“A minute ago you were . . .” Chess studied Hunter’s face. She looked for a moment as though she didn’t recognize him. As though she’d forgotten the difference between him and Dylan. “You seem different. Something’s missing.”
Hunter’s gaze went to the display under the counter, as if Chess were talking about the inventory.
In between shelves of hat boxes and bicycle parts, Dylan felt a hopeful stir. It was him Chess was missing. He looked at the Narnia book on the counter. A book Chess had asked for because Dylan had mentioned it.
“Do you think Dylan will be okay?” Chess asked Hunter. “Couldn’t you talk to your mom, see if she’ll let him stay and try again at school?”
Blood roared in Dylan’s ears. He thought of the frosted windshield of Chess’s car, the heater thawing his cold hands. He had kissed her. She hadn’t stopped him. She’d made a joke after he’d made that Blade Runner reference, as though kissing were a normal part of any conversation. She seemed to like it. To like him, not him-pretending-to-be-Hunter.
Hunter turned away from Chess with a glower. “Doubt I could change my mom’s mind,” he grunted. He shoved boxes out of the way and sent others zooming toward the back room with superhuman strength. Dylan realized the boxes were empty.
“Where did these bagels come from?” Hunter asked, glaring at the bag on the counter. Dylan had made Hunter forget all about them.
Dylan’s vorpal was strong today. He really could make Hunter walk to the bus station. He could make Chess forget about him, at least for a little while. Dylan might never get back to the Other Place, but he could still use his vorpal. He could use it to get what he wanted here in the real world.
The wind-chime voice of the Girl Queen came back to him, speaking words he didn’t understand. He would never see her again. Chess was all he had of happiness.
Dylan maneuvered through the shelves toward the front of the store. He stopped as Chess spoke again to Hunter: “Here, I’ve borrowed this way longer than I meant to,” she said.
From behind a stack of DVD players, Dylan saw Chess tug up her jacket sleeve and pull the gold bracelet off her wrist.
Hunter took it from her, turned it over in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” Chess asked. “Is it scratched?”
“No, it’s just . . .” Hunter shook his head, cleared the foggy look from his eyes. “It reminds me of this place Dylan and I used to visit when we were kids.”
Some invisible hand wrenched the wiring in Dylan’s chest.
Chess looked confused. “Not the lake?”
“Somewhere else.” Hunter seemed a million miles away. “It doesn’t matter. We haven’t been there in a long time.”
Dylan’s muscles all went rigid.
“I keep thinking I’ll get back there someday, but . . .”
It’s real, Dylan thought. I was right.
Hunter slid the bracelet onto his wrist. He did it so easily, it was clear he’d done it a million times before.
You found that bracelet ages ago and hid it from me, Dylan realized. You thought it could get you back to the Other Place.
But it would never work. Hunter’s vorpal wasn’t strong enough. It wasn’t anywhere near as strong as Dylan’s. Dylan could feel Hunter’s vorpal even now and it was weak as water.
He’ll never get back there.
How often had Hunter gone there when they were kids? Two, three times? Dylan’s stomach was a steel clamp. He couldn’t count the times he himself had gone.
And every time, he’d come back with a million stories for Dad. Dad would eat it up, would tell him he had a special gift. Hunter could never compete with that, didn’t even try.
It seemed so obvious now. All these years Hunter had been trying to make up for what he had missed out on. With basketball, with girls.
With Chess.
Dylan bumped against the tower of DVD players. Chess whirled at the sound, spotted him.
Dylan wielded his vorpal, strong as a sword. You don’t know me.
“Oh, I didn’t hear anyone come in,” Chess said. “What are you looking for?” Her gaze was bland, disinterested. She didn’t know him.
Dylan opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Hunter had taken off the bracelet and was shoving it into the display. Dylan pointed to it. “How much is that?”
Hunter’s gaze slid over Dylan. “I could negotiate. Someone else wanted me to hold it, but—” The smallest line of confusion appeared between his brows.
Dylan’s gone, Dylan thought at Chess. He’s not coming back. You’ve got Hunter and he’s got you and Dylan’s long gone. He thought it with his vorpal—snick-snick-snick.
“He left, didn’t he?” Chess said. “Went out on the bus. I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“You can buy it if you want,” Hunter said. “He’s not coming back for it.”
Dylan reached for the money in his pocket. He should use it for a bus ticket. He should forget about the bracelet, forget the Other Place. He would go live with Dad, start over. No more fairy tales, no more screwing up.
Hunter was frowning at him. Figuring out who he was? No, just waiting for an answer.