he says, clicking a button. Instantly, a tarp rolls out above our heads just as a rumble of thunder shakes the treehouse and rain begins to fall.
It’s a slow, steady rain, the kind that feels soothing, cleansing almost, as it falls around you. “You’re right, I do love it,” I say, sticking a hand out to feel the drops. “Show me more.”
Wyn hands the remote back to me and I experiment with all the buttons. I make it rain harder, then softer, then I roll up the tarp and let the sun back out. I change day to dusk, dusk to night, and night back to day again. I scrutinize the MEEP MAIL icon. “I don’t suppose . . .”
Wyn gives me an impatient look. “Believe me, it was one of the first things I tried. They must have cut off all communication frequencies. Can’t receive mail, can’t send it.”
“Right,” I say, trying to ignore his tone. Of course Wyn’s already tried everything. Still, I had to ask, didn’t I? Because maybe there’s one small thing he missed. One little crack in the armor surrounding us.
“Try the banana icon,” Wyn suggests, a hint of apology in his voice.
I press a button on the remote and a family of monkeys appears in the trees around us, chittering among themselves in friendly fashion. I smile as a baby monkey takes a seat on Wyn’s shoulder, and Wyn grins back at me. I turn up the temperature to “tropical,” and even though we can’t sweat in the MEEP—thank God—somehow I still register, still feel, the extra intensity of the sun.
“Whew! Easy there, before our avatars melt,” Wyn says, reaching up to give the baby monkey a scratch between the ears. “How about a swim to cool off?”
I look down at the gorgeous beach. I’d love nothing more than to splash through those waves right now, but we’ve got work to do. “Shouldn’t we go back? Or at least come up with a new plan?”
“Go back where, Nixy? And do what? Our last plan nearly killed you.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Yes, I lost my memory for a bit but it was hardly a life-or-death situation.”
“That’s because you don’t remember it, Nixy, but I do. I had to listen to you scream. You were in so much pain you crushed my hand. If I had let go . . .”
“Fine,” I concede. “But you’re just proving my point. We need to figure out our next move. Not take a vacation.”
“What move? I’ve been trying to bust out of here for days. There’s nothing we can do. Going back to Havana’s not going to help, not right now anyway. Here on the island we have total privacy. There aren’t any Meeple or portals, so there’s no way for anyone to spy on us. Remember, Rico Suave’s still out there somewhere.”
“And when I find him I’m going to rip his arms out. Maybe even mess up his perfect hair,” I joke. As I’d hoped, the serious look on Wyn’s face turns to a smile again. I like him better this way, I realize.
And all of a sudden, I feel tired of worrying, tired of anger, tired of thinking. I find myself wondering, why not take a little break? My brain deals better with knotty problems when they’re on the back burner, anyway.
And, of course, there is the part I don’t tell Wyn.
I have the distinct feeling there is something else I have forgotten. Something . . . important? Something Wyn hasn’t told me.
“Wyn—” I begin, but then I lose my nerve.
“What is it? Tell me,” he says, the smile still playing on his lips.
“You did tell me everything, right? Everything that happened after we trapped Kora?”
Wyn’s face goes slack and his eyes skitter away from mine.
“Everything important,” he finally says, turning back to me. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything at all?” His eyes are searching mine now, as if he’s trying to find the memories inside of me.
But there are none.
I shake my head.
Wyn’s shoulders slump and he looks away again.
“Never mind,” I say, feeling more confused than ever. “Let’s go swim.”
The water feels delicious—not too cold, not too warm, but that just-right temperature that almost never happens in the real world. I let the waves tumble me around in the shallows like a piece of driftwood while Wyn bodysurfs nearby. He’s changed into bright green swim trunks and I’m wearing the most suitable thing I could find in my virtual closet—the tiny little