“Got it,” I said. “Find the breaks, get a reading. Lather, rinse, repeat.”
Transportation hubs were typically crammed with pivots, and public transit was particularly prone. Flying took planning; by the time a person arrived at the airport, most of their decisions had been made. Trains, subways, and buses were more flexible and more populated, allowing for more interactions.
The Echo we’d stopped in was busier than home. People milled about on the platform, waiting for the next train, and a farmers’ market was set up in the parking lot, drawing a crowd. The pivots sounded like popcorn, irregular bursts of sound, and the pitch was a flat monotone that receded into the background. The breaks, on the other hand, stood out in sharp relief. I shook my head, trying to get my bearings.
“No cleaving,” Addie continued. “No touching the strings. No flirting with boys or interfering with stable Echoes or picking pockets.”
“No fun,” I grumbled. “Can I get started?”
“Yes. I’ll be right over—Grandpa, come back!” She chased after Monty, who had crossed the street and was peering in the window of a candy store.
I didn’t need Eliot’s map to help me. The tremors were perfectly audible. But I checked the screen anyway, noting a smattering of emerging breaks and several established spots. One on the platform of the station, one in the farmers’ market, and one centered at the ticket window of a dollar movie theater across the street.
If Eliot and I had gone to movie night as planned, we never would have fought.
On the other hand, if we’d gone to movie night, Simon wouldn’t have taught me how to make a free throw. He wouldn’t have left me standing on the floor while he went off to do God knows what with Bree. I wouldn’t have ended up in his Echo’s car, breathless and molten.
Every choice we make is both a sacrifice and an opportunity. I wondered if mine had been worth it.
I didn’t want to think about Eliot and movie night, so I headed into the farmers’ market, listening closely. The crowd worked to my advantage; I could take my readings and jot down a note before anyone noticed I was there. A stand selling honey, a bluegrass trio playing for spare change, a couple holding hands as they looked at bunches of kale: all vibrato fractums, none severe enough to justify a cleaving. The more I wandered the aisles, the more breaks I found, my head swimming. I turned, searching for Addie, but she was obscured by the crush of people.
I bought a steaming cup of apple cider from one of the booths, hoping it would settle me, and heard a familiar laugh.
Simon stood on the corner in a red anorak, hair cut military short, holding hands with a black-haired girl. He pulled her in for a kiss, their bodies fusing together.
Jealousy flared, then died away. Taken separately, the breaks here were insignificant. But cumulatively they might be enough to pose a threat. When I turned in my report, would this world be cleaved? Would I have caused another Simon to unravel? Dizzy and sick at heart, I sank onto the curb.
“It’s not lost yet,” said Monty from somewhere above me.
“Yet,” I said morosely. “How soon will they come to cleave it?”
“Depends.” He helped me up. “There’s always another way, Del.”
Through the crowd, I caught a flash of red. “He’s not real. None of this is.”
“If that’s true, what’s got you so upset?”
I didn’t have an answer, and he patted my arm. “We can tune the breaks, you know. Tune enough, and they’ll ignore this world. I can teach you.”
“Grandpa,” I said, shaking my head. “We have to cleave. It’s what we do.”
“What they do,” he said. “You’re better.”
Laughter scraped against my throat. “I’m not better. I’m suspended. Tuning breaks instead of reporting them would get me expelled. Addie would turn me over to Lattimer in a heartbeat.”
At the mention of Lattimer’s name, the fight went out of Monty. He seemed to curl in on himself. “Don’t tell,” he said, his reedy voice turning small. “Don’t tell.”
“I won’t.” I took his hand in mine. “You followed me last night, didn’t you?”
“I never left the house,” he said primly. “Wanted to know where you were, to make sure you came home safe. I won’t tell either.”
“Thanks,” I said, and gave him the rest of my cider. “Let’s find Addie and get out of here.”
He nodded, waiting as I nestled a star at the base of the tree.
Addie was sitting on a bench by the train station, watching the kale-loving couple I’d spotted earlier climb into a battered red pickup truck. “Did you get your readings?”
I handed her my notebook and she scanned the entries. “Nice. I’ll turn these in when we get home. Good work, Del.”
It didn’t feel good, but I managed a smile.
We hit three more Echoes. None had as many breaks as the first, which was a relief, and none contained an Echo Simon. Monty was quiet for the rest of the trip, singing to himself and methodically working his way through a bag of jelly beans. My dizziness faded, but a headache crept across my skull, clamping down with iron fingers.
“One more stop,” Addie said.
“Do they serve lunch?” Monty grumbled. “The least you could do is feed an old man.”
“Lunch?” My stomach dropped. “What time is it?”
Addie checked her watch. “Oh, wow. Nearly two.”
“I’m late!” I took off for the nearest pivot, Addie and Monty following behind.
“Late for what?” Addie called. “Del, wait up!”
Fixing the Key World frequency in my mind, I burst through the pivot back home and headed for the library, a few blocks away. My headache eased, but not my panic.
“I’m supposed to meet someone,” I said when Addie and Monty caught up to me at an intersection. I jammed my thumb against the walk button, but the light didn’t change any faster. “I was, anyway. An hour ago.”
“Your school project? Since when do you worry about school on the weekends?”
“I promised my partner.”
“Since when do you care about promises?”
I hit the library at a dead run, heading for the group study rooms. The woman at the reference desk shot me a dirty look.
The glass-windowed rooms stood empty. There was no sign of Simon. I cursed under my breath, earning a second glare.
“Is there another study area?” I asked the librarian.
“Just the desks,” she said stiffly, and pointed to a group of tables.
“Was there anyone here earlier? In the study rooms?”
“I saw a young man, closer to lunchtime,” she said. “He left.”
I checked my phone and groaned. We didn’t get cell service in Echoes, but judging from the string of texts Simon had sent, he’d assumed I was ignoring him.
Here.
Where u at?
Booooorrrrred.
U OK?
WTF?
Time is finite. Minutes spent in Echoes are lost in the Key World. It’s the cost of Walking, we’re taught, and it was a price I’d been happy to pay.
Until today.
On the way home I sent Simon a string of apologies, but my screen stayed dark. No messages from Eliot, either.
U mad? I texted Eliot, while curled up on the threadbare chaise in my room. There was no reply. Maybe he was out with our class. Maybe he was so focused on debugging his map software that he didn’t hear the chime. Maybe he was ignoring me.
Sorry. Really. Miss u. I picked up the violin, trying out a few melodies for the composition project. None of them were right—too mournful, too insipid, too clichéd—and I couldn’t keep my eyes off my phone.