Page 36 of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

Regardless, it was the sweater she was using as askirt—the sleeves tucked into the waist—that really threw him for a loop. She had put on some trousers underneath that as well, which was good he supposed. But…

Wow. The total effect was truly something.

“Do womenactuallygo out like this?” she asked him. “Among your people? Wearing trousers?”

“Not exactly like this…” he said. “Um, you realize that’s…a shirt, not a skirt.”

“I needed to improvise,” she said. “To keep upsomesemblance of modesty.” She lifted up one foot. “At least your sandals fit, so long as I put on three pairs of socks. But I didn’t see any clogs.”

“You won’t need clogs here…” he said, then trailed off, trying to find something else to say. How could her clothing look so baggy, yet so overstuffed at the same time? It was swallowing her completely, like her head was peeking out the mouth of some bizarre fish made of cloth.

She stepped over to the mirror on the door of the bathroom and seemed to deflate a little at the sight. Well, after how much he’d been through in her world, it was hard to feel sorry for her. Maybe this would help her build a little empathy.

“You aren’t too hot in that?” he asked.

“Your world is unnaturally cold,” she said. “I think it’s best to be prepared. I’m ready to go petition your foreman. Please lead the way.”

He had to show her how to lock the door after herself—apparently that was another thing she didn’t understand. “People would come in?” she said, turning the key. “To your home? When you’re not there? Why? To wait for you?”

He shook his head and led her down the steps to the ground floor. Here, she froze at the exit to the building, looking up at the dark sky.

I don’t blame her. There was something inherently moody about Painter’s world.

In Kilahito it always felt like you’d stepped out right after it finished raining. In Kilahito the streets perpetually felt too empty—but in a way that made you think you were encountering a brief lull, with activity echoing from the next street over. In Kilahito, it always felt like the lights were turned down low to let the land sleep.

In Kilahito you noticed absences. It was a city made from negative space.

“Come on,” Painter said, waving to her from the street.

She stayed in the doorway. “It’s so…empty.”

“Comfortingly so,” he said. “Youreallyfind this more unnerving than your world, with that big ball of fire in the sky? With all those things flying around up there?That’sunnerving. It makes me feel like I’m going to get crushed!”

“At least we can see what’s above,” she said. “Here…there’s just nothing.”

“That’s the shroud,” he said. “Scientists have flown beyond it; they found more stars and things up there.” He softened his tone. “Look there. See that? The one that shines through the shroud?”

She hesitantly stepped out onto the street with him and gazed up at the star. “Do you think that’sactuallymy world?”

“It must be,” he said. “Whatever grabbed me came from the sky, and scientists say there are people there. It’s a planet like ours—they’ve taken pictures of what look like small cities, but they’re vague, too far away to make out much. Whoever lives there doesn’t seem to have radios or anything. They’re…not as advanced as we are.”

She didn’t take this as an insult, instead staring up at the star, then turning her eyes to follow the hion lines above the street, their light painting it the contrasting blue and violet of progress.

“This stable nightmare,” she said. “You said it will…hurt people? Unless we do something to stop it?”

“Yes,” he said. “Butwedon’t have to do anything to stop it. My job is to report it. We did that, but I forgot to warn the foreman about a family that the nightmare threatened. I need to see they’ve gotten the assistance I promised them.”

“You mentioned that others would come to stop the nightmare,” she said. “Didn’t you say we could recruit them?Actualheroes?”

The words felt like a punch to Painter’s gut, but she apparently didn’t realize that, so he controlled it. “The foreman will send for a member of the Dreamwatch. Maybe two, with their companions. They’re spectacular artists, but I don’t think they can help with your problems. Come on.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, then caught up to him. It was early evening, according to the clock in the bank window, and a decent number of people were out. Main thoroughfares like this were wide enough for an emergency vehicle to drive through, but the idea of personal vehicles would have been baffling to the residents of Kilahito. Most people traveled by bus or trolley, which connected to the hion lines and used them for power and guidance.

“The foreman’s office is nearby,” he said as they walked, “so fortunately we won’t need to take the hion trams. The idea of talking you through the daytime tram schedule doesnotappeal to me.”

She nodded again, although he doubted she knew what he was talking about. She seemed to be trying very hard not to look at the sky and was instead watching everyone they passed. She drew more than a few stares.

It’s often said that nothing fazes people in a big city, and thatdoestend to be true—to an extent. Big-city people tend to be unfazed byordinarysorts of strangeness. You don’t give a second glance to the drunk wearing no pants since, well, that’s the third one this week. But an oddity like Yumi? No pants was somehow less strange than what she’d opted to wear.

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