“No, but we can work with Rosie,” Arself says. “You have us curious.”
Lavinia sets up the puck on the bed as she did before, and soon, once again, the colored 3-D projection of the map of Grisly Valley appears in the space above the bed. I ease onto the bed, near the headboard. This time, my eyes dart rapidly along the sight lines of every building and test each tiny corner and grate. Through my eyes, Arself scans the entire park from left to right, and then again from top to bottom. Then she returns to the Keep of Ages, and I swear she’s memorizing each block of stone in the construction.
“These are from the original blueprints,” Arself says aloud.
“Yes,” Lavinia says.
Now pay attention, she tells me.
My eyes sting for a second, and I blink hard. Above the projection from the computer puck, another 3-D map of the theme park starts constructing itself chunk by chunk near the ceiling.
Can my friends see that? I ask.
No. We said, pay attention.
Arself is creating the new map in my mind’s eye, but I can see it as clearly as if another puck were projecting it. The second map keeps filling in with more detail, until it is nearly identical to the one below it, but certain areas remain empty, like the holes of Swiss cheese, and no matter how hard Arself tries to fill them, I can tell that she can’t. The information isn’t there. When the last bits of data have settled into place, Arself fills the negative space in the top map with red light. Then she lowers the upper map down onto the first one until they overlap exactly, but now the places where the red holes were light up with red walls. Seven spaces, five aboveground and two below, are illuminated with red.
Huh, Arself says. Show your friends. They can’t see.
I shift forward on the bed, into the colored lines and planes of the 3-D projection, and I gently point into each red space, one after the other, to mark them.
“What are you doing?” Linus asks.
“This is what we couldn’t see,” Arself says. “These are the rooms with broken cameras. We never thought to search them. Anything could be inside them, or nothing.”
I sit back, staring at the seven spaces one after the other. Hope and doubt circle in my chest. My parents could be there, I think. I don’t want to think of what shape they might be in. The negative spaces are all deserted rooms in the theme park, far from the vault and anybody who might take care of them.
“Did you see the truck that brought Dubbs?” Linus asks. “That would have been Monday.”
“I noticed a truck,” Arself says. “It was dark, before dawn. I didn’t see what it delivered.”
I feel uncomfortably hot suddenly, and I press my hands against my temples and lean forward, eyes closed.
As if surprised, Arself says, You’re tired. We’ll pull back.
She glides out of me like blue water, and drains away with a trickle of noisy pebbles. I’m dizzy for a moment, and then simply weary.
The warm pressure of a hand lands kindly on my knee.
“All right?” Linus asks.
I open my eyes and meet his gaze. I nod. “She’s gone, for now.”
23
ON THE PORCH ABOVE THE CLIFF
I WILT BACK against the pillows and take a big breath. I stare at the seven places in the map. “At least now I know where to look,” I say.
Lavinia covers her mouth as she yawns. “Clearly we’ll have plenty to do tomorrow, and I for one could use some sleep,” she says. “Take my computer if you like.”
Linus rises from his beach chair and folds it. Burnham does the same. I take Lavinia’s computer and wish her a good night.
The three of us move back into the living room, but we can’t talk there because of Dubbs sleeping on the couch. I quietly set down Lavinia’s computer on the counter, uncertain what to do. Linus points toward the glass doors that lead to the porch, and we head out.
A breeze is lifting up along the cliff, bringing the rolling, eternal sound of the sea from below, and the night sky is clear. Impossibly clear. With no lights around, the stars are as brilliant as they are back home in the desert, and it takes me only a moment to locate the Little Dipper pouring into the big one. If I were alone with Linus, I might try to impress him by pointing out the few constellations I know, but I’m not going to risk astronomy while Burnham’s tagging along.
I like the cool air, but it makes me shiver, and I cross my arms over my chest. Burnham and Linus stand against the other railing, Burnham’s silhouette slightly taller than Linus’s dark outline. The waning gibbous moon hangs heavy over the western horizon.
“Pretty night,” Burnham says.
“Sure is,” Linus answers.
“You two are cute,” I say, smiling.
“Thank you,” Linus says, and his face is just discernible when he turns in my direction. “By the way, what’s this promise you two have?”
“I’m not supposed to tell my parents about how Thea’s connected to Rosie. With her dream seed,” Burnham says. “Why?”
“Just wondering,” Linus says.
“Do we have any other promises, Rosie?” Burnham asks.
“You know we don’t,” I say.
“I thought maybe we did. Relating to Atlanta,” Burnham says.
“What happened in Atlanta?” Linus asks.
“Nothing,” Burnham and I both say.
Wind ripples the hair on my neck, and I catch the strands back in my grip for a minute. I’m afraid I’m blushing again. I wish I could see their expressions, but the dark makes it hard.
“I may have tried to kiss her,” Burnham says. “Not that it matters.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Linus says.
“It does matter,” I say. “It was a mistake.”
“Does it still bother you that much?” Burnham asks.
“What actually happened?” Linus asks.
I wait to see if Burnham will fill him in, but he doesn’t.
“It was awkward, okay?” I say. “We were alone in his apartment and I had a nightmare.”
“I made her hot chocolate,” Burnham adds.
“I see,” Linus says. “Potent stuff.”
“Nothing happened,” I say. “It was just weird. And now it’s over.”
“It never started,” Burnham says.
“Right. It never started,” I agree.
“Then we shouldn’t have a problem,” Burnham says.
He’s right. We shouldn’t. So why’s he trying to make trouble?
“I don’t think you should come with us to Grisly tomorrow,” I say to Burnham.
“What are you talking about? Of course I’m coming.”
“You’ll slow us down,” I say. The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize they’re a mistake. Dishonest. Unkind. But I can’t explain why I don’t want him along. I cross my arms.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” Burnham says, his voice low.
“I’m sorry.”