Furthermore (8 page)

Alice could not make herself sit with Mother.

After the ceremony she found a quiet branch in a very tall tree and tried desperately to stay calm. She was inhaling and exhaling in tiny gasps and she scolded herself for it, rationalizing all the reasons why she was being ridiculous. Surely, she considered, she was just being hard on herself. She was intimidated by her peers, this was normal. Besides, she'd not expected such great talent, so she was taken by surprise. And anyway, everyone was probably feeling the same insecurities she was. Most importantly, she hadn't been paying attention to the other performances; certainly someone else could've done worse.

This went on for a while.

Alice pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tight. She would not cry, she'd decided. There was no need. So maybe (probably) (well, definitely) she wouldn't get the best task—that was okay! Perhaps if her hopes hadn't been so high, her disappointment wouldn't have been so great, but she
would learn from this and be better for it, and whichever task she did get would be just fine. She'd be grateful for it. Maybe it wouldn't be a coveted task—maybe she wouldn't even get to leave Ferenwood—but still, it would be a task, and she would be happy to finally have a purpose. It would be the start of something new.

It would be okay.

She'd finally calmed her nerves long enough to make it down the tree. There she stood, half collapsed against the trunk, and promised herself, over and over again, that everything would be okay. She had done her best, and she couldn't have asked for more of herself.

She had done her best.

Finally, the Elders reappeared. They were all smiling (a good sign!) and this gave Alice great hope. Her shoulders sagged in relief and she managed to peek out from behind the tree.

Mr. Lottingale was the first of the ten Town Elders to speak, and each of them took a moment to say something encouraging and inspiring. They spoke with such sincerity that for a minute Alice felt silly for having reacted as she did. They were looking out at the crowd with great pride; surely she'd done better than she thought.

She inched forward a bit more, no longer hidden from view. But just as Alice was considering joining Mother's table, the atmosphere changed. A trumpet blared and there was glitter in
the air and thick, shimmery, plum-colored envelopes appeared on breakfast plates before her peers. The excitement was palpable. Everyone knew that an envelope contained a card of a specific color; each color represented a different score. There were five categories altogether, and Alice had them memorized for as long as she could count.

Score 5 || Green =
Spectacularly Done

Score 4 || Blue =
A Very Fine Job

Score 3 || Red =
Perfectly Adequate

Score 2 || Yellow =
Good Enough

Score 1 || White =
Rather Unfortunate

Children were tearing their envelopes open—some with great confidence, others with great trepidation—while Alice was still straining to see if anything had arrived for her at Mother's table.

It had, indeed.

Alice's heart would not sit still.

She couldn't read Mother's face from here, but she could see Mother holding the envelope in her hand like she wasn't quite sure what to do with it; and though she looked around the square just once, Mother didn't seem to mind that Alice wasn't around to pick it up. Mother often said that she could never be bothered to understand why Alice did the things she did, and
now, more than ever, Alice thought never being bothered was a very lazy way to love someone.

Oliver's back was to her, so Alice couldn't see his face, but Mother was smiling at him, so he must have been speaking. He was likely using his gift of persuasion to ruin her life. Sure enough, after only a few seconds, Mother handed him her envelope. Just handed it over. Her entire life folded into a piece of paper and Mother just gave it away to a boy Alice wanted to kick in the teeth.

Alice nearly stomped over there and did just that.

But the truth was, Alice was still scared. She wanted to walk back into a crowd of Ferenwood folk knowing she was one of them. It was bad enough she'd been born with hardly any color, that her skin was the color of snow and her hair the color of sugar and her eyelashes the color of milk. She never liked to admit it, but the truth was true enough: By Ferenwood standards she really
was
the ugliest. Her world thrived on color, and she had none.

But a task did not care about color. It did not depend on anything but magical talent, and talent was something Alice thought she had; Ferenwood hearts were born with it. She, Alice Alexis Queensmeadow, had been born with a Ferenwood heart, and her talent needed a task.

She could not walk into that crowd without it.

Alice didn't want to look at Oliver as he headed her way. She
didn't care for his pompousness and she certainly didn't want to hear him tell her how terrible her talent was. She didn't know what Oliver had surrendered, but Alice felt certain it was something stupid.

Oliver cleared his throat. She noticed he'd slung a well-worn bag across his body. He must've been on his way somewhere, and Alice hoped that meant he'd finally leave her alone.

“Hello Oliver,” Alice said curtly, plucking the envelope from his outstretched hand.

“Alice.” He nodded.

“You may go now.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

Oliver crossed his arms and leaned against the tree trunk. “Open it,” he said.

“I do not wish to open it in front of you,” she sniffed.

He rolled his eyes. “Don't be so stiff. Just because you won't be getting the best task doesn't mean—”

“And how do you know I won't?” Alice snapped, petulant in an instant. “There's no saying I can't still—”

“Because Kate Zuhair already did,” he said with a sigh. “Really, Alice, calm yourself. No one is judging you.”

“Oh,” she said, blinking fast. It was a small consolation, but Alice was relieved to hear that at least Danyal Rubin hadn't been the one to best her. Still, her pride would not let her be calm. Certainly not in front of Oliver.

“I got a three, you know.”

Alice looked up. “You got a three?”

Oliver nodded. “And it's still the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I'm not sure you'd want a five even if you'd earned it.”

Alice swallowed hard. She'd never admit this to anyone, but after that performance, she was actually hoping for a 2. Anything but a 1.

1 would be humiliating.

“Go on, then.” Oliver tapped the envelope in her hand. “All will be right as rainlight as soon as you open it.”

“Alright,” she whispered, wondering all the while why Oliver was being so nice to her. Probably he was still hoping she'd ditch her task in order to help him with his.

Which would never happen.

Her hands shook as she broke the seal on the envelope, and it was there—as fate would have it—right there, in front of Oliver Newbanks, the boy who'd crowned her the ugliest girl in all of Ferenwood, that Alice was faced with the worst reality of all.

In her envelope was no card she'd ever seen before. It wasn't yellow or even white. It was black. A simple rectangle cut from thick, heavy paper.

Oliver gasped.

Alice flipped it over.

SCORE 0

The clouds chose that exact moment to come to life. The sky broke open and rain fell so hard and fast it nearly hurt, showering them all in what were supposed to be tears of happiness. Alice felt the cold and she felt the wet, and she felt her bones breaking inside of her, and finally she lost the strength to be brave and gained instead the heart of a coward.

So she ran away.

She ran until her chest cracked, until her lungs burned, until she stumbled and tore her skirts and the tears could no longer be held.

She couldn't tell who was crying harder: herself or the sky.

By the time Oliver found her,
Alice was nearly at the edge of Ferenwood, right on the border of Fennelskein, hiding under a penny bush. Alice hiccuped a sob and the pennies shook, silver chimes mocking her pain. She sniffled and choked back the last of her tears and turned her face to the clouds. The rain had stopped and the sun was bright in the sky and hundreds of rainbows had arched over everything, lending an ethereal glow to the world. Alice found the beauty unexpectedly cruel.

She did not know what happened to children who were not tasked. There had only been three children to fail their Surrender in all the hundreds of years it had gone on, and Alice had assumed they simply evaporated back into the ground. Returning to Ferenwood life certainly seemed impossible.

Maybe she would follow in the footsteps of Father and just disappear.

“Go away, Oliver,” Alice said quietly. She didn't want to be
mean to him, as he'd done nothing in the last hour to deserve it, but she also wanted to be left alone.

He crouched down beside her. “Come out from under there, Alice. I can see right up your skirts.”

“Go away,” she said again, making no effort to cross her ankles.

Neither one of them spoke for a little while.

“You really were splendid today,” Oliver finally said.

“Yes, very.”

“Oh come off it, Alice. I mean it.”

“If you'll please excuse me,” she said stiffly, “I have a great many things to do.”

Oliver grabbed her ankles and tugged so hard Alice nearly fell into the brook nearby. She had just gotten her mouth full of terrible things to say to him when he plucked the envelope out of her clenched fist and held her black card up to the sky.

“You're supposed to unlock it, you know.”

“You only unlock it if you're tasked,” she said to him, jumping to grab the card out of his outstretched hand. “There is nothing to unlock in a zero.”

“And how would you know?” Oliver shot her a look.

“It is my very firm belief.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “I daresay you have many firm beliefs.”

Alice turned away and crossed her arms.

“What will you do now?” he asked.

“I will get my card back from you, thank you very much,” and she caught his arm just long enough to snatch it back.

“And now?” He stood there staring at her.

“Now I will dig a very deep hole and live in it.”

Oliver laughed and it lit up his face. Softened the hardness in his eyes. “You will do no such thing.”

“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.

Finally, Alice grew tired of being angry (it was an exhausting occupation) and collapsed onto the ground, biting lip and cheek and knuckle to keep from bursting into tears once more.

This, Oliver seemed to understand.

Carefully, cautiously, he sat down beside her, and a beat later, they spoke at the same time.

He said, “Do you truly dislike me more than anything else?”

And she said, “Oh, Oliver, I've lost everything, haven't I?”

And Oliver blinked, stunned. His heart, so hard just moments ago, softened as he realized that, for today at least, Alice's battles were greater than his own. He spoke gently when he said, “Of course you haven't.”

Alice looked up at him, round eyes full to the brim and shining. She managed a small smile. “You're a terrible liar.”

“Well then,” he said, failing to suppress a smile of his own. “Come with me. Come and find what you've lost.”

“But how will I ever be able to trust you?” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, determined to pull herself together. “I haven't the slightest inclination to run off any place with any persons who tell more lies than truths.”

At this, Oliver raised an eyebrow and smiled. It was perplexing, yes, but the boy appeared to be
flattered
, and we
won't bother wondering why. Either way, he was now digging around in his messenger bag for something or other, and Alice was caught, deeply curious. Not a moment later Oliver reemerged, clutching no fewer than five scrolls in his fist, his smile triumphant.

“I have
maps
,” was all he said.

Alice gasped appropriately.

(Dear reader: For you and I, the acquiring of maps is an altogether unimpressive feat, as maps are, generally speaking, abundant and available to any persons desiring such things. But we must remind ourselves that in Ferenwood, maps were a rare commodity; and for Alice, they were a fierce reminder of Father. Making maps, you will remember, was his lifelong work.)

Oliver, of course, understood this.

Alice made an odd, startled sort of noise, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “They are indeed your father's maps. The Elders gave them to me before I set off for my task.”

Alice appeared unable to speak, so Oliver plowed on.

“They've been searching for him since he left, you know.”

Oliver paused, again allowing Alice an opportunity to respond. When she didn't, he said, “But they couldn't find the right person for the job until last year, at my Surrender. That's when they knew my skills would be just the ticket.” Oliver grinned. “Impressive, no?”

“What else do you have in that bag?” Alice finally said, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing you need to be bothered with,” he said quickly.

Alice opened her mouth to protest when Oliver interrupted her, hastily shoving the maps away. “Absolutely not,” he said. “I shan't share a detail more unless you agree to help.”

At this, Alice took a long and deep and careful breath.

Finally, she relented. “Alright,” she said, and exhaled. “I'll go with you. I'll help.”

Oliver, to his credit, looked so surprised Alice thought he might weep. But Alice hadn't meant to do Oliver any favors; her decision was motivated entirely by self-interest. The way she saw it, she had only two choices now: find Father with Oliver, or stay in Ferenwood and live forever in shame.

So she nodded. “I give you my word.”

“Oh, Alice,” Oliver said, reaching out. “Thank you—”

“Don't thank me yet,” she said, swatting at his hand as she got to her feet, eager to put some distance between them. She didn't want Oliver to think she was thrilled about the situation. “You are certain you know where Father is?”

“Yes,” he said, clambering to his feet as well. “Yes, yes. But—don't you see? Knowing means nothing when there's doing to be done. It's the
getting
to your father that I can't do.”

Alice clasped her hands and considered the sky, pressing her lips together as she did. She looked Oliver square in the eye, all
the while digging the toes of her right foot into the grass. “And can you be
sure
you know where he is?”

Oliver looked like he might fall dead of exasperation. “Have you been hearing nothing I've been saying? Of course I know where your father is, but that doesn't—”

“Yes, yes,” Alice said, waving a hand. “I heard all your etceteras. But just because I know you're not lying doesn't make it any easier for me to believe you.”

Oliver studied her carefully. He reached into his bag and pulled out yet another scroll of parchment that he then unrolled in the palm of his hand. The paper lay flat as a board for something that had been so tightly wound, but when Oliver next touched it, it shuddered to life. Slowly it grew, the rectangle of paper shivering into a three-dimensional box taller than Oliver was wide. He touched the top with three fingers for three seconds, and the top disappeared.

“Come then,” he said to her, motioning with his free hand. “Come have a look at where your father has gone.”

Alice was horrified.

“Father is in that box?” she gasped, clasping a hand to her chest. “Has he been trapped? Or broken? Do we have to put him back together? Oh,
Oliver
, I don't know a lick about fixitation—”

“He's not broken,” Oliver said, shaking his head at the clouds. “Just come here and look,” he said. “For heaven's sake.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, cheeks stinging. It was hard for Alice to like Oliver—on account of she didn't like him very much—but she wanted to find Father much more than she didn't like Oliver, so she'd have to put up with him. And so she wandered closer, close enough to peer into his box.

Inside, was a door.

Alice gasped again.

“Yes, it's very clever, isn't it?” Oliver said. “But the journey will cost us a great deal—”

“Oh I haven't any money,” Alice said. “I spent my last fink on a dillypop.”

“—of time.”

“Right, yes,
time
.” Alice cleared her throat.

“Once we step through,” Oliver said, “it will be very difficult to come back. We might be gone for very long.”

“As long as a caterpillar?” she asked, one eyebrow arched as she pinched the sky. “Or as long as an ocean?” She threw her arms wide.

“I don't know,” he said. “Last time I was gone for a year.”

“A whole year?” Alice said, dropping her arms. “That's where you've been all this time? Trying to find Father?”

He nodded.

Alice sat down.

She reached for a daisy without looking, plucking it from the ground only to stuff it in her mouth. “So where does it
lead?” she asked, staring into the distance as she chewed. “The door?”

Oliver sighed.

Alice squinted up at him, shading her eyes against the rainbows. Finally, he placed the box on the ground and sat down beside her. “It goes to Furthermore.”

Alice laughed, mouth half full of daisy. “Oh, go on,” she said. “Really. Tell me where it goes.”

“It goes to Furthermore,” he said firmly.

“But—” Alice faltered.

Oliver raised an eyebrow.

“But, no,” Alice said slowly, quietly. “I thought—everyone thought—” She hesitated. “Oliver, Furthermore isn't
real
.”

“Your father thought it was. He was tasked to Furthermore when he was your age, didn't you know? He wasn't just mapping Ferenwood, Alice. He was making maps of
all
magical places. He was doing work far more important than anyone in Ferenwood's ever done.” Oliver tapped his bag twice. “Your father's maps saved my life countless times.”

Alice's eyes had gone round as plates. Alice hadn't known any of this. (Had Mother known about this?) Father, the town, and the Elders—they'd kept these truths from her. And even though she'd always hoped, always wanted to believe there was something more out there—another magical place in the world—now that the actual possibility was staring her in the
face, she wasn't sure how to believe it. (Still—and perhaps unfortunately—Alice knew that Oliver spoke the truth, which made it inconvenient for her to incline toward disbelief.)

“What's it like?” she whispered. “Furthermore?”

Oliver looked away, but not before Alice saw a flash of nervousness flit in and out of his eyes. “There's a reason we don't talk about it,” was all he said.

Alice gasped, finally understanding.

“Oh, Oliver,” she said. “Is it dangerous? Has Father gotten himself into trouble?”

Oliver turned to face her, determined now. He nodded at the box between them. “Are you willing to find out?”

Alice looked into the box and the tiny door it held. She thought of fear and she thought of courage; she thought of home and hope and the chance for adventure.

She thought of Mother.

Mother, who wouldn't miss her; three brothers, who never knew her; and Father, who always loved her.

Alice had nothing left to lose and an entire father to find.

There it was: For the very second time, she knew what she was meant to do. So she reached inside and turned the knob.