I tried to, but my lungs weren’t working right. They’d taken the afternoon off. They’d found something better to do.
“On three,” Em said.
I missed my aunt.
“One...”
I didn’t want to die.
“Two...”
I wasn’t like Margo.
“THREE!”
I was doing this.
Em gripped my hand tighter and pulled me forward, and I bent my knees and jumped, propelling myself off the cliff with a force that came from somewhere foreign, somewhere new. The air was instantly colder, the wind rushed by my ears in a strange, long howl that mixed with Em’s whoop of pure joy, every color of the world blending together before my eyes and mixing into one beautiful blueand green and red and yellow blur until—
We hit the freezing-cold water with an unexpected jolt.
My mouth filled with salt and bubbles, and every inch of my skin was on fire, some strange confusion between freezing and boiling. And Em’s hand had slipped from mine, and I didn’t know which way was up. When I opened my eyes everything was dark. I paddled frantically toward the surface but it wasn’t the surface, so I turned around but that wasn’t the right way either. I had survived the fall, but I was going to die anyway; I was going to drown out here. That seemed exactly like something I would do. If only I had Em’s fearlessness or my brother’s strength or my mom’s perseverance or my dad’s dumb luck. If only I had something...
I almost screamed when I felt something wrap itself around my arm (tentacles? teeth?), but you can’t scream underwater, and it came out as a gurgled moan. Then something was pulling me up and up and up, and my head broke the surface of the water and without meaning to I was laughing, laughing, laughing and breathing deep gulps of air andalive, really, and so happy I could cry.
Em was laughing too, and throwing her arms around me and kissing my cheek and practically pushing me under the surface again. We swam and kicked our way to the shore and pulled ourselves onto the rocks there, both just happy in that moment to be alive and together.
Is this what you meant?I thought to myself, a questionfor someone who would never be able to answer me.Is this what you wanted me to do?
Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t, but at any rate, it felt okay.
It was late, and everyone in the house had gone to bed when Alvin crept across the hall to his sister’s room and knocked as loudly as he dared. He heard her voice like a sharp whisper inside: “Come in!”
He turned the handle and pushed into the room. He found Margo quite awake, dressed, and busily packing her clothes into her small suitcase.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“The question is what are THEY doing?” Margo said, turning to face him. “The Everlife Society. What are they doing to find our parents? Not enough, I don’t think.”
“So you’re leaving?”
“Don’t play dumb, Alvin. I know you, and I’d bet another swig of eternal life that your bags are packed too.”
They were, in fact.
He’d thought he was going to have to convince his sister.
He’d thought he was going to have to drag her out of there.
“I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more,” he said.
“Gross. Go get your bags. No time to waste.”
—fromAlvin Hatter and the Wild-Goose Chase
7
My father came into my room at midnight. I was readingAlvin Hatter and the Wild-Goose Chase. I hadn’t even showered yet; my hair was a thick mess of sea salt and wind.
