Furthermore(20)

“What do you care? I can live in a hole if I please.”

“Alice, I don’t care what the Elders say. I know what you can do. Just because you chose the wrong talent to surrender—”

“I did not choose the wrong talent!”

“Certainly you did,” he said, one eyebrow raised. “I can’t even comprehend it. I thought for sure you would’ve—”

“You hush your mouth, Oliver Newbanks!”

“What? Why?”

“That is not a talent,” Alice said firmly.

“Not a talent!” Oliver balked. “Do you know what I would give to be able to do what you do?”

“Everyone is born with color,” Alice said carefully. “Mine is simply contained on the inside. That is not talent, it is biology.”

“That is a biology the rest of us don’t have,” Oliver pointed out.

“I dance,” she said to him. “That is what I do. That is my gift. I feel it, Oliver. I feel it in my heart. It’s what I’m meant to do.”

“I disagree.”

“It’s not your place to have an opinion.”

“Well, clearly your opinion did not work in your favor—”

She kicked him in the shin.

“Good grief, Alice!” Oliver yelped, grabbing at his leg. “What is the matter with you? I’m only trying to help.”

Alice bit her lip and looked away. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t mean to be cruel. It’s just that my heart is so thoroughly broken I fear I am beyond repair.”

Oliver seemed slightly mollified. He sighed. “You don’t have to be so dramatic,” he said. “Besides, if you’re looking for adventure, my offer still stands. I still need your help.”

“I don’t want to help you.”

“Why?” he said, exasperated. “Why on earth not? Would it really be so terrible?”

“Probably, yes.”

“But for your father?” he said desperately. “Would it be so terrible to also find your father?”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t just bring him home,” Alice said, fists clenching. “If you know where he is—”

Oliver let out a frustrated cry and threw his hands up. “You don’t understand!” he said. “It’s not that simple—I can’t just bring him back, not without you!”

“And why not?” she demanded. “Maybe if you first brought him back I would actually want to help you! Did you never think of that? That maybe kindness would work better than cruelty? Did you ever consider that maybe—”

“Alice, please!”

Oliver grabbed her arms and set her with a look so strong she couldn’t remember enough words to speak.

“Alice,” he said again. “Bringing your father home is my task.”





Alice’s body was goose bumps from hair to heel. A shiver climbed into her clothes and warmed itself against her skin. Her heart was racing and her hands were clenching and she closed her eyes and drew in the deepest breath.

Oh my very dear, she thought.

She knew Oliver Newbanks was telling the truth.

She made a sound just then, a sound that might’ve been a word but was mostly just a sound, and backed away from Oliver, teetering sideways and frontways until she spun and fell in her skirts, a heap of color swallowing her whole.

Finally, Alice looked up.

Oliver had his arms crossed against his chest, his eyebrows drawn tight and low. His eyes were focused on a piece of bark peeling off a nearby tree.

“Oliver,” said Alice.

“What?” said he, still glaring at the tree.

“Are you angry?” she asked.

“Yes, quite.” He crossed his arms more tightly.

“Don’t be angry.”

He harrumphed. “You are insufferable.”

“Well,” she said, crossing her arms, too. “So are you.”

Finally, he turned to face her. “And that is all you have to say? After all I’ve shared with you? You still refuse to—”

“No,” said Alice, scrambling to her feet. “No, I did not refuse.”

Oliver’s arms unthawed. They hung at his sides, limp as his bottom lip. “What?”

“I said,” said Alice loudly, “that I did not refuse.”

“Then you agree—”

“Absolutely not.”

Oliver’s mouth had frozen open mid-sentence, but now his jaw snapped shut. He narrowed his eyes. “You are the most confounding girl I’ve ever encountered—”

Alice smiled. “Well thank you—”

“Don’t you dare!” Oliver cut her off, horrified. “I did not intend that as a compliment!”

Alice’s eyes flashed. She was in a delicate state, and Oliver had just made himself the most convenient target for her anguish.

“Of all the things to dislike,” said Alice angrily, “I fear I dislike you the most!”

“Consider the feeling mutual,” Oliver snapped.

They stood there awhile, the two of them, chests heaving as they glared at each other. Each was fighting a difficult personal battle, and both were too proud to share aloud their pain.