by Lisa McMann
He slid down to the floor to sit the night out, and when he did so, his shoe crumpled the very edge of his rolled up doorway drawing.
“Did you hear something?” Samheed asked quietly.
“No.”
“I think I heard something.”
“So go make yourself useful and check it out, then.”
Alex put a hand over his mouth and nose, as if to silence his own breath. He froze, and willed Samheed to think it was nothing.
Samheed was silent a moment, and then he got up and slowly walked through the dusky library. He rounded a row of shelves, and Alex could hear him just on the other side of the row he leaned against. He nearly exploded in fear. No, no, no, he kept repeating in his head. Please, no.
Samheed rounded the corner by the totem pole statue and stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of Alex. His eyes grew wide, scared at first, and then they narrowed. Alex, tensed and ready to run for it, silently pleaded with Samheed. Samheed stood completely still; the two boys’ eyes locked on each other.
“Anything over there?” Will called.
The totem statue behind Samheed yawned in triplicate. And then it cleared its throats.
“Just a statue,” said Samheed. “It’s nothing.” He glared at Alex for another moment, and then he turned and went back to his table.
There’s a Way
Alex’s body ached from sitting so still in one place. He felt like a swarm of bees was trapped inside his head, thoughts going every which way. Will Blair was planning to kill Aaron—not only kill him, but actually become the likeness of Aaron using his theatrical spells—so that no one in Quill would know the difference. How on earth was Alex going to save his brother? He just had to get out of there!
Hours passed, with both Will and Samheed working on different parts of the door frame. Finally Samheed stretched, groaned, and said, “Can we just call it a night? We’re not going to finish.”
“I’m almost done. See? See how the top of the frame is rising up off the table a bit? We just need to get the rest of it perfect.”
“It took us all night just to get that part done! I’m finished with this for today. I’m going to bed.”
“Fine, go,” Will said. “If you say anything about my plan, I will kill you. I’m not even joking.”
“Okay, okay,” Samheed said. His voice sounded hollow. “Relax. I’m with you.”
Will stabbed his pencil into the paper and ripped a tiny hole in it. “Blast it!” he roared. “This is so frustrating!” He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, and then began pacing around the table.
Alex froze, though he was pretty sure he no longer had control over his cramped lower half.
“All right,” said Will, still pacing, but calming down. “All right. Tomorrow we’re finishing it.”
“Tomorrow. Good,” Samheed said. He glared in the direction of Alex, but Alex could no longer see them.
They rolled the drawing and packed up their art supplies. “Back here tomorrow after lunch. We can skip training.”
“But—”
“Look, Samheed, don’t be an idiot. We need to get this done before the old geezer finds us out. You’re making it really clear why you don’t belong in the Quillitary, with all your blubbering.”
“Shut it,” muttered Samheed.
“What?”
“Nothing! Sheesh.” Samheed fumed in silence. He slammed his chair into the library table and walked out without waiting for Will. A moment later Will followed, snickering to himself.
Alex sat for five more agonizing minutes, then slowly rose to his feet, feeling the blood rushing to his legs as they prickled mercilessly.
“Thank you,” he said quietly to the statue.
The top face opened its eyes and stared at Alex. Then it nodded and went back to sleep.
When he could walk without tripping, Alex grabbed his drawing and hurried down the stairwell, avoiding the tube for fear of getting stopped by Lani. He ran around the mansion to the front entrance, where neither statue was in its usual place, and up the stairs to his room.
Samheed stood in front of Alex’s door, glaring. “What did you hear?” he whispered.
Alex, breathing hard, said, “Nothing. I couldn’t—hear anything. Too far.”
Samheed regarded Alex, almost quivering in anger. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell Will.”
Alex nodded wildly. “I know. I know. Thank you. You really—saved me. Thank you.”
Samheed seemed to relax a little bit. “Nothing’s going on,” he said. “Right?”
“Right!” Alex said. “I mean, what? What are we talking about?” He gave an anxious laugh.
Samheed rolled his eyes and turned away, walked to his room, and disappeared inside.
Realizing that going inside his own room to paste up the door painting would only make Clive start asking questions, and knowing that Samheed was safe in his room, and presumably Will was too, and remembering that Simber and Florence were both out doing other things at the moment rather than standing there to spy on him, Alex looked down at his drawing and realized he knew the perfect place to put it up in secret at this time of night.
He bit his lip, checked his vest for scatterclips, and then walked nonchalantly down the boys’ hallway, leaned over the balcony (still no statues below), and slipped down the secret hallway to Mr. Today’s dark office. The glass shield was down, and all was dark.
Once inside the office he unrolled the door and held it against the wall, pinning it with the scatterclips. After he placed the last pin, he stepped back and watched as the door and frame grew thick and real before his eyes.
Alex hiccupped randomly and gave a shaky laugh, totally giddy and frightened that he was actually, finally, able to go see—and save—his twin. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, and then reached out for the doorknob, turned it, and pushed it open. He lifted his foot over the small threshold created by the space between the painting and the floor, and stepped through the opening into a dark dormitory room.
Together Again
Alex glanced over his shoulder as he pushed the 3-D door closed behind him. This door was identical to Aaron’s regular door that led into the dormitory hallway—the two doors now stood side by side like twins. Alex wondered what would happen if the 3-D drawing were removed from Mr. Today’s office wall. Would the magical door disappear? For a brief moment Alex felt claustrophobic. What if he couldn’t get back to Artimé? He shuddered and waited for his eyes to adjust completely to the dim moonlight.
There was no way Alex could do this without scaring Aaron—he knew that. Alex stood next to the bed, his stomach flipping, knees shaking. At first Alex tried to will Aaron awake, but that didn’t work. Aaron’s chest rose and fell rhythmically.
“Aaron,” Alex whispered. “It’s me.”
The boy didn’t stir.
Alex closed his eyes and breathed in a shaky breath, and then blew it out slowly and opened his eyes again. He stepped closer and touched Aaron’s arm. “Aaron,” he said a little louder. “Aaron. It’s me, Alex.”
Aaron sucked in a breath and rolled to his side. His eyes opened. Blinked.
“Aaron, wake up. It’s me. It’s … it’s Alex.”
Aaron reared up wildly, scrambling on his backside. He let out a shout. “Who’s there?”
Alex cringed. “Shhh! Aaron, it’s Alex.”
Aaron’s mouth fell open, a look of intense fear on his face. “No! Leave me alone!”
“What?”
Aaron blinked and scooted to the far corner of his bed, his face anguished. “Stop torturing me!”
“Aaron, please—keep your voice down before you wake the whole dormitory. Listen, I know you’re scared.”
Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not afraid of a dream. Alex is dead. Leave me alone.” He spat out the words.
This was not the way Alex had thought the conversation would go. He hadn’t known what to expect, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this.
“Aa
ron.” Alex sighed. He looked around the room in the dark, his eyes having adjusted now, and found a lamp. He lit it, and a low light filled the room. “I’m not dead. I came back to rescue you.”
Aaron was silent, staring. His jaw quivered as he regained control of his emotions, and soon his face took on the old familiar serious look. His voice, controlled and cold. “You have three minutes to explain yourself before I call the guards,” he said.
Alex’s mouth fell open. “You’re jok—,” he began to say, and then he realized where he was, and that of course Aaron wasn’t joking. Aaron wouldn’t even know the meaning of the word. Alex closed his mouth and sighed. “Aaron, it’s me, Alex. Your brother. Your twin. I’m not dead. But you will be soon if you don’t listen to me. If you don’t come with me. Please.”
“What are you talking about? How did you get in here?”
That cold voice. Emotion was completely gone from his brother’s face now. Aaron wasn’t glad to see Alex. Alex’s heart began to crack.
“You’d better explain.”
Alex bit his lip. Get it together. “Aaron, please …” Alex couldn’t help it. He reached out his hand. “Haven’t you missed me? Not even a little?” Hot tears sprang to Alex’s eyes. “Blast it!” He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away so Aaron wouldn’t see, and then sank down to sit on the edge of Aaron’s bed. He took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out again. “I miss you,” he whispered.
Aaron’s face softened, the tiniest bit. “Alex,” he said, “if you aren’t a dream, where have you been hiding all this time? Did you escape from the Eliminators? How could you survive this long? This is impossible.”
Alex knew he had to do this right. It was his only chance. He turned back toward his brother when he had composed himself, and he spoke evenly, like he had done when he lived in Quill. “If I tell you, you must promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
Aaron narrowed his eyes. He was quiet for a moment. “All right.”
“I live in a secret world. A wonderful, magical world of art and creativity.”
Aaron stared. “Now I know for sure that I’m dreaming.”
“It’s a world very different from Quill. We have fun there. We paint and draw and listen to music.…”
“I have no idea what you are talking about. Or what you want from me.”
“I want you to be with me, Aaron. Remember when we made houses in the mud with the bone? Do you? That’s called drawing. You loved it, I could tell! But you were too good … too good to admit it, even to yourself.”
Something flashed across Aaron’s face and disappeared into a frown. “I had no infractions.” His voice was cold again.
“You are like me, Aaron, whether you believe it or not. If you come with me right now, I will show you.”
“Come with you where?”
“To my home in Artimé, where we will keep you safe.”
“Safe from what? And who is ‘we’?”
“We are the Unwanteds. And safe from General Blair’s son, Will, who wants to kill you and take your place.”
Aaron sat for a long minute, then turned toward the wall, lay down, and closed his eyes. “Will Blair is dead. He was Unwanted three years ago.”
“Aaron?”
“Stop torturing me. I am not allowed to be having all these dreams. I’m not the one who killed you—it’s not my fault you couldn’t follow the law. Now go away and never come back.”
“Aaron, don’t be an idiot. I’m not a dream. See?” Alex hauled off and punched Aaron in the shoulder.
“Great cats!” said Aaron. “What did you do that for?”
“To prove to you that I’m real and alive and sitting here. Why do you keep thinking I’m a dream? Have you been having the dream too? The one where we are together again, and I show you magic?”
“No,” Aaron said too quickly. “I have forgotten all about you. You are dead. We don’t remember the dead.”
Alex stared into Aaron’s eyes. “I’m not dead. And I am happy, for the first time in my life. You have no idea how happy you can be if you just come with me.”
“I don’t want to be happy. Happy causes infractions. I want to be intelligent and strong. And I am. I am Wanted, assistant secretary to the High Priest Justine! Now, get off my bed, Unwanted.”
“In Artimé there are no laws like in Quill. No infractions. And there, everybody has skills and talent. Everyone. You would too!” Alex felt the tears coming back again, and this time he cried openly, shoving the tears off his face as fast as they fell. “Quill is an evil place, Aaron. The High Priest Justine and the governors are telling you lies! And soon you will be killed, and I will be so sad.” Alex leaned over and hugged his brother’s stiff body. “I know you don’t understand yet. But I’m already so sad for you.” He stood up. “Will Blair is coming. He’ll enter Quill and kill you. The only warning you have is mine. Please, Aaron. Please come.”
Aaron sat up and shook his head. “No. Now go.”
Finally, dejected, Alex convinced himself he would get nowhere with Aaron, so he turned to leave. Aaron got out of bed and stood. “Why should I believe you?” he asked, his voice dull and even. “And where did that extra door come from?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes now.
Alex turned back to face his brother, memories flooding back to his mind. The tears poured freely down his face now, but he was not ashamed. He was proud. Proud to live in a world where people could express their feelings. “Why should you believe me?” he repeated. “Why should you believe me?” Alex’s voice turned raspy. “I should be the one to ask that of you, after all you’ve done—you reported Samheed, didn’t you?”
Aaron’s eyes flickered.
Alex watched Aaron carefully. And for the first time in his life he saw the depth of the chilling hardness in Aaron’s eyes. Alex broke into a cold sweat as new thoughts, new realizations surfaced. He whispered, “You reported me, too.” It was not a question. For Alex there was no question anymore. He stared at his brother, forcing Aaron to either hold his gaze or look away.
Aaron’s eyes filled with contempt. “Get out of my sight, you filthy, useless Unwanted.” He spat the words out like icicles. “I did my duty. You failed. I hold no blame for anyone else’s failures—not yours, not Samheed’s, not that Ranger girl, and especially not the general’s son. You are all deserving of your horrible fate.”
There was a terrible pause, the identical twins standing face-to-face in the tiny dormitory room, Aaron’s jaw squared harshly, his nostrils flared, and his dark eyes as lifeless as marbles, while his mirror image absorbed the insults, his deep chocolate eyes changing from anger, to hurt, to pity.
Alex spoke quietly. “You’re right about one thing. We are all deserving. Thank you,” he said. “You did us all a great favor.”
And with that, Alex turned to the magical door and stumbled blindly through it, into the brightly lit office of Mr. Today, before the shuddering, angry sobs broke loose.
And then large, warm arms enveloped him, the arms of the mage himself, who held Alex tightly and let him snivel on his robe and then patted his back, saying, “There, there,” until Alex could stop sobbing long enough to speak.
He looked at Mr. Today, all of the secrets of the past several months dancing around him, and he knew there was no way to lie around this mess.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Alex whispered.
Mr. Today nodded. “I know, my boy. I know. Let’s hear everything about it now, all right?” He patted a chair and urged Alex to sit, and then he moved behind the desk and sat as well.
They stayed for a moment in contemplative silence. And then the 3-D door creaked open once again, and a disheveled, dark-haired boy with eyes as round as saucers peered into Mr. Today’s office.
The Visitor
Mr. Today and Alex looked up at the noise. “Good evening,” Mr. Today said, standing up rather abruptly. He flicked his wrist, and the blackboards on the wall behind him went dead. “Do come in. Care for tea?”
&
nbsp; Aaron nearly turned around and slammed the door, but he hesitated, looking from his brother to the stranger with him. “Who are you?” he asked in a disdainful voice.
“I am commonly known to the people of Quill as the Death Farmer,” Mr. Today said. “And this is my office. Please,” he urged again. “Come in.”
“Yes,” echoed Alex in a hollow voice. “Come in, Aaron. No one will harm you.”
“Why should I trust you?” Aaron’s eyes were slits.
Alex looked away as his own eyes burned. After all I’ve done for you, you still will not trust me. He shook his head. “I’ll get the tea.”
“Mind you, don’t have it sent up through that tube,” Mr. Today said lightly. “There’s a kettle on the stove in the kitchenette.”
Alex nodded and walked across the hallway to the small kitchen. He glanced at the tube in the corner of the room but stayed well away from it. By the time he returned to Mr. Today’s office with a tray, Aaron had stepped into the office, but he had kept the door ajar and his hand on the frame. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, and that was exactly how he felt, too.
Mr. Today invited him to sit, but Aaron shook his head.
“Well, then,” Mr. Today said, taking over the conversation, for which Alex was very grateful. “I expect you want to know what this world is all about. The door onto which you are hanging for dear life is magical, as is this world you have entered. As you can see,” Mr. Today said as he poured tea and added several sugars to his own, “your brother Alex is not dead. He is very much alive, and quite happy, I presume. He misses you dreadfully.
“Though,” Mr. Today continued as an afterthought, “it appears to me you’ve been quite horrible to him at times. But we’ll reserve judgment, won’t we, Alex?”
“Of course,” Alex said softly. After nearly a year in Artimé, and facing his twin on Alex’s own turf, Alex felt self-conscious and could think of nothing more to say. He remembered his own immersion into this world, and was glad now for the fairly ordinary office environment Aaron was taking in. Perhaps this would help Aaron ease into it more slowly.
