Ashe stepped forward. “I’m in. I’m tired of owing you.” He said it good-naturedly, though, not spitefully.

Cole smiled and smacked him on his shoulder, like a brother-in-arms.

Again we darted through alleys and back roads. We were quiet and quick. I was so turned around that if I had been left here alone, I’d never find my way out again. I kept my hood up. Any person we passed could be looking for me.

Cole moved directly in front of me, and Max stayed behind. “Follow me as close as you can, Nik.”

“So you can …” I searched for the right words to describe his masking of my energy. “Suck it up better?”

I heard him let out a tiny laugh. “Exactly.”

Ashe and Max flanked my sides, only farther away and less obviously than before.

Each Common had four entrances and exits. Two on opposite sides that led to the other Commons, one that led to the void, and one that served as the entrance to the maze. The way we were moving, the two Common exits were in the north and south points of the circle. The void was to the west, and the maze was to the east.

We ran. I couldn’t see anyone following, and I was starting to believe we could leave unnoticed until Max said, “We’ve got company.”

I turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse of two figures behind us at the end of the alley. “Maybe they’re out for a walk?” I said hopefully.

“Let’s check,” Max said. He made a sudden turn down a side street and then took off running. We followed close behind. He made a series of quick, random turns in a row, then we all ducked into a particularly dark alley and waited.

For a minute nothing happened. After our mad dash, I couldn’t imagine anyone being able to keep up.

But they did. The two figures appeared at the end of the alley from the way we’d come.

We all looked to Ashe, who had become the unofficial leader. He thought for a split second, then said, “We split up. Once you get to the entrance, go through immediately.”

And just like that we scattered. Cole took my hand, and we ran.

I squeezed Jack’s note in my hand. Hang on, Jack, I thought. I’m coming.

I had no idea if the men were following us or someone else in our group. We were going too fast for me to check. After a few minutes of flat-out sprinting, we reached an arched entryway, like the one we’d taken to enter Ouros; but this one looked as if it had rarely been used. It had distinct corners that hadn’t been worn away from thousands of hands touching it. The dirt on the ground looked loose and unpacked.

We sprinted to it.

“Go! Go!” Cole said, urging me under the archway first. He followed, and then he flattened himself against the wall, in the shadow of the entrance, and watched the street we’d come on.

Nobody showed. I didn’t know if the others were ahead of us or if they were still trying to get here. Cole finally tore his eyes away and looked ahead into the dark corridor. He went past me. “I’ll go first.”

As we made our way through the dark corridor, the sound of running water grew louder. The light at the end bounced off the walls, just like in an indoor swimming pool.

And then I got my first look at the Ring of Water.

I froze.

Up until this point I could tell myself that we were in some strange corner of the world but still on a planet I recognized. But looking at the Ring of Water, I’d never felt farther away from the Surface and all things familiar. The sight was so unearthly, it took my breath away.

Cole waited for me, his hand held out. His gaze met mine, and he recognized my sudden paralysis. “Are you ready for this?”

Without realizing it, I slowly shook my head back and forth. Cole smirked. “Sure you are, Nik. The only way out is through.” He reached his hand farther toward me.

I took it, because I knew that if I didn’t, I’d be stuck in the corridor for a long time. A light mist of water hit me in the face as I stepped out into the ring. It made sense, because the entire wall in front of me was made up of water, like a giant waterfall, only it didn’t pool at the bottom and it seemed to come from nowhere.

It was a wall of running water, and it was forcing me to choose to go either right or left. The wall behind me looked exactly the same except for the small, dark opening of the corridor we’d just come through.

“Welcome to the maze,” Ashe said. He was standing off to the side with Max. They’d beat us. “Try not to get too wet. The water here has certain … properties.”

I remembered Ashe said that the water messed with emotions. “Like what?” I asked.

Cole pulled me toward the exact center of the pathway, I assumed so the least amount of water would splash me. “It can draw out your worst emotions. Get too wet, and you could drown in your own despair.”

I looked at the giant wall in front of me, and the one behind me now, and wondered how in the world I was supposed to stay dry.

The others didn’t look worried about the water, though. Right now they were all staring at my feet. I dropped my head and saw the problem. The tether was pointing straight toward the wall in front of me, still indicating the center of the maze.

“The tether’s going to be no use if it’s always pointing through the walls,” I said.

Everyone looked to Cole, who was focused on the tether. “You were able to control your projection enough to focus it on this tether. Now we need you to tap into your connection with Jack even more so that your tether will tell us whether to go right or left.”

“How?”

“Tell me a story.”

Max rolled his eyes dramatically in the background.

Cole ignored him. “We know your focused memories are the best way to control your connection with Jack. Think of a decisive moment in your relationship with him.”

I looked at the tether and the wall of water, and the sets of eyes on me waiting, and I couldn’t think.

“Tell me when you first knew you loved him,” Cole said. His voice suddenly sounded tense, but his face remained a calm mask.

I glanced nervously around at our small group.

“Don’t worry about them,” Cole said. “Just tell me. Talk to me. When did you know?”

I knew exactly when it happened.

FRESHMAN YEAR

The Surface. My house.

A funeral is easy compared to the day after the funeral. The week after. The first Sunday morning after, when the silence in the kitchen—the sound of my mother not cooking French toast—hurts my ears. Getting dressed for school, when the fact that she isn’t there to comment on my choice of shirts is like a palpable vacuum in my room.

It’s the week after the funeral when the loneliness sucks the air out of my lungs.

I put my books in my schoolbag and checked my watch.

“Leaving early again?” my dad asked. He’d appeared in the doorway of my bedroom, wearing a gray suit with a red vest, the only reminder of last week’s funeral in the dark circles under his eyes.

I tried my best to smile. “I wanted to pick up some coffee on the way.”

He nodded, but I wasn’t sure he believed me. He hesitated for a moment, then walked away. “Love you, Nikki.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

I slung the bag over my shoulder and headed out to my car, careful not to wake Tommy, whose school wouldn’t start for another hour. The sunlight painted the tops of the evergreen trees, and I knew it would soon hit my mother’s burial site too.

I didn’t tell my dad the truth about where I was going because I didn’t want him to worry about me. He had his own heartbreak to handle without having to deal with a daughter who had been spending most mornings sneaking off to the cemetery to talk to her dead mother.

It wasn’t that I really thought I was talking to her or that I believed she was somewhere in the clouds listening to me. It was an outlet. A release. If I didn’t let out some of the pain little by little, I would burst like an overfilled balloon.

It sounded crazy. I knew it. But I couldn’t help it. My mom was gone. And any more mornings I spent in an empty house without her to mull over my choice in outfit, or to talk about my upcoming day while the coffee brewed, or to help twist my hair into a loose braid would just push her further away from me.

I pulled into the parking lot and let the car idle for a moment. Was I losing it? Did I really think I could keep her close by avoiding my morning routine? I didn’t have any friends who’d lost a close relative, let alone one of their parents. Maybe if I had I’d know what a grieving daughter was supposed to look like, and then I could try to look like her.

I cut the ignition and got out of the car. Even though it was well into spring, the morning air seemed confused, as if the memory of winter was still fresh in its mind.

I made my way over to my mother’s grave. The rectangular patch of grass was annoyingly fresh, and dark against the rest of the lawn, screaming to anyone who would listen about the newness of the tragedy in the Beckett family.

The tragedy. The casual word everyone else used to describe something remote from their own lives. But for me the loss went deep inside. And it was sharp, with serrated edges. It tore through me and settled into the darkest corners of my soul, dormant until the tiniest signs of healing spurred it into action again.

Was there a word for that? Tragedy didn’t fit. It wasn’t big enough.

I sank to the ground and as was often the case, couldn’t think of a thing to say. We used to fly through the hours, talking without pausing. My dad would have to remind us of school, work, whatever we were missing.

And now I had no words. So I sat there silently.

A snap nearby startled me, and I turned toward the sound. Under the oak tree adjacent to the iron fence that provided the boundary for the cemetery, a figure sat down on the ground and opened a book.

Jack. Our eyes met. He didn’t wave or say anything. He just smiled and nodded his head to let me know he saw me, then bent his head over his novel.

I don’t know how he knew where to find me. Maybe he saw my car in the parking lot. Maybe my dad had called him. Maybe he just knew me.

However he’d found his way here, it didn’t matter. I knew then that the boy under the tree had to be mine. That floppy hair should be mine to touch. That big, knuckly boy hand should be mine to hold. That gruff voice should be mine to hear, and those ears should be mine to tell all of my secrets to. Except for the biggest secret. That I loved him. More than the crush I’d been dealing with for years. More than I should’ve loved a best friend. More than he would ever love me back. I was gone for him.

I turned back to the grave, to where the marker would be once it arrived, and whispered, “Help me, Mom. What am I going to do about Jack?”

SEVENTEEN

NOW

The Everneath. The Ring of Water.

So he earns your undying love by reading a book under a tree?” Cole said dryly. “Why didn’t I ever try that approach? I like books and trees.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not telling you these stories if you’re going to make fun.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey. It’s working. Look.”

The tether had shifted position and was now pointing to the left.

“Let’s move,” Ashe said. “I’ll take the lead; Max, you take the back; and, Cole, you stick with Nikki. Max, keep your eye out for Wanderers. They like to send single scouts. We can’t afford to let even one of them know we’re here.” He looked at his watch. “It’s midday. We’ve gotta make as much distance as we can before we kick Nikki out. Let’s go.”

“Wait a second. Midday?” My voice rose. “I left at nighttime. Is it midday the next day?”

Ashe shrugged. “I only know the time of day. Not the date. Why?”

“The blackout may have sped up the time,” Cole said. He turned toward me. “The time discrepancies in the Everneath aren’t always consistent.”

My shoulders sagged. “If it’s the next day, then I’ve been missing overnight. That would mean I missed a dream with Jack.” My breathing became accelerated. I was about to hyperventilate. “He’s barely alive as it is. If I missed a night …”

Cole put a hand on my shoulder. “We can’t do anything about it now, Nik,” he said. “Except to get moving.”

I nodded, hoping by some miracle that time had gone backward, and it was midday on the day I left.

I started speed-walking down the pathway. “Slow down,” Cole said. “Make a mistake, and you’ll get drenched.”

I slowed down by a millisecond.

Ashe took the lead and scouted ahead, Cole walked beside me, and Max stayed far behind. Every time Ashe came to a decision point, where there were two or more possible routes, he would wait for us to catch up and see where my tether was pointing. He never got very far, because there were a lot of twists and turns, and forks in the road, and archways that seemed to be shortcuts to the next corridor over.

The sounds of the waterfalls adjusted in my ears so they became simply background noises.