“Fourteen Horsehair Reservoir Road, Fort Baker, Colorado.”
“Nu-uh. It’s twenty-seven Horsehair Reservoir Road,” Mouse cheers. “Open it now, Finn! Open it now!”
Once again I try the lever, but the lever doesn’t budge. “Still locked.”
“How could it still be locked?”
“Maybe because I didn’t want to remember that,” I mutter.
“Ohhhh,” Mouse sighs.
In the silence I hear my clock ticking and Mouse’s too. What if she can’t think of something? What if we time out right here?
“I know,” Mouse says finally. “Finn, what was it like to sit on Daddy’s lap?”
I try to call this up. I want to remember what it felt like to be that safe, that loved. I want it more than anything. I can remember his face. The way he laughed. The way his eyes shone.
“I don’t remember, Mouse,” I say miserably as the lock mechanism clicks open.
“Finn!” Mouse is smiling now, her face lit up like a carnival ride. She wraps the fingers of her good hand around mine. “C’mon, Finn,” she says, “let’s go.”
CHAPTER 24
THE BLUE TRAM
It seems like everything happened so fast. One minute I was in Chuck’s taxi. The next minute I’m in this tram whizzing back to my welcomer station, gliding along on the cushiony blue monorail seats. Finn and Mouse will do fine without me. They stick together, those two. They don’t need me to solve some puzzle about a box, that’s for sure. They are better at puzzles than I am.
My wrist screen has my welcomer group on it. They are singing a new welcoming song, but there’s an empty spot in row two. My spot. See, that’s just like them. They saved a spot for me and I’ll save one for Maddy. She’ll find a way to get here. Maddy gets what she wants.
I wonder who will be arriving today. For a second I feel an aching longing for the sound of my name on the loudspeaker. India! India! There is nothing like your own welcoming.
But a welcoming like that only happens once. I know that now.
I shouldn’t have made Laird mad. I will need to apologize to him first thing, I decide as the tram passes through the great entrance, which I remember from when we came through in the feather cab. Welcome to Falling Bird, it says in a prism of color glowing on the streets below.
The tram hums on beyond the city gates. The glass doors open, but there’s no one to get in or out. The doors slide shut again and the tram zips forward. According to the map posted above my seat, the next stop is mine—the amphitheater—and from there it’s a short hop by foot to my welcomer station. I scootch down the row of sky blue cushions to the glass doors, which are already opening. I’m getting up when the white cat from my dream house leaps into the tram, landing on the seat almost noiselessly. Where did she come from?
I brush past her, fur grazing my arm as I lurch toward the doorway, but the glass door slides shut, bumping me back. I flail around, grabbing for a handle to keep from falling as the tram glides on with me and the white cat inside.
What happened? Did I hesitate and lose my chance to get off? It almost seemed like the tram door closed in my face on purpose. I know what my mom would say. Don’t be a victim, India. The world is not out to get you, you made a choice. But how could that be? I chose to get off and the cat got in my way.
Don’t make tough decisions when you’re upset. Wait until you’re calm and you can think it all through. But I don’t have that luxury here, Mom. What then?
I study the color-coded map again. There are five more stops on this line. The next one is Headquarters Bungalows. I’ll get off there.
The white cat is retching. She pukes up a yellow green mess of slimy liquid on the blue cloud carpet.
“Kitty?” I call.
I don’t even know her name.
She stares at me as if she knows things she doesn’t want to tell. But how could she tell me anything? She’s a cat. Am I losing my mind?
The tram doesn’t slow at Headquarters Bungalows. I can barely read the letters on the platform as we speed by. I only recognize the stop by the blur of purple and turquoise colors on the sign. The tram rumbles in a hopeful way at Vehicle Registration. There’s a small cluster of passengers waiting to board. I’m sitting in front of the doors now, so I can leap out the second they open. But the tram doesn’t stop at Vehicle Registration or Weather Group Station or Awareness Training. There is only one station left. Passengers Waiting.
Passengers Waiting? That sounds lame. I hate waiting. Still, something about this tram is creepy, and I want to get off.
When we pull up, the stop isn’t outside as the others have been. The doors open into a room with glass walls, jam-packed with people. Men, women, and kids are sitting on the floor hunched over game boards, drinking sodas, lazily fanning themselves. The trash cans overflow with drink cups and empty hamburger containers.