!” I called out her name, but she didn’t move.
The other person stepped closer. I knew it was John before I saw his face. “If you had left a note, they could’ve used it to find us with a simple Locator Cast. Especially your grandma. She has crazy power.” He touched her shoulder. “Guess it runs in the family.”
“I don’t feel powerful. I don’t know what I feel.”
“You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?” John reached out and took her hand, holding it open so he could see her palm. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a marker, and started writing on her hand absentmindedly.
Lena shook her head, watching as he wrote. “No. I don’t belong there anymore. I would’ve ended up hurting them. I hurt everyone who loves me.”
“Lena—” It was pointless. She couldn’t hear me.
“It won’t be like that when we get to the Great Barrier. There’s no Light or Dark, no Naturals or Cataclysts, only magic in its purest form. Which means no labels or judgments.”
They were staring at her hand as John moved the marker around her wrist. The way their heads were bent, they were almost touching. Lena rotated her wrist slowly in his hand. “I’m scared.”
“I would never let anything happen to you.” He tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear, the way I used to. I wondered if she remembered.
“It’s hard to imagine a place like that really exists. People have been judging me my whole life.” Lena laughed, but I could hear the edge in her voice.
“That’s why we’re going. So you can finally be yourself.” His shoulder twitched awkwardly, and he grabbed it, wincing. He shook it off before Lena noticed. But not before I did.
“Myself? I don’t even know who that is.” Lena stepped away from the wall and looked out into the night. The streetlight outlined her profile, and I could see her necklace shining.
“I’d like to know,” John leaned into Lena. He was speaking so softly, I could barely hear the words.
Lena looked tired, but I recognized her crooked half-smile. “I’ll introduce you if I ever meet her.”
“You cats ready to go?” Ridley walked out of the building, sucking on a cherry-red lollipop.
Lena turned around, and as she did, the light caught her hand—the one John had been writing on. But there were no words. It was inked in black designs. They were the same designs I had seen on her hands at the fair, and along the edges of her notebook. Before I could see anything else, my point of view shifted away from them, and all I could see was a wide street and the wet cobblestones in front of me. Then nothing.
I don’t know how long I stood there, holding on to the sink. It felt like I would pass out if I let go. My hands were shaking, my legs buckling underneath me. What just happened? It wasn’t a vision. They were so close, I could’ve reached out and touched her. Why couldn’t she hear me?
It didn’t matter. She had really done it—run away, just like she said she would. I didn’t know where she was, but I had seen enough of the Tunnels to recognize them.
She was gone, headed for the Great Barrier, wherever it was. It didn’t have anything to do with me anymore. I didn’t want to dream it or see it or hear about it.
Forget about it. Go back to sleep. That’s what I needed to do.
Jump or stay in the boat.
What a screwed-up dream. As if it was up to me. This boat was sinking, with or without me.
I let go of the sink long enough to heave into the toilet and stumble back to my room. I walked over to the stacks of shoe boxes along the wall, the boxes that held everything important to me, or anything I wanted to hide. For a second, I stood there. I knew what I was looking for, but I didn’t know which box it was in.
Water like glass. I thought of it when I remembered the dream.
I tried to remember where to find it. Which was ridiculous, because I knew what was in every single one of those boxes. At least, I knew yesterday. I tried to think, but all I could see were the seventy or eighty boxes stacked around me. Black Adidas, green New Balance… I couldn’t remember.