Another applause. Another laugh that sounded like birds chirping.
Not a dream.The way things were evolving, I was getting the sense that this wasnota dream at all.
“Then why?” said the girl sitting right across from me, on the left of the boy with the curly hair, who was still looking at me every third second.
I knew because I was looking at him, too.
Something about the shape of him. The colors of him. The weight of his attention.
“Why can’t I remember?” the girl continued. “If I came to Neverwhen and actually completed the Turning Trials, why can’t I remember any of it? Or any ofyou?!”
She looked at us with wide brown eyes full of unshed tears, and she was shaking. She looked genuinely terrified.
Hmm.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, deep into my being, it felt like I should have…feltsomething. It felt like I should have said something, too. Maybe anare you okay?
I don’t know, it just seemed like something I would have done before…before what, Ora? Before what?
What came before?
The White Queen spoke. “Well, didn’t you hear? It’s because of theincident!”
“Oh, the incident,” said the others, bobbing their heads.The incident, the incident—like they already knew exactly what it was or what it meant.
“Excuse me, butwhatexactly wasthe incident?” asked the boy on my other side.
Everybody stopped.
The smile froze on the queen’s face. “It was a curse, my little ticker.” A deep sigh. “It wasa curse.”
Ooh’s andaah’s, some curious and some terrified, erupted around the table. My eyes foundhison their own, like it was a default setting in me to be looking at him—a boy I didn’t even know. And he didn’t know me, but our defaults must have matched. He didn’t make a sound, but he made it perfectly clear with the expression on his face and with his fisted hands thathedidn’t think something was right here, either.
Rotten seconds. It stank here like rotten seconds.
“But fear not, my brave Hands. Fear not, for I have saved you.” The queen placed her hands over her chest. “I have savedme,too. I have savedall the Clockrealm!”
She clapped those petite hands, and then urged the girl sitting on her right to do the same, and before the minute was over, we were all clapping. Slowly. Completely lost as we looked at one another, at the table, at the room.
“More tea! Three sips each, please,” the queen demanded, and so we drank.
Three sips.
What was before?
“Then it’s over,” said the boy, and the sound of his voice twisted strings in my gut I didn’t know were there.
Something about his voice. When had it whispered in my ear? Perhaps in a dream?
“Oh, yes. It’s over,” said the queen with a nod. Her hair still didn’t bounce as hair should.
“And we’re free to go,” said the boy.
“Oh, no, no, little ticker! It’s notthatover.” More laughter. “No, certainly not. You’re notfreeby any means.”
A clock ticked in the back of my head now. Every turn of the hands sounded more and more sinister.
“What are we then?” I asked, half-surprised to find the words out there inmyown voice.
