YesterWorld (Book 2 of the Down World Series)

Original Edition: Chapter Twenty-Two

FYI: I realize Ado and Adam are really similar names. When I introduced their characters in the last book, I didn't realize they'd have any scenes together! Sorry about that. Might change Ado's name in future drafts!

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Eventually Ado came charging out of the bathroom, his face impassive once again, as though nothing had happened. He scanned the room to find me sitting stiffly in my chair and Adam passed out on Sage's bed. I raised my index finger to my lips to let him know he should be quiet and let him sleep. After all, Adam had been up all night waiting for his chance to steal the portal solution.

Ado raised his middle finger to me in response. Then he marched up the stairs and slammed the door closed behind him.

Adam stirred slightly, but didn't wake.

I got up to explore the cold, barren room. It really was depressing to think that Sage had been living down here. The walls were just gray plaster, no pictures or decorations of any kind. A metal bookshelf against one wall was half empty.

I couldn't help but think of the other Sage's apartment, the airy, chic top floor of the hotel she lived in with John. The one with the fire-engine-red bathroom and the flowing curtains over the majestically tall windows. The one that had haunted my memories as a child, knowing it was a place I needed to get to someday, but not remembering where I had seen it.

That was the real Sage. A bright, lively woman in a flowing white dress, beads on her wrists, a musky perfume, a ready smile.

How could the same human being live two such disparate lives? How could life—even a sad and oppressive life like this—kill the spark in someone who had been so very alive?

And this led me to another thought, one that made me hold my breath: Were we all just one fateful moment away from losing everything that defined us?

My eyes fell on Sage's half-empty bookshelf, a very familiar looking spine suddenly catching my eye. I did a bit of a double take, trying to make sense of why my mother's photo album was on Sage's shelf. It wasn't until I picked it up and looked at the well-worn cover, with unfamiliar markings and stickers all over it, that I realized it wasn't the same exact one; Sage and my mom must've gotten identical albums together.

They were good friends in high school, so this wasn't really surprising. I wondered if the albums were bought to commemorate their graduation, or just on a whim one day, maybe down at Graussman's Pharmacy after school. I liked to think of them like that, young and innocent.

For the second time in a day, I flipped through an old photo album, expecting to see familiar and comforting images.

And for the second time in a day, what I saw instead made me shiver down to my bones. A sensation oddly like brain freeze grasped hold of my frontal lobe for a second; a kind of cognitive dissonance. Because there was something very disturbing about this album too.

But this time, it wasn't because the pictures were of the wrong people.

They were the right people: Mom, Sage, John; their friends Jenny and Dave kissing; a photo taken in what looked like a friend's basement, Mom and John smiling together on the couch, and George sitting several inches away with a forced look of happiness creaking across his face. In fact, some of these pictures seemed to be taken on the very same day as the ones in Mom's album. Various outfits, a bright yellow hair scrunchie, and even a glimpse of a red plaid backpack all harkened back to very similar photos I'd seen before.