Eleven

She nods slowly, still looking down into the hole. She thinks he's right. If Darrow has an Upside Down, there's no Gate it can use to come out, and so she can't feel it.

"Look," she says, pointing down into the hole. There's something there, a piece of broken wood, maybe. It's hard to make out with the sand slowly cascading around it, her weight pushing it down grain by grain. All she can really see is a point, like the sharp corner of a square.