messed up forever.
But it already is messed up.
“I don’t know who to believe,” said Natalie.
“Then choose me,” said Ms. Pink.
And open no more doors, thought Natalie. But then it all stays like it is now, a ruined world and I am by myself. If Ms. Pink is right, it will only get worse if I keep opening doors. But what is worse than being alone forever? Dying? If Shrug is right then maybe things will get better.
I guess it’s what I have to do.
She crouched and leaped; Ms. Pink dodged backwards, but Natalie got her hands under Ms. Pink’s hovering body. She half-expected an edge, like a paper cone would have, but Ms. Pink’s underside was smooth, hard to grip. Natalie leaned in and pushed, trying to get leverage against the snow.
“Ah! Stop!” cried Ms. Pink, but Natalie’s feet had found traction on the ground under the snow; she pushed forward and up, tipping Ms. Pink until she fell back, rolling helplessly like a beetle on its back.
“Sorry,” said Natalie, and she turned and ran.
Shrug wasn’t at the wall; she climbed the steps to the top, to the second-to-last door, where Ms. Gold was waiting for her.
“I hope you brought the key,” said Ms. Gold.
“What!?”
“Just kidding, Nightfall. Relax. Ms. Pink won’t be here for a minute yet.”
Natalie looked over the rail, down towards the forest, but there was no sign of Ms. Pink.
“Do you have a riddle or something?”
“Sure,” said Ms. Gold. “What did the Yes Man say?”
“The what?”
“The Yes Man. What did the Yes Man say?”
“When?”
“Anytime.”
“To who?”
“Anyone.”
“The Yes Man?”
“Yes.”
“How many guesses do I get?”
“As many as you’d like. Though Ms. Pink is on her way, so you might want to hurry.”
Natalie looked off the railing again; she could see Ms. Pink gliding out of the trees, heading for the bottom of the stairs.
“Probably want to guess now.”
“Um- hello?”
“Really?”
“No. Um...he said ‘yes’?”
“Not a bad guess, but not correct.”
Ms. Pink was on her way up, cursing and mumbling angrily; gliding up the stairs was not as easy as swooping over smooth snow. Natalie checked her progress: Ms. Pink was up on the first landing, starting up the second flight of stairs.
“You’d better hurry.”
“Affirmative? Aye aye?”
“Clever! Nope. Keep trying.”
“A-ok? Yup?”
“Not really the right idea.”
Ok, Natalie said to herself, think think think! A Yes Man says yes all the time, right? But I’ve said yes already a bunch of ways, and she said it’s the wrong track. Maybe she’s lying? I’ll just have to hope she’s not.
But it was too hard to think with Ms. Pink closing in; Natalie imagined them struggling up here on the top landing, Ms. Pink trying to push her over the rails so she would fall four stories down, Natalie trying to do the same to Ms. Pink. Would she fly, wondered Natalie, if I pushed her over? I don’t want to kill her.
Now Ms. Pink was on the final flight of stairs, seconds away, and Natalie was stuck. I just don’t know, she thought. I don’t know the answer at all. But then she did. Ha ha, she thought. That’s just what a ‘Yes’ Man would say.
“I don’t no,” said Natalie. “Like N-O. A ‘Yes Man’ never says no”. The door clicked. Ms. Pink shrieked; Natalie pulled on the handle, hauled the door open. There was a bear behind it, a vast, shaggy black bear. Natalie backed up, her eyes wide, but the bear didn’t charge. It stood up on its hind legs and bowed to her solemnly, then shuffled away.
“One more,” said Natalie.
Her parents were still asleep, the lights were still broken, the phones dead, but outside things were different. It was as if someone, some giant being of some kind, had shaken and shuffled things during the night. The street was gone, the houses scattered, facing this way and that, standing randomly among trees and snow. It was the forest mixed with the neighborhood, a jumble of the worlds, except she did not look like Nightfall, and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to find the wall until the sun went down.
And, she thought, then what? Will it just be me alone in my house? Or just the forest? Or nothing at all? Maybe I’m bringing spring to those other worlds but destroying mine. Maybe that’s how it works.
Jessie wasn’t on her porch; Natalie actually managed to find Heidi’s house in the mixed up neighborhood, but Heidi wasn’t there either. Interesting that I only ran into people I knew, thought Natalie. I never saw any strangers, asleep or otherwise. Is that because I’m Nightfall? I guess the rest of the world is already gone, all the stuff I didn’t know. Or maybe that’s daytime thinking. She wandered back home, back to her room, sat on her bed. She imagined the world- her world and the Kingdom- just shrinking and shrinking until it was just her and her bed, surrounded by stars and nothing else, as if she was inside herself. My skin was the night, she thought, stars and darkness. What was inside me? The whole universe? Or was I just a piece of the sky? Maybe when it is all over and the world is gone I’ll go be part of the sky again. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Better than being all alone here in the world. Maybe.
That was how she fell asleep, thinking of nothing but sky and stars, and being part of the lonely night.
Shrug was there, and the surviving creepy girls, all standing around her in the snow (except for, of course, Ms. Pink). Natalie wasn’t wearing a dress anymore, though her skin was nighttime again; instead she had on a stiff leather vest, with heavy canvas pants, leather knee coverings, and heavy boots. There was a thick belt at her waist, and a scabbard with a sword in it. A sword? And this is armor, she realized. I’m wearing armor.
“No way, Shrug. Not a sword. I’m not fighting.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t mean you want to fight. Sometimes the fighting comes to you.”
“I won’t use it.”
“But we’re here, Nightfall,” said Shrug, indicating the creepy girls with a sweep of his arms. “For you. We all came to help. We’re your army.”
“But I don’t want an army.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need one,” said Shrug. “You have to give a speech.”
“What?”
“A speech, before battle. It’s what you have to do.” He indicated a tallish stump among the trees, one she was sure had never been there before, but there it was.
“You can’t be serious, Shrug,” she said, but she could hear the creepy girls starting to chant speech, speech, speech in their buzzy little voices, and Shrug was pushing her towards the stump.
Natalie’s dad loved Shakespeare, and had made her watch Henry V once. The King gave a battlefield speech in the movie, several of them, and it had seemed absurd to Natalie that the war would just stop and the enemy would wait while the main character gave a big ol’ speech. Now here she was, standing on a stump before the expectant faces of her very own army (all eleven of them), expected to give her own speech.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” announced Natalie.
They burst into cheers, smiling and spinning over the snow. Shrug reached up his hand to help her off the stump, tears on his cheeks. “That was perfect,” he said. “Exactly what we needed to hear.”
“But I don’t understand,” said Natalie, bewildered.
“Yes, yes,” said Shrug. “I always knew you wouldn’t.”
Now they were marching down the path, following Natalie to the wall, the creepy girls humming and singing happily, Shrug marching along beside her, a spring in his step.
“I wish you could tell me this will fix everything,” said Natalie.
“It’s what you have to do,” said
Shrug,
“And what about the creepy girls? What if some of them die?”
“Everybody dies,” said Shrug.
The wall was surrounded by another army, an army of creepy girls, dozens and dozens of them. It was a much larger army than Natalie’s, and different looking, too. Their bodies were each a myriad mixture of colors and designs, like the products of a deranged artist with too much paint on his hands. Their eyes were all red, gleaming and fierce. I wonder if a sword could even kill them, thought Natalie. I’m not sure if these things are really alive. But she didn’t have to find out. With a joyful cry the creepy girls behind her charged forward, spilling around her, crashing into the waiting multicolored army. It was a strange battle; none of the fighters had arms, so they just caromed into each other like bumper cars, knocking themselves a few feet back and charging again. Shrug was in there, too, reaching under the enemy cones to try to topple them, with mixed success. Natalie’s army was vastly outnumbered and could never really win, but she could see what they were trying to do. They were clearing a path, trying to make a way to the stairs for Natalie to follow.
She ran forward, into the gap they’d managed to clear; her girls closed in behind her, moved to the front, pushed further towards the steps. Now she and her army were a narrow bubble, a pocket within the enemy army, small and overwhelmed, but moving bit by bit towards the steps. One of the enemy girls broke through the line, charged Natalie. She thought about her sword, but decided not to draw it. Instead she charged forward to meet the girl, crashing into her, sending them both down into the snow. The girl was helpless there, rolling from side to side. Natalie and her