“Yeah,” Adam says, but he doesn’t sound too excited about his future wealth.
I study his expression but try not to look too obvious about it. Ever since I learned he likes me, I don’t know how to act around him, like I know a secret no one else does. He shouldn’t like me. He seems like a good guy with a real future ahead of him, and I’m…I’m bad for him in every way.
It’s stopped raining, but thick clouds darken the sky above us. The air smells of wet plants, and a cool breeze makes me pull my jacket around myself.
“We should go in.” I need a moment alone, away from the others, so I can open the origami unicorn and find out what message Future-Adam left for me.
Adam doesn’t move. Under the brim of his baseball cap, his eyes dart around, taking everything in. Beside him, Zoe has her sketchbook out and is drawing everything she sees.
“Let’s go then,” Chris says, nudging Adam toward the front porch.
The door has a bronze knocker in the shape of a lion, about the size of my head. Trent uses it to bang on the door, but there’s no answer. “No one’s home,” he says. “Adam, you’re up.”
After a second of hesitation, Adam places his hand on a smooth, black panel on the door, like we saw at Shawnda’s apartment. There’s a click, and the door creaks open.
It’s dark inside, but I glimpse hardwood floors covered in patterned rugs. None of us step forward. I definitely don’t want to be the first one to go in. Not that I think anything bad will happen to us, but it just seems wrong to enter someone’s house like this. Although I guess technically it’s Adam’s house—or will be someday.
Adam straightens up, visibly steeling himself, and then ventures inside. I follow, stepping on the thick rug, and wonder if I should take my shoes off or something. A light flicks on overhead, revealing an entryway with only a small wooden side table and an ornate mirror. It’s warm now that we’re inside and I want to take off my coat, but I don’t know where to put it. Something about the house makes me feel like I should whisper and try not to touch anything, but I run my hand along the shiny, dust-free table anyway. Future-Adam probably has servants to keep the house clean, although it seems to be empty right now.
“This is your place, Adam,” Chris says. “Give us a tour.”
“Doesn’t really seem like my kind of place,” Adam mumbles as he walks farther into the house.
We step into the longest living room I’ve ever seen. I swear it must be big enough to fit the Robertsons’ entire house inside. It’s filled with what I assume is antique furniture, all lush fabric and scrolling wood, in colors like navy and burgundy and gold. Heavy curtains block out all natural light, and art that looks like it should be rotting away in a museum watches over us.
“This place is sweet,” Chris says, flopping down on one of the love seats with little wooden feet.
He’s right, but there’s something sad about it too. Empty. Lonely. It looks staged, like it’s all for show to prove how rich and important Future-Adam is. There are no photos anywhere. No trinkets. No clutter. No dogs running around or kids playing. It doesn’t feel lived in.
“Dude, I’m starving,” Trent says. “Where’s the kitchen?”
I’m pretty hungry too, now that he’s mentioned it. Our last meal was at lunch before we went to the future, but that was—I check my watch—over nine hours ago. And who knows when we’ll have a chance to eat again before we return to our time.
“Didn’t Aether pack us some food?” Zoe asks.
“Yeah,” Chris says. “But I bet this place has something better than soggy old sandwiches.”
We wander through wide hallways until we find the kitchen, with its dark-green marble counters and shining stainless-steel appliances. The fridge looks wide enough to pack a couple bodies in. I can’t imagine anyone needing that much food.
Chris jerks the fridge door open and a whoosh of cold air rushes out. We peer inside, but all I see are half-empty salad dressing bottles and a plastic container with something growing in it. Suddenly the idea of soggy sandwiches doesn’t sound too bad.