Chapter One

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The streetlights had long since been put out for Sleep. Millions of houses and shops were dark, and Peacekeepers roamed the streets, searching for any stray wanderer in the shadows. But the stars �" the Universe’s natural light �" still glimmered in the inky void of space, where not even the uppermost government officials of Darkside could shut them out. The roof of each tidy little housing unit took care of keeping it dark enough for Sleep.

            But Rusty Fandrore had no interest in snuffing what little light was available, nor was he concerned about Sleep. Sure, it was against the law for him to step foot outside of his quarters without reason at these hour, but Sleeptime was the best possible time he could imagine for contemplating whatever idea managed to slip into his mind. He gazed up at the glowing orbs shimmering with as much vigor as they ever had, some stationary and some flitting playfully around each other in a celestial tango. Rusty adored the stars; he wanted nothing more than to meet them in the heavens and bask in their light �" a light he imagined to be brighter than every lamppost in Darkside combined. A light that must be so warm and inviting. But here he sat, far away from the stars, atop a cold, wet rooftop. He could feel the shape of each dirty grey brick underneath his legs, as he swung them back and forth over the edge of the building. He looked back down at the rows of streets, lit only by the stars overhead. Every here and there, he caught sight of a Peacekeeper surveying the roads. All over the planet, he fancied, other Peacekeepers would be doing the same. But for all of the Sleeptime wanderers they managed to catch in the past, they never caught Rusty �" they never even caught a glimpse of him. He roamed through the darkness with a stealth and vigilance that not even most of the Peacekeepers possessed. He hated being confined to his quarters. It wasn’t so terrible during Waketime, simply because of the thought that he could go outdoors if he pleased. Forced restriction, however, felt like shackles and chains.

            Rusty laughed as he watched the men. They peeked around corners and into the deepest shadows, eager for some disturbance to make their shift a bit more interesting. But they never thought to look up. Had they done so, they would have seen the face of a teenage boy sneering down at them from the warehouse rooftop.

            Rusty glanced at the town clock as he stood and wiped some of the grime from his clothes. It would soon be Waketime, and he knew it was best to be home before his family realized he had left. The last time his parents found him sneaking out, he had been forbidden to leave the house for three consecutive Waketimes; the ultimate torture. That was the only time his family noticed him at all: when he was breaking the rules or the law. He trailed along the edge of the roof, pausing occasionally to let one foot linger dangerously over the brink. He clicked his tongue in frustration when one of the Peacekeepers wandered near the ladder from which Rusty needed to descend. He watched the man for a moment, then bent down and picked up a large, moist pebble. He squinted and held the stone up to check his aim, then released it with a hefty fling. Just as the boy had anticipated, if fell through the air, across open space, before colliding with the metal lamppost. The Peacekeeper looked over his shoulder and made his way to the street, when he heard the clink of the pebble against the post.

            Rusty grinned at the back of the man’s head, and swung himself over the edge of the building, his foot landing on the top rung of a wet and grimy ladder. Everything in Darkside seemed to be moist at the very least. The roads were slippery from an ever-present mist that hung in the air. During Waketime, the streetlights gleamed off the cobblestones, reminding Rusty of those beautiful stars so far away. When he reached the bottom, he began to head toward his housing unit. Not too far off, he could hear the faint scuffing of the Peacekeepers’ boots on the roads. He hid himself in the shadows as they grew closer. He wasn’t worried, this wasn’t anything new. Several times before had he been forced to utilize the darkness.

            Rusty held his breath and watched as the man came into view. The man scurried along, close to the nearest wall, careful not to step out into the faint starlight. He looked as if he were, too, sneaking somewhere. Rusty knew by this man’s walk that he was no more than a Sleeptime wanderer like himself.

“You, there,” he hissed, causing the man to jump in surprise and whirl frantically in every direction, seeking out the source of the greeting. The man finally caught sight of Rusty and, realizing that the boy was not a Peacekeeper, relaxed and grinned.

            “Ain’t you know better than to go ‘round giving folks a fright?” he asked. “Scared me nearly halfway to death, right there, ya did.”

            “Where you headed?” Rusty asked with an upward jerk of his head. Somehow, this motion had come to be known as a marking of authority. The man noticed the gesture and squinted at Rusty.

            “No place you gotta know, boy,” he replied. “Shouldn’t ya be at home in your little bed?”

            “And miss out on breaking the law? Ha! Not a chance!” Rusty’s voice was no more than a whisper, but hostility still managed to snake its way off his characteristically sharp tongue.

            “I’m sure,” the man replied, his glowing green eyes narrowing in defense. “Well, nice to know ya, but I gotta get moving.”

            “Hey, hey,” Rusty said, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. The stranger wasn’t very tall, and appeared to be no more than in his late twenties, as compared to Rusty, who was only fifteen and somewhat tall for his age. “You going to leave without letting me in on the big secret?”

            “What big secret?” the man demanded. His voice suddenly switched from lazy and annoyed to alarmed.

            “Wherever you’re headed. Anyplace good?” Rusty held his grip firm on the man’s shoulder.

            The stranger sighed in defeat. “I guess you’re a rebel, too, so ain’t hurt to tell ya. ‘Sides, who’d you tell who ain’t get ya in trouble for being out at Sleeptime?”

            Rusty didn’t reply, but simply nodded his head in gesture for the man to continue. He let up his grip and leaned against the brick of the building, his arms crossed.

            “You know the wall?” the man asked. Rusty nodded again. Everyone knew about the wall �" but nobody knew why it was there. It was constructed of some material no one in Darkside could replicate, and reached up as high as a man could see. Rusty didn’t know for sure, but it seemed as if the planet had been divided completely in half for some unknown and inexplicable reason. He had the fortune of living in one of the towns through which it ran, but never thought to explore it.   

               “You know what’s on the other side?” the man went on. His face was straight and Rusty knew that the man wasn’t trying to pull some joke.

            “No one does,” Rusty replied, his brow raising in confusion. “What of it?”

            “I do,” the man said. “I been there a few times. Gotta pretty girl over there �" she got my little baby right in her belly. I’m going back to be with her for good.”

            “Liar,” Rusty said. “That is just about the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard.”

            “You don’t gotta believe it,” the man said. “But there you have it, that’s where I’m heading to.”

            “There’s no way through the wall,” Rusty said. “It’s impossible. Don’t you think people have tried to find a way through?”

            “They may have tried, but it’s me who found it. Saw a patch of light through a willow, that one that grows all the way into the ground �" followed it through, and there I found it: Lightside.”

            “Lightside?” Rusty asked in disbelief. “You mean like light? Light, light?”

            “That’s what I mean,” the man said. “My girl, Day, is over there. Her skin is much darker than ours, her hair is bright as shimmering gold. And the sky, oh, boy, the sky. You ain’t never seen nothing like it. It’s a shock at first, but you adjust in time.”

            “What’s up with the sky?”

            “No stars.”

            “None?”

            “Only one, and it’s bigger than the stars we see here, brighter too. So bright, it’s almost kissing the ground, I imagine. The sky is blue as my Momma’s china set.”

            “You fancy I could go there?” Rusty asked. He hadn’t thought of crossing through the wall until the man mentioned the enormous star so close to the planet. He could almost feel it’s warmth just by thinking about it.

            “If it suited you,” the man replied. “But best not tell everyone. It’s too grand a secret �" and likely would be made illegal.” He held out his hand. “Name’s Night, and this is the last you’ll being seeing me in Darkside. I got a family to get to. Wonder if I’ll see you on the other side?”

            “I wonder,” Rusty said, shaking Night’s hand. “I’m Rusty.”

            “Well, then, Rusty! I hope you don’t go spilling nothing I said, now.”

            “Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll probably just forget, anyway.”

            “I sure do hope you get the chance to see Lightside. You won’t forget it, boy. You won’t forget it.”

*    *    *

            The lights in the bedroom flickered on. Rusty groaned in irritation as he pulled his pillow up over his head and clasped his eyes more tightly shut. The lights switched back off just long enough for Rusty to unclench his fingers from the pillow and drift back to sleep. Then they were on again. Off, then on, then off, then on.

            “Ahh!” he groaned loudly as he sprung up in bed. He tossed his pillow across the room at his younger sister who stood at the doorway. “Go away, Ket! I’m sleeping!”

            “It’s Waketime,” Ket replied with a sarcastic grin. “The folks say you better get up.”

            “Tell them I’m up and they won’t notice the difference!”

            Ket switched the light back off and on before Rusty reached for his boot by the side of his bed. He hurled it at her, then, as she ducked out of the room, he raced to the door, slammed it shut, turned off the light switch, grabbed his pillow, and climbed back into bed. Soon the streetlight began to leak through the blinds over his window, and a thin streak of light crawled from the hallway and into his room. He could hear the sounds of his family talking in the kitchen and living room �" if it could even be called talking. More often than not, his family was arguing about something. Most families in Darkside had six or less children. The Fandrore family had eighteen. The oldest was Pamen, Rusty’s twenty-six-year-old brother. From there down, it was Lam, Grist, Key, Mif, Trey, Rusty, Ket, Pen, Rambie, Feath, Sai, White, Kempton, Hawk, Ollie, and the twins Fay and Fah. Mr. and Mrs. Fandrore never seemed to notice whether all of their children were accounted for or not. They didn’t particularly care what was going on, as long as the youngsters weren’t breaking the law or giving the family a bad name.

            Rusty could hear the sound of baby Fah crying. He knew that he would not be able to fall back asleep with all of the commotion downstairs. Pulling himself out of bed, he ruffled his sandy brown hair so that it looked more of a mess than it had before. The Fandrore children had one wardrobe each �" Rusty wore too-loose hand-me-downs from Trey. He slipped his bare feet into his worn-out leather boots and made his way to the door. He no more than stepped out into the hall when he heard his father’s voice float upstairs.

            “Rusty! Kempton! Rambie!” he hollered. “Get the hell out of bed before I have to come up and drag your asses downstairs!”

            “Damn!” Rusty yelled back. “I am!” When he reached the bottom of the staircase, Mr. Fandrore greeted him with a backhand across the face.

            “Watch your mouth, boy,” he said. “You don’t be talking like that in this house.” The man had the wailing Fah tucked up under one arm. He held the baby around the middle so that his arms and legs dangled down.

            “Daddy! Daddy!” Ollie screamed as she ran across the room. She tugged on her father’s arm until he almost dropped Fah. Mr. Fandrore thrust the baby at Rusty before lifting Ollie. She was only five years old, and the family favorite.

            “Feed the twins,” Mr. Fandrore said to Rusty as the boy headed to the kitchen. The house was much too small for the Fandrore family. There were seven bedrooms in all, the kitchen was anything but large, and they didn’t even have a dining room. Mrs. Fandrore slid Fay into her highchair as Rusty set Fah in the one next to it.

            “On the counter,” Mrs. Fandrore said as morning salutation to her son. “Quit staying up so late.”

            Rusty looked over at the counter, where sat two matching plastic blue bowls. He plopped one down on each highchair tray and began to shovel the mushy porridge into the babies’ open mouths.

            “Sai! Feath!” Mrs. Fandrore screamed, her voice chilling Rusty’s blood. “Stop arguing and eat the damn porridge!”

            Rusty rolled his eyes and shoved another spoonful into Fay as White snickered at Sai and Feath. He knew that his mother couldn’t wait to get out of the house and go to work, after which Mr. Fandrore would banish everyone over the age of five from the house until suppertime. “Banish” was the family term for “send to school.” After school, most of the children would hang around their town or at one of the better lit parks.

            “Rambie!” Rusty heard Mrs. Fandrore go off again. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you- d****t! Get the hell outta my house. Don’t come back until school is out!”

            That was how a typical morning went. Rambie was always the first to get sent away. He was only twelve, but almost as rebellious as Rusty.

            “Ah, he’s just playing, Ma,” Rusty said, carefully using the spoon to catch the porridge under Fah’s chin as he spit it out.

            “Well,” Mrs. Fandrore said as she tossed a stack of half-empty bowls into the kitchen sink, “if he wants to play, he can do it on his way to school. We ain’t got near enough room in the house for playing.” She turned to face the living room. “Everyone who is enrolled in school, get going! Now!” The three oldest Fandrore children attended a small community adult school, and the three youngest stayed home under the care of their father. Rusty was a second-year at the local high school �" that was only on the days he chose to show up. Most often, he opted to skip out on classes and wander the dark streets, slinking in the shadows and searching for a good spot to spend the rest of the day in peace and quiet.

            Rusty freed the twins from their highchairs and set the porridge bowls in the sink with the rest. He looked over at his book bag, hanging amongst the others’ on one of the hooks by the front door. This was the process he went through every Waketime �" it was either grab the bag and go to school like a good boy, or leave it hanging and spend his time as he pleased. He shrugged, deserting the book bag, and stepped outside. As he shut the door, he could hear White’s voice as she pleaded to stay home. That was something Rusty never could understand. Staying home, to him, was worse than going to school.

            The streetlights now gleamed off the damp cobblestones, creating a road of thin gold reflections. Rusty appreciated even the meager luminosity, but it still felt so empty to him. While the streets were bright, the sky overhead was the black that it always was, and the same millions of stars shined down. He imagined a sky the colour of blue china �" how blue was that? Rusty wasn’t sure how deep of a blue Night’s mother’s dishes were painted. Maybe it was the colour of the plastic bowls that his own family had at home. He thought about a single star hanging so brightly in the heavens that it blinded all who gazed upon it. For a moment, he even believed he could smell Lightside. He expected it would smell sweet and warm, like a fresh apple from the greenhouse.

            “Hey! Rusty!” a young voice called from behind him. “Wait up!”

            Rusty didn’t turn around to look as Rambie raced to his side. From time to time, Rambie, too, would skip out on school and follow Rusty around the town.

            “You should go to school, Rambie,” Rusty said. “Do you wanna turn out like me?”

            “Uh, yes,” Rambie replied. “Where we goin’?”

            “Nowhere, really,” Rusty said. He thought in silence for a moment, then added, “What do you think is on the other side of the wall?”

            “Death,” Rambie suggested matter-of-factly.

            “What’s that supposed to mean? Like you cross and you die?”

            “Pretty much.” Rambie wiped his hair out of his eyes. He looked much like Rusty; all of the Fandrore children resembled one another. They all had been born with the same sandy brown hair and dazzling green eyes that were so bright, they could almost be called neon.

            “Do you think the sky is as blue as china? And that it’s always light over there?” Rusty asked. He didn’t stop to think that his questions would make little sense to Rambie.

            “Yeah right,” Rambie replied. “Why would you think that? It has to be dark for Sleeptime. And who ever heard of a blue sky?”

            “What if there is no Sleeptime over there? What if the only light comes from a giant star that is brighter than all our lamps put together?”

            “You sound like a madman,” Rambie said with a laugh as he tried to keep up with his brother. “Why don’t we go find out what it looks like over there, huh?”

            “No,” Rusty said, stopping in his tracks. He turned around and started walking the other way. “Let’s go to school.”