I glance back at Mama’s door as I sprint through the living room, wondering if Quinton’s voice might have woken her. Her light doesn’t click on.
But I can’t let Quinton go now. I run after him and it’s all I can do just to keep up. “Where are we going?”
“The roof,” he calls back.
The roof? Quinton and I used to sneak up there all the time, even though Mama said it was too dangerous. Like we didn’t have sense enough to stay away from the edge.
We run up a dozen flights of stairs until we reach the wide, empty roof. Only it isn’t empty tonight.
“Is that . . . a boat?” I ask.
Quinton grins over his shoulder. “Sure is.” The boat is the size of a school bus and looks like someone literally dropped a small log cabin on the back of it. Smoke wafts up from the cabin’s stone chimney. Shiny gold railings surround the front half of the deck.
I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this all is. What is happening right now? “How did it get here?”
“Gotta hurry!” Quinton disappears around the other side.
I follow, running my fingertips across the smooth hull of the ship. The wood is so glossy I can see my reflection in the moonlight.
Quinton waves me over. He tugs on a lever and a section of the ship falls open, becoming a short staircase. Quinton climbs in first, with me behind him. One long room runs the length of the boat. I’m able to make out two bunk beds and—swords?—before Quinton leads me up another staircase at the end of the ship.
We emerge on the deck, and Quinton brings me over to where two large wooden captain’s wheels are mounted. The wheel in front of us turns left or right like every other ship. But the wheel to our right is angled so that it can only be pushed forward or backward from where we’re standing.
I reach out and let my fingers graze the wheel, then jump as the ship jerks forward a few feet.
He just laughs. “You’re going to want to get some altitude first.” He nods to the second wheel.
I step back, shaking my head in disbelief. “When you say altitude, you don’t mean . . .”
“Oh, I do mean.” He smirks and takes hold of the second wheel, gently pulling it forward. My whole body goes stiff as the ship rises in the air. I throw both arms around the railing, holding on with everything I’ve got. My apartment building, and everything else in my neighborhood, gets smaller and smaller as we continue to rise. How is this happening?
My brother is having the time of his life laughing at me. “Relax, the ship has been triplebalanced. It’s impossible to fall off.”
“Quinton, we’re flying! You’re just going to act like this is normal?”
Again with the smirk. “Maybe it is.”
Quinton grips the first wheel with both hands and the ship surges forward. Everything becomes a blur, the stars above stretching into glowing streaks. I can feel the wind on my face, but for as fast as we must be going, my legs really do feel steady—like I’m still on the ground.
He releases the wheel and the ship glides to a smooth stop in midair.
The smell of sea salt tickles my nose. There’s water in every direction. “Is this the ocean?”
My brother nods. “Take a peek through that telescope next to the railing and look down. Tell me what you see.”
Down? Who uses a telescope to look down?
Still, I step over and peer through. “All I see is ocean.”
“Keep looking. It’s a special telescope so it might take your eyes a few seconds to adjust.”
I squint a little. Nothing . . . and then something. It appears only for a second before it’s gone again—a streak of white, like lightning arcing across the ocean floor.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Keep looking. And this time, use the dial.”
As I turn the dial, my view through the telescope magnifies. Now I can see that those streaks of light are actually glowing trains, racing across the ocean floor. “No way,” I whisper.
I zoom out a bit to find more trains and I’m nearly blinded by all the light. That train is just one of what seems like thousands of them, zigzagging and swirling in every direction. For as far as I can see, the ocean lights up, like it’s trying to outshine the starry night above. The whole world becomes a light show, just for me.
I turn to Quinton, tears in my eyes. “It’s beautiful.”
But the big smile Quinton’s been wearing since he showed up in my bedroom begins to fade. “The International Railways of Atlantis. I only wish I could’ve shown you this in person.”
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“I wanted you to know just how vast and how wondrous the world really is. Everything you’ve seen, from those trains to this ship, is real, Amari. They’re out there anytime you want to see them. Everything . . . except me.”
I shake my head. “But I’m looking right at you.”
“You’re looking through the shades. This is only an interactive recording. We call it a Wakeful Dream. I left instructions for its delivery in case something happened to me. And I guess it did. I took a dangerous job I love dearly, and I knew the risks. Still, I really wish I was there with you now.”
The world around us begins to dim.
I rush over and throw my arms around him. “What happened to you?”
“I don’t know,” Quinton says softly. “But this dream was only supposed to be sent to you if the Bureau declared me missing . . . or dead.”
“You’re only missing.” I shudder. “I can feel it.”
Quinton squeezes me tighter. “Whatever happened to me, please don’t let it discourage you from exploring this world to its fullest. Some of the things I’ve seen will take your breath away. I’ve left you a nomination with instructions on it.”
“A nomination?” I ask. “For what?”
Everything goes black.
“Time’s up, Chicken Little. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whisper. “I’m going to find you. The real you. No matter what it takes.”
4
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING MAMA KNOCKS ON MY BEDroom door so that we can have breakfast together. Motherdaughter time or something.
I woke up wondering if that Wakeful Dream really happened, but once I took a look at what else was inside the briefcase I was convinced. . . . My brother made a dream for me, put it inside a pair of shades, and had it delivered to my apartment. What kind of place can do that?
I intend to find out.
“You all right, Babygirl?”
Mama’s voice snaps me out of my daze. “Oh . . . um, yeah, I’m fine.” I scoop up some cereal with my spoon.
Mama watches me from across our small dining room table. I can tell she’s worried about how I’m doing after what happened yesterday at school.
There’s a huge part of me that wants to tell her about Quinton’s Wakeful Dream. She deserves to know. But how do you explain being visited by your missing brother in a dream where you took a flying boat to go look at some underwater trains without sounding delusional?
And even if she did believe me (which I doubt), do I really want to risk getting her hopes up? She’s only just gotten to where she isn’t crying in her room every day.