“It has to be like Rolf said. Our minds can’t handle the unnatural angles and distances.”
“It can’t help that you’ve barely slept,” he said. She looked up at the worry in his eyes, as he crouched next to her. “Didn’t you think I’d notice? You look like you’re practically sleepwalking. I . . .” His voice faded as he caught sight of something behind her. “Are those . . . platforms?”
Cora shaded her eyes as she looked in the direction he pointed. Dark shadows in the trees formed into rough shapes that looked a bit like platforms and tree houses and ladders. “You think it’s one of the puzzles?”
“I doubt it’s an Ewok village.” He stood. “We should check it out. I’ll give you a boost, if you feel up to it.”
Cora hesitated. In seventh grade she’d climbed a high ropes course at day camp. She’d been fearless, the first one to the top, and that night her mother had invited her friends over for cake to celebrate. But that was before that horrible weightless fall when her car had plunged three stories off a bridge.
You were fearless once, she reminded herself.
“No. I can do it.” He formed a stirrup with his hands. She stepped up and clambered up a branch, blinking through bleary eyes. Lucky hoisted himself up beside her, as effortlessly as if he’d spent his life climbing trees, and she gaped. “Maybe that’s why the Kindred took you,” she said. “Supernatural climbing ability.”
He grinned and then pointed down. “It helps to know we don’t need to worry about falling. The ground cover’s spongy pine needles. I bet we’d only bounce.”
“Yeah, they wouldn’t want to bruise any of their precious specimens.”
Slowly she climbed higher, until they reached a platform circled by a thick rope. She gripped the safety of the rope, trying to catch her breath. Ten feet away, a metal object gleamed on another platform.
“Do you see that?”
Lucky shaded his eyes. “Looks like a token chute, like in the shops.” He crouched at the platform’s edge, judging the distance, and then looked back at the rope. “The only way over is to swing across.”
“ Swing across? Go ahead, Tarzan. I’ll wait here.”
“I’ll go first. Just watch how I do it.”
He swung out. Alone in the tree, Cora grabbed the trunk harder, eyes squeezed shut. She waited for the terrible crash as he fell, but none came. When she opened her eyes, he was standing on the next platform, dusting pine needles off his shirt.
“See?” he called. “Easy.”
“Easy for you,” she muttered. He threw the rope back. She searched her brain for words of advice from her father, but none came. She couldn’t smile her way through this one. She gripped the rope, blood pulsing in her ears. Don’t look down. She jumped off, shrieking as she hurtled through the air. The world was a blur. Branches and leaves and Lucky, and then his gentle laughter was in her ear, and his body was pressed against hers.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She pulled away to hide the burn in her cheeks. “Okay. I’ve met my vine-swinging quota for the day. I’m ready to head to solid ground.” She punched the chute’s red button. A flood of tokens slid out. Lucky pushed it too—just one.
“I guess I’m better at this than you,” she teased.
He wrapped his fingers around his single token. The smile fell off his face. “That’s the second time you’ve gotten more for solving the exact same puzzle. Listen, maybe we should keep this just between you and me. You know what Rolf said about how lab rats get angry when they sense unfairness. Not that we’re rats, but . . . When you got more tokens before, Rolf seemed frustrated.”
She shoved the tokens in her pocket nonchalantly, but Lucky’s words stuck in her mind like a thorn. What could the Kindred hope to achieve by spreading unfairness?
“Well. At least we’re done.”
“Uh . . . not yet.” He pointed toward the clearing. “We have to climb
“It can’t help that you’ve barely slept,” he said. She looked up at the worry in his eyes, as he crouched next to her. “Didn’t you think I’d notice? You look like you’re practically sleepwalking. I . . .” His voice faded as he caught sight of something behind her. “Are those . . . platforms?”
Cora shaded her eyes as she looked in the direction he pointed. Dark shadows in the trees formed into rough shapes that looked a bit like platforms and tree houses and ladders. “You think it’s one of the puzzles?”
“I doubt it’s an Ewok village.” He stood. “We should check it out. I’ll give you a boost, if you feel up to it.”
Cora hesitated. In seventh grade she’d climbed a high ropes course at day camp. She’d been fearless, the first one to the top, and that night her mother had invited her friends over for cake to celebrate. But that was before that horrible weightless fall when her car had plunged three stories off a bridge.
You were fearless once, she reminded herself.
“No. I can do it.” He formed a stirrup with his hands. She stepped up and clambered up a branch, blinking through bleary eyes. Lucky hoisted himself up beside her, as effortlessly as if he’d spent his life climbing trees, and she gaped. “Maybe that’s why the Kindred took you,” she said. “Supernatural climbing ability.”
He grinned and then pointed down. “It helps to know we don’t need to worry about falling. The ground cover’s spongy pine needles. I bet we’d only bounce.”
“Yeah, they wouldn’t want to bruise any of their precious specimens.”
Slowly she climbed higher, until they reached a platform circled by a thick rope. She gripped the safety of the rope, trying to catch her breath. Ten feet away, a metal object gleamed on another platform.
“Do you see that?”
Lucky shaded his eyes. “Looks like a token chute, like in the shops.” He crouched at the platform’s edge, judging the distance, and then looked back at the rope. “The only way over is to swing across.”
“ Swing across? Go ahead, Tarzan. I’ll wait here.”
“I’ll go first. Just watch how I do it.”
He swung out. Alone in the tree, Cora grabbed the trunk harder, eyes squeezed shut. She waited for the terrible crash as he fell, but none came. When she opened her eyes, he was standing on the next platform, dusting pine needles off his shirt.
“See?” he called. “Easy.”
“Easy for you,” she muttered. He threw the rope back. She searched her brain for words of advice from her father, but none came. She couldn’t smile her way through this one. She gripped the rope, blood pulsing in her ears. Don’t look down. She jumped off, shrieking as she hurtled through the air. The world was a blur. Branches and leaves and Lucky, and then his gentle laughter was in her ear, and his body was pressed against hers.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She pulled away to hide the burn in her cheeks. “Okay. I’ve met my vine-swinging quota for the day. I’m ready to head to solid ground.” She punched the chute’s red button. A flood of tokens slid out. Lucky pushed it too—just one.
“I guess I’m better at this than you,” she teased.
He wrapped his fingers around his single token. The smile fell off his face. “That’s the second time you’ve gotten more for solving the exact same puzzle. Listen, maybe we should keep this just between you and me. You know what Rolf said about how lab rats get angry when they sense unfairness. Not that we’re rats, but . . . When you got more tokens before, Rolf seemed frustrated.”
She shoved the tokens in her pocket nonchalantly, but Lucky’s words stuck in her mind like a thorn. What could the Kindred hope to achieve by spreading unfairness?
“Well. At least we’re done.”
“Uh . . . not yet.” He pointed toward the clearing. “We have to climb
Similar Books
