Disclaimer: K.A., I know you're getting sick of hearing from me. But I really do think you should just sell the series to your fans. We've earned it after years of loyalty, heh. ;)
Author's Note: Drabble. April. Huzzah? SPOILERS FOR END.
April sometimes wishes there were a pair of ruby slippers in Everworld that she could slip on, and tap her heels three times and wish her way home again. When she was six, she'd had a pair for herself- gaudy red sequins and equally unimpressive straps that broke the first week had her in tears.
April finds that Everworld is a lot like a fake pair of magic shoes.
"You make do with what you have," Jalil tells her, barely glancing up from his maps and books and all-important quest for Truth. April could tell him the Truth if he really wanted it; about bone-thin fingers and sucking in all the disappointment tight, praying like prayers are pennies to drop into wells that you can never fish out again. She wants to say that it's not fair because Jalil has so much to make do with, and she has nothing at all.
"Fuck if I know," Christopher says, almost before she asks him. There's charcoal lining his eyes that speaks of frustrations, and when April opens her mouth to ask again he's already gone into the pale drifts of light through the windows, along with his answers.
When she goes to David, feet aching for the way, he points her to nowhere. "We've got nowhere else to go," is what David says, standing taller than her like one of the gods, something akin to pity in his eyes. But the hand that touches her shoulder tentatively, like a mere wisp, is altogether too human and April pulls away.
In her bedroom, against the film of mist covering her windows, April spells out her name and that of her street. She taps the bare soles of her feet together like clapping, the red shine of the morning is like the way home, but far too far to reach.