Radiance (Riley Bloom #1)(3)

The one where my throat went all hot and lumpy, where my eyes started to sting, and I was filled with such longing, such overwhelming yearning, I was willing to do anything to go back.

Back to the earth plane.

Back to where I truly belonged.

Because the truth is, as hard as I’d been trying to put on a brave face and make everyone think I was adjusting just fine and really learning to love my new life Here—the fact is, I wasn’t.

I wasn’t adjusting.

I wasn’t learning to love much of anything.

Not. At. All.

In fact, given the opportunity, I would’ve done anything to locate that bridge again so I could sprint right across it without once looking back.

I’d do anything to go back home, to my real home, and live alongside my sister again.

And it didn’t take a whole lot of screen time to know that Ever felt pretty much the same way. Because not only did she miss me, it was pretty clear she needed me as much as I needed her.

And that’s all I needed to go on to know I’d done the right thing.

That’s all I needed to see to not feel the least bit bad for going against my parents’ wishes and sneaking into the Viewing Room.

Because the truth is, I felt justified.

Sometimes you just have to act on your own.

Sometimes you have to do what you know inside to be right.





4


After watching for what seemed like a while, I gave up my stall to some middle-aged guy with one of those curlicue mustaches that you see way more in cartoons than real life, vacated the Viewing Room, and arrived at school dressed in the plaid skirt, white blouse, and blue blazer, and decided to just go with it barring some sort of major, catastrophic, fashion-related embarrassment.

Happy to see I wasn’t the only one wearing a uniform, that plenty of other kids were wearing them too. Though there were also kids dressed in saris and kimonos and all sorts of really cool, international wear, with pretty much every ethnicity present and accounted for. And that’s when it hit me—the full scope of what was really happening Here.

I was finally the exchange student I always wanted to be.

When the soft, tingling sound of wind chimes trilled through the air, everyone started heading in the same general direction, and since I had no idea what to do, or where I was expected to be, I followed.

Merging into the throng of students as we made our way down a beautifully landscaped path filled with all sorts of exotic flowers, plants, and trees, over a small bridge that spanned the biggest, most amazing koi pond I’d ever seen, and into some building that looked just like the pictures I’d seen of the Parthenon in Greece, except this one wasn’t all old and crumbly with missing columns and stuff. This particular version was made of marble so shiny, white, and pristine it looked as though it had been built that very same day.

We made our way up the stairs and took our places on a long marble bench. Squeezing in next to a girl in a royal blue and bright yellow cheerleading uniform on one side, as a boy in a long beige cotton tunic, matching cotton pants, and old leather sandals squeezed in on my other. And I was just about to turn to him, eager to strike up a conversation and ask him where he was from and how long he’d been dead, when this old dude with long, sparkly, golden-colored hair (yes, it actually sparkled—I’m not making that up) in a long, shimmering robe that was so long it puddled around his feet and dragged on the floor behind him like a bridal train, sort of glided into the room as everyone rose from their seats.

Everyone but me, that is.

Because the thing is—seeing him standing there before us like that, well, I was a little taken aback.

Not to mention choked up.

I mean, even though I figured I’d been Here for probably what amounted to a week (I kept track of time by how many times I went to sleep, counting one for each day), I’d yet to see the Big Guy, otherwise known in these parts as The One.

But apparently I still hadn’t, because cheerleader girl sitting next to me grabbed hold of my jacket and continued to yank on my sleeve until we were standing shoulder to shoulder, her mind hissing at mine: What’re ya doin’, mate? You better stand up so Perseus can count you!

“Perseus?” I looked at her, not realizing I’d spoken out loud until the dorky guy with the greasy hair and nerd glasses sitting right in front of me turned and thought: Shhh!

I clamped my lips shut and stared straight ahead, feeling as though that Perseus dude was looking right at me, but then, after gazing around a bit, I realized he was. But not just at me, he was pretty much looking at everyone, conducting a sort of mental roll call it seemed, which probably explained why everyone was on their best behavior.

Up until then, I’d never seen such a large group of well-behaved students, especially at an assembly like this. And I couldn’t help but hope that wouldn’t always be the case. That we didn’t all just immediately turn into angels and saints by virtue of being Here. That somewhere in the crowd was at least one potential friend who’d understand the fundamental value of goofing off.

Because if not, well, how boring would that be?

And I was so lost in the thought I didn’t even realize the music had started until cheerleader girl nudged me on the arm and pointed to where Perseus now stood center stage. An electric guitar strapped across his chest as he led us all in a rousing chorus of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” Dragging the song out for much longer than necessary, much longer than I remember it being, and even adding in some major guitar riffs I know for a fact I never heard on my dad’s old CDs. Gladly accepting his standing ovation the moment it was finally, mercifully over, and promptly discarding his glittering robe and revealing himself to be just another old-school hippie in faded jeans, vintage Rolling Stones concert tee, and bare feet.