Etherworld

by Claudia Gabel

  “You win,” I say, raising my hands in surrender. “You’re much better at frosting a cake than me. Happy?”

  “Delighted,” Avery gloats, smiling.

  Nora enters the kitchen, rolling her eyes and smirking. “It’s so nice to see you two getting along. I think Josh is going to be very pleased with this development.”

  Avery and I both force a smile.

  Nora walks around the kitchen island and over to Avery, doing her best to hide the limp in her left leg. In the last few months, she has made amazing progress. She woke up within hours of Elusion’s destruction and regained her mental faculties almost immediately. Her physical ones, however, have proved more of a challenge; originally, her doctors were worried she might never walk again. Josh and Avery became Nora’s own private physical therapists, determined she would get back on her feet before Josh left for college. About a month ago, she took her first step.

  Avery wraps her arm around Nora’s waist and smiles, pulling her in for a kiss. Their tenderness makes me blush a little. The truth of the matter is, I don’t dislike Avery. In fact, I respect her and will be forever grateful to her for alerting everyone to the danger of Elusion. I’m glad that she and Nora got their happy ending.

  A lot of us weren’t as lucky. In the days after Elusion’s demise and Cathryn’s arrest, the terror we’d dealt with in the virtual world spilled over into the real world. Some of the missing kids who had helped us in our fight were finally found, but they never woke up; their bodies and minds were too damaged. There were funerals and memorial services, grieving and tears. And though today is cause for celebration, there’s no denying the shadow of pain that surrounds us.

  But right now, I’m going to focus on the beauty of life, not the darkness—which is why I dip my pinkie in the frosting bowl and give it a lick.

  “So I got a text from Josh. He picked up Piper about a half an hour ago, and they should be here any minute.” Nora says this to me, although she can’t seem to take her eyes off a smitten, grinning Avery. “Have you heard from your mom yet?”

  “My dad just got discharged, so they’re on their way,” I say.

  After two months in the hospital and four months of WellCare, it’s about time he came home to us. I’m hoping he isn’t too overwhelmed by the small party my friends and I are throwing for him. My mom wasn’t too thrilled with the idea at first, but she warmed up once I showed her all the concerned texts they’d sent me over the summer. After seeing those, she couldn’t say no to having them here to welcome him.

  “I guess I should change,” I say, wiping my flour-covered palms on my pants.

  “For Josh?” Nora laughs. “He doesn’t care how you look.”

  “Yeah, but I do,” I say, brushing a stray, frizzy hair from my face.

  Josh left Detroit to start his freshman year at the University of Michigan a month ago. Although we’re texting and InstaComming as much as we can, it’s still not the same as being together every day, like we were the whole summer. He’s been home almost every weekend since he left, but I still miss him—and I’d really, really like to look decent when he arrives. Or at least not have flour all over my body.

  Avery gives me a thorough once-over. “Yeah, well, I’d recommend a full-blast decontamination shower. Just to cover your bases.”

  “Ave,” Nora says, giving her a stern but affectionate stare. “Apologize.”

  “No, she’s right; I’m a mess,” I say with a grin. “Can you guys keep an eye on things while I go upstairs?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Nora replies.

  I walk out of the kitchen, pausing to turn on the lemon-scented candles clustered together on the table in the hall. My dad used to love their smell, and my mom would always make sure they were lit every night when he came home from work. After his disappearance, she kept up the ritual, almost as if it was a vigil—hoping he would return from the dead.

  Now her wish is coming true.

  As I walk toward the steps, I hear Avery calling out to me from the kitchen. “Your InstaComm just turned on! Zared’s here!”

  Before I can tell her to accept his visitor request, the door opens and Zared peeks his head in. He looks completely different than he did in Elusion, sporting a button-down shirt and a short new haircut.

  “Zared, you can’t disable someone’s security system like that. It’s kind of creepy,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I tell him that all the time,” says a sweet, high-pitched voice.

  I recognize it immediately and smile. Ayesha.

  Zared walks inside and Ayesha trails behind him, holding his hand. The jet-black hair that was always braided in Etherworld is hanging loose around her shoulders. Her almond-shaped eyes are a deep blue, accented with a dash of purple eyeliner. She’s wearing jeans and a sexy sweater that falls off her shoulder.

  “Hey, lady,” I say, throwing my arms around her and bringing her into a warm hug. “Good to see you. How’s group been?”

  “Boring as hell, now that you’ve left,” she says, squeezing me back. “I was beginning to think you forgot about us.”

  I pull away and lock eyes with her. “That’s never going to happen.”

  After we had destroyed Elusion, Avery organized an official support group to help us Etherworld survivors get over the trauma. Since we are spread out all over the country, and a few are still in the hospital, we meet mostly on InstaComm and support one another however we can. But lately I’ve been really busy helping my mom prepare the house for my dad, so I’ve had to skip a bunch of sessions.

  “I’m teasing. We’ve just missed you, that’s all. Especially this guy,” she says, as Malik sneaks in through the front door, his brown eyes shining. He looks almost like I remember him in Etherworld and Elusion, all lanky arms and legs.

  “I’m so glad you could come, Malik,” I say, grinning at him. “It’s going to mean so much to my dad. And me.”

  He grins back and follows Zared into the kitchen, where I hear Nora offering the frosting bowl to both of them. Ayesha gives me a helpless shrug.

  “He’s still a little self-conscious about talking,” she says. “The speech therapist said he’s doing really well, though. He just needs some more time.”

  In Etherworld, Ayesha had promised Malik that she would find him and take care of him after they returned to reality, and when they did, she kept her promise. Malik was a foster kid in California, so Ayesha’s parents have paid for his care; and when he was well enough, they flew him back to Miami, where he’s been living with them ever since. Ayesha’s parents have begun formal adoption proceedings.

  “He’s starting school next week,” Ayesha says.

  “Eighth grade?” I ask, even though I already know about it. Josh and I have been spending some time with Zared lately, and he talks about Ayesha and Malik nonstop.

  “That’s right,” Ayesha says. “I’m a little nervous for him. Kids can be cruel, you know.”

  “He’ll be fine. I’ve taught him all my self-defense tricks,” Zared says, popping back into the foyer and looping an arm around Ayesha’s shoulders. “It’s nice to have her here in Detroit, isn’t it?” he says to me. “Help me try to convince her to go to college here next year.”

  Ayesha shakes her head and laughs. “I’m not ready to think about that yet. I’ve been through enough change already.”

  I know exactly how she feels. The thought of college feels unsettling, especially with my dad coming home after all this time. I can’t help wondering what life is going to be like, now that most of the hardships are behind us.

  “Make yourselves at home,” I say. “I’m just going to take a quick shower.”

  Although my mom and I stayed up late last night cleaning the house, I haven’t had a chance to straighten my room. My mom likes it neat, so I’ve done my best, but between school, visiting my dad in the hospital, and homework, bedroom maintenance has been last on my list. I pause at the top of the stairs, weighing my options. Picking hygiene first, I hop into the
bathroom, take a quick shower, and dry off.

  Back in my room, I gather up the clothes that are tossed on the floor and stuff them all into the overflowing hamper in my closet. I throw on a red sweater and a black skirt. I catch my reflection in the mirror, and I step toward it, wetting my finger and rubbing off the mascara smeared under my eyes.

  As I walk over to my closet, I hear someone say, “Hi, beautiful.”

  Josh is leaning in the doorway, wearing a leather jacket and jeans, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. His military crew cut long gone, his shining amber eyes hide behind shaggy brown hair.

  “How long have you been standing there?” I say, smiling.

  “A fraction of a second, I think,” he says.

  I walk over to him, and his hands snake out of his pockets to pull me toward him.

  “I’ve been counting the seconds a lot lately,” he breathes into my ear. “I wonder why.”

  I run my hands underneath his jacket and up his back. “Because you’re a physics major?”

  “Good guess, but wrong,” he says, bending down to press his lips against my right cheek on the way to grazing my mouth.

  I kiss him back as his fingers slip down my hips, gripping them tightly. I hate pulling away. “My parents will be home any minute,” I tell him. He gives me a soft peck on the forehead.

  “We better get back down there, then,” he says, putting his arm around me as we head toward the stairs. “How are you doing? Nervous?”

  “A little. More excited than anything else. I’m glad we don’t have to go back to that WellCare place anymore.”

  “No, you don’t. Your whole family can be here, together,” he says. “Life is going to feel normal again.”

  Normal—I’ve forgotten what that is. For months, Mom and I have been commuting every day, first to the hospital and then to the therapy center, to see Dad. At first it was horrible. He was completely incapacitated for eight weeks, and that entire time, we felt like we could barely breathe. Things got better when he was finally able to speak again, but it’s been a long road to recovery. As he gradually regained his strength, my mom and I developed our own routine and rhythm too. We even made friends with some of the staff members.

  All of it—the hospital, the therapy, everything—would have been much more stressful if we’d had to worry about the medical expenses, but someone paid for every cent of my father’s treatment, and will go on paying until he gets back on his feet.

  By the time Josh and I get downstairs, that someone has made his way into the kitchen with the rest of our friends, and he’s smiling with his best girl right beside him.

  Patrick and Zoe.

  “Hey, Ree,” he says, giving me a hug the moment he sees me. Wearing old jeans and a big wool sweater, he barely resembles his old corporate-drone self. Instead, he looks like he used to, before he was president of Orexis—mussed hair, bright hopeful eyes, and a smile that lights up the room.

  “Yay! We’re all here!” Zoe squeals, jumping onto the hug pile, squeezing Patrick and me hard. I haven’t seen her since she left for college in upstate New York, but she’s as gorgeous as ever. Her sleek hair is held back with a white headband, and she’s wearing a cute little jacket that shows off her curves.

  “Okay, Zoe, you’re crushing us,” Patrick says, chuckling.

  “Deal with it, babe,” she says.

  Zoe and Patrick spent quite a bit of time together this past summer, and although for months neither of them admitted that they were a couple, it was obvious to everyone that it was just a matter of time. But it took Zoe leaving Detroit for Patrick to realize what he had. This is the first weekend she’s been home since she left, and I know how happy he is to have her back.

  When she unleashes us from the Hug of Death, Zoe steps back and straightens out my sweater for me. “Patrick was just telling me about the observatory. Sounds like it’s going to be so cool.”

  Now that the Orexis trial is wrapping up, Patrick is finally able to start focusing on his own life again. He’s founding a massive conservation effort in the area, and in the process of building a state-of-the-art planetarium that will take the place of the old Detroit Observatory, which is now more or less a museum. I’m proud of Patrick. He’s so smart he could’ve done anything, but he’s committed himself to preserving whatever natural beauty is left in our world.

  “Did he tell you he’s hired Zared as program director?” Ayesha says.

  “No,” Zoe says, impressed. “He just showed me the architectural drawings for the building.”

  “We’re hoping to have the planetarium open by January,” Patrick says.

  “I can’t wait,” I say.

  “People are going to love it,” Josh adds.

  All the excitement is interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up into the driveway. I hurry over to the kitchen window and see my mom behind the wheel of our car. She waves at me cheerfully and I wave back, my heart fluttering. My dad is in the backseat, and I can see him looking around the neighborhood, his face totally in awe. He hasn’t seen this place in almost a year.

  I’m about to go to the door when Malik sidles up next to me. Now he sees my father getting out of the car too. And I hear him say my dad’s name, slowly and quietly.

  “David.”

  So I take Malik’s hand and smile at him. “He’s finally home.”

  “The cake looked beautiful,” my dad says, his voice not quite rising above a whisper.

  My father is seated next to me in his automated wheelchair, his hands cupped around a mug of tea. His antique watch is back on his wrist, the dial once again set to the correct time. Everyone else is milling around and chatting while my parents’ collection of jazz standards streams through the InstaComm speakers.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Did you make it all by yourself?”

  I glance toward Avery, who is lost in conversation with Nora and Josh, and holding a plate full of cake.

  “I had a little help,” I admit.

  “Why don’t you go and talk to your friends?” he says. “Everyone came such a long way.”

  “To see you,” I say, placing my hand on his. “That’s why they’re here.”

  “It’s good to be with everyone again, especially my daughter.” He grins at me, but when he casts his eyes around the room, his smile fades and I know he’s thinking about all the ones who aren’t here. The ones who didn’t make it.

  “It is,” I say. “Can I get you any more hot water?”

  “No, thanks, I’m fine,” he says, his gaze landing on Patrick and Zoe, who are perched on the upholstered bench right near the window. “Has Patrick told you anything more? About the trial?”

  “Not too much, no,” I say, which is the truth. Patrick is pretty guarded when it comes to conversations about Cathryn. I think he’s been to visit her in jail once, but even then he came back tight-lipped and very quiet.

  Actually, I’ve been tight-lipped about it too. While my dad is interested in the news story of the century for obvious reasons, I’ve only recently become open about it. At first, I refused to discuss the trial with anyone, even Josh. I couldn’t deal with the media anymore.

  When word got out that my dad was alive, journalists were all over my mom and me, harassing us for comments and sound bites. But we weren’t alone. Every other family whose child wound up in Etherworld was also hounded by the media.

  Patrick had it the worst. In fact, he actually had to leave Detroit and stay with his dad until things settled down. He’s immune from prosecution now, but after the truth about Elusion came out, everyone who had worked at Orexis was scrutinized, including my dad. It seemed impossible for people to believe that a system like Elusion could’ve become sentient by accident—and even harder to believe that Bryce and Cathryn were the only ones behind the deceit.

  “I hear the recordings that Patrick and Avery made were ruled admissible,” my dad says. “Prosecutors think that Cathryn is going to be put away for life.”

&n
bsp; “Orexis officially filed for bankruptcy too,” I say.

  “This is a party, you two,” my mom says, wandering over to hand me a plate loaded with a gigantic corner piece of cake. “No more talk about the trial, okay?”

  “You, my dear, have amazing hearing,” my dad says, looking up at her with adoring eyes.

  She gazes back at him. The glow that had disappeared from my mom’s face has returned, radiating from every part of her. “Really? Well, I also have amazing taste in husbands. What do you think of that?”

  “I think you’re right,” he says, laughing a little.

  I feel silly for thinking this, and maybe I’m just feeling a wave of sentimentality, but I hope that years from now Josh and I will be joking with each other the same way.

  “Are you really going to eat all of that cake, Ree?”

  Patrick is standing next to the sofa with his hands perched on his hips. I pat the seat cushion next to me and he sits down, leaning forward a bit so he can smile at my dad.

  “This is just five hundred of the millions of calories I plan on ingesting before the night is over, so watch out,” I say, shoving a big forkful into my mouth.

  “So Patrick, tell me more about your planetarium,” my dad says, his voice perking up a little.

  “It’s going to be great,” Patrick says, rubbing his hands together. “There’s going to be an indoor-outdoor amphitheater and a room for celestial navigation. The main focus is to teach people about the earth and the natural world around us. I was kind of hoping it might be a sort of homage to . . .”

  “Thoreau?” my dad asks.

  Patrick grins. “Exactly. I’m thinking of naming it after him. What do you think?”

  My dad beams at him, like a proud father would. “That’s a great idea.”

  “I’m showing Zoe where we’re building it tonight,” he says. “She has to leave tomorrow morning and wants to see it before she goes.”

  “Sounds romantic,” I say with a nudge.

  “Actually, she wants everyone to come. Kind of like an after-party,” he explains. “Are you in?”