army kept pushing for the stairs, until the prone girl was outside their little bubble, among her own army once again.
But now they had made the landing; the steps were exposed for a moment, even as the enemy army pushed to try to close the gap. “Run Nightfall!” shouted Shrug, and Natalie raced for the steps, bounded up them two at a time, made the first landing, kept climbing. Her army followed her up, fanned out across the balconies, trying to cover the stairs so the enemy couldn’t follow her. She climbed up and up to the top, ran to the final door...
...which was being guarded by Ms. Pink.
“You?” said Natalie. “Why do you get two doors?”
“Because it’s my job.”
“Fine. Then tell me your riddle or whatever and let’s get this over with.”
“Oh, no,” said Ms. Pink. “You need to think, little girl. Why are you doing this? You’ve messed everything up and still you are here. Why?”
“I’m trying to fix it.”
“And yet you keep making it worse. What do you expect to happen when you open this last door? More chaos, more damage. You’re destroying the world. You have to stop.”
“But it is already destroyed,” said Natalie. “I have to fix it.”
“There are other ways, little girl. I’ve been trying to stop you, but you won’t trust me. I’m not the bad one here.”
“You’re saying Shrug is the bad one?”
“I’m saying maybe you are. He told you one thing, I told you another. What good has come from what he has told you? You get to make the choices, little girl, not us. What will you decide?”
“But what about the gifts? The things left at the door? If I was doing evil, why are there gifts left for me?
“Gifts?” said Ms. Pink. “More like sacrifices, little girl.”
“Sacrifices?”
“And why are you so eager to do what you are told? Shrug says open the doors, and you do it? What happened to being lucid? To making choices? You could be the hero who realizes what they are doing, and saves everything at the last second. You’re not a puppet.”
“I don’t just do what I am told,” said Natalie.
“Of course not.”
“But that’s not what this is about,” said Natalie. “I don’t think this about being told what to do at all. It’s about doing what needs to be done. What must be done. Even when it’s terrible. Even when you don’t know what is going to happen next.”
“Really?” said Ms. Pink. “Then I have just one more thing I must say to you, little girl. Just who do you think you are?”
She sounds like a teacher, thought Natalie, asking me that And now what do I do? Is this what the sword is for? Do I have to kill her? She is guardian of the door. Is she the key?
I can’t kill her.
But wait. She’s the guardian, and she said she had just one thing she must say to me.
So that’s the riddle: just who do I think I am?
“I’m Nightfall,” said Natalie.
There was a loud clang, like a bell, and the final door swung open all by itself. Ms. Pink disappeared, and the sounds of battle from below faded into silence. Beyond the door was a stone path cleared of snow, leading into a thick woods.
“You can go through this one, if you want,” said Shrug, suddenly by her side.
Natalie stepped through, followed the path, which became a lane between close-growing trees, opening to a clearing far ahead.
“Go ahead,” said Shrug. “You probably should see this.”
Natalie followed the path to the clearing, where there were two platforms, like stone beds. There were two girls there, one on each of the platforms, apparently sleeping. They looked just like regular girls, anybody she might know in the real world, except for, well...
“Um, this one is naked,” said Natalie.
“She was just born,” said Shrug.
“Ah, really? Because she doesn’t look like she was just born. Not at all.”
“That’s-”
“Daytime thinking. I know, Shrug.” But the girl’s skin was perfect, smooth and clear, and very pale, as if she’d never seen the sun. The other girl seemed every bit the same age, though she wasn’t naked. She was wearing a simple white dress, and her hair matched it, more or less pure white. Her skin was not so perfect: darker, freckled, with some blemishes here and there.
“Do you know who they are?” asked Shrug.
Another riddle, thought Natalie, but she knew the answer already. “Spring and Winter,” she said. “Winter is dead, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me,” said Natalie, and it wasn’t a question. And Spring is alive because of me, she thought. One dead, the other alive. Over and over again, every year. Girls like me.
“Is Spring my daughter?”
“It’s kind of like that,” said Shrug.
Ok, she thought. My daughter, Spring. That’s weird. And I've never even...yeah, it’s weird. And then Summer will come, daughter of...someone else, and my daughter will die. Three months from now. Except time is different here. Maybe she gets longer than that. I don’t think I’m ever going to know.
“Time to go?” asked Natalie.
“Yes,” said Shrug.
And her alarm was going off. Natalie sat up in bed, blinked, rolled out from under the covers and raced out of the room, straight to her parents’ bedroom. The bed was empty, but she heard water running in the bathroom, the splash of the shower, She ran to the bathroom door, opened it, leaped in and pulled the shower curtain aside.
“Dad! You’re ok!”
“Ah! Whoa- hey. Nat?” He dropped the soap, scrambled to cover himself, but she was already gone, racing out of the room, down the hall to the kitchen.
“Mom! You’re ok!”
“Just ok dear?” said her mother, checking her phone. “Not wonderful or fantastic? Ah well. Would you like some french toast?”
Through breakfast Natalie looked for some sign they knew that for the last few days they’d been comatose, missing out on everything, but it all seemed normal, as if none of it had happened. “Anything cool on the news?” asked Natalie.
“Nah,” said her mother, scrolling with her finger, frowning at the phone. “War. Politics. Weather. The usual.”
“Oh,” said Natalie. She watched them suspiciously, but they were exactly, totally and entirely the same as always.
Outside Jessie was there, standing in her yard, dressed foolishly once again; Natalie was so relieved she walked to her right away.
“Kittycat, Jessie,” said Natalie, smiling. “You look-” But what to say? Fine? Normal? “Yourself,” she finished lamely.
Jessie smiled back. She was wearing a poodle skirt over striped leggings, along with a yellow rain slicker and a t-shirt with palm trees that said Ask Me About My Grandchildren. “Kittycat to you, too, Natalie,” she said.
And she got my name right, thought Natalie. Maybe the whole world has changed after all. “I’m not Natalie,” she said. “I’m Nightfall.”
Jessie looked at her. “That’s the coolest name ever,” she said. “I’m jealous.” She probably would have loved being Nightfall, thought Natalie. Going to an imaginary world where magic was real and her skin was made of golden stars. It should have been her. But maybe they needed someone totally normal, like me.
“I have something for you,” said Jessie. She’d made a crown out of bright yellow construction paper, with sequins and glitter glued all over it. “In honor of your accomplishments.”
Natalie eyed her suspiciously. “My accomplishments? What do you mean?” But Jessie was staring into space, ignoring the question, her mind somewhere else. Maybe she’s been an agent of the Kingdom all along, thought Natalie. Not too hard to believe.
“It’s beautiful,” said Natalie, placing the crown on her head. “I’m honored.”
“It looks good on you, Nightfall,” said Jessie s
eriously.
“Thanks.”
They headed for school, which was right where it should be, surrounded by kids waiting for the bell, cars dropping off more kids, busses pulling into the parking lot. Jessie and Natalie walked in the doors, went different ways towards different homerooms. Everyone was in Natalie's homeroom, except for James Kendricks (who was always tardy, so that was normal).
“No hats in class, Natalie,” said Ms. Kyle.
“It’s a crown,” said Natalie, “in honor of my accomplishments.” She’d forgotten she still had it on.
“Oh? What did you do?”
“I brought spring to the world.”
“Really? That is something. And here I am, still scraping frost off my car.”
“That’s daytime thinking, Ms. Kyle.”
Ms. Kyle blinked. “It’s lovely, Natalie. No doubt you deserve it. But no hats in school. Rules are rules.”
Natalie took off the crown, set it on the edge of her desk, got ready for what promised to be a normal day of school.
It almost was. The kids were there, the teachers were there, everyone was acting more or less like they always did, with a few exceptions. In social studies Natalie realized it was the day their presentation was supposed to happen, and she was not at all ready. She couldn’t even remember where their poster was, or if they had finished it.
“I brought it yesterday,” said Heidi. “It’s over by Mr. Meyer’s desk. You just need to do the presentation.”
“Me?” said Natalie. She could barely remember anything they’d researched. George Washington. No wooden teeth, right? He was president. What else? Oh no.
“I got it,” said Walter, pulling off his hoodie. “No problem. I’ll