Meghan tilted her head. “That’s not what ‘creative’ means, you know,” she said kindly. “Creativity is in everything. Even the people of Quill are creative, but they’d be horrified to be called that.”

“They are? But I thought they got rid of you guys because of that.”

Meghan tapped her lips with her forefinger. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about that. Mr. Today once said that Justine was afraid of people who might not follow directions blindly. And someone, somewhere along the way—Justine, probably—decided that the kind of people who got caught being creative were bad. The ones who hid it didn’t get sent to their deaths. And it’s so sophomoric,” she mused, trying out a new word she’d learned as her thoughts came together. “Because she valued the people who could write, but she didn’t want very many of them because they would be a threat to her. And when you think about the Quillitary—those people make armor and work on their vehicles and plan attacks, and that’s all creative, but it’s the kind of creative that furthers the goals of Quill.” She ended on a triumphant note, excited to have made this connection. “Like Aaron—he’s very creative. He figured out that whole Favored Farm thing—remember where we stole food from when Artimé was gone?”

Sky nodded.

“He designed that. But see, his creativity helps advance the goals of Quill. And ours doesn’t. That’s the difference.”

“So Alex’s brother doesn’t think he’s creative?”

“He doesn’t want to be, because Quill turned ‘creative’ into a bad word. And it’s not a bad word.” Meghan shook her head. “What a way to mess with our minds. It’s amazing we don’t all need a psychiatrist.”

“What’s that?”

Meghan laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. There was a psychiatrist in one of Mr. Appleblossom’s plays, but we don’t have them here. He said it’s a brain doctor who asks weird questions about your mother or something.”

Sky sucked in a breath.

Meghan clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Sky, your mother,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. She remembered Alex’s promise to rescue the woman, but now, with him so ill, she wasn’t sure what would happen.

“It’s okay,” Sky whispered. “But, um, I need to go. I think I have . . . something . . .” She hurried out of the room, Meghan following after her for a moment, then stopping and pounding a fist against her forehead.

Sky ran to the shore, where she could be alone. She sat down near the water’s edge and stretched out her legs so the surf could rush up under her heels and help them sink into the sand, anchoring her there.

She looked to the west, where Warbler stood, and then beyond it, straining her eyes for Pirate Island and finding it in the distance, marked by the spray that crashed against the side of what they now knew was a volcano. Her mother’s face danced before her and she felt a numbness creep over her body as she tried to forget about her mother being pulled away by that pirate, like he was threatening her, hurting her.

And even though her mother had insisted that there was no way to rescue her, Sky couldn’t help but think there had to be something she could do. It was more than a wish. It was her duty. And time—too much time—was slipping by without any word from Alex about going back there. Soon, Sky knew, she’d have to do something. But something kept her waiting for Alex . . . wherever he was.

In the water in front of her the pirate ship floated, and she wondered what would happen if an entire ship full of people got sucked into the volcanic drain. Would they drown? Would the ship stay afloat and come back out again once the volcano had been filled? Or would the ship get pulled into a different place, where the pirates could collect the goods and people from it? She remembered how elaborate the reverse aquarium had been. A full garden meant they had to get seeds and dirt from somewhere. And the play area for the children—how could they have built that without supplies? There must be a way in and out. After all, her mother ended up in there somehow, and so did all the other pirates and people.

Sky lifted her face to the sun and wondered if Alex really meant it that he’d help her go back to save her mother. He’d obviously been avoiding her ever since they’d returned—and maybe that was why. She hadn’t seen him anywhere. Granted, she’d heard he was pretty bruised still, but it had been days and days since they returned. And he wasn’t in the hospital ward, so he must not be too badly hurt.

She drew a heart in the sand with her finger, and then quickly wiped it away. Alex had made it clear he wasn’t interested in her like that. Even though she was certain he’d enjoyed the kiss. . . .

But it wasn’t meant to be. After a moment, she got to her feet and looked around the beautiful grounds, her eyes stopping at the jungle with its trees and vines everywhere. With grim smile, she set out for it.

In Quill, while Alex slept, Aaron demanded the wall be put back up again. But when it was back up, all Aaron could do was think about how he couldn’t see anything, and what if someone were sneaking up on them right now?

He lasted a day with the wall in place again before he demanded it be taken down once more, this time making it a window up off the ground, rather than a door, so that anyone coming up the hill from the outside would have trouble trying to get in through it without help.

Aaron assigned two guards to stand in front of it at all times, peering out, and then he fired them, not trusting anyone to watch for things as competently as Aaron could do himself.