Waiting for Sunday

chapter 24 - into the labyrinth

"Thimblewheat, thimblewheat," Quincy murmurs to herself, as if saying the word enough times will make it sound any less made-up. "Any chance Mr. Farmer Witch gave you some specifics? What it does, where exactly to look for it, etcetera?"

The question's directed at Mira, walking just a pace ahead of Quincy, her eyes trained low at the corn stalks' base. As brief a time as Quincy has known Mira Ndiaye, she's already noticed that in terms of personal style she always seems to one-up everyone else—though whether that is intentional or not is what Quincy has yet to figure out. Even in a yoga top and sweatpants crunching through a corn maze near eight o'clock in the morning, Mira still looks like she's just stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine.

"It's a tether," Mira answers without looking up.

"A tether?" Quincy says. "To what?"

"I don't know. Between the worlds, I think. All I know is Nao said it makes the connection wider and more stable, like a—mesh, I guess, for wifi. Lillie and Felix will be less likely to get lost."

"I know we already agreed to it," Quincy says then, dragging her hands along the stalks, relishing the raw thwack of them against her arms. "But God, sometimes it all sounds a little too freaky."

Mira stiffens, and though it's slight, it's not slight enough for Quincy not to notice it. There is some part of her that feels all she does is notice, observe, pick up on: a radar in her system that hasn't flickered out since her birth.

"What?" Quincy asks, quickening her pace so they're side by side. "What is it? Did you find something?"

"Not yet. He said to look for roots, though. To follow them. It's just—"

"It's just?"

"I saw him try it, Quincy," Mira says, and her eyes shift sideways then, round with something that looks like guilt. "He didn't mention it to Lillie, or to Felix, but I saw Nao attempt to do what they're doing."

The wind whistles in Quincy's ear, blowing her hair into her mouth and crumpled husks of corn into the air. There's enough evidence on Mira's face that Quincy doesn't have to ask. She does anyway. "It's really possible?"

Mira nods. "It's also possible we lose them. That's what I'm worried about."

At that, Quincy scoffs and starts walking again. "That's always been a possibility. As long as I've known Felix, I've known that."

Slowly, the crunch of Mira's platform tennis shoes start up behind Quincy again. "What do you mean?"

Quincy has to sift through a dusted pile of memories to find the right words. Felix pressed to the gym walls during dodgeball day in middle school, preferring a bad participation grade over facing his classmates' pubescent virulence. Felix cross-legged on the end of his bed, sketchbook balanced on his knees, fingers smudged with graphite. Felix in high school, staring out at an open beach for hours until she had to drag him away.

Quincy presses her lips together and hums in thought. "I think loving a Montenegro is basically like staring fate in the face everyday," she says at last. "You know you probably don't have a lot of time, but that's exactly why you can't run away. That's exactly what makes everything count."

Mira is giving her a look on the border between awe and concern, when Quincy's eyes lower, catching on something that would look like a bird's nest if bird's nests were a bright bluish green and grew out of the ground like ivy.

Quincy snaps her fingers and points. "Hey, I don't know, but that looks pretty magicky to me."

Mira drops to one knee before Quincy even really sees her move, pushing aside the cornstalks. "It's a trail," she reports after a moment, getting back up and dusting the dirt from her knees. "We should follow it."