“You forgot?” The movie cast shadows across his face. “Sunday. At the library.”
Same as the Key World. He looked identical, but the pitch was definitely different. I gritted my teeth. I should be able to see such a significant change.
Unless I was looking at the wrong person. “So . . . you and Bree?”
He sat up, annoyance tightening his features. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Around,” I said vaguely. “You two are back together, huh?”
“Taking her to a party doesn’t mean we’re together. I haven’t even told her yes.”
She’d asked him out. I could trace the chain of events like dominoes falling. In our world, Bree had seen our interaction and decided to hold off. In this one, he hadn’t touched me, and she’d had no reason to wait. His answer would trigger a second pivot, and her response would create a third. Eliot’s map should have shown an entire galaxy of Echoes; instead I’d seen a supernova. It didn’t add up.
“Anything else exciting happen after class? Anything weird?”
He tapped his pencil on one lean, denim-clad leg. “A girl I just met started asking me a bunch of questions. Does that count?”
“Ah. Weird girl.” I was glad it was dark. The sub looked up, and Simon pretended to watch the video until she’d gone back to her game.
“The questions were weird.”
“Not the girl?”
“Early days.” His gaze swept over me, but I couldn’t stay to investigate any longer. Class was nearly over, and the last thing I needed was another detention.
“Gotta go.” I stood, feeling unsteady.
“You’re going to walk out?”
“Trust me,” I said. “Nobody’s going to notice.”
I made it back moments before the lights came on. The sub blinked at the sight of me, and I waved cheerfully.
Before I could escape, a hand clamped on my arm.
“And where did you sneak off to?” Simon said as we filed out, bending down to murmur the words. “Meet up with your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
He brushed my hair away from my neck. “Where’d you get the hickey?”
“The . . . oh.” I covered my throat with my hand, conscious of how the red welt must look. “It’s from my violin.”
“Mmn-hmn,” he said. “You’re telling me you and the skinny guy aren’t together? Friends with benefits?”
“Eliot’s my best friend.” The edge in my voice was audible despite the noisy hallway. “That’s it. Why do you care, anyway?”
“I’m trying to get a feel for you.”
Someone slammed into me. Simon placed a steadying hand on my hip, leaving it there a beat longer than necessary.
“A feel for me?” I said, trying to sound skeptical instead of scattered.
“We’re partners now. And when my partner cuts class, I get curious. I’ll figure it out eventually, Del.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Once a cleaving is completed, the First Chair must submit a formal report to the Consort Archive. It is traditional for Walkers to maintain a journal of their personal Walks as well, as a reference for future generations.
—Chapter Three, “Echo Properties and Protocols,”
Principles and Practices of Cleaving, Year Five
UP,” SAID ADDIE the next morning.
“Bite me.” I pulled the covers over my head. She yanked them back, and I shrieked at the rush of cold air. “What is your problem?”
“It’s practically noon,” she said.
I squinted at my clock. “It’s ten thirty. On a Saturday.”
“Suspended does not mean vacation. If you were going to training, you would have left hours ago.”
“But I’m not, thanks to you. Get out.”
“Mom said you can either clean the bathrooms or work with me. Your choice.”
“You are such a bitch.” I sat up and shoved tangles of hair out of my eyes.
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” she said over her shoulder. “Fifteen minutes, or you’re scrubbing toilets.”
I stumbled out of bed, shuffled downstairs for a shower, and made it into the kitchen thirty seconds ahead of Addie’s deadline. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
“Some meeting downtown with the new teams. They’ll be back by dinner.” She waved a hand at my wet hair. “Don’t drip on the table.”
I ignored her, heading straight for the coffeemaker. The caffeine didn’t improve my mood any, and neither did the piles of textbooks on the kitchen island, which I deliberately dripped on.
“You haven’t been keeping up with your reading,” she said with a frown.
“I read journals. That’s plenty.” I’d studied Monty’s journals since I was a kid, deciphering the cramped, messy writing, thrilling at the near escapes and crazy stories. Textbooks were dry and lifeless in comparison.
“You need to understand the theories before putting them into practice,” she replied, pushing the pile of books across the table.
I pushed them back. “Or I could, you know, practice. Theories didn’t help the other day.”
“If you’d had a better grip on the basics, you wouldn’t have cleaved that Echo to begin with,” she said.
“I got us out,” I snapped, my temper breaking free. “Not your stupid books. That’s what burns you, isn’t it? People won’t shut up about how perfect you are, how you follow every rule. But it’s not because you’re smart. It’s because you don’t have the chops, and I do, and now everyone knows it.”
“Screw you,” she hissed. “You think you’re so special? You’re going to fail your licensing exam. When you do, the Consort—and the rest of the world—will finally see you’re more trouble than you’re worth. And I. Can’t. Wait.”
I was halfway across the room, arm cocked for a punch, when Monty shuffled in.
“Man can’t play a tune with you two shouting. Bet they can hear you five worlds away.”
“She started it,” I said, as Addie complained about how disrespectful I was.
“Girls!” he boomed. We fell silent. “Are there cookies left?”
I could see Addie counting to ten in her head. “We ran out,” she said. “But it’s Saturday. Mom’ll bake tonight.”
“Bake on Saturday. Your mother used to do that.” His face brightened. “She’ll come home and make apple cake and we’ll play a hand of rummy. She cheats at rummy, Rose does. I don’t mind, really, but it’s better not to tell her.”
He’d slipped again, mistaking Addie for my mom.
“Grandpa, it’s Addison. Remember me?” She touched his arm, trying to jog his memory.
He blinked at her, owl-like. “I’m old, Addie-girl, not stupid.”
Faster than I’d thought possible, he crossed the room to the coatrack and grabbed his battered porkpie hat. “Walk with me, girls. It’s a beautiful day, and I haven’t lost all my moves.”
Addie lifted up a textbook. “Del’s supposed to be studying.”
“She knows enough to get where she’s going.” When Addie didn’t budge, he added, “Let’s show her how it’s done.”
Addie sighed and scooped up a pile of papers while I slung my bag over my shoulder. Monty winked at me and did a soft-shoe routine out the door.
Twenty minutes later we were surveying the football field. The sky was a pure, clear blue, wisps of clouds drifting across. The air was crisp enough to make me glad I’d worn my coat. Addie consulted her paper map, checking it against the deserted parking lot. “I was planning this for next weekend, but I suppose we could try it today.”
I couldn’t imagine thinking so far ahead, but knowing Addie, she’d already worked up lesson plans for my entire suspension. Still holding the map, she drew a slim black rectangle out of her purse. Not a cell phone, but it could pass for one if you didn’t look too closely. Her fingers flew over the keys as she punched in a string of numbers.