“Don’t we? Do you really believe that a conductor of this train wouldn’t have any idea about where memories drain out from?”
“That presumes that Olly is telling the truth.”
Raya frowned. “Why would he lie?”
“Because”—Q lowered his voice—“that thing isn’t really Olly. It can insist that it’s Olly all it wants but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s no different from the bench you’re sitting on or any object in this valley. It’s just a collection of Olly’s thoughts.”
“Isn’t that what we are too?” Raya said. “A collection of our thoughts? Beliefs? Values? Fears? Isn’t that what’s beneath our skin? What makes us human?”
“That’s different.”
“How? What could be more real than our thoughts? You and I have built our whole lives on them. They’ve set our limits and direction. They drove you to the edge of a train platform and convinced me to carry around a dead dream. You and I were trapped long before we ever set foot in the Missed and Misplaced Department. Olly has no reason to lie to us. Unlike Lily.”
Q shook his head. “Olly may believe what he’s saying but that doesn’t mean he’s right. We both know that thoughts can be wrong.”
“I’ll tell you what I know,” Raya said. “I know that you want to believe the best about this train because it’s your second chance. And I want that for you too. But you can’t find your place here by waiting to be rescued. Even if I’m wrong about Lily leaving Olly here on purpose, the stowaway is still out there. This train could rot away before we ever find our way out.”
“And how are we supposed to leave, Raya? We can’t go through the whirlpool unless we want to end up like Olly, and we haven’t found a door.”
Raya pulled a bag of shattered crystal from her tote. “We still have this.”
“A bag of broken crystal? Unless Rasmus’s train magically reassembles itself, it isn’t going anywhere. And neither are we. Nothing’s changed, Raya. We’re still stuck.”
“One thing has.” Raya looked out at the rows of guitars. “Now we have a way of putting this train back together,” she said, her voice wavering between hope and dread.
Raya ran her hand over her sticker-covered guitar’s neck. It was mended seamlessly and smoothly, without a single scratch or dent.Longing was a meticulous craftsman and had buffed out all the guitar’s imperfections. Even its glittery heart stickers were new.
Raya emptied the bag of broken crystal over the grass and sat down. She set her guitar over her lap. She closed her eyes and strummed, humming, slowly and softly, like someone wading into the sea, unsure if they remembered how to swim. She cobbled together a simple but sturdy song, a raft of memories light enough to float: Q’s eyes when he smiled. The warmth of his laugh. Their invisible tether. The melody was small, but had just enough space to ferry a tiny, timeless hope.
Live. Breathe. Be.
The song flowed from Raya into the guitar and took flight on glowing rainbow wings. It flitted around the broken crystal, burned bright, and left an immaculately restored crystal train in its place.
Q scooped Raya up and twirled her around. “You did it.”
Raya laughed. Then cried. Nothing cut deeper than loss, but finding what you lost hurt too. You couldn’t hold it without grieving for all the years your arms were empty.
A tiny moon rejoined the constellations over the playground’s sky. Beneath the stars, grass grew over all the places the crystal train had cracked. Raya’s newest song did not leave any stitches or scars. Q admired the healed sky from the swing. “You must admit, this would have been impossible to do with a scalpel.”
Raya smiled stiffly, leaning forward on the swing’s seat, listening for cracks.
“You can relax,” Q said. “You fixed the train and we’re on our way. We’re safe. The song you found on the beach was beautiful, but it doesn’t come close to the one you just wrote.”
“The song on the island fixed a leaf.” Raya gripped the swing’s chains. “This is a train. What if it breaks apart again?”
“Is that what you’re really worried about?” Q said.
“Why?” Raya turned to him. “Did our snitch tell you any different?”
“I know what worry feels like, Raya. My stomach twisted itself into knots at every doctor’s appointment. Your fear feelsdifferent.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then the tether told you the truth.” Raya pushed off the grass, setting the swing in a wide arc. “I don’t know what it feels like either.” The song that had fixed the train had opened a door to a place that she could not have wanted to flee faster or live in more. She had not expected to find her place on the Elsewhere Express in a valley of the lost and it terrified her to think that if she ever held her guitar again, she would not think twice about paying the true price of her free train ticket. “It’s like I’ve been split in two.” Like Olly.
The train came to a stop, the sound of water lapping outside it.
