“If you were fine,” I charged, “you wouldn’t be riding up here, brooding.”
“Brooding?” he said in surprise.
“Yes, brooding. You’d be back there with us, annoying everyone with all your questions about Earth or cracking those pitifully awful jokes.”
He sniffed indignantly. “My jokes aren’t pitiful. Stupid, yes. Corny, definitely. But I think they’re rich with deep, thought-provoking, and pun-filled entertainment.”
“The man was delighted after a burglar stole all his lamps,” I repeated one of the jokes he’d told us last night. “Really?” He thought that was thought-provoking?
“What?” he said, blinking cluelessly. “That’s hilarious.”
“No,” I said dryly. “No, it’s not.”
He sighed. “If you don’t like my jokes, then why are you so upset if I don’t feel like cracking any, then?”
“Because the world needs your aggravatingly awful sense of humor!” I exploded. “Otherwise, it’d just be full of people like me. It’d be a dark, oppressive, hopeless void. And no one wants that. Especially me.”
I growled in absolute annoyance and rode on ahead of him, because this entire conversation was pissing me off. How dare he get me to admit so many of my feelings for him?
He caught up with me a moment later.
“Hey, Quilla,” he whispered, reaching out and taking my hand.
“What?” I whispered back, without pulling away. For once, I craved the contact, and I didn’t care if he knew.
His gaze softened as he slowly lifted my fingers to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. Then he closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, taking me in. When he exhaled, his lashes fluttered open and he smiled softly.
“A man tried to sell me a coffin once,” he said. “But I said that was the last thing I needed.”
I blinked at him with no idea what the hell that meant. But then this mischievous sparkle entered his eyes, and I realized he’d just told another one of his horrible wordplay jokes.
“Jesus,” I shrieked, slapping him on the arm as if outraged. “That has to be the worst one yet.”
He laughed. “Worst one, my ass. All my jokes are completely awesome in their own right.”
Shaking my head, I sighed as if disgusted, while inside I sighed in great relief.
Indigo touched my arm briefly, falling serious again. “I’ll be fine,” he swore to me. “After I get over my funk, I promise you, I’ll return to my same insanely charming and irresistibly magnetic self. So stop worrying. Okay?”
I arched an eyebrow in censure. “I’m not worried,” I argued. “And I don’t recall saying anything about you being charming or magnetic.”
“Oh, you implied it,” he swore. “Heavily. I could tell.”
When I snorted, he chuckled. “How about this? If you promise to ground me to reality every once in a while, I’ll promise to teach you how to dream.”
The allure of such a deal tempted me. I suddenly remembered everything I ever wanted when I was little, and how Melaina would slap each wishful idea right out of my head because it was either unfeasible or unsafe. Over the years, I had learned to stop wanting so much. But things I’d always kind of wanted to tell Indigo bubbled to the surface now. Just small, trivial things, and yet things that made this sensation of wanting feel attainable again.
“Your great-grandmother,” I blurted. “The one from Earth.”
He furrowed his brow, confused. “What?”
“She was famous,” I told him. “Back there, where she was born. After she disappeared and came here to the Outer Realms, she became probably the most famous pilot their world had ever seen.”
His lips parted in awe. “So you heard stories about her? On Earth?” Eyes glittering with delight, he moved his horse unicorn eagerly closer to mine. “That’s amazing. My grandfather always told me stories about her, too.”
I nodded, feeling a strange kinship with him for being able to share that one detail. “I watched a movie about her once,” I added.
His brow furrowed. “A movie?”
“Oh! Sorry.” That was right. He’d probably never heard of a movie before. “A movie is like a—”
“I know,” he said. “I’ve heard about them from my friend Bison. I just didn’t realize watching them was something a lot of people did.” Producing a sudden grin, he added, “Bison always calls me Indiana Jones because of some movie he’d seen.”
“I saw that one too.”
I had loved watching movies. I think I missed them the most. Or maybe books. Actually, it might be a tie over which one I missed more. I’d been a great fan of stories, no matter which media they came in.
Tipping my head, I realized the name he’s just said sounded familiar. “Bison?” I repeated.
“Yeah,” Indigo confirmed. “He’s a Replacement who came to the Outer Realms when you went to Earth.”
My eyes suddenly went wide. “Was he a basketball player?”
“Yes!” Indigo laughed. “He tried to teach me how to play once.” With a wince, he added, “I didn’t get the hang of it.”
“So that’s what happened to him,” I realized. “He and his girlfriend and their boat’s skipper replaced Taiki, Questa, and Quailen here?” I shook my head, dumbfounded. “His disappearance was all over the news after we arrived. Everyone thought his brother killed him.”
“Well…” Indigo shrugged. “I supposed he might have if Bison hadn’t been replaced here instead. He always told me he and his brother hadn’t been getting along too well.”
I shook my head. “That’s so weird. This world and that one are so vastly different from each other. I could never connect them in my mind. But hearing about other people who have been to both places, makes it…” I blew out a long breath. “I don’t even know.”
“More real?” he guessed.
“Exactly.” I looked at him and confessed, “I hated coming back here. It was hard to adjust and fit in there, yes; some things I never understood. But after experiencing electricity, indoor plumbing, automobiles, telephones, televisions, computers, books, and so much more, it was like traveling back in time and going to the dark ages or something when we returned. I hate calling it the old world, too. What we’re like here, with horses and carriages and castles, it’s what they think of as old and outdated. We’re more like their medieval, dark ages. Everything there is so much newer and faster than what we have here. Yet we’re just infants compared to how long they’ve been around. It’s all so strange and backward.”
“No wonder why you want to go back so much,” Indigo murmured almost sadly, as if I was already leaving him behind.
A strange pressure filled my chest over the idea of never seeing him again. But then I realized that even if he came with us, he’d lose his mark once we reached Earth. He’d lose all those feelings he thought he had for me.
“The hardest thing to adjust to was how nothing magical can follow people to Earth,” I told him. “None of us could use our gifts there. They just disappeared. But the curse can’t follow us there either. My mark disappeared completely until I returned.” I flipped my wrist around to display the tattoo from my Graykey curse. “And all Melaina’s emotions that were restrained from her by Uncle Pallo returned to her. I’d never seen her so nice. Or happy.”