Dreamland (Riley Bloom #3)(38)

“You think you’re so cool, you think you’re so …” My voice broke, but I forced myself to continue. “You think you’ve got everything, don’t you? Just because you have a pretty girlfriend named Jasmine—just because you’re fourteen—that doesn’t make you better than me. Because you just wait, I’m about to turn thirteen any second now, I’m starting to figure it out, even though you’ve been refusing to tell me—even though you’re determined to keep me stuck where I am. And then, once I am thirteen …”

He was no longer listening. Instead, he motioned toward something he wanted me to see, something that made his gaze grow so sad and regretful he was reluctant to look at me.

And when I swung my head in the direction he was pointing, I froze in my tracks.

My words stalled.

My eyes nearly popped from my head.

My mouth hung silent and long.

Dreamland was in full swing, open for business again, and some prop guys were moving a mirror to a soundstage that must’ve needed it for a dream jump. They paused right before me, stopping to chat with some other prop guys who were leading a group of camels, two zebras, and one elaborately painted elephant in the opposite direction.

The

mirror

shining

so

clean

and

bright—causing my reflection to glint in a way I couldn’t deny.

I moved closer. Moved so close it fogged up in small patches when I blew on it. Tracing my fingers over my reflected contours, wondering just what exactly had gone so terribly wrong.

I’d survived a long night of terror, which had surely left its mark, but this had nothing to do with that.

It was my glow that left me speechless.

It wasn’t shining brighter. In fact, it was barely shining at all.

It had dimmed.

Significantly dimmed.

While Bodhi stood beside me, glowing brighter than I’d ever seen him. His usual green nearly edged out by blue.

And that’s when it hit me.

That’s when I knew.

The stubble on his chin—the aqua glow that surrounded him—he’d bumped up, surpassed me.

He’d turned fifteen—while I was still twelve.

“It’s not fair!” I cried, my face a raging mess of crystalline tears and red cheeks, the reflection vanishing the second the prop guys shot me a worried look and hurried away.

“I’m the one who does all the hard work!

I’m the one who at least tried to convince Satchel to stop weaving nightmares! I put myself at great risk—while you— you—” I could barely stand to say it, but I made myself anyway. “While you lounged around in a garden, reading poetry to your girlfriend!” I shook my head, my throat so hot and tight I had to force the words to come. “So tell me, oh mighty guide of mine, tell me, how is that fair?”

Instead of answering, Bodhi stepped away.

Taking Buttercup with him, trying to give me some space. Then, once I’d calmed down enough, he circled back and said, “The glow isn’t solely determined by what you do, Riley.” His gaze fixed on mine, and there wasn’t a trace of triumph in it—at least I could be happy for that. “It’s not about what you accomplish. It’s never been about that—I thought you understood?”

“Then what is it about?” I said, my tone striving for venom, but landing on weak and pathetic.

“It’s about what you learn while you’re doing it. And, I hate to say it, but you’ve failed to learn one of the most important lessons of all.”

I sank to my knees, hiding my face in Buttercup’s neck. Overcome with embarrassment and shame, regretting my outburst in a very big way. It was the immature reaction of someone much closer to ten than the age I wanted to be—I’d done the opposite of what Balthazar had told me.

Instead of channeling my fire and passion and determination—I’d succumbed to them.

I’d let my emotions control me. I guess understanding the concept and acting on the concept were two different things. Clearly I wasn’t thirteen, because I was neither worthy nor ready.

“For someone who’s so wrapped up in appearances, and don’t even try to deny it, because you know you judge people by the way they look all the time—what is it you called me when we first met?” He looked at me, wanting me to say it, wanting me to engage in some way. Wanting me to admit that, yeah, I did, and sometimes still do, refer to him as dorky guy. But I refused. I didn’t want to play. I wanted it to end. I wanted the whole humiliating talk to be over and done with so I could be on my way.

“Anyway, I think we both know what you called me, the point is—” He paused in a way that told me this next part was important, something he really wanted me to think about. “The thing that you really need to know is that appearances are really just manifestations of how we see ourselves. ” Huh?

I snuck a peek at him. He had my full attention.

“Thoughts create, right?” He waited for me to nod, to acknowledge him in some way, so I did. “And so, with that in mind, the way you see yourself, well, it has a direct effect on what you become, and how others see you.” I squinted, not entirely getting it.

“Take Aurora, for example. Aurora sees herself as not just a member of humanity—but as a part of all humanity. She sees absolutely no divide whatsoever, no bound-ary of any kind, between herself and everyone else. That’s why you see the beauty of everything when you look at her. Her complexion is a mix of all the complexions, and her hair is the same, the way it transitions through the entire color spectrum and back again. But Riley, you’re so stuck on being eternally twelve—as you choose to call it—you’re so stuck in your anger, you’re so determined to find a shortcut to get around it—that, in the end, you’re just dooming yourself. By obsessing over it, you’re keeping yourself stuck right where you are. The thing is, if you want to grow up, well, then you have to start seeing yourself as grown up.