Where Futures End (5 page)

Chess's gaze lingered on him a moment longer, her vorpal glowing bright in the dark room. Like the Girl Queen in the forest, standing in a shaft of sunlight that lent her an otherworldly glow.

Dylan tried to concentrate on the movie, but Chess glimmered in the corner of his vision the whole time. He brushed his shoulder against hers and she leaned closer. Solid, warm. He slid his hand into hers, thinking,
I'm Hunter, I'm just Hunter
.

She smiled and leaned farther into him. “My mom knows I'm going to hang out at your shop tomorrow—she wants to come by and pretend to look at the jewelry so she can spy,” Chess said, squeezing his hand.

Dylan stiffened. It had worked. He pulled his hand away, disgust curling his stomach.

Chess glanced at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

A flush crept over her face that he could see even in the dim light. She must have realized he wasn't Hunter. She leaned away, probably telling herself that the movie had made her forget who was sitting next to her.

Dylan shoved his shaking hands under his legs.
Why did I do that?
He hadn't thought it would really work. He'd only wanted to hold her hand.

He glanced at her again, but her gaze was glued to the screen.

After the movie was over and Chess had lifted the pull-down screen, Dylan carried the crate of leftover root beers to Chess's Subaru. They were pretending nothing had happened. Chess argued with herself about sentient robots as if Dylan were only an audience.

He interrupted her. “Do you think another world could exist right next to ours?”

Chess unlocked the car. “Are we talking
The Matrix
—our world is just a dream, there's another world beyond it?”

“More like different realities, but each one is real.” He set the crate in the backseat. “Or maybe there's another world and it's not real but you can still go there. Does that
even make sense?”

She nodded.
“Inception
.
”

“But in
Inception,
they weren't physically going anywhere. Everything that happened was just in someone's head.” He watched his breath come out in streams of vapor. He was freezing cold.

She reached for the door handle. “Get in.”

He hesitated. They both shuffled awkwardly.

“Go ahead—it's like an alternate world in there when you blast the heat,” Chess said with a smirk.

He slid into the passenger seat. “Did you ever read the Narnia books? Or Harry Potter?”

“Sure.” She turned on the engine but didn't put the car into gear.

“Well, that's what I mean about other worlds.”

“I hadn't thought of Narnia as an alternate universe. More like . . . a fairy-tale land.”

Dylan tried to look at the world as someone from the past would, as if he were in some futuristic movie. The half-frosted windshield. The dashboard display, all lit-up dials and slide-down switches. They could be wonders if you considered them with the right frame of mind. This could be a fairy-tale land, to someone.

“Do you think we're too old for Narnia?” he asked. “Or anyplace like that? Fairy-tale lands?”

“Reading about magic's not much different from watching movies about robots and replicants, I guess.”

“No, I mean do you think we're too old to be allowed to go there? In stories like that—in fairy tales—you have be
pure of heart
.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, smiling. “Are you trying to tell me something about your intentions with me?”

Dylan felt a flush creeping up his neck. “I just meant . . .”

She brushed a hand over his arm. “I heard why you had to leave Hevlen.”

He tensed. “About how I stole the answer key for the final exam.” He turned toward the window, saw only his dark reflection. “That was dumb. I've been doing a lot of dumb stuff ever since . . .”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . taking my brother's stuff.”
And hanging out with my brother's girlfriend
. His arm still tingled where she had touched him. “Not exactly pure of heart.” He turned back to find her staring at him.

She pulled up her sleeve to show the gold bracelet. “Is this why you came tonight? You wanted the bracelet?”

Dylan still couldn't make up his mind—was it only someone's lost bracelet or was it a relic from another land? A land no one else could see. A land that couldn't possibly exist.

He ran his fingers over the gold, almost touched her skin. His whole hand was tingling. Was it really so bad, to be here in the real world? With a girl he knew wasn't imaginary? “No, I didn't come for this,” he said to Chess.

“Something else of Hunter's, then.” Her gaze was piercing.

Dylan briefly considered the possibility that she could see straight through his skull to his thoughts.

She moved her hand closer to his on the seat. Inviting
him to hold it? That seemed like a crazy idea.

How do you know if a girl likes you?
The most Impossible Question of all.

“Why
did
you come?” she went on. “Are you here from the future to warn me of impending doom?”

Her smiled reeled him in. Their fingers touched. He finally put his hand on hers. “I've been looking for something,” he said. “But like an idiot I don't know what it is.” He leaned over and kissed her.

She pressed the front of her shoulder into his and kissed him back. Hot air roared in his ear. It was the sound of a storm or a spell, even though it was just the heating vent. The warmth crept down to his toes, into his numb fingers.

“I don't want a girl who's not real,” he said, as if that were a good explanation for kissing someone else's girlfriend.
I don't want the Girl Queen, I want you.

She looked puzzled, then smiled anyway. “It worked for Harrison Ford.”

“Not in the director's cut.”

Her smile faded. She put the car into gear. “In that version, he wasn't real either.”

The next evening, the wind rattled the windows in Dylan's house as though calling to him, but he shut out thoughts of other worlds. Chess would be at the pawnshop. She'd said so last night at the film club. Dylan grabbed a Narnia book, thinking she might like to borrow it, and tucked his earnings into his pocket; he had enough to finally buy those boots he'd been eyeing. He jogged downstairs, wondering
if Chess was at the shop already.

Mom was in the kitchen. He thought she was supposed to be at a PTA thing while Hunter ran the shop. She turned as he came in, one hand plastered over her forehead.

“Where have you been all day?” Her voice trembled.

Dylan sensed trouble. He shrank against the counter. “School.”

“Really? Which school? Because I called Drury today to find out how many absences you have.”

Dylan's skin went cold with dread.

“They told me they don't have any record of a Dylan Yates enrolled there.”

The book in Dylan's hand almost slipped free. He tucked it under his trembling arm.

“Which is funny because I remember filling out the paperwork. What did you do, pull yourself out somehow?” Her gaze drilled into him. “What have you been doing the past two months?”

Dylan looked down at the floor.
Studying on my own, in the library. Sneaking into Hevlen.

“I told you, Dylan, I warned you that if you couldn't make it work at Drury—”

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly.

She crossed her arms. “Too late. I called your dad.”

Dylan's heart jerked sideways. “He doesn't have room for me on the houseboat.”

“He'll
make
room.”

Dylan gave her a pleading look he knew wouldn't work. To his surprise, Mom's face softened. She brushed her
thumb over Dylan's brow. “Is that what this is all about?” she asked. “You just wanted to live with your dad?”

Dylan turned to stone. Once he had wanted to live with Dad, a long time ago. But now . . .

Mom sighed. “You remind me a lot of him.”

Because we're both screwups?

“He has a restless mind, like you,” Mom said. “I thought the math team would be good for you, would help ground you.”

Dylan turned from stone to lead. “Then why didn't you ever come to any of my competitions?”

Mom twitched back in surprise. “That was your dad's thing. He was so proud of how much you'd grown up—”

“But I hated math team! You're the one who made me join. I knew you'd never let me quit unless . . .”
Unless I cheated on my stats final and got kicked off the team. But then I got kicked out of school instead.

He could hear the whir of Mom's thoughts behind her eyes, the buzz of her consternation. “Everything's going to be fine,” she said, her voice strained. “This will be your chance to start over.”

“I
can't
go to Dad's,” he said. “Please, Mom.”

Don't you want me to be your son anymore?
Why don't you love me like you love Hunter?

“Dad's expecting you at the bus—”

Dylan was out the door before she finished. Down the walk in eight quick steps. What had he done? He'd been so stupid.

No, crazy. He was losing it, had lost it. Sneaking into
Hevlen, searching for a fantasy land.

But he'd tried before to prove to Mom that he wasn't a screwup, and she'd never even come to his competitions. He'd tried to forget about the Other Place like Dad wanted him to, but that only meant he was left with nothing.

Even Hunter thought he was a loser. Hunter knew, somehow, that Dad had never wanted Dylan to come live on the houseboat. And he knew Dylan was hurt enough to lie about it.

The wind chilled his cheeks, his bare arms. The trees along the street groaned. He rubbed his hands over his face. He didn't want to live on a boat, and he definitely didn't want to live with Dad. Not after that day at Alki Beach, the way Dad had made him feel.
It's time to give up those stories anyway. None of it's real. You know that, right? You're not a hero rescuing some girl queen.

Dylan shut out Dad's voice. He could go to the lake, maybe. He and Hunter had always said they'd go live there someday. That they'd sleep right in the sand, on the man-made beach.
Some people do that,
his brother had once told him,
sleep wherever they get tired at the end of the day, in places where it's really warm
. Just like in fantasy novels, where there always seemed be a pile of hay or some springy grass and a sky full of stars overhead.

He still had the boot money in his pocket. Forget the boots, he'd have to spend it on a bus ticket now. Dylan could go to the lake, try to get his head straightened out for a little while.

He could even get a job at the sandwich place they always
ate at.

He realized he was heading for the pawnshop, to where he knew Chess would be tonight. He let his feet take him there.

Through the glass front he saw her inside, rummaging through a cardboard box that had left a wide trail through the dust on the floor. His heart went brittle at the sight of her. He reached for the door handle.

“Forget the cash?” Chess said without looking up. “That bagel place should keep a tab for you. You probably account for about half their business.”

She thought he was Hunter again.

“Hey, don't forget my mom's stopping by later,” she said. “Best behavior, okay?”

She walked over to him, and Dylan didn't know if she realized her mistake or not. He didn't want her to. “I don't have bagels,” he said weakly.

“Don't sound so sad about it.” She wrapped an arm around his waist.

Dylan's heart sped up.

“Hey, you brought one of the books I asked about,” Chess said.

She'd asked about it?
“Yeah,” Dylan said absently, setting the Narnia book on the counter. He could think of little else than her hand on his hip. He prayed she wouldn't realize her mistake.

Chess gestured at the cardboard box. “I picked this up at a garage sale. Serious bargain. It's all stuff you could make a profit on, I swear.”

She held out a battered fedora. “For your brother.”

“My brother?”

“Trust me, it's perfect for Dylan. Straight out of Indiana Jones.” She stuck it on her head, tilted it over one eye. “He's got to be into that.”

Dylan felt weak all over. All he could manage to say was “Not the Crystal Skull one.”

“That one's crap compared to
Temple of Doom
.”

Dylan got a sudden flash of Hunter sprawled next to him on the corduroy couch in their living room, humming along to the theme that would stick in Dylan's head for the rest of the day. Back when Hunter would still watch movies like that with him.

“Shit, what a title.” Dylan let out a strangled laugh. Chess laughed with him.

“Don't start,” she said. “You have no taste in movies.”

Dylan spotted Hunter coming up the sidewalk with a paper bag in hand. The bus at the curb flashed
Greyhound Station
. Dylan reached for the money in his pocket, his saved-up earnings. He could give it to Hunter, use his vorpal to convince
him
to go to the lake, just for a little while.

He imagined going to philosophy every morning in Hunter's place, blowing off basketball practice to hang out with Chess. Just for a few days, a week. His vorpal could handle it if he tried a little harder.

Outside on the sidewalk, Hunter paused and gave the bus a wistful look.

Dylan's mouth went dry. Had
he
made Hunter do that?

He backed off, backed right into a shelf, scuttled along
the length of it until he was hidden from the window.

“Hunter?” Chess called from the front of the shop.

The door
whooshed
shut. Hunter clutched the bag of bagels. Dylan used his vorpal to make Hunter forget them, to make Chess not see them so she wouldn't get confused.