- 10 -
The Disappearing Trampoline
I halt in my tracks, the heels of my shoes digging into the soft, wet dirt of the forest floor, and swivel around to face him. "What?" I squawk. My voice sounds tight, as if I've swallowed a handful of dust.
Was he awake the entire time? I'm not sure whether to feel angry or embarrassed. Four doesn't say anything, just stares at me, searching my face for something. What could he be looking for? Guilt? Regret? Passion? My head feels tight and the ground suddenly seems a lot closer to my face than it did earlier. I tighten my grip on Four's shoulder, twisting my hands into the fabric of his t-shirt to keep myself from tipping over.
"I didn't kiss you," I stammer, my face burning, "I was trying to revive you."
The corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile and a bit of life returns to his face. The light in his eyes is only momentary, the amusement quickly disappearing as the pain returns, hardening his features. "Come on, let's keep going."
I nod. Did he believe me? Or was he just making fun of me? The burning sensation in my stomach only burns brighter as we approach the edge of the woods.
We continue to stumble through the trees until we reach Maggie's backyard. Stepping out from behind the shade of the forest, we are hit by a burst of hot air. The sun, which is perched just above the tree tops, beats down on us, now unobstructed by tree branches and leaves. I sigh, grateful for the warmth and the light.
"Wait," Four says, catching me by surprise.
I freeze, mid-step, and turn to look at him. "What's wrong?" I ask.
"I just need a break," he pants.
"Okay." I unrope myself from him and step back to give him some space. My shoulders and calves ache after supporting Four for so long. Without him dragging me down, I feel as light as air.
Four doubles over and places his hands on his legs to steady himself. His breathing is hard and shallow and his skin is pale and tinged yellow. His face is gaunt and droopy, and covered in a sheet of sweat. Purple circles, like large bruises, darken the soft skin beneath his eyes, which look glassy and tired. I can feel my stomach twisting and turning it's self into knots as I look at him. I hope he is recovering from his fall rather than getting worse. There's no way for me to know if he is improving and we definitely can't take him to a hospital since he technically doesn't exist. No amount of time spent in medical school would prepare a doctor for a patient like Four.
Four's eyes meet mine and I see him grit his teeth and tighten his grip on his legs. A hot flash of guilt flashes across my face, making my cheeks feel rosy. I should have given him some well deserved privacy. There's something mysterious and beautiful about him that draws my eyes to him. Something in the curve of his face, the strong bend in his shoulders, the piercing way he observes his surroundings. You can see the intelligence behind his gaze, his mind thoughtfully categorizing everything he sees. Is it a survival instinct? A result of living in constant fear of his abusive father? I want to ask him but don't want to push him.
"Let's keep going," he grunts, straightening up. He wobbles over to me and I slide my arm around his middle, allowing him to lean on me again.
"Are you sure?" I ask.
"Yes. Come on." Four places a hand between my shoulder blades and nudges me gently forwards.
Maggie, Christina and Uriah are sitting along the edge of the fire pit, facing the house. Behind them the fire is just a pile of glowing embers. Small wisps of smoke curl up from them and into the bright blue sky. Once they notice us they leap to their feet and run towards us. They don't realize that something is wrong until they are a few feet away.
"Four!" Christina gasps. She speeds up, leaving Maggie and Uriah behind her, and comes skidding to a stop in front of us. "What happened?" She asks, placing a hand tenderly on either side of Four's face and turns his head from side to side slowly, examining his pale, bruised cheeks and forehead.
"I'm fine," Four says, pulling away from her grasp.
Christina's hands fall limply at her sides. Was Four rejecting her touch or simply in too much pain to bear the thought of anyone touching him? Once again I am left wondering at the nature of their relationship. Had I been reading about them through a warped lens all along? With every new observation I am beginning to believe that the depths of these characters stretches beyond the limited outlines Roth has constructed for them. Maybe us fans play a crucial role in the lives of the characters we love. By writing fanfiction we are able to do justice to characters that may have been short changed and provide them with a different future than the limited one their author may have written. I'd love it if that were true as that would mean that my stories mattered.
Christina quickly rearranges herself, her face morphing into a mask of concern. She frowns and wrinkles her eyebrows. The only thing that hints at possible disappointment is the long look in her eyes as if she is looking past the here and now and into an imagined future. Is this disappointment a result of Four's rejection or concern about the potion's failure and its potentially dangerous repercussions?
"I need to sit down," Four continues, turning to me.
I tear my eyes away from Christina and look up at him. With a short nod I steer him towards one of the many electric-blue, plastic lawn chairs that line the yard. Four grunts as I help him lower himself into the chair.
"What happened?" Maggie asks as her and Uriah arrive by our sides at the lawn chair. She reaches a hand out slowly and places it on his forehead. "You're burning up!" she gasps, pulling her hand away as if she'd just been burned.
"Four passed out," I explain.
"What? How?" Christina asks.
"I'm not sure."
"We should get him inside and out of the heat. He needs to rest." Christina says firmly, an air of bossiness making the ends of her words sound prickly.
"Okay," I agree. For some reason, her suggestion erks me. Haven't I been the one taking care of Four?
She's just worried about him, I remind myself.
"Can we take him inside?" Christina asks, turning to Maggie, who's watching Four with a look of concern and curiosity.
Maggie bites her lip and glances down at her watch, then up at the house. "Don't take this the wrong way but my parents are going to be home soon and I don't want them seeing you guys here."
Christina narrows her eyes and frowns at Maggie, sizing her up.
I wince inwardly. Maggie's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Suzuki, are very nice, but since Maggie is their only child they can be a bit overbearing. If they came home and saw that she had invited some new friends over without telling them first, and new friends with tattoos at that, she would be in loads of trouble. I know that Maggie doesn't mean to offend them, but, from the look on Christina's face, I can tell that she has.
I glance over at Maggie. She is cowering away from Christina, who looks ready to explode.
"Maggie's right," I say, quickly. Christina looks over at me, her mouth hanging open. "If her parents come home and see you guys here it'll just make everything more complicated," I continue. "We should take Four back to my place. That way he can rest properly."
Christina has turned all of her attention on me now, sizing me up instead of Maggie. Her lips pucker as she decides whether or not to challenge me.
I feel the urge to hide away from her harsh glare, to shrink in on myself and become as small as possible. I know that won't win Christina over though. She is dauntless after all and the dauntless admire bravery. Squeezing my hands into fists in an attempt to strengthen my resolve, I force myself to meet Christina's icy gaze with one of my own. We stare at each other, neither of us backing down, until, finally, Christina looks away.
"Alright," she says.
"Great," I reply. Muscles already groaning I slip my arm under Four's armpit and around his back. "Ready?" I ask him. He gives a small nod and a grunt. "Okay. On three. One… Two… Three!" I heave him up and out of the chair.
We are half way up, when we wobble and begin to tip backwards.
Uriah quickly comes to our rescue, sliding his arm around Four's other side, balancing us out. I give him a grateful smile. We lift Four all the way to his feet and stop to rest.
"I'm going to stay here and clean up," Maggie says, once we're ready to continue. "I'll meet up with you guys afterwards, okay?"
"Sounds good," I say.
With Christina in the lead, we exit the backyard. As we walk, Four's eyes begin to flutter closed, and his head lolls around on his neck like a raggedy doll's.
"Come on Four, stay awake," I encourage him. I'm not sure that we'd be able to care him home if he lost consciousness again.
"So he just passed out?" Christina asks. Her brown eyes are swimming with worry and she's picking absentmindedly at a loose string hanging off the bottom of my pyjama pants.
Once we'd arrived at the house and they'd freshened up, Four went to take a nap in my bedroom and Christina, Uriah, Maggie - who'd arrived while they were getting changed - and I gathered in the living room so that I could tell them about what had happened in the forest. Leaving out the part about me giving Four mouth-to-mouth, obviously. I had had to give Four, Christina and Uriah some new clothes as theirs were caked in potion, and probably due for a wash anyways since they hadn't changed for two days. It's strange seeing them in clothing that doesn't fit their faction's dress code. I wonder how strange it must be for them. Does it feel freeing or is it just another reminder of how far they are from home?
"Yeah, all of a sudden," I reply trying my best to catch Christina's eye as I do.
I want to be friends with Christina, mostly because I admire her strength and also because it would be easier to work with her if she didn't hate me. She could be upset with me for a number of different reasons and I have no clue which one, or ones, it is. I'm used to being the one telling her how to feel in my stories and I guess after all this time spent writing about emotion rather than experiencing it first hand my emotional intelligence is a bit weak.
"And you have no idea why?" Uriah asks. He is wearing a bright blue t-shirt of my dad's, which looks striking against his dark skin.
"No," I shake my head and glance down at the floor. "He seemed a little bit distracted before it happened, but other then that, perfectly normal."
Everyone is quiet. Nobody knows what to say next. The sun has begun to set and is now just a glowing red half circle on the horizon. It's bright light bathes the room in soft pinks, yellows and oranges. Christina and Uriah are sitting across from Mags and I on our two large, brown, leather armchairs.
"How do you guys feel?" Maggie asks, breaking the silence.
Christina and Uriah frown at her.
"What happened to Four could happen to you guys," Maggie explains. "We have to be careful."
"We feel fine," Christina reassures her. "Can we go see Four now."
"Sure," I say.
They jump up from their seats and run up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Once they are out of sight Maggie leans over and whispers, "So, you really have no idea why Four passed out?"
"No idea. I wish I did though."
"Don't worry," Maggie reassures me, returning to normal volume. "We'll figure it out." She stands and stretches, letting out a loud, cat like yawn.
"I hope so."
"It was probably just a reaction to the heat." Maggie crosses the room and grabs her bag from the hallway.
"You're probably right." I stare down at my hands, which are clasped together in my lap. I hadn't realized it earlier since I'd been so concerned about Four's well being but now that I know he is okay the stress of the events of the past two hours is beginning to weigh on me. I feel tired and heavy, as if I'm being dragged down by a large weight.
"Or," Maggie continues, turning to face me, her expression suddenly serious. "It could've been a reaction to being in this world for too long."
My heart drops into my stomach. If that's true then what will happen to him, Christina and Uriah if they stay in this world any longer? I don't want to find out. We need to find a way to get them back home as soon as possible.
Maggie sets her laptop down on the dinning room table and turns it on. "I'm going to do some more research and see if I can find anything that will help us get them home," she says as she opens Google Chrome and types something I can't read into the search bar.
"Okay, I will too." I stand and am about to head upstairs to grab my laptop when a small brown blur zips down the stairs and crashes into me. It's Peanut Butter, our pug. "Hi buddy," I say.
PB lets out an excited yip as I scoop him up off the floor and showers my face with sloppy, wet kisses.
"What's up?" I ask him. He let's out another yip and leaps from my arms. He topples to the ground and springs to his feet. Then, he runs toward the backdoor and sits in front of it expectedly. "Do you want to go outside?" I ask.
"Woof!"
I walk over to the door and open it for him. I feel a sneaky smile spreading across my face as I watch him sprint outside excitedly. Nothing can make you feel better than a puppy. "I'm just going to go outside with Peanut Butter," I tell Maggie.
"Okay," she mumbles, distracted by her research.
I follow Peanut Butter outside and close the door behind me. Outside the air is thick and hot. The backyard is bathed in the soft pink light of the setting sun. Our backyard is a small square of well trimmed grass, surrounded by a tall wooden fence. It is mostly empty, save for a tall oak tree, a few flowers and bushes growing along the fence on the left side of the yard, and our tall trampoline… Which isn't in it's usually spot at the back of the yard. Someone must have moved it, but how? It's too large and bulky to be picked up and moved somewhere else. Now that I am looking around, I notice that a few other things have gone missing as well. My bike helmet is no longer hanging from its hook on the fence and my mother's gardening tools, which she usually leaves strewn across the lawn, are nowhere to be seen. Where could they have gone?
I look upwards, as if the answer will come tumbling from the clouds. The sky is a dark pink, fading quickly to twilight purple. It is completely cloudless, except, that is, in one spot. A large pack of steel grey clouds have gathered right above the row of bushes against the fence. That's strange.
Something small and fuzzy runs into my legs, knocking me backwards. I glance down and see Peanut Butter, sitting patiently by my feet. He's smiling up at me, a line of drool dribbling down his chin, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
"All done buddy?" I ask him.
"Woof!"
"I'll take that as a yes," I laugh, scooping him up in my arms. "Let's go back inside."
He barks again, and gives me a slobbery kiss on my forehead. I turn around and head back towards the house. Just as I'm about to reach for the doorknob, I turn around and look around the yard one last time. Where could that stuff have gone? It couldn't have just disappeared, that's impossible. Then again, given the events of the past couple days, I'm not sure that anything's impossible anymore.
With a sigh, I head inside.
Where I am assaulted by a vicious, yet relieving blast of cool air. As soon as I've closed the door behind me, Peanut Butter wriggles out of my arms and goes crashing through the house and up the stairs, his little bottom shaking to and fro. With a laugh, I head into the dinning room. I'm surprised to see three people sitting around the table. Christina and Uriah are seated on either side of Maggie, all three of them transfixed by something on her computer.
"Hey guys," I say, taking a seat beside Christina. The wicker on the bottom of the chair scratches my bare legs. I shift around in my seat, trying to get comfortable. "What's up?"
Their heads pop up in surprise, as if they hadn't noticed I'd entered the room.
"Tris," Maggie says urgently, "I found something." She swivels her computer around to face me and taps the screen with her index finger.
On the screen is an article. The headline reads, in big, bold letters: Interdimensional travel, soon to become a reality?
"The article," Maggie continues, "is about some ancient Mayan powder that is rumored to be able to transport people to different dimensions."
"But Mags," I say, "they're not from another dimension. This powder won't be able to help us."
"But how do you know that?" she asks, staring at me intently, her brown eyes as wide as saucers. "Maybe that's how they got here, from another dimension. Maybe when authors write fictional stories they're really subconsciously calling on another dimension and writing about whatever is going on there." She pauses, waiting for me to reply.
I'm not sure what to say. I know that my mouth is hanging open, but I'm not sure how to close it. This seems too crazy, even considering the situation. Interdimensional travel? How would that even be possible?
How could any of this even be possible, I remind myself.
"I-I," I stutter.
"I mean doesn't this theory make more sense than the idea that they toppled out of a book?"
"I… Maybe. I mean, it could be possible… What do you guys think?" I ask, turning to Christina and Uriah.
"I believe it." Christina says firmly. She places both of her hands, palms down, on the table. "I mean, I'd rather believe that I've come from a different dimension than that I don't exist at all. It does make more sense."
And wouldn't I want to believe the same thing if I was in her place? If they really did come from another dimension then Four, Christina and Uriah would have more autonomy over their lives than we had previously believed. I desperately want Maggie to be right and I feel like I owe it to them to explore this possibility.
"Okay. I think your right," I say. "That does make more sense than the alternative."
All three of them beam at me, smiles illuminating thier tired faces. It has been a long day for all of us.
"So what are we going to do about this?" I continue. "Where are we going to get this ancient powder?"
"All in good time my friend," Maggie says with a laugh. "We'll explain our plan in more detail later, right now Four wants to see you."
"Oh, he does?" I ask, surprised. I hadn't expected him to want to talk to me. In fact I'd anticipated him wanting to have a bit of a break from me after our argument earlier today and my acting as his human crutch this afternoon. "Okay." I push back my chair and stand. Then, I make my way upstairs.
My room is the first door you see when you head up the stairs, to the right of it is my brother's bedroom, and to the left, my parents'. Four is lying down under my comforter, his legs outstretched. He is too long for my bed, his feet dangle off the end. His head is propped up by a mountain of pillows and he is flipping through one of my books. He quickly shoves it under the sheets before I can see which one he'd been reading.
"Did you rest?" I ask him, pulling my desk chair over to the head of the bed and taking a seat.
"Yes," he says as he readjusts the pillows behind his head. "Your bed is very comfortable."
He is still very pale and dark circles line his eyes, but he looks much better, not as tired or worn out as he had before.
"Um, thanks. So you wanted to see me?" It seems the butterflies have followed me home from the library. I can barely speak over the feeling of their wings tickling my insides. I must be allergic to them, my tongue feels swollen in my mouth.
"Yes. I just wanted to say thank you for helping me in the woods and for looking after me here." His voice sounds shy, as if its running away from him and he's trying to chase it down. He places a hand on mine, which rests against the bed. His hand is rough, yet warm against my own. It sends a wave of electricity through my fingers and up my arm, which settles in my cheeks. I can feel them buzzing, alive with energy.
I realize that I've been staring at our hands. I glance up at him. My whole face is burning now. He's watching me, his deep blue eyes hard and soft at the same time.
"I-it was no big deal," I stammer.
"Still. Thank you." He moves his hand away from mine slowly and digs around under the covers for something. From behind his back he pulls out the book he'd been reading before.
I'm not sure whether I want to laugh or gasp when I see the cover. It's a silver-y blue colour with a brightly burning flame in the centre. Behind it lies the silhouette of Chicago, like a ghost, hiding in the background. Divergent.
"It's not half bad," he says with a mischievous grin. "This Veronica Roth lady isn't a bad writer. Although, I have to say, she was very generous to me. I'm not really this attractive."
"Yes you are!" I blurt out. Wait what did I just say? I clamp a hand over my mouth. I feel all jumpy and nervous, like someone has just dumped a bucket of icy cold water down my back. "I-I mean... That came out wrong."
"Do you think I'm attractive Tris?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.
My mouth is as dry as sandpaper and my mind has gone numb. All of my thoughts have been replaced with the buzzing feeling of pins and needles. I can't come up with a single thing to say. Without my consent, a response tumbles from my mouth, "Nah, you're not really my type."
The smile melts from his face and he stares at me, his eyes cold and calculating. I can sense him analyzing me and I feel vaguely like a mouse under the cool, calculating gaze of a hungry fox. Have I upset him? Then, he let's out a low, deep chuckle. "What's going on downstairs?" he asks.
"Maggie found something. She thinks it might be the key to getting you guys back home."
"That's good news." Four pushes back the comforter and places my copy of Divergent on my nightstand. "What is it?"
"It's kind of hard to explain. Something about interdimensional travel. They have a plan that they want to explain to us."
"Interdimensional travel? I'm beginning to think I'll never understand this world of yours Tris." I am shocked to hear my name in his voice. He makes it sound special, like an intimate secret that only the two of us know. He climbs out of my bed and walks towards the door. "Let's go hear their plan."
I stand, push my chair back into it's spot under my desk and join him by the door. We walk quietly down the stairs and into the living room, where Maggie, Christina and Uriah are sitting.
"Four! I'm glad your feeling better," Maggie says as we enter the room. All three of them are lounging on the couch. Four and I take a seat on the arm chairs across from them. "Did Tris tell you? I think I found a way for you guys to get back home."
"She did," Four says, glancing over at me then back at Maggie. "She said it was hard to explain."
"Well," she begins, then stops, searching for the right words. "She's right, it's easier if you read it for yourself."
She places her laptop on the coffee table and Four and I lean over to read what's on the screen. "Read the first paragraph."
Could interdimensional travel soon become a reality? For one lucky man, it just might. Two days ago, Mr. Franklin Haulman, an antiques collector, attended an auction in Dallas, Texas, where he purchased a very special pot of dust. This dust, which can be traced back to ancient Mayan civilizations, is rumored to be able to transport people to different dimensions. Mr. Haulman paid 32 million dollars for this powerful powder. It's previous owner, Fred Oliver, bought it for half that price five years ago.
After I have finished reading, I glance over at Four. His eyes dart back and forth across the screen frantically as he reads. If my mind is boggled by what I have just read I can't imagine what he is going through. Or maybe the concept of interdimensional travel is easier for him to grasp since he has no previous understanding of how this world works to work around. To him this might just be a normal Tuesday afternoon in Tris Prior's Chicago.
"So?" Mags asks us, once it is clear we are both finished reading. "What do you think?" She is staring at us with huge puppy dog eyes, excited and amazed by her discovery. As long as I have known her, Maggie has been hungry for knowledge and an avid reader of science fiction. She collects obscure facts like other people collect pennies and she loves to drop them randomly in discussions like little conversation bombs. Anything new and seemingly supernatural would be right up her ally. I hope that Four doesn't say anything mean and hurt her feelings.
"What does interdimensional mean?" Is all he asks.
Maggie sits up straight and folds her hands in her lap. Uh oh, here comes a lecture. "Well, where Tris and I live, here, is one dimension, and people theorize that there are tons of other dimension out there. If that's true, then this dust is said to be able to transport people from one dimension to another. I- We," she corrects her self and gestures from me to her. "Believe that you guys came from another dimension and that the author of Divergent somehow tapped into your dimension and s writing about your lives."
"And you believe that this dust will be able to send us back home?" Four asks. He's watching her with rapt attention, dark eyes wide with curiosity, eager to 's quite endearing. Could Four and Maggie have more in common than I'd previously thought? It seems I might have a thing for lovable intellectuals. Not that I have a thing for Four... I just enjoy his company is all...
"Yes! Exactly!" Maggie shouts, clapping her hands together, happy that he is on board.
"But Mags," I say. I hate to rain on her parade, but I have a bad feeling about this. "How are we going to get the dust? The article said that the man, Mr. Haulman, bought the dust in Texas. We can't just ask my mom to drive us there."
"We don't have to. At the end of the article it says that Mr. Haulman bought the powder so that he could sell it in his antiques store." She places her laptop back on her lap and types something into the search bar. She turns it back around so that we can see what is on the screen. It's the street view of an old looking cement store on a busy street, on Google Maps. Above the store, in the distance, I can see a subway zooming by overhead on rusty rails, frozen in time. "His store," she continues, "is right here in Chicago, just downtown." She's looking at me expectantly, as if she knows that there's no way that I can disagree with her. Still, something is nagging at me, telling me that this is a bad idea. "Come on guys. I mean, do you have any better ideas?" Maggie asks the rest of the group.
"No. What do you think we should do Tris?" Four asks. When did I become the person he looks to for advice? I'm not sure its a position I deserve but I certainly don't hate the return of the rush of butterflies I get every time he looks at me like that.
It is just an idea. What harm will it to do to try it? Still, we have no time to waste, we have to get them back home as soon as possible. And if this powder works, they'll be home by tomorrow.
"Okay. Let's go for it," I agree, turning to Four. As I do, I catch a glimpse of Christina out of the corner of my eye. Is she glaring at me, or am I just imagining it?