Furthermore(28)

And it was all her fault.





Oliver had gone white.

He was milk and paper and ghostly fright. He’d taken her hand and was squeezing so tight Alice had no choice but to shake him off. She yanked her hand back and scowled at no one in particular, realizing all too late that she had caused quite a lot of trouble. She glanced at Oliver. He was frozen in place, eyes wide, horrified by the spectacle they’d become.

The beautiful boy and his crowd of people were close, closer, and a blink later, had circled around them completely. The tallest held a torch and held it high, high above Alice’s head, so everyone could get a good look at her face. They were pointing and gesturing, heads cocked and gazes roving over her hair, her skin, her tattered skirts. She felt as though she were locked in a cabinet of curiosities, and she didn’t like it one bit.

Alice narrowed her eyes at the beautiful boy, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was smiling wide, looking around at his friends like he was proud, like he’d discovered something odd and strange and oh, wouldn’t it be tops to poke fun at the nothing-girl tonight. Well, she wasn’t having any of that.

Alice was not interested in being stared at, and besides, she and Oliver had a very busy schedule and no time to spare for nonsense.

The beautiful boy stepped forward.

“My name is Seldom,” he said. And smiled.

Alice wanted very much to speak, but she was abruptly startled into silence. Seldom had moved into the torchlight and his face—well, it was nothing at all like it was in the moonlight. Here, where the fiery glow illuminated his features, she could see him far more clearly. Tall and broad, he wore a sleeveless shirt with a deep V-cut neckline, very short shorts, and a pair of moccasins. But most interesting was his skin. He was a stroke of midnight—so blue he was almost black—and he was covered, head to toe, in tattoos. Stars, moons—galaxies—were drawn upon his body in ink so gold they shimmered in the light. Alice stood there staring at him, just as he stood staring at her.

Mouths agape.

He was beautiful in an extraordinary way. He was beautiful in a way she did not understand.

“What is your name?” Seldom asked.

“Alice, don’t tell him!” Oliver said, reaching out as if to stop her.

Alice didn’t even have time to roll her eyes at Oliver.

“Your name is Alice?” Seldom asked.

She nodded, pausing just long enough to shoot a dirty look at Oliver, who had now turned a very unflattering shade of puce.

“Yes,” she said, and sighed. Oliver had already told him anyway. “My name is Alice. Can I leave now?”

Seldom shook his head. “We would like to keep you.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. She looked around at the crowd. They were smiling eagerly, nodding and waving hello. Suddenly they seemed friendly, and she was convinced it was some kind of a trick. “Well, that is very kind,” she said, turning back to Seldom. “But I really must be on my way.”

She took a step forward.

Seldom stepped in front of her. “Where do you have to go?”

Alice bit her lip and looked him square in the eye, wondering how much to say to him. She wasn’t sure how dangerous this situation was—mostly because Oliver was such a mouse he could hardly say a word—but she wasn’t going to let anyone keep her here. She knew that if she wanted to find Father, she had to first find her way through this.

(I feel it necessary to mention here that were it not for Father, Alice might not have felt so brave. Love had made her fearless, and wasn’t it strange? It was so much easier to fight for another than it was to fight for oneself.)

But how? Alice thought. Escape might require a lie, and she—well she had bound herself to the truth.

And yet, Alice compromised, her truths were meant only for Ferenwood, weren’t they? Technically—if we may speak technically—Alice hadn’t even known Furthermore was real when she made that pact. And anyway, she quickly convinced herself, these next words wouldn’t be a lie. Not exactly. She would tell a story, she’d decided. A fable. A work of fiction.

“I am in charge of the sun,” she said loudly. “And I’m on my way to wake him up.”

Seldom blinked fast. Shocked.

Oliver inhaled sharply.

The crowd around them went loud then silent in rapid succession.

“Alice,” Oliver whispered. He was holding her hand again. He kept doing that. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered back to him. She was still looking at Seldom. “I’m trying to get us out of here.”

“But, Alice—”

“You are in charge of the sun?” Seldom asked quietly. His eyebrows had rushed together in confusion.

“Yes,” she said. And nodded, too, for added effect.

“Oh.” He frowned. “We did not think a person could climb so high.”

“I’m very talented,” she assured him, this time not lying at all. “There are a great many things I can do.”

Seldom grunted.

Alice tried to smile.

“Is that why you’re so white?” Seldom asked, with no preamble.

“Excuse me?”

“Because your color’s all burnt off,” said someone from the crowd. “You’re white because you burnt off all your colors, didn’t you?”