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  Alice had long suspected that Father was different from everyone else in Ferenwood—his thoughts were richer, his mind was fuller, his eyes were brighter—but Alice never thought of Father as a man with secrets, and now she was beginning to wonder if she’d really known Father at all.

  She bit her lip and bundled her thoughts, setting aside her feelings of unease. Loving Father meant loving all of him—his open windows as well as his dusty corners—and she refused to love him less for secrets unknown. Alice had secrets, too, didn’t she? And she was beginning to realize that part of growing up meant growing tender, and that secrets were sometimes wrapped around tender things to keep them safe.

  “So,” Oliver said as he straightened the hem of his tunic. “Shall we see about getting you that pair of shoes?”

  Alice looked down at her feet.

  Horrifying, I know, but Alice had never much cared for shoes. She’d only ever worn shoes in the winter, and when she had, they were linen boots lined with cotton flowers; soft and springy and comfortable. But it wasn’t winter, and she couldn’t imagine wearing them now. “Do I have to?” she asked Oliver.

  “There’s a tremendous hike ahead of us,” he said, making an effort to look sympathetic. “I do highly recommend it.”

  “Well,” said Alice, biting her lip. “Alright. If wearing shoes will make it easier to find Father, then I suppose it’s—oh!” Alice hesitated, remembering something important.

  “What is it?” Oliver said.

  “I haven’t any finks,” she said. Then, more quietly, “Do they even accept finks here? How do we buy things in Furthermore?”

  “You know, I don’t know,” Oliver said, smiling. “I just ask people to give me things when I want them.”

  “But that’s stealing!”

  “For me, it’s asking.”

  “Oh, Oliver,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “You’re awful.”

  “Anyway,” he said, cheering up, “I happen to have some currency on my person. Just a moment.” Oliver reached into his bag and dug around a bit. He held up a few red coins (they looked a lot like buttons, but imagine them heavier) for just a moment before snapping them all in half, releasing their magic. One fink contained only an ounce of magic, but three finks would be three times as much, and a lot could be done with three ounces of magic. Working quickly with his hands, Oliver fashioned his finks into a simple pair of shoes, which, needless to say, was a complicated task for a thirteen-year-old. Most people didn’t bother making things from scratch anymore; most people traded in their finks (red) and stoppicks (blue) and tintons (green) for ready-made products fashioned together by expert artisans.

  Alice was impressed.

  More impressive still: the shoes themselves. They were simple ballet slippers made of bright blue satin with ribbon-laces trailing like glossy tendrils. Oliver could’ve magicked together any style of shoe for Alice, but he chose the slippers on purpose; they were the dancing shoes she never had, and Alice was deeply flattered by the gesture.

  In fact, for a girl who didn’t care for shoes, Alice was surprised to find that she genuinely liked (almost loved) the slippers; but her pride kept her from telling Oliver the whole truth. So she smiled and thanked him, very politely stating that they were perfectly good (when indeed they were great), and entirely sensible (when in fact they felt luxurious), and Alice had already told so many small lies since arriving in Furthermore that she no longer noticed how easily she slipped into a few more. It had become so easy to fib little fibs and tell little fictions that truth had become gray; and Alice had no way of knowing that her one protection against Oliver (and all other untrustworthy souls) had failed long ago.

  So she happily tied her blue shoes to her feet, danced around on tiptoe in anticipation, and followed Oliver into the dark.

  Slumber really was quite tediously dark. I say this not only because it’s true, but because at this point in the story there is little other scenery to comment on. Alice and Oliver were leaving the city lights of Slumber far behind; from here there was no firelight visible, no floating bulb brightening the sky. It was dark. Cold.

  Very quiet.

  Alice and Oliver had been walking along in companionable silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts. They were heading toward somewhere or other—to a place where Alice would acquire a ruler and other miscellaneous necessities—but neither of the two children seemed, at least in the present moment, much interested in discussing it. Alice was loping along, poking at the dark with one finger and hoping to make a hole in it. She was searching for light, for answers, for Father. Her desperate need for him had led her here: wading through perfect darkness, navigating blindly a world she did not know.

  Father had left on purpose.

  Alice knew this now, and somehow that changed everything. Had Father left her on purpose? Or had he left Mother on purpose? What did all of it mean? Why would he leave their home for a land that might consume him? Why take that risk?

  For what?

  Alice’s head had filled with so many questions she’d run out of the space needed for paying attention. So she didn’t notice Oliver or the sudden spring in his step or the crooked smile on his face. Alice couldn’t have known what Oliver was thinking—so I really shouldn’t tell you, either—but I think we know each other well enough now to take care of each other’s secrets. So I’ll tell you this: Oliver was feeling relieved. He’d told Alice a bold lie not too long ago, and now he was finally sure he’d gotten away with it. Which was the lie I will not say—but Alice, Oliver had realized, was no longer immune to his charms.

  Let’s not forget this.

  Alice, oblivious, was still deep in thought, distracted only by her first glimpse of light in the distance: a single, pulsing beam that grew larger as they drew closer. Alice tapped Oliver on the arm and they were both soon alert, Oliver reclaiming his wariness as Alice grew once again curious.

  She turned to Oliver. “What—”

  “It’s the border crossing,” Oliver said briskly.

  “Border crossing? I thought I was getting a ruler.”

  Oliver nodded, and Alice could just barely make out his silhouette in the growing light. “Yes, you’ll be issued a ruler as soon as you receive clearance,” he said. “Slumber is the point of entry for all visitors. The real Furthermore is still beyond.”

  Alice’s eyes and mouth went round at the same time. “And what do I have to do to gain clearance?”

  Oliver hesitated. “I haven’t any absolute idea,” he said. “It’s different for everyone. But we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” He nodded ahead. The light was growing larger by the moment, and now it was nearly blinding. “Just a bit farther.”

  Alice pressed forward, shielding her eyes against the glare. It was nearly impossible to see anything anymore; the brightness was almost painful. In fact, Alice was just in the middle of thinking she didn’t know how much more of this she could stand when suddenly, the light went dim.

  It took Alice several tries to get her eyes to focus. She blinked and blinked until the multiple halos disappeared and she could finally be certain of what she was looking at.

  There was a single white door planted upright into the ground. In the center of it was a very large doorbell. Above the doorbell were hammered gold letters that read

  PRESS HERE FOR ADVENTURE

  Alice looked to Oliver for reassurance, and he nodded. Carefully, very carefully, Alice reached one finger forward and pressed the button. It beeped softly, like it might’ve been sleeping.

  A moment later the door disappeared, instantly replaced by a person and a desk, one behind the other.

  The person was wearing several shirts in varying shades of piglet pink and Alice couldn’t tell if the person was in fact a person (or perhaps a thing) but she didn’t have time to deliberate before it spoke.

  “Name?” said all the pink. (It
turned out that it was indeed a person, the kind who wore a powder-blue top hat.)

  Alice startled and hurried forward. She noticed a nameplate on the desk that read

  TED ADVENTURE

  BORDER CONTROL

  VILLAGE OF SLUMBER

  “Name?” Ted demanded again.

  “Alice Alexis Queensmeadow,” said Alice quickly. She tried to smile.

  “Business?”

  “Business?” Alice repeated nervously. She glanced at Oliver. “I, um, I’m here to look for my f—”

  “Fruit tree,” Oliver finished for her, jumping forward and flashing a smile at Ted. “She lost her fruit tree in the town of Slender and she’s desperate to get it back. Raised it from a seedling, you know.”

  Ted blinked at Oliver several times, wordlessly shuffling paperwork around. “Seedling,” he finally mumbled. “Yes, of course, I’ve got that here.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find all her documents are in order,” Oliver added with another smile.

  Ted nodded again, his head heavy with Oliver’s persuasion.

  “So if you would be so kind as to issue her the proper ruler and fill it with—oh, I’d say six months’ worth of time—we’ll be on our way.” Oliver slid his own ruler across the desk. “I’ll take a refill on mine, too, thank you. Same as last time will be just fine.”

  “Same as last time,” said Ted. “Mmm-hmm.”

  Ted got to work, quickly stamping papers and rifling through desk drawers, and Alice was—for the very first time—amazed by Oliver’s ability. She thought she knew what he was capable of, but she’d never really seen him in action. Not like this. This was truly extraordinary, she thought. And while a part of her felt guilty for tricking her way through Furthermore, another part of her realized that that was just the way things were. It was, as Oliver had said, a land of tricks and puzzles, and Alice and Oliver had to play along if they were ever going to make it through.

  “Your ruler,” Ted said suddenly.

  Alice felt a flutter in her stomach as she stepped forward. The ruler Ted pushed across his desk was different from Oliver’s; hers was a bleached wood, a bit shorter (but sturdier), and looked as though it’d been salvaged from a garbage bin. It was riddled with nicks and scratches—clearly used to death—but Alice didn’t mind. Her ruler felt worn and well loved and easy to hold. It was solid. Heavy. Full of time. She flipped it over to find a brief inscription carved into the wood.

  ALICE ALEXIS QUEENSMEADOW

  SNAP IN THREE IN CASE OF EMERGENCY

  “In case of emergency?” she said, looking up at Ted. “What does that mean?”

  Ted stared.

  “Excuse me,” she tried again. “What does—”

  “Your time is up when the wood loses its weight,” Ted said, not appearing to have heard her. “So be sure to get back here before then.”

  “Alright,” said Alice. “But what happens if I don’t get back here before then?”

  Ted blinked. “You’ll be arrested for stealing.”

  “What?” Alice gasped.

  Ted blinked again. “I will now ask you a series of routine questions.”

  “But—” Alice swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  “Are you a visitor traveling with a disability or a medical condition?” Ted was reading from a sheaf of paper, at which he now squinted. He shifted closer to his desk lamp.

  “I-I don’t—”

  “Are you traveling with any special items?” Ted asked. He was making small notes on the page as she answered.

  “No,” Alice said. “I mean I don’t think—”

  “Are you a visitor aged seventy-five or older?”

  At this, Alice frowned. “Obviously not. I’ve only just turned twelve.”

  Ted pushed a button on his desk and a shock of confetti exploded over his head and onto the brim of his top hat. (Alice now understood why he wore it.) “Congratulations,” he said. “Are you traveling with any food or gifts?” At this, Ted looked her square in the eye, and Alice could see a flicker of his stubborn mind breaking free of Oliver’s hold.

  “N-no,” she said, shooting a worried glance at Oliver. “No food or gifts.”

  Oliver squeezed her hand, and a moment later, Ted’s eyes had glazed over again. He asked her no more questions.

  “Don’t forget to take your visitor pamphlets,” Ted said, shoving some glossy documents across the desk. “And remember to review the Permitted and Prohibited Items list, as we’ve recently updated the—”

  “Alright, sure,” Alice said quickly, pocketing the pamphlets without looking at them. “But what about earlier—when you said something about being arrested? What did you mean by that?”

  Ted had just opened his mouth to answer when Oliver began tugging her away. “Thanks so much! See you soon!” he called to Ted, and quickly tucked his own ruler back inside his bag.

  “Best not to talk too much to Ted right now,” Oliver whispered. “The more he tries to think, the more easily he’ll be able to push through my persuasion, and we can’t risk that.”

  “Okay,” Alice whispered back, absently shoving the ruler in her skirt pocket. “But Oliver, what did he mean I’d get arrested?”

  “I’ll tell you more about that soon, I promise,” he said. “But right now we have to hurry, because the sun is about to wake. We need to head straight to the village of Still, and it’s going to be rather tricky.”

  “Trickier than all this?” she asked.

  “Much.”

  “How much?”

  “Very.”

  She stared at him.

  He stared at her.

  They stared ahead.

  The sky, you see, was ripping itself in half.

  “Run!” Oliver shouted, and Alice knew better than to ask why.

  The sky was actually ripping apart, right in front of them, and though she hadn’t the slightest idea why it was happening, she knew the answer couldn’t have been good. But strangest of all wasn’t why they were running in the face of danger—it was why they were running directly toward it. There were so many questions Alice wanted to ask, but she was doing her best to keep up with Oliver’s long legs, and she was already out of breath.

  “Oliver,” she said, panting. “Why is the sky ripping apart? What’s happening?”

  “What do you mean?” Oliver asked. “The day is over. Today is getting dressed for tomorrow.”

  “That,” she said, breathing hard, “is one of the silliest things you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Why is that so strange?” he asked. He was breathing hard, too. “Don’t you change your clothes every day?”

  “Well, yes,” she said. “But I’m a person.”

  “Oh?” Oliver shot her a look. “And people are the only ones allowed to care about their appearance?”

  Oliver clenched his teeth as they ran the next hundred feet, breathing harder than before. He was almost entirely out of breath when he said, “Alice, if you plan on surviving in Furthermore, you really must change the way you think.” He was gasping now. “Narrow-mindedness will only get you as far as Nowhere, and once you’re there, you’re lost forever.”

  “You think I’m narrow-minded?” she asked him, clasping a hand to her chest, her heart hammering with each running step. “Me?”

  Oliver never answered her, though probably because he could no longer breathe. He was wheezing more and more every second, and so was Alice, but Oliver was carrying the pocketbook, which looked very heavy; she was sure his struggle was greater than hers. But even though they were running as fast as they could, it seemed impossible to reach the horizon. Alice wasn’t sure what Oliver was trying to do.

  “When I tell you to jump,” he said, still gasping for air, “we must jump.” He glanced at her. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, trying to catch her breath.
“Yes, okay.”

  The sky was straight ahead, midnight curtains pulling apart as slivers of gold and silky blue peeked out from underneath. It was an infant sky, innocent as a day unknown.

  “JUMP,” Oliver shouted. “JUMP, ALICE, JUMP!”

  Jump, she did.

  The wind caught them in an instant, wrapping around their limbs and hushing their gasping, rasping breaths, and when the moment was right—as it seldom was—they were tossed into the center of a changing sky.

  Down they fell, from Slumber to Still.

  Two thumps later, in Still they sat. Alice and Oliver were sitting on their bottoms, legs outstretched in front of them. The wind was gone from their lungs and aches stirred awake in their joints and Alice had so much to be concerned about, but no time to be concerned.

  Still had stopped the clock.

  Winter snow and autumn leaves and spring showers had frozen in place. Raindrops shimmered, suspended, like the air wore earrings, and thousands at a time. Snowflakes stuck to the sky like glitter to glue. Autumn leaves had fallen but never to the ground, and they fluttered in the gentle wind, ornaments hung on a holiday breeze, brown and orange and red and yellow, caught in a moment that could not be forgot.

  Alice looked up and around in awe, parted lips and clear eyes, and leaned back on her hands to take it all in. It was quiet as a feather, and so calm it was tender. The sky was a smoky lavender and the sun was a yellow cloud puffing along in the distance, lending an eerie golden glow to everything it touched. Homes were made of colorful squares and triangle roofs; gray sidewalks curved down streets made of the blackest stone. Birds sat on stoops and did not sing, and it was all very sweet and all very small. Alice could see straight for miles from where she sat, and there wasn’t a person in sight until she stood up.

  She gasped.

  Stepped back.

  The strangest scene was set before her.

  Alice couldn’t understand why everything was so different so suddenly, but it had been her movements—however small—that disturbed the land of Still, and now she stood facing all of its occupants: A sea of citizens had appeared in silent protest.