Blue Moon (17 page)

She turns, nodding when she sees it.

“Don't go near it. It leads to the
other side.
That's the bridge Riley told you about, the one I finally convinced her to cross—after a little coaxing from you.”

Ava stares at it, her eyes narrowed as she says, “I wonder what happens if you try to go across? You know, without dying, without that kind of invite?”

But I just shrug, not having nearly enough curiosity to ever try and find out. “I wouldn't recommend it,” I say, seeing the look in her eyes and realizing she's actually weighing her options, wondering if she should try to cross it, out of sheer curiosity if nothing else. “You might not come back,” I add, trying to relay the potential seriousness since she doesn't seem to get it. But I guess Summerland has that effect—it's so beautiful and magical it tempts you to take chances you normally wouldn't.

She looks at me, still not fully convinced but too eager to see more than to just sit around here. So she links her arm through mine, and says, “Where do we begin?”

Since neither of us has any idea just where to begin—we begin by walking. Heading through the meadow of dancing flowers, making our way through the forest of pulsating trees, crossing the rainbow-colored stream filled with all manner of fish, until finding a trail that, after curving and winding and meandering forever, leads us to a long empty road.

But not a yellow brick road or one paved with gold. This is just a regular street, made of everyday asphalt, like the kind you see at home.

Though I have to admit that it's better than the streets at home because this one is clean and pristine, with no potholes or skid marks. In fact, everything around here appears so shiny and new you'd think it'd never been used, when the truth is—or at least the truth according to Ava—Summerland is older than time.

“So what exactly do you know about these temples, or Great Halls of Learning as you call them?” I ask, gazing up at an impressive white marble building with all sorts of angels and mythical creatures carved into its columns and wondering if it could be the
place that we seek. I mean, it looks fancy yet serious, impressive but not exactly formidable, everything I imagine a hall of higher learning to be.

But Ava just shrugs as though she's no longer interested. Which is a tad more noncommittal than I'd like.

She was so sure the answer lay here, was so insistent on binding our energy and traveling together, but now that we've made it, she's a little too enamored with the power of instant manifestation to concentrate on anything else.

“I just know they exist,” she says, her hands held out before her, turning them this way and that. “I've come across their mention many times in my studies.”

And yet, all you seem to be studying now are those large jewel-encrusted rings you've manifested onto your fingers!
I think, not stating the actual words but knowing that if she's interested enough to look, she'll see the annoyance stamped on my face.

But she just smiles as she manifests an armful of bangles to match her new rings. And when she starts gazing down at her feet, in pursuit of new shoes, I know it's time to rein her back in.

“So what should we do when we get there?” I ask, determined to get her to focus on the true reason we're here. I mean, I did my part, so the least she could do is reciprocate and help me find the way. “And what do we research once we find it? Sudden headaches? Extreme bouts of uncontrollable sweatiness? Not to mention, will they even let us in?”

I turn, fully expecting a lecture on my persistent negativity, my rampant pessimism that vanishes for a while but never fully subsides—only to find that she's no longer there.

And I mean, she's completely, unmistakably, one hundred percent
not
present!

“Ava!” I call, turning around and around, squinting into the shimmering mist, the eternal radiance that emanates from nowhere
specific but manages to permeate everything here. “Ava, where are you?” I shout, running down the middle of the long, empty road, stopping to peer into windows and doorways, and wondering why there are so many stores and restaurants and art galleries and salons when there's no one around to use them.

“You won't find her.”

I turn, seeing a petite dark-haired girl standing behind me. Her stick-straight hair hanging to her shoulders, and her nearly black eyes framed by bangs so severe they seem slashed with a razor.

“People get lost here. Happens all the time.”

“Who—who are you?” I say, taking in her starched white blouse, plaid skirt, blue blazer, and kneesocks, the outfit of your typical private school girl, but knowing this is no ordinary student—not if she's here.

“I'm Romy,” she says. Except that her lips didn't move. And the voice that I heard came from behind me.

And when I spin around, I find the same exact girl laughing as she says, “And she's Rayne.”

I turn again, seeing Rayne still behind me as Romy comes around to join her. Two identical girls standing before me, everything about them—their hair, their clothes, their faces, their eyes—exactly the same.

Except for the kneesocks. Romy's have fallen, while Rayne's are pulled tight.

“Welcome to Summerland.” Romy smiles, as Rayne looks me over with suspicious narrowed eyes. “We're sorry about your friend.” She nudges her twin, and when she doesn't respond, she says, “Yes, even Rayne is sorry. She just won't admit it.”

“Do you know where I can find her?” I ask, gazing between them and wondering where they could've come from.

Romy shrugs. “She doesn't want to be found. So we found you instead.”

“What're you talking about? And where did you even come from?” I ask, never having seen another person on my previous visits here.

“That's only because you didn't
want
to see another person,” Romy says, answering the thought in my head. “You didn't
desire
it until now.”

I look at her, my face blank, my mind spinning with the realization—
she can read my thoughts?

“Thoughts are energy.” She shrugs. “And Summerland consists of rapid, intense, magnified energy. So intense you can read it.”

And the moment she says it, I remember my visit with Damen, and how we were able to communicate telepathically. But at the time, I thought it was just us.

“But if that's true, then why wasn't I able to read Ava's mind? And how was she able to just disappear like that?”

Rayne rolls her eyes, while Romy leans forward, her voice soft and low as though speaking to a small child even though they appear younger than I. “Because you have to
desire
it in order for it to be.” Then, seeing the blank look on my face, she explains, “Within Summerland exists the possibility for everything.
For all things
. But you must first desire it to bring it into existence. Otherwise it remains only a possibility—one of many possibilities—unmanifested and incomplete.”

I gaze at her, trying to make sense of her words.

“The reason you didn't see people before is because you didn't want to. But now, look around and tell me what you see.”

And when I look around, I see that she's right. The shops and restaurants are now filled with people, a new art installation is being hung in the gallery, and a crowd gathers on the museum steps. And as I focus on their energy and thoughts, I realize just how diverse this place really is, every nationality and religion is present and accounted for, with everyone coexisting in peace.

Wow,
I think, my eyes darting everywhere, trying to take it all in.

Romy nods. “And so the moment you desired to find your way to the temples, we showed up to help you. While Ava faded away.”

“So I
made
her disappear?” I ask, beginning to grasp the truth of all this.

Romy laughs, while Rayne shakes her head and rolls her eyes, looking at me like I'm the densest person she's ever met. “Hardly.”

“So all of these people—” I motion toward the crowd. “Are all of them—
dead
?” I direct my question at Romy, having given up on Rayne.

Watching as she leans in and whispers into her sister's ear, causing Romy to pull away and say, “My sister says you ask too many questions.”

Rayne scowls, popping her hard on the arm with her fist, but Romy just laughs.

And as I gaze at the two of them, taking in Rayne's steady glare and Romy's insistence on speaking in riddles, I realize that as entertaining as it's been, they're starting to get on my nerves. I've got things to do, temples to find, and engaging in this kind of confusing banter is turning into a big waste of time.

Remembering too late that they both can read my thoughts when Romy nods and says, “As you wish. We'll show you the way.”

 

They lead me down a series of streets,
the two of them marching side by side, their stride so measured and quick I struggle to follow. We pass vendors peddling all types of wares—everything from hand-dipped candles to small wooden toys—their patrons lining up for those carefully wrapped goods and offering only a kind word or smile in exchange. We walk alongside fruit stands, candy stores, and a few trendy boutiques, before pausing on a corner as a horse-drawn carriage crosses our path followed by a chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce.

And just as I'm about to ask how all of these things can exist in one place, how seemingly ancient buildings can sit beside the sleekest, most modern designs, Romy looks at me and says, “I already told you. Summerland contains the possibility of
all things
. And since different people desire different things, most everything you can think of has been brought into existence.”

“So all of this was
manifested
?” I say, gazing around in awe, as Romy nods and Rayne storms straight ahead. “But who's manifesting these things? Are they day-trippers like me? Are they living or dead?” I glance between Romy and Rayne, knowing my question applies to them too, because even though they
appear
to be normal on
the outside, there's something very strange about them, something almost—eerie—and
timeless
as well.

And just as my gaze settles on Romy, Rayne decides to address me for the first time today, saying, “You desired to find the temples and so we are helping you. But make no mistake, we are under no obligation to answer your questions. Some things in Summerland are just none of your business.”

I swallow hard, looking at Romy and wondering if she'll step in and apologize for her sister, but she just leads us down another well-populated street, into an empty alleyway, and onto a quiet boulevard where she stops before a magnificent building.

“Tell me what you see,” she says, as both she and her sister peer closely at me.

I gawk at the glorious building before me, my eyes wide as my mouth drops in awe, taking in its beautiful elaborate carvings, its grand sloping roof, its imposing columns, its impressive front doors—all of its vast and varied parts rapidly changing and shifting, conjuring images of the Parthenon, the Taj Mahal, the great pyramids of Giza, the Lotus Temple, my mind reeling with imagery as the building reshapes and reforms, until all of the world's greatest temples and wonders are clearly represented in its ever-changing façade.

I see—I see everything!
I think, unable to utter the words. The awesome beauty before me has rendered me speechless.

I turn to Romy, wondering if she sees what I see, and watching as she pops Rayne hard on the arm when she says, “I
told
you!”

“The temple is constructed from the energy, love, and knowledge of
all good things.
” She smiles. “Those who can see that are permitted to enter.”

The second I hear that, I sprint up the grand marble steps, eager to get past this glorious façade and see what's inside. But
just as I reach the huge double doors, I turn back to say, “Are you coming?”

Rayne just stares, her eyes narrowed, suspicious, wishing they'd never bothered with me. While Romy shakes her head and says, “Your answers lie inside. You're no longer in need of us now.”

“But where do I start?”

Romy peers at her sister, a private exchange passing between them. Then she turns to me and says, “You must seek the akashic records. They are a permanent record of everything that has ever been said, thought, or done—or ever will be said, thought, or done. But you will only find them if you are meant to. If not—” She shrugs, wishing to leave it right there, but the look of sheer panic in my eyes drives her to continue. “If you are not meant to know, then you will not know. It's as simple as that.”

I stand there, thinking how that wasn't the least bit reassuring, and feeling almost relieved when they both turn to leave.

“And now we must go, Miss Ever Bloom,” she says, using my full name even though I'm sure I never revealed it. “Though I'm sure we'll meet again.”

I watch as they move away, remembering one last question when I call, “But how do I get back? You know, once I'm done here?”

Watching as Rayne's back stiffens and Romy turns, a patient smile spread across her face as she says, “The same way you arrived. Through the portal, of course.”

 

The moment I turn toward the door it opens before me.
And since it's not one of those automatic doors like the kind they have in supermarkets, I'm guessing it means I'm worthy of entering.

I step into a large spacious entry filled with the most brilliant warm light—a luminous showering radiance that, like the rest of Summerland, permeates every nook and cranny, every corner, every space, allowing no shadows or dark spots, and doesn't seem to emanate from any one place. Then I move along a hall flanked on either side by a row of white marble columns carved in the style of ancient Greece, where robe-wearing monks sit at long carved wooden tables, alongside priests, rabbis, shamans, and all manner of seekers. All of them peering at large crystal globes and levitating tablets—each of them studying the images that unfold.