On blackout nights I can’t tell if my eyes are open or shut, so I sit still and imagine the one thing I’ve always wanted to see: the sky. Ma knows her away around the house better than Tris or I, so she tends to Da. He stays in bed on accord of his bum knee, still as the wooden planks we have hidden away in the crawlspace beneath the house. Da says they’ll be worth money some day. He worries about people robbing us on blackout nights, but I think most people huddle away, same as us, alone in the dark.

Two weeks ago we went on a field trip to the museum at the edge of town, past all the stalagmites, near the cement houses. The paintings of the sky looked impossible to me. It was the color. Blue. It isn’t anywhere in nature, except for some people’s eyes, like Tris’s.

“Why is the sky sometimes painted like beets or carrots?” Tris asked. She loves finding and pointing out inconsistencies. She’s always thought the sky is nothing more than a fairytale.

“It’s a phenomenon called scattering,” our teacher said.

“How do we still have paintings after all these years?” My pal, Kinny, asked.

“People burned whatever they could the first few Winters after the storm started. These paintings were deemed more valuable than warmth. When our ancestors entered this cave, they took the paintings so that we would never forget the sky.”

“Sounds like a government conspiracy,” Tris muttered.

She’s two years older than me and has this theory that us folk that live closer to the sewage pit have been given false hopes like the sky so we don’t kill ourselves off and the people in the metal homes who eat snails and salamanders can keep using us as a menial labor force, but I don’t know much about that. Honestly, I’ve never found the sky to be hopeful. To me, it’s a symbol of all we’ve lost.

Two days ago, Kinny told us he heard about a forgotten ventilation hole near the uppermost parts of the mushroom fields where there’s a ladder that goes up a tunnel all the way to the sky. Tris didn’t believe him. I didn’t either until earlier today when Tris and I were down by the hot spring with our buckets when Kinny came up to us and said, “I found it.”

“You didn’t,” Tris said.

“I did. N’ I went up. Had to leap past a broken section. Probably why folks stopped using it.”

“Did you make it out? Did you see the sky?” I asked. I can’t remember the last time I was so excited. Maybe that time Ma gave me my own flashlight. That was pretty special.

“I went all the way. There wasn’t really any sky, just gray. Looked kind of like a bigger cave, just brighter. I could see without lamps or my flashlight.”

“If that was true, everyone would climb up,” Tris said, filling her bucket with water.

“Take me there,” I said. If it was real, I needed to see it.

“Da’s waiting on us to get back,” Tris said. Hot rags helped his knee.

“If you carry the buckets and cover for me, I’ll carry them the next five,” I said.

“You already owe me two,” she said.

“Seven is better than two; it’s good to have options,” I said. I stared into her blue eyes, smiling, shining my flashlight beneath my face in the hopes I’d look sweeter.

“Fine,” she said, hitting me in the arm. “Just don’t ever make that weird face again.”

Kinny led the way. Sure enough there was a small hole at the edge of the mushroom fields. Inside was a tunnel with a wooden ladder that went straight up, as promised. We started the climb.

After what felt like too long, I asked, “Where’s the broken section?”

“Not for a while yet.”

“Tris is going to be so disappointed when I get back and tell her the sky is real.”

“Nah. Tris is smart. Sure, the sky might be real, but it’s useless for her. For everyone. Even you and me. There’re reasons no one goes up there any more.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t like the way he put it. We kept climbing in silence, my fingers collecting splinters. I didn’t stop. Only because Kinny kept going.

After maybe two hundred more rungs I asked, “How’s your Ma?”

“Still sick. My brother’s making enough to afford rations for us. I told them both about the sky. They didn’t care. That’s when I realized how useless it is. I’m only taking you because I know how you feel about it.”

He stopped. We had arrived at the broken section. I shined my light on it. It looked like someone had taken a hammer to it, leaving not even a stub to grasp.

“We’ll have to jump,” Kinny said.

I held the light steady as he set the example, leaping to the next rung without issue. He’s taller and more muscular than me, so I wasn’t sure I’d be able to follow.

“You have to give it your all,” he said. He leaned down. “I’ll grab you hand if you can reach.”

My heart was pounding in my chest. I jumped. I’m jumping. Springing as far as I can. Time slows and seems to wrap around itself. It is as if I can see everything that’s led to this and all variations from here. I will fall to my death. Or I will fall a few rungs down before stopping myself, permanently injuring my left hand. Or I will grab his hand and pull him down with me. Or he will pull me up. That one’s my favorite. In that one, we climb up together the rest of the way and watch the sunset scatter a smattering of colors across the clouds as lightning strikes brighten the darkening world.