EDGE OF DAY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

18 DAYS LATER (18 Multiverse Years)

Daisy sat on her Queen-sized bed and drank in the room she'd woken in practically every morning for the last fourteen years since her family moved in. She wanted to remember every detail, to close her eyes and return to this moment any time she felt like it over the next six months.

A montage of friends and recent holiday photos hung on the wall beneath her bookshelf with horse-riding ribbons, the mad-hatter party hat Ember and Cassie had made her wear all-night on her eighteenth birthday, and her favorite books.

Opposite her bed was the massive Klimt-inspired mural she and Cassie had painted last year. And by her bedroom door, the built-in wardrobe, with a white door falling off its hinge and an enormous mirror on the inside, covered over with more photos, and sketches, and art prints.

Of course this morning, her room was freakishly tidy. There were none of the usual clothes, headphones, or books on the floor. No forgotten damp towel under the bed growing mildew, or old milk glass and biscuit wrappers.

This morning, the clean, sparse carpet housed only one large object: Her backpack, which contained everything—including a bed-sheet and the sleeping bag she would have with her for the next six months. Luckily, most of the places she and Cassie were going on their round-the-world-trip didn't require warm clothes. India, Nepal, Thailand, Singapore, Bali, Australia, Queenstown, Auckland, Fiji, and finally, last stop before coming home, Colorado, USA. Cassie had wanted LA, but Daisy had persuaded her to visit the Rocky Mountains. Learning to rock climb and exploring Denver would be far more interesting than smog and traffic jams.

Besides, Daisy's mother had grown up in Boulder, Colorado and Daisy wanted to see the house her mother lived in until she was eleven and the family moved overseas. She'd promised her mother she would take photos and even ask the owners for a guided tour!

Thinking of which, Daisy could hear her mum in the kitchen, preparing the "last breakfast." She should get down there before there were enough fried eggs and bacon to feed a football team.

She leaned over and kissed her horse-riding medals for luck, plumped back her enormous glittery pillow, and squeezed her fists together in excitement.

"Goodbye Room," she said, hauling her rucksack over her shoulder. "See you in six months."

Her Mum had three things on the stove, a tea towel thrown over her shoulder, and a line of stress furrowing her face. She tossed fried mushrooms, turned sausages, stirred baked-beans, and attacked the fried eggs with a spatula. It was like watching one of those cooking programs with a five-star chef. In terms of effort at least, not quite so much in terms of results.

"Toast is burning," Daisy said. She stood in the doorway above the four wooden steps descending into their burgundy kitchen.

"Oh, blast!" Her mom punched up the toaster. Smoke drifted around her head.

"It's fine, Mom. There's way too much here, anyway." With the nerves and excitement, Daisy wasn't hungry.

"Daisy!" Dad's voice boomed. "Where's my little Daisy!" Her father came down the hallway and swept her into a hug. Impossible to wriggle out of a Dad-hug. He was built like a house, "all muscle" he liked to say. It was probably true, once-upon-a-time.

"Have you lost weight?" Daisy said, moving her hands across his love handles.

He let go and stood back, pulling in his chest and stomach. "Hear that, Pam? She says I've lost weight." Daisy smirked to herself, gave her Dad a kiss on the cheek, and began helping Mom lay the table for breakfast.