I yawn. “Sorry,” I say. My body aches and is heavy with fatigue. It feels like finals happened days ago. So does my talk with Mr. Webster and Rose. If I sit back in the armchair, I’ll probably be asleep in a matter of seconds. If that. Everything Atlas is saying about the recycling program sounds like it’s important, but I just don’t understand why. I shake my head to clear away the fog. “I promise I’m listening. It’s just been kind of a long day.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He stoops down to grab the dictionary from where it fell and returns it and the spiral notebook to the box where he found them. Carefully, he places the wooden lid back on and runs his hand over it. Then he looks up at me and says, “Is there anything I could say in the next few weeks that would make you trust what I’ve already told you?”

I am torn between wanting to believe Mr. Webster, who I have known all my life, and Atlas, who has related a story that paints my mother in an altogether different light. I can’t imagine what he could tell me that could tilt the balance. Slowly, I shake my head.

“I didn’t think so. So there’s only one thing left to do. Follow me.”

He crosses to the far wall and presses a small wavy gold design that’s located on a painted book’s burgundy spine. I jump as a door in the left side of the wall slides open. He grabs a small lantern off a hook inside and hits a button on the top, and it flickers to life. The bright illumination chases away enough of the shadows that I can make out a set of stairs beyond the doorway. The stairs lead down.

“Come on.”

“Where?” I don’t move a muscle. “To talk to someone else who is going to try to convince me to accept that everything you’re saying is real?”

“Who said anything about talking?” Atlas arches an eyebrow. “I’m going to jump a few chapters ahead of where we are now in the notebook and do what I’m not supposed to do. I’m going to show it to you.”

He steps through the doorway. The gold flickering of the lamp catches every sharp angle of his face as he turns and waits for me to make a decision about what I will do next.

“Are you scared, Meri?”

To walk into a dark stairwell with someone I met just a few hours ago in order to go God only knows where? Logically, I should be terrified. But while there is much that I don’t know, I can’t make myself believe that Atlas would intentionally cause me harm.

“No, I’m not.” I cross the room, trying to shake free of the foggy tentacles of fatigue. “No more talking.”

He nods with approval. “Then let’s go.”

Atlas heads downward, taking the golden ray of light with him. His footsteps echo as I step through the doorway and follow.