I obey, marveling as the tinted glasses filter out just enough of the light to be tolerable, without making it hard to see.
“Better,” Tristan says. “Now act looser, more relaxed. We’re not out looking for a fight—we’re looking to have fun. You know, eat, drink, and be merry.”
“Never heard of that before,” Trevor grumbles.
“Well, now you have. This is life or death, guys. The fate of the Tri-Realms may depend on your ability to act like sun dwellers.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, chief,” Trevor says.
“The Tri-Realms might be screwed,” Roc adds.
“Oh, come on. It’s just like dress-up when you were kids,” Tawni says, her eyes lighting up. “Didn’t you ever play dress-up?”
“Dress up?” Trevor says. “Is that like wearing dresses or something? I try to be open-minded, but even I’d draw the line at wearing a dress.”
“Grrr, you guys are so frustrating sometimes,” Tawni says. Then, looking to me for backup, she says, “Adele, you know what I mean, don’t you?”
“Elsey used to play dress-up. She’d pin blankets to look like a dress. She always said she was a princess waiting for her knight in shining armor. So maybe it does mean wearing a dress?” I say cautiously, fearing Tawni’s wrath.
“You all are hopeless,” she says. “All I mean is that we need to pretend, to be in character. Honestly, use your imaginations. We’ve got the clothes, but now we have to have the sun dweller mindset. I think that’s what Tristan means.”
“Exactly,” he says.
“I think I can do that,” Trevor says. “I’ll just act like an idiot.”
“Shouldn’t be too difficult for you,” Roc mumbles under his breath.
“Or you,” Trevor retorts.
“Guys, not the time,” Tristan says sternly. “We have to move on, find the train station.”
Trying to think like sun dwellers, we set off down the road in a staggered group, less stiff—as Tristan put it—than before. Tawni really gets into it, walking in her short, high-heeled steps, one arm around me, the other around Roc. Every once in a while she laughs, although nobody says anything funny. Tristan and I have our arms around each other, too.
At first the whole thing is awkward, but after we make it down the block, turn right, and make it another block without seeing anyone, I loosen up a little, start to enjoy being so close to Tristan. His usual warmth pulsates through me as we pretend-stagger along. I kiss him on the cheek, making it extra sloppy for effect and to get a laugh out of him. He returns the favor, wetting my cheek, just next to my lips. It’s funny, we’re pretending to be drunk, to be falling all over each other, having a good time—but we’re also not faking it. It feels amazing doing this with Tristan. We’re relaxed and carefree for the first time in our relationship, and I feel like I could do anything with him. If we weren’t on this freaking mission, I’d pull him away to a dark corner, and—
My frivolous thoughts are interrupted when a group of sun dwellers pass, going in the other direction. My heart races, my knees tighten, and I’m glad I’m wearing the sunglasses, because my eyes narrow under the weight of my frown.
“Stay in character,” Tristan whispers, slapping Trevor on the back and laughing merrily.
As we pass the locals, four girls and three guys who are dressed like girls, all of whom are strutting down the center like they own the road, one of the girls says, “Party’s this way, boys,” throwing Trevor a perfectly white smile on a perfectly fake face. A lock of bleached hair tumbles across her cheek.
“We gotta get some more booze,” Tristan replies, planting another kiss on my cheek and not missing a step.
“You can share ours,” the girl says, holding up a thick green bottle with gold lettering on the side.
“Maybe next time,” Tristan says.
“Your loss,” she calls over her shoulder, ushering her group forward.
When they’re out of earshot, I finally breathe again, as Trevor says, “Told you I look good in these new clothes. Did you see the way she looked at me?”
“We saw,” I say, “but I wouldn’t be too proud of it, she didn’t look too picky.”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Trevor retorts, leaving me huffing.
Block after block of exquisite apartments pass as we shuffle along, just a happy group of sun dwellers looking for action. Roc steers us down a road to the left, sending us diagonally through the city. Up ahead, a pile of what appears to be rubbish spills out of a gaping hole into a dark, gray building with massive steel roll-up doors on one side.
“I didn’t know sun dwellers were slobs, too,” I comment, catching a whiff of putrid rotting garbage as we approach. “What’s with all the garbage?”
“Now that’s interesting,” Tristan says.
“What is?” Tawni asks.
“Sun dwellers are typically very clean. That hole leads to giant Dumpsters that, when full, are shipped to the Star Realm for destruction in the lava flow.”
“But that’s a lot of garbage,” I say. “My subchapter wouldn’t create that much garbage in a month.”
“People are very wasteful here,” Roc says. “That’s probably a day’s worth.”
I cough, choking on breath. “A day! That’s ridiculous,” I say.
Roc shrugs. “It’s a different world up here. But still, whether it’s a day’s worth, or a month’s, it shouldn’t be piling up on the street—it should be shipped away.”
“It seems that’s not happening anymore,” I note.
“Seems not. Given the war, all inter-Realm shipping would be cancelled indefinitely. I guess there’s not a backup plan for managing the trash.”
“Funny,” I say. “Perhaps the Sun Realm is more dependent on the Lower Realms than anyone realizes.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Tristan says. I glance at the shining steel doors on the building. “Trash, taxes, building supplies, gemstones, iron ore: it all comes from the Lower Realms. The Sun Realm wouldn’t exist without it.”
“Which is exactly why your father is moving so fast to knock us back into line,” I add, immediately thinking of my mom and sister. With the strength and resources of the Sun Realm, their hope of survival is minimal if we don’t succeed in our mission. Instead of fear rising, it’s determination that wells up, heating my chest. Failure is not an option—never was.
Before Tristan can respond, the raucous grinding of gears sounds to the right. A dark crack appears below the roll-up doors, growing thicker as the twin risers are pulled inside. Then: the rumble of an engine joins the cacophony of noise.
“Quick, away from the doors!” Tristan says. “Make like we’re just hanging out.”
We rush to the side of the opening, against the wall, sort of facing each other, as if we’re just having a conversation. In my peripheral vision a monstrous truck emerges from the garage like a troll from its cave. With a roar, the closed-bedded truck hangs a hard right and blows past us, sending a mixed rush of hot air, exhaust, and old garbage over us.
“Whew! That stinks like the Star Realm,” Trevor says. “I thought you said the garbage service would be shut down.”
“It should be,” Tristan says. “There’s no way that truck’s headed below.” He motions to the ground.
We stare at the ground in silence, each puzzling over the mystery.
“It could be going to subchapter four,” Roc says.
“Why four?” I ask.
“There’s an incinerator there. It’s mostly used for easily disposed of waste that doesn’t require the lava flow, but they’re desperate, so maybe they’ll try to destroy whatever they can there.”
“Good call, Roc. That’s the only place they could be taking it,” Tristan says.
“Doesn’t matter,” Trevor says. “All we care about is reaching subchapter one. Where’s the train?”