Furthermore(31)

She wore her worries like a cloak clasped tight around her throat but, come fear or failure, Alice would tread cautiously into the night. There would be no turning back.



Alice didn’t know where they were going now, but the farther they went, the darker it grew; and the darker it grew, the colder it became; and the colder it became, the quieter it was; and the quieter it was, the more there was to hear.

“My goodness,” Oliver said. “Your stomach has quite a roar.”

Alice felt a blush creep up her neck. “It’s no fault of mine,” she said. “I’m not to blame for needing food.”

“And how are you feeling?” he asked. He’d come to a complete stop, so she did, too. There was nothing but darkness all around them; not a single thing in sight.

“I’m feeling alright, I think.” Her stomach sang another song, and she sighed. “I’m feeling a bit faint, really.”

“Are you quite empty, do you think?”

Alice raised an eyebrow at Oliver.

“Empty,” he said again. “How empty are you feeling?”

“Very.”

“Well I’m thrilled. This is excellent timing.”

“Why Oliver Newbanks, what a rude thing to say. My hunger is not a thing to be happy about.”

“Hunger is not one but two,” he said. “Emptiness is not three but four.” He was whispering to the moons, his eyes on the stars, his hands reaching up into the dark, searching for something.

“What?” she asked, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

But then there it was.

Oliver was tugging on a chain in the sky. He pulled once, very firmly, and it made a scissor-like sound.

A lightbulb illuminated.

It was hanging free and clear, right there, right in front of her, suspended not ten feet off the ground—she wouldn’t have been able to reach for it, not even with a stool—right in the middle of nothing.

She was still gaping at the lightbulb, even when Oliver looked back at her. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Always,” she said. “But whatever for?”

And then he took her by the waist and tossed her in the sky.





Alice thought maybe she should scream—it seemed like the right thing to do—but it didn’t feel honest. The truth was, she wasn’t scared at all, and besides, it was much warmer up here. She’d flown straight up, light as a bulb, and it was only once she’d stopped and stood around that she understood why lighting that first light was so important. It was awfully dark in the clouds.

She looked around for Oliver and it was only a moment before he was standing beside her, both their feet planted firmly in the air.

“It’s quite nice, isn’t it?” he said.

Nice wasn’t the word Alice was searching for. It was not uncomfortable, no, but it was strange, certainly. The cloud they stood on was fairly insubstantial—and she feared she’d slip through at any moment—but when she mentioned this to Oliver, he only shrugged and said, “As long as you’re hungry, I wouldn’t worry. It’s always best to float on an empty stomach.”

Oliver was positively beaming.

He kept reaching out around them, touching the dewy cotton of the clouds, running his fingers through their tangled strands. Occasionally he was too rough, and he’d rake his hand right through a stubborn knot of cloud, and the whole thing would burst into rainwater. This seemed to delight Oliver in a most particular way, as the water would then pool in the palm of his hand, and he’d proceed to drink up its contents.

“Hey,” Alice said, and tugged at his shirt. “I thought you said we weren’t allowed to eat anything in Furthermore!”

“This is not eating,” Oliver said, licking his fingers. “This is enjoying.”

Alice was beginning to realize that the longer they stayed in Furthermore, the more relaxed Oliver became. (It was also true that he was still very nervous and overly cautious, but somehow, despite his many fears, he seemed happier.) He was nothing at all like the grumpy boy she’d met so few days ago, and Alice was surprised to find that she was actually learning to like Oliver. Just now, she couldn’t help but grin at his giddiness.

Though she was a bright, interesting young girl, the difficulties of the last three years had isolated Alice from persons her own age. Now was her chance to start new and shake off the disappointments of her middlecare years, and she couldn’t contain her quiet excitement. After all, Alice was now twelve years old, which meant she was nearly grown up. And if growing up meant she’d be making new friends? Well, Alice decided she wouldn’t mind getting old.

The clouds were pressed up around them now, soft and warm and doughy. The air smelled like apples and baked bread, and Alice had never known she could feel so safe in the sky.

She peered down to see how high they’d floated, but could see nothing of the ground. Around them was cloud after cloud, and, oh, she could just lie here, she thought, and it would be so cozy and she’d have the best sleep of her life, definitely, definitely. Had she mentioned how soft and warm it was in the clouds? She couldn’t remember. Anyway she was so tired. So comfortable. So sleepy. So—

“Alice!” Oliver said suddenly. “Alice, no!” He shook her, hard, the panic in his voice sending a chill through her body.