Trevor grins at the joke. Perhaps he’s starting to like us a bit more, too.

As Roc predicted, the music roars to life once more, as the band goes from silence to teeth-chattering noise in about two seconds flat. It’s right on top of us, like we’re part of the band. We must be very close. Ahead of us the tunnel curves to the left, so I tiptoe across the path, positioning my back against the opposite wall, and then shimmy around the bend. I don’t look to see if the others are following, just keep my eyes forward, my wits on high alert, and my senses trained on the direction of the sound.

When I reach the final section of the bend, I peek around the bulge of rock, feeling more than hearing the rush of the music smash into me, sending vibrations through my bones and naturally speeding up my heart.

Game time.

Before me stands a large break in the tunnel wall, as it curves back to the right, large enough for a full sized truck to drive through with room to spare on either side. Beyond the break: chaos.

Lights are flashing, bodies are moving, people are screaming and cheering, and, of course, music is blaring. I can’t see the band—just the press of bodies, as reveling sun dwellers try to push closer to the action.

When I swivel back the others are looking at me, question marks in their eyes. “Well?” Trevor says.

“We’re here,” I reply.

“What’s the plan?” Adele says, and I realize how stupid it is that we haven’t really talked about what to do once we reached the next Sun Realm subchapter. I guess we were too busy talking about other things.

“Stay close to Roc and me. Keep your weapons tucked beneath your tunics. Act like the other sun dwellers. There will be a lot of people wearing strange things, so we probably won’t stick out too much, except for Adele and I, whose faces have been plastered all over the place for weeks. We should all keep our heads down as much as possible just in case. However, if someone does try to stop us, or raises an alarm, follow me and run like hell. Our only hope will be to get the crowd between us and our pursuers. Any questions?”

“How do other sun dwellers act?” Tawni asks, and I realize just how strange this place is for the others. Probably similar to how strange the Moon and Star Realms are for me.

Roc answers. “Like crazy people, basically. Full of energy, dancing, hollering, carrying on. You’ll catch on quick enough. Just remember, the crazier you act, the less you’ll stand out. It’s essentially the opposite of what you’re used to.”

“Great,” Adele says sarcastically. “We’ll just unlearn everything we’ve been taught and we’ll be good to go.”

“Exactly,” I say. “Anything else?” Adele is smirking, Tawni’s wide-eyed, Trevor’s practically dancing already, and Roc’s expressionless. “Okay then, let’s do it.”

I turn.

The moment I step out from behind the bend, a group of sun dwellers stumble into the tunnel, their eyes locking on me before I can duck back into hiding.

Chapter Eleven

Adele

We come around the bend to find Tristan frozen in place, just staring forward. What the hell? I follow his gaze to the next curve in the tunnel, where six silhouettes are highlighted against a bright and churning backdrop into a sun dweller city. The silhouettes are moving, sort of chaotically, holding each other up as they stagger toward us.

As they approach, my fists reflexively clench at my sides, preparing for physical confrontation. My heart rate picks up just a notch.

“Heyyy! Who goesh there?” one of them slurs, as they move into the light from our flashlights. A guy, young, perhaps twenty, clearly drunk. His hair’s unnaturally black and spiky, speckled with something that glitters like diamonds in the light. He’s flanked by two girls and two guys, each with their arms around each other. One of the girls is blond, her hair long enough to reach her waist and streaked with locks of blue and pink and green, some braided, some not. Dark mascara rims her eyes, running slightly from her alcohol-affected blue eyes. The other female is a brunette with a buzz cut, although most of her head is hidden beneath a wildly tall black top hat, stuck with at least ten multi-colored feathers. They’re both wearing tight mini-tunics that show off their toned and tan legs, which seem to go on for a mile before reaching their strange shoes with a thin spike in the back, which they wear without socks. Scooping U-necks show the entire world just how mature they are. They’re beautiful women by any standards, but their clothes just make them look desperate, trashy. The other two guys are as pretty as the women, with high cheekbones and tan faces. They’re tall and muscular, their biceps and shoulders exposed in their tank-tunics. Right away, one of them eyes Tawni, looking her up and down, while the other traces my curves with his stare.

It makes me want to kick them where the artificial Sun Realm sun don’t shine.

“Heyyy,” the center guy says again, raising a blue bottle. I notice they are all holding bottles, the girls’ pink, the guys’ blue. Then, speaking slowly, he says, “What are you all doingsh here?”

I wait for Tristan or Roc to reply. After all, this is their world. Instead, they’re silent. I glance from Tristan to Roc, and can almost feel the angry heat coming off of them. Evidently the way the guys were looking at Tawni and me pissed them off. I’m glad, but this isn’t the time for chivalry. Our position is precarious to say the least.

“We heard the best party is in this subchapter,” Trevor says, surprising us all.

The guys laugh and the girls titter, as if Trevor just made the funniest joke in the world. “Yoush got that right,” the spokesman says. “We were jusht about to havsh our own party. Wanna come?”

If the party involves slapping the drunken smiles off their faces, I’m in.

“Thanks anyway, man,” Tristan says, finally snapping out of his temper-induced haze. “We want to hear the band.”

“Are you sure, honey?” the blonde says to him. “We can make our own music.” Her flirting tone makes me dig my nails into my hands. Now I know how Tristan felt when the guy was undressing me with his eyes.

“Yes, but thank you all for the very kind offer,” Tristan says, using his most diplomatic voice.

“Hey, where’d yoush get those digs, anyway?” the guy asks, sweeping a hand across us, motioning to our battle outfits.

“It’s a new style coming out of subchapter one,” Roc says, lying easily. “I heard they’ll be selling them in every subchapter soon.”

“I gotsh to getsh me some of those.”

“You should,” Tristan says. “Well, we’ll see you all later. Have fun.” His voice is awkward and stiff, but the partygoers don’t seem to notice.

As we pass by them the blonde touches Tristan’s arm. “You look just as handsome as Tristan Nailin,” she says. “What’d you say your name was?”

Tristan goes beet red, but I know it’s not from the compliment. I’ve noticed he always seems uncomfortable with lying. I hold my breath, hoping he can overcome it now.

“I, uh, my name is…” Not looking good.

“Trevor,” he says finally, his face returning to its natural color as a smile crosses his face.

“All right, Trevor. I most certainly hope we see you later,” she sings. Ugh. If we weren’t about to get past them without a fight, I would relish knocking the bleach out of her hair and the fake tan off her skin. If only.

As if by some unspoken agreement, the five of us walk with our heads forward, forcing ourselves not to look back, which might appear suspicious. Just when we’re approaching the entrance to the subchapter and I think we’re home free, the guy yells behind us. “Hey!” We freeze, turn slowly, look at him. The alcohol has worn off, I think. He’s going to realize we don’t belong, recognize Tristan or one of us from the news, sound the alarm, give chase.