Across Carina (15 page)

After he finished the book, he cried in front of the mirror for hours. He wished to be anyone else and anywhere else. And there, in the light of his room, a shadow man—tall, faceless, and silent—came for him.

A chariot waited outside Sal’s bedroom window, and the shadow man beckoned him to it. No longer able to distinguish reality from fiction, Sal obliged. Even during the ride into space, he was thinking of how vivid his latest book was. He was eager for the adventures ahead, and when the driver asked where they should go, Sal replied, “To the gods!”

But soon enough, reality sunk in. Getheos was not the setting of one of his books. It was a real and unfamiliar world, and Sal had marooned himself there of his own free will.

He began asking everyone he met how to escape. Most balked at the idea that there were worlds beyond their own. One man tried to convince his village that Sal was mad and should be hanged, but Sal, ever swift on his feet, narrowly escaped.

He met Artemis soon after and connected her to his stories. The gods—though not his Greek version—lived, but they were not all that he had imagined.

After a year of trying to plan an escape, he resigned himself to the fact that he was stranded. He didn’t lose his hope, but he accepted his new circumstances and determined to make the best of them. Three years later, he met me. . . .

When Sal finished his story, I was staring at him, speechless. I was overjoyed to have found someone who understood my dilemma
and
wanted to help me solve it. The problem was that he didn’t seem to believe there was a way off Getheos. After all that I had seen, I was beginning to believe there was. Besides, Eden had told me so. Escaping was worth a try.

Sal and I had a lot to think about. We had a lot to do. And we were each in a risky position, on the verge of complete vulnerability and mental overload. So we decided that first—before the thinking and the doing—we would take a step back. We would spend one carefree day together without mention of the chariots or Garrett or Dion. One day before the unknown. We would clear our minds, breathe, and simply be.

Sal took me to his favorite river. He said that fresher water could not be found on Getheos and suggested that we go swimming. We were still dirty from the fire, our skin buried beneath layers of grime. I certainly wanted to clean up, but not if it involved skinny-dipping.

The alternative was no better. If we went swimming in our clothes, then afterward we’d have to walk around with them clinging to us. But Sal pointed to the cloudless sky and said that our clothes would dry quickly.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t want to get bitten by all the strange creatures.”

“There are no strange creatures in the river,” Sal said, laughing.

“But are there creatures at all?”

He ignored me and guided me to the bank. I stood back and watched as he stepped into the water.

“It’s only a few feet deep here,” he said. “And it’s the perfect temperature. Isn’t it grand?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t feel it.”

“But you could,” he said, and he smiled. “Now stop making excuses.”

He relaxed into the water, letting it pull him onto his back. The river began to float him downstream.

“Wait!” I called.

“Don’t be afraid!” he said, drifting between the rocks. “The river stays narrow like this—you can’t get lost!”

I took a few steps into the river. I could see to its very bottom, and it wasn’t deep. The water was clean and cool; it balanced out the hot sun. I focused on how it felt, how the water encased me, and my fears began to fade.

I decided to give in just as Sal disappeared around the bend. I leaned back, as he had, and let the water take me. My eyes were closed. All I could see were sunlight and shadows.

Sal and I raced each other downstream until we were too tired to even float. We climbed back up the bank, and as I had suspected, my white dress was clinging to me. I needed to get dry. In the distance I could see a field, and I ran toward it, out from beneath our canopy of trees. Sal was on my heels.

“Slow down!” he laughed.

“Never!” I cried. “To the sun!”

We found the sun in the field, and it bore down on us, penetrating our skin. It was high noon. Unfortunately, the sun was so bright that my dress now looked even more transparent. I had to walk beside Sal at an awkward angle, facing slightly away from him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, touching my arm.

I inched away, only nodding.

Eventually my dress did dry, but by then I had become rather weary of the sun. Sal suggested that we visit a nearby grove. He said that it was full of trees that spontaneously produced fruit all year—apples, bananas, mangos, and anything else that I could fathom. I didn’t believe him, but I let him guide me to the grove because I liked holding his hand. It was as calmingly warm as I imagined the rest of him to be.

“Jade?”

Sal cleared his throat, and I looked up from my thoughts.

We were standing in front of a banana tree—the first that I had ever seen. It was a strange tree with dozens upon dozens of green bananas bunched and hanging from its branches. There were so many bananas that I was surprised the tree could bear the weight.

Sal picked a banana off the tree and handed it to me.

“Want one?” he asked.

“It’s green,” I said.

“You don’t want it mushy, do you?”

“I suppose not.”

I frowned and peeled the banana, letting the peel fall on the ground.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“A gift from the gods,” Sal said.

I raised an eyebrow.

“It is,” he said. “Nobody tends to these trees. All this fruit grows day and night—rain or shine. It’s always ripe, and it’s always delicious. How else could that be?”

I shrugged and bit off a piece of my banana. It tasted better than it had looked. It wasn’t too mushy or too hard. I ate it quickly and then peered around at my other options.

The grove was lined with apple trees. Green, red, and golden. Beyond them I could see the never-ending glimmers of oranges and lemons.

“I want
this,
” I said.

“What do you mean?” Sal asked.

He stepped beside me and followed my gaze around the grove.

“I want this life,” I said.

He scoffed. “This life isn’t perfect. No life is.”

“It seems like some are.”

“No. That’s never the case. People who make their lives seem perfect are only showing you the good parts.”

“Aren’t you happy here?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said. “I’m happy most days. But I think I could be happy anywhere.”

“You weren’t happy on Earth.”

“My perspective has changed since then.
I’ve
changed. I just try to absorb the good days so that I don’t focus on the bad.”

“Well I feel like it would be easier to do that here.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The simplicity of everything! Food that you don’t have to farm! No schools! No jobs!”

“No jobs? We work very hard to live, just as you Earth people do.”

“You’re an Earth person too, Sal, and don’t you forget it.”

He sighed. “You subscribe to the mentality that the grass is greener on the other side. You always want the next thing at the next place, but there’s nowhere without trouble. Have you forgotten last night?”

“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Of course I haven’t! Don’t be so insulting!”

“Well don’t throw a temper tantrum,” he said. “Now are we going to find a way off Getheos or not?”

“So now you want to go? You want to join us earthlings?” I shook my head. “Admit it. You want to get to the other side of this as much as I do.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Sal said. “I’m not trying to be rude. I miss Earth. It’s my home, too. I just haven’t been able to find a way back. I’ve been stuck here, trying to make the best of things so that I don’t lose my mind.

“I’ve enjoyed a lot of my time here, but there’s little agency, which I don’t like. And the gods interfere heavily. They’re always getting offended and starting battles. There’s no consistency. I much prefer Earth, with its one creator.

“Now you seem to believe that there’s a way out of here. Truthfully, Jade, I’m doubtful, but I’m willing to help you find it, because I never lose hope and I like you. Just know that wherever we end up, whether back here or on Earth, our lives aren’t suddenly going to be easy.”

He tore a bunch of bananas off the tree and tucked them under his arm. Then he walked to one of the other trees and started picking apples, cradling as many as he could. When he caught me scowling at him, he muttered something about stocking up and grabbed more fruit.

“Don’t pretend that there is any more agency on Earth than there is here,” I said.

“But there is,” he said. “What are you talking about?”

I folded my arms. “Bad things still happen to good people who consistently choose well. Like my brother! Where was his agency in that fire?”

Sal almost dropped his hoard of fruit. I repressed a smirk, waiting to see what he had to say.

“Agency doesn’t guarantee a perfect world, Jade. Having it simply means that you can choose between a clear right and a clear wrong. There’s no clarity here. Good and evil are based on the gods’ moods. In time, you will see. Now I need you to explain what Eden told you about the chariot drivers.”

“Well there’s no point in summoning a driver if we don’t know where we need to go,” I said. “Unless you want to planet hop until we die.”

I didn’t like Sal lecturing me, especially considering we were the same age.

The sky flashed, cutting off any rebuttal that he had had. He looked up in surprise.

“
Now?
”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I think a storm’s coming,” he said.

I snatched a few apples for myself and followed Sal to the entrance of the grove. It connected to a wide meadow with pink and purple flowers. Lightning flashed overhead, but the thunder was a low rumble.

“It doesn’t sound that close,” I remarked.

“Storms move rather quickly here,” Sal said.

He was searching the sky, a half smile stretched across his lips. He set his fruit on the ground.

“How quickly?” I asked.

Three streaks of lightning answered me, cracking the sky into sections of midnight sapphire and gray. The thunder roared.

“I see,” I said. “That was very quick. But where’s the rain?”

The sky opened right up. It was like we had been dunked into a pool. Sal’s curly hair twisted into knots, and my straight hair matted against my face. Our white clothes bled into the color of our skin. I folded my arms over my chest and looked away.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t this wonderful?” Sal asked in the escalating rain.

“Wonderful?” I shouted. “Let’s get out of here!”

“Why?” He twirled around me, his head back, letting the rain smack his face. “It doesn’t usually rain here at this time of year. Perhaps it’s a gift!”

“How is this a gift?” I cried. “It’s going to flood!”

“The rain will bring even more fruit!” he insisted with a smile.

He danced toward me, reaching for my hands, but I kept them tucked away.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Oh, come on, Jade. What’s wrong?”

I sighed. “Fine. It’s my dress. It’s white.”

He raised an eyebrow, not understanding.

“You can see everything!” I practically shouted at him.

He laughed. “You’re fine! Even if you weren’t, I wouldn’t be so bold as to stare. Now dance with me! This
is
a once-in-a-lifetime experience!”

“It’s j-just rain,” I stuttered.

I was shivering. My dress had wrapped around me, making me cold. My skin was brimming with goose bumps. I stood there hugging myself and watching Sal.

“It’s positively pouring!” he said. “Unless you visit a rainforest, you’ll never experience this again! Now dance with me, and you won’t be cold!”

He bowed in front of me and awaited my hands once more. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so distracted by his eyes looking up at me. They were the most golden that I had seen them yet. We had just been arguing, but there stood Sal, contented and cheery. It was more difficult for me to let things go, but I knew I couldn’t resist him for long.

Finally, I took his hand. Without pause, he lifted me high into the air, spinning me several times. I held on to his shoulders as he slid me against him, lowering me. For the briefest moment we didn’t speak or move. And then he led me into a box step, and we danced through the rainy meadow.

“Where did you learn the waltz?” I asked.

“I read about it.”

“You really like to read.”

“I do.”

I tried my best to keep up. Almost all of my exposure to the waltz had been through old movies. My only hands-on experience had been in my dance class freshman year. I had signed up for the class to avoid taking drama, but had ended up just as traumatized. Every day my teacher had complained that I never allowed the boys to lead. But I hadn’t wanted to trust boys who were barely pubescent. So I had spent the next several months tripping over all my partners, unwilling to wait for their signals. Somehow, I had managed to escape with a C.

There in the meadow, I reminded myself to let Sal lead. It was at least easier to do with him. He was a natural, twirling us in our wet clothes as if the rain didn’t exist.

The only problem was that we were dancing in silence. I couldn’t think of anything to say. My mind was still on freshman year.

Then I remembered that on the first day of freshman year, in American history, my classmates and I had asked each other a series of get-to-know-you questions. I decided to use one of the questions on Sal.

“If you could have any superpower,” I asked him, “what would you choose?”

He didn’t skip a beat. “Telekinesis. I’d win in any fight.”

I laughed. “So that’s what it comes down to.”

“Well what superpower would you choose?” he asked.

“Invisibility,” I said. I had thought about it before.

“Why invisibility?”

“Because I’d be able to avoid people . . . and things.”