by C. P. Rider
"Talk to Laverne at the One Way Café. She's the lead guardian of our side of the Divide." Grandpa Holli studied the cookie on the napkin in front of him like it was a magic 8 ball. "But getting it to your father is another thing altogether."
Abuelo bit into his cookie, chewed, swallowed. "There's no way to do it."
"Then how did I get this one?"
"Your mother took it with her. Not only that, but she gave you her name so you could use it."
"Her last name here was McCain-Flores. My last name is Thompson."
"I would imagine yours isn't listed as Thompson on your birth certificate. Maria would have made sure of that."
I pressed my finger into the cinnamon in the center of my cookie. "Okay, but she left this place, so it must be possible."
"That was years ago. Back then, the rippers were … less volatile. They've been getting worse in recent years. No one from Dead End would dare to cross through one. The last person who tried was torn to shreds." Grandpa Holli shivered.
Cindy had mentioned those things. "What exactly are rippers?"
"Tears in the fabric between worlds that allows us to travel from one world or universe to another."
My mind was working overtime, trying to rewire itself as I took in all this new information, so I chewed my cookie quietly and gave it some time. When it was finished, I looked at Abuelo Emilio, who had picked up his newspaper again.
"How did my mom manage to get through the rippers before they became … unstable?"
"Maria wanted to leave Sanctum. She was determined to find a way to see the Other. I don't know why." Abuelo lowered his newspaper just enough so I could see his eyes. They didn't look happy.
Grandpa Holli glanced over at him, then cleared his throat and stood. "Emilio, weren't you supposed to meet with Bert about the next supply run?
My abuelo folded his newspaper and glanced down at his wristwatch. "Yes, amor, I do. At five o'clock."
"Well, you'd better get going if you want to make it on time."
I looked back and forth between the two. It was obvious that my question had been a sensitive one, though I hadn't meant it to be. Even though I knew finding out the answer would be helpful, it didn't seem like the best time to dig in my heels.
"I've got homework." I stood and slung my backpack over my shoulder.
"You go ahead then, Maria. I'll start on dinner and call you when it's ready. Emilio, do you want me to save you a plate or do you think you'll be back in time?"
Abuelo Emilio stood as well and tucked the folded paper under his arm. I felt like he was watching me even though he was facing Grandpa Holli. "Save it, please. I'll be home tonight."
He walked out, Grandpa Holli following behind him. I glanced over to where Toby was curled up under the table, on the lookout for dropped food.
"Did you sense the weirdness too, or was it just me?"
Toby blinked.
"Thought so. Nothing gets past you."
The pup's tail slid back and forth across the floor in a lazy wag. I knelt to scratch his ears as Grandpa Holli strolled back into the room.
He smiled at me and began clearing off the table, picking up our crumpled napkins and cupping his hand to scoop up the crumbs left behind.
I tried to help, but he waved a dismissive hand. "I appreciate the offer, but I can handle a few crumbs on my own. You go ahead and work on your homework."
"Are you sure? You're always cleaning up."
"Oh, not always. When I retired, I didn't cook or clean for nearly two years. Emilio did it all. I'd spent forty years in a kitchen and figured that was enough." He carried the crumbs to the trash can. Dumped them and the napkins inside, and dusted off his hands.
"Forty years?"
He nodded. "I owned a restaurant on the east end of downtown Dead End called East End Eats. We served soups, salads, artisan pizza, that sort of thing. I sold the business to Chuck Stockles, who turned it into an exotic barbecue." He gave me a stern look. "Do not order the slow-cooked limpid worm there."
"I remember. Thelma Cole's beard."
"Exactly. Took her six months to get rid of it. And when the sun hits her just right you can still see a tiger-striped five o'clock shadow."
I had to cover my mouth so I wouldn't laugh.
"It's not entirely unattractive on her. She did say she would have preferred one not quite so vividly colored." Grandpa Holli didn't try to hide his laugh. He did it right out loud and wiped his eyes when he was through. "Anyway, I realized that it wasn't the cooking or cleaning I hated, it was doing it for customers. I don't mind when it's Emilio and me. And you. So, go on and do your homework."
"If you're sure."
"I'm sure, Maria."
I snagged my backpack and headed toward my room.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the Ghost of Asshat Past twiddling his fingers at me. He melted through my closed bedroom door. My smile slid off my face.
How in the world had Aedan found me here?
I made a beeline into my room, shut the door, and threw my backpack onto my bed.
"What are you doing here?" I wanted to yell, but my grandfather was in the house, so I settled for a furious whisper.
Aedan Sterling, in astral form, leaned against the wall by the door. The smile on his stupid, handsome face annoyed me so much my heart beat faster. Yeah. I'm sure that was the reason. What else could it be?
"I'm not going into the bathroom with you. I don't want to talk to you. Go away."
"Come on, Maria." His eyes went wide. "Whoa, I can talk."
"How convenient. Anything else you want to tell me, mentiroso?" Liar was a pretty benign insult considering what I really wanted to call him, but it would have to do for now.
"I didn't know I could do that here—wait. What does mentiroso mean? Because it doesn't sound flattering."
"Google it, jerkface."
"Hey." He took a gliding step forward. "Look, I didn't lie. I'm as surprised by all this as you are."
"Right. You know what? I liked it better when you were mute. Can you do it again for old time's sake?"
I sat on my bed, retrieved my calculus textbook and a notebook from my backpack. "Now, if you don't mind, I have homework to do."
Aedan sighed. "I understand why you're upset."
"Do you? Then by all means let's hear it." I sat up and folded my arms over my chest.
"You feel betrayed." He spoke slowly, as if he were thinking carefully about his next words. "You think I only got close to you because I work for the Kilshaw Agency."
"I trusted you, Aedan. I was vulnerable in front of you. I told you things I never told anyone else. We kiss—" I stopped short and gritted my teeth, looked away. "Yeah. I'm feeling betrayed."
Aedan was quiet for so long I had to check to see if he was still in the room. He was, but he looked pained, as if what I'd said had truly hurt him.
Oh no, uh-uh, I'm not falling for this. I got up and walked across the room, turned my back to him. "If that was all you had to say, then go."
A familiar breeze blew against the back of my neck. He was behind me. I knew it without even having to turn around.
"That kiss was real. It had nothing to do with Kilshaw."
There was no way I could feel his breath on my ear, his hand on my shoulder, the warmth of his body behind me, but I shivered as if I could. Then I shook the feeling away because it was all an illusion, a trick he was playing to get me to trust him. Again.
"Is that right, mentiroso?"
"Okay, that's it. I'm looking up that word when I get home."
"Here's an easy one for you. Assface."
"I deserve that."
"Satan."
"All right, take it easy."
"Son of a—"
"Totally got the picture now."
I swung around to face him. "How am I supposed to believe that your apology is real?"
Aedan's expression was grave. "I never lied to you while in this form. The agency can't hear me, so why
would I?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Hey, if I was really a bad guy, would I have helped you with the door? You wouldn't have gotten here if I hadn't helped, remember?"
Okay, that part was true. If he hadn't helped me turn the lock, the agency would have captured me with ease.
I still didn't trust him, though.
Aedan leaned down, rested his forehead against mine. As angry as I was with him, I wished I could feel it.
"You don't trust me, but you liked that kiss."
"Shut up." I really hoped he couldn't hear how hard my heart was beating. I was supposed to be mad at the jerk. I was mad at the jerk.
"Maria, how do you feel about Brussels sprouts?"
My eyes widened and I stepped back, bumping into the dresser behind me. "Okay, you need to go. Now. That's my grandpa."
"Do you forgive me?"
"Forgive you?" I threw my hands up. "Are you kidding me? Get out of here before he sees you. If he can see you, that is, I'm actually not sure how that works here. I'm not sure how anything works here, to be—"
"Maria?" Grandpa Holli sounded closer.
Aedan cocked his head, grinned. "Tell me you forgive me, and I'll go."
"Seriously? Is this important right now?" I whisper-yelled.
"Yes."
"Okay, fine, I forgive you. Happy? Now please go."
"You don't mean it."
"Of course I don't mean it," I snapped. "If you want my true forgiveness, you have to earn it."
Grandpa Holli knocked on my door. "Maria? Are you asleep?"
"Earn it?"
"Yes, leaving now would be a good start."
"All right. But I'll be back." He disappeared.
I dove onto my bed, tried to look like I'd just woken up from a nap. "Come in."
"Maria? Are you asleep? I thought you were doing your homework."
I fake-yawned. "Um, I got sleepy."
Toby yawned for real. He'd slept through my entire conversation with Aedan. What happened to barking when the Kilshaw Agency was near? Come to think of it, he'd never barked when Aedan visited me in our motel rooms either.
"How do you feel about Brussels sprouts?"
"I like them." I added another fake yawn for good measure.
"Good. The garden had an abundance of the things this year and we need to get rid of them. See you in a few minutes for dinner."
"Okay, Grandpa."
Toby followed him out. I took one last look around my room for any ghosts or other transparent lurkers. My gaze snagged on the picture of Dad, Toby, and me I'd propped against my books on my nightstand.
Every time I looked at it, I got a pain in my heart. I missed him so much. I had to find a way to get him to Dead End—or get myself back home.
I'd ask about it at dinner. Surely my grandpas would help me find a way.
12
They froze me out.
I went after Grandpa Holli first, who told me not to worry because everything would work out, that everything was fine, and did I like the chicken?
Later that evening, I approached Abuelo Emilio. He didn't even lower his stupid newspaper—a different one called Beyond's Edge Courier. He responded to my questions about how to get home with grunts and shakes of the Courier.
Frustrated, angry, and bored without my cell phone—it had been days since I'd charged it and it was dead, plus no service—I decided to take Toby for a walk.
"Sorry about your blog going offline," I said.
Toby shook and trotted down the sidewalk after me. He didn't seem as upset as I was about not having a cell phone or Internet access. Then again, I was the one who had to type out all his blog entries. He was the idea dog.
We walked a half mile until we were near the outskirts of town. I realized I was heading for the One Way Café. Maybe I didn't yet have a way to send Dad a café card, but I was going to make sure I had it when the opportunity to get it to him came up.
I mean, how could there be no way to return to my own world? It didn't make sense. If there was a way in, there had to be a way out. I just needed to find it.
My grandfathers were not going to help me, that much was obvious. Maybe Cindy knew something. Or Laverne. Or that guy I met in the café—Samuel.
Toby and I walked until the road ended and the café loomed ahead, the waning sun reflecting off its shiny aluminum siding. I wondered if Laverne got much business. It was nearly seven o'clock, dinner time for some people, but the small gravel lot near the entrance was empty.
I stomped on the bottom step leading up to the café, shaking the desert dust off my shoes so I didn't track it inside. Toby did a polite all-over-body-shake and I pushed open the door.
The café was empty. The jukebox in the back was silent. No one sat at the counter or in any of the booths, and Laverne was nowhere to be seen. Toby and I took a seat at the booth where I'd eaten enough pancakes to make a lumberjack ashamed and waited.
Laverne emerged from the back, which I assumed was the kitchen, and hustled to our table. "Hello again, Mr. Toby and Miss Maria."
"Hi, Laverne. Do you work here all the time?" I asked.
"Oh, no. I was just going home—I live behind the café in one of the apartments."
I'd seen the outside of the café, and there didn't appear to be anything like an apartment building out there. I hadn't even seen a toolshed. Maybe she lived in a room behind the café. A studio apartment. Yeah, that made sense.
"My niece is usually here at this time, but she was feeling under the weather, so I'm filling in while she takes a nap in her apartment."
"Behind the café?"
"Yes."
Mayor Docket and his existence in two worlds at once came to mind. Parallel universes seemed to be a common thing here. That was a good thing. A very good thing.
"Can I get you something to eat?"
"Just a Dr. Pepper for me, thank you."
Laverne looked at Toby. He didn't seem to have any problem communicating on his own, so I left him to it.
He barked twice and Laverne scrawled down whatever it was he was saying on her order pad. She glanced up at me. "We don't have anything called Dr. Pepper here, but we have soda pop. That okay with you?"
"Sure."
She brought my soda, and a bowl of water with ice cubes for Toby. Spoiled dog. While he slurped, I tossed my card on the table and watched it light up.
Laverne perched on a bar stool facing our booth. "I imagine you didn't come here for the pop. Not many townsfolk here this time of day."
I pocketed my card and took a sip of my drink. It wasn't Dr. Pepper, but it wasn't bad. "I noticed that. Why? It's not that late."
"Not good to be outside the city limits after the sun goes down. Danger lurks in the dunes. In the mountains. In the Beyond." Laverne said this with a faraway, spacey look in her eyes.
"What sort of danger?"
"Marauders. Wizards. Other things." She stood and peered out the window, arms akimbo. "Better drink up and get going. Sun's going down fast tonight."
"Okay. Laverne?"
"Drink."
I slurped half my soda in one gulp. "Look, I need a café card. Can I get it here?"
She reached into her pocket, pulled out her pad and pencil stub. "Name?"
"Robert Thompson."
"Relationship to you?"
"He's my dad." My sadness must have leaked into my voice, because Laverne's gruff expression softened.
"Maria, you do understand that the problem isn't getting a café card."
"I've heard that."
"There's a reason this place is called the One Way Café. It's nearly impossible to breach the Divide between this world and yours."
"But what about parallel universes? Like Mayor Docket … and your apartments?"
She sighed. "The apartments exist in a pocket dimension, not a parallel universe. Mayor Docket's universe is easily accessible from Sanctum—as are thousands of others. Just… not yours. I'm sorry."
"But I have to d
o something." I played with my straw. "I can't leave him there alone."
She gave me a long look, then put the pad and pencil in the pocket on her left hip and withdrew a white card from her right pocket. "You'll have to load it with funds from the bank if you want to use it to pay for meals and such, but if you can get it through the Divide, it'll work to bring your dad over."
Her forehead creased as she picked up my soda glass and Toby's half-empty dog bowl. "Now, you two get going. I don't like the looks of that dust cloud rolling this way. It's got some evil in it."
Although I thought it was strange that Laverne was so freaked by a dust storm—I was raised in a desert town, they happened all the time—her worry was contagious. I hurried out of the café and toward town, anxious to get to the paved road and sidewalks.
The sky grew darker by the second and, with it, my fear. Grains of sand stung my skin, my hair blew into my mouth, and dirt assaulted my eyes. Evil dust cloud was right. Blackened clouds loomed over the landscape like an omen of bad will.
Scooping Toby up, I shouldered through the worst of the wind and ran to the main road. I'd just set my pup back on his feet when there was a loud belching sound.
"Gross, Toby."
He darted to a small mound of sand to my right, showed his teeth, and growled. The fur on his back stood on end. The mound began to tremble. Toby gave it one last snarl and ran behind me. He was shaking so hard his growls sounded like underwater gurgles. With an explosive thrust, a man-sized, barrel-chested, translucent-skinned worm burst out of the sand and slammed onto the blacktop in front of us.
I stared at the hideous thing. "No."
The worm hissed. Its breath was spoiled milk laced with cat urine. I had to fight not to throw up.
The worm wriggled closer, the sound like someone stirring a bowl of thick cottage cheese. Though it had no eyes, I could tell it was focused on Toby by the way it slithered in his direction.
"What do you want?"
The thing let out a squeak that sounded like a scream, strident and piercing, and undulated toward us.
"Stay away." I swung my hand toward my dog, who was quivering against my calf. "Don't touch him." If the worm heard me, it didn't act like it. "Don't touch him," I yelled as I backed away, shooing Toby behind me.
