Today, though, Quinn was on a mission: she had been scouring the other realm since her return for the pool that Betty had heard about, and she had finally found what she was looking for. She had gathered the necessary provisions and set out across the desert on Toast, a remarkably docile white rhinoceros that Meelie had helped her train her first week in the other realm. Toast seemed to enjoy having a rider; he moved so deftly across the barren plains that Quinn often sat straight up, holding onto nothing but the butterfly net, which had become her security blanket of sorts. Now that she knew where the crop of heart flowers was, she didn’t use the butterflies as a guide. Instead, she was slowly collecting each new butterfly she encountered for a rudimentary butterfly garden in one of the central cave’s chambers. Aimee had helped weave a barrier to house the butterflies, and Martha had been gathering flowers from various parts of the cave to fill the space.
At the moment, Meelie was on her way to check on Riley. Quinn would be able to see her family in the magical pool, but she had asked Meelie to visit for a fuller look at Riley’s health. Now that Meelie had overcome her fear of returning, she was happy to oblige. In a way, saving Riley seemed to have helped Meelie make peace with not returning to her own sister. Quinn would have gone herself, but Aimee’s theory had been correct: since Quinn had died in the other realm, she would never again be able to pass through the portals and return home. The realization had been a hard one to accept, and Quinn had picked up several bruises diving into various pools of water, only to find the bottom of every one. As she and Toast approached the pool, her throat began to ache with the now familiar pain of swallowed sadness.
She jumped down from Toast’s back and walked over to the pool, which had a jade tint unlike anything she had seen, on Earth or in the other realm. She had asked around, and several people had heard that the pool acted like a channel between life at home and life in the other realm. As such, Quinn would have to find a way to connect her and Riley. She sat by the water’s edge and began to tell a story, one of the many she had written and left for Riley. The words caused the surface of the water to ripple, as though she were skipping rocks across the pool. The jade intensified until the entire pool looked like a brilliant gem. Quinn heard a low hum all around her, and the pool went black.
She slapped the surface instinctively, the way she would have smacked her television back home for cutting out. And then, she heard voices. She couldn’t see anything in the water, but she was certain that the sound was emanating from the pool. The noise crescendoed to a roar. That’s when Quinn realized she was listening to a school gathering. Amongst the voices, she could pick out a few she recognized from class. They were presenting their research. She must be tuning into the evening part of the project. But why? The pool was supposed to connect her directly to Riley, and Riley hadn’t been a part of the class. Quinn couldn’t understand what would compel her to attend the presentations.
Light rose from the water, forming a picture of the auditorium. Quinn scanned the room, which was lined with classmates gesturing toward trifold poster boards and responding to parent questions. She couldn’t see Riley anywhere, but she did see Meelie standing to the right of the exit doors. Her eyes were fixed on something that Quinn couldn’t see. She got up and circled the pool, but the image didn’t shift. Whatever, or whoever, Meelie saw was a mystery to Quinn. What she could see, though, were Meelie’s eyes. They were bloodshot and waterlogged. Quinn hadn’t known Meelie long, yet she had come to accept that her new friend kept most of her emotions to herself. The image in front of her was in stark contrast to the staunchly guarded woman in her mind.
“Good evening, and thank you for giving me a space to speak.”
The voice was amplified by a microphone, but still plagued by a sort of smallness. Nevertheless, the milling crowd of parents and students stopped talking and turned in the direction that Meelie had been staring.
“You all know my sister Quinn disappeared two weeks ago. Or maybe you don’t. I don’t know. I guess Quinn didn’t have many friends because of me.”
Quinn felt a hard lump forming in her throat.
“The police say that she drowned, because they found some of her things in the river. You know, she was researching a woman named Amelia Earhart for tonight, and Earhart went missing over water, too. Her body was never found. Neither was my sister’s. When I was in the hospital the last time, we read about some others: a girl from France and some kids whose house burned up; they disappeared, too. No bodies. I was thinking about that day and going through Quinn’s backpack. I didn’t really know what to say today, but I found some notes she left:
“When I look around this room, I see the people we read about in our books talking to parents, telling stories about their lives. We say that people die when they leave us, but if that’s true, then what do we name the memories that still make us feel? What do we name the impersonations here tonight? Ghosts? No. Amelia Earhart is not a ghost. When we love someone, we aren’t haunted by their absence. We are, some of us, more hollow. More empty. But we aren’t haunted. Ghosts are a nuisance. An unwanted presence.
“I want nothing more than to feel Quinn beside me every day. She is not my ghost. But I am haunted. My ghost is the heart inside me. You see, I was supposed to die a few weeks ago. I have been dying since the day I was born. Now I have no sister, and the doctors tell me I am healed. That I will live a long life. Quinn is gone, and I am here. That is my ghost. That is my truth, the one that won’t die.
“I don’t even really know what I’m trying to say. I guess I just need you to know that Quinn, like the people you’re studying right now, lives in us all. She lives in the stories we tell. So tell her story. Tell everyone.”
Riley stopped speaking abruptly. Quinn saw Meelie’s eyes get wide, and then her friend darted out of the auditorium. Quinn stared into the pool, willing the scene to shift so that she could see Riley’s face. Quinn’s cheeks were wet with tears, and her throat throbbed. She put a hand against the surface of the water, careful not to ripple the image. The air around her began to hum. Startled, she jerked her hand back. The hum stopped. Quinn tested the water, this time with both hands. Again, the air hummed. The sky on either side blurred, and then she was standing at the back of the auditorium. Riley looked right at her, but didn’t react. Quinn stepped closer. Riley looked down, thumbing something in her hand. Quinn watched as she held a small brass kaleidoscope out to the crowd, the one with two wheels and stained glass. Quinn put a hand around the teleidoscope at her chest, the one Martha had given her when she came back to the other realm.
Riley looked past her, eyes still locked on the spot where Meelie had been. “Tell everyone that I don’t blame my sister for leaving, that I know she’s okay. Wherever she is, I know she has a good reason for not coming home.”
Quinn walked right up to Riley and put a hand to her sister’s chest. “You are my home, sis. You always were.”
Riley blinked back the swelling in her eyes.
“Goodbye, Riley.” Quinn lifted her hands from the water.
“Goodbye, sis,” Quinn heard her sister say. “I’ll see you soon.”
The pool went dark, and the desert was thick with absence. Quinn stepped toward Toast, leaning into the rhinoceros’s shoulder. Instinctively, Toast wrapped his neck around Quinn’s body and lowered his head. They stood like that until the moons began to peek through the clouds. Then Quinn climbed onto Toast’s back, gripped her butterfly net, and set out for the caves. If she made good time, she would arrive just ahead of Meelie, and the two certainly had plenty to talk about.
Ronnie K. Stephens is a full-time educator and father of five, with a strong interest in poetry, fiction, and activism. He recently completed an MA in creative writing and an MFA in fiction at Wilkes University. During his time at Wilkes, he was awarded two scholarships and won the Etruscan Prize. Stephens has published two full-length poetry collections, Universe in the Key of Matryoshka and They Rewrote Themselves Legendary, with Timber M
ouse Publishing out of Austin. The Kaleidoscope Sisters is his first novel.
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