Metal shelves were arranged along its walls, heavy with cans of paint. Pulleys and ropes dangled from a high ceiling. The room reminded Q of the backstage area of his old boarding school’s theater that he had once vandalized. He might have gotten away with his crime if he painted something other than burnt black moths. Everyone knew that he was responsible for all the moth paintings that randomly appeared every week on the school’s walls. But Q could not be bothered to paint anything else. He and moths were kindred spirits, creatures that lived in the dark.
“Raya?” Q’s smile faded.
Paint splashed behind him. He spun around. Raya’s overstuffed tote tumbled from the paint can and landed on the floor. Raya burst out after it.
“You scared me.” Q pulled her the rest of the way out of the can. “For a second, I thought—”
Raya lunged from his grasp and hurriedly gathered her things from the floor. She hugged her bag tight, her chest heaving against it.
“Watch out for the holes.” A woman whose balmy voice was a smooth meld of terra-cotta orange and pomegranate red pointed to the floor. Square-shaped holes were scattered around the room, the darkness filling them blending into the black-painted floorboards.
Q quickly backed away from a hole an inch from the tip of his shoe. “Thanks.”
The woman wiped a paint-splattered hand over her stained overalls. A faded maroon bandanna kept her tight curls off her face. Her wide smile needed all the space that it could get. “I’d shake your hands, but I don’t think you’d want me to.” She flashed a gap-toothed grin. “I’m Astrid.”
“I’m Q.”
“Raya.”
“It’s lovely to meet you both. Go ahead and sit anywhere you like while I get your materials.”
“Materials?” Raya said. “For what?”
“Your painting lesson. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“Er, no, sorry.” Q shook his head. “The doorway just led us here.”
“You didn’t sign up for the workshop?” Astrid looked from Q to Raya.
“No. We’re still looking for our compartments,” Raya said.
“Oh.” Astrid smiled. “Welcome aboard. I remember popping into unexpected places when I was searching for my compartment too. You better get going then. It was nice meeting you. You should sign up for a painting workshop once you’ve settled in.”
“I don’t suppose you could point us in the right direction?” Q said.
“I’d love to but that would be against the train’s rules. However”—Astrid lowered her voice—“I suppose that telling you where the compartmentsaren’tlocated would be okay.” She winked. “I’ve been painting this train car’s ocean and sky since I boarded and so I know that you definitely won’t find any accommodations up here or on the island.”
Q’s mind played catch-up with Astrid’s words. “I’m sorry, but did you say that you’ve been painting the sky and ocean?”
“Oops.” Astrid giggled. “Sometimes I forget how different things are off this train. Before I confuse you more, you should probably see what I’m talking about.” She gestured to the holes in the floor. “Take your pick. They all have great views.”
Q knelt on the floor and peered into a hole. Beneath him, moonlit waves rolled to the shore of a crescent-shaped island. “If that’s the ocean—”
“You’re standing on the night sky,” Astrid said. “Until we paint the sunrise over it. We’ll also be touching up the ocean to lighten it and reflect the sun. We pour out the sun, moon, clouds, and stars we’ve painted through the holes on the floor. That ocean you’re looking at is the best on the train.” Astrid smiled. “No matter what the painting crew of the fishing car says.”
Q angled his head to stare at the sky through the hole. “It looks so real.”
“Thanks. We try our best. But I’ll admit that even after all this time, I’m still terrible at painting stars. I cannot, for the life of me, make them twinkle. I leave the stars to the more talented painters. I used to help paint the sun, but I’ve discovered that my forte is water. I’ve found that with the right blend of ultramarine blue, viridian green, and titanium white, the ocean stays nice and warm the whole day. It’s the perfect temperature for swimming even in the evenings.”
“You can swim in a painting?” Raya said.
“Of course. Why not?”
“I saw an ocean during the passenger orientation. And a border across the sky. Were those paintings too?” The phantom faces in the water swam in Q’s mind. His stomach turned cold at the possibility that everything Lily had told them had been an elaborate lie, not because Lily was dishonest, but because he had believed her. A simmering rage rolled to a boil.
“No,” Astrid said. “Those weren’t paintings. Passenger orientations are always held outdoors. The conductor believes that seeing the train’s route helps passengers understand what the Elsewhere Express is.”
Lights appeared through the holes in the floor. Q crouched to get a closer look. Glowing spheres bobbed over the waves. Q pressed his hand over his mouth, breathing hard into the knot twisting over his palm.
