“They’re going bad? Isn’t that good? Good for me, I mean.” If the whole branch was unstable, it proved my case—at the cost of the people in those Echoes.
He picked at the soggy french fries on his tray. “The acceleration didn’t kick in until after your cleaving.”
I choked on a bit of apple, and he pounded me on the back. “I caused it?”
He left his hand on my shoulder. “It’s possible the problems were there all along, and Park World was the first time we noticed it. But the timing doesn’t help your case any. I’m sorry, Del.”
He looked miserable, like he blamed himself, when all he’d done was try to help.
“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who screwed up.”
Across the cafeteria Original Simon was eating lunch with the rest of the basketball team, goofing around, laughing and shoving at his friends while he attacked a piece of pizza. Bree was nowhere to be seen. His eyes met mine, and he went still, no doubt regretting he’d ever confided in me. Park World wasn’t the only thing I’d ruined.
I’d Walked to a ton of worlds with Addie and Monty since my sentencing. If they all showed the same increase in breaks and inversions, I’d know the problem was me—or Simon.
“Could you run another analysis?” I asked. “Not around Park World. But the branches I’ve visited since then?”
“Sure, if you can get me a copy of Addie’s reports. We’ll figure it out,” Eliot promised.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, by the way. I feel like I never get to see you anymore. It sucks.”
“It does. Addie’s pushing you pretty hard, huh?”
“Addie and Lattimer both.” The bell rang, sending people scurrying off to class. Except for Simon. To my astonishment, he began making his way across the cafeteria toward us.
“Hold on,” Eliot said, oblivious to Simon’s approach. “Why is the Consort—”
“Can I talk to you?” Simon asked. “Alone?”
“We have class,” I said as Eliot’s arm tightened around me.
“I’ll walk you.”
Eliot’s expression darkened, but he didn’t say anything as I stood.
Hand on my elbow, Simon guided me out of the cafeteria.
“How was your date?” I asked, pulling away.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine, I guess.”
“You two make an adorable couple.” I masked my anger with a saccharine smile. How was it his Echoes felt a connection with me, and this Simon—the real one—barely knew I existed? Could be on a date with Bree at the same time he was kissing me in another world?
“It was one date. Probably the only one.”
I glanced up. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. It felt . . . off.” He dragged a hand through his hair, a gesture of sheer frustration. “Happy?”
I was, but I shouldn’t be. “Why should I care? And why are you pissed at me about it?”
He hesitated. “I’m not. It was a weird night, that’s all. But I wanted to apologize about bailing.”
I started toward the music wing, careful not to look at him. “No big deal.”
He caught up to me in seconds. “You really have that down pat, don’t you? The indifferent act.”
“It’s not an act.”
“Sure it is. You’re pissed, but you don’t want me to know it. I can see right through you.”
My voice shook. “This is why you wanted to talk?”
“I wanted to apologize. And say thanks.” I stopped short as he continued more quietly. “For listening. I don’t talk about my family much.”
“You’re welcome.”
He flicked one of my dangling earrings. “Apology accepted?”
Behind him, a poster announcing callbacks for the winter play, green block print on yellow posterboard, flickered. The flash of white and blue could only be an inversion.
“Sure,” I said distractedly. Echo-to-Echo inversions were a problem. Echo-to–Key World inversions were a disaster. I should report it, but if I did, the school would be swarming with Walkers. They’d scrutinize everyone in the building. Until I knew for sure that the connection between this Simon and his Echoes was nothing to worry about, I needed to hold them off.
I needed to fix the inversion.
I hefted my backpack. “See you later.”
“Where are you going?” He blocked me, curling one arm around my waist. Even through the worn flannel of my shirt, the touch warmed my skin.
“Locker,” I said, forcing myself to focus. “Tell Powell I’ll be late?”
“As usual.” He moved closer, and the urge to change course, to let him pull me in, was nearly overpowering. “Are we good, Del?”
I breathed in the scent of soap and clean, soft cotton and smiled, despite everything. “Very.”
I waited until the last bell had rung and the halls had emptied, then headed back to the inversion. The poster was cycling more rapidly, the flashing colors making me queasy as I reached inside. Finally, I located the odd frequency and pushed my way through.
The entire building looked worn around the edges—dingy paint, chipped tiles—and the air smelled like boiled-over chicken soup. There was no sign of Simon, which was a relief. But the longer I listened to the frequency, a ragged blast of noise, the more familiar it sounded.
I searched my memory, calling up the pitches of every world we’d visited in the last few weeks. Finally one clicked. Student Council Simon. The one Addie had tuned.
I looked more closely at the flickering poster—fancy white script announced the winter ball, the blue paper dotted with paper snowflakes. Underneath, the words “For tickets, see Simon Lane or Bree Carlson” blinked erratically.
The tuning hadn’t held. I’d done too much damage to that Echo, and now the problem was coming back, affecting anything associated with Simon and his break. How long before the Consort noticed?
I thought back to Addie’s lesson, mimicking the way her fingers had curled and plucked at the air until she could find the bad strings. They were easier to find this time, a whole cluster of erratic, unpleasant threads. My movements were small and cautious, tempered by fear. What if I made it worse? What if I cleaved this place? What if someone found out?
But there was nothing to do now except try. Nimble fingers, open mind, hum a tune both deft and kind. As I worked, my movements grew more sure, my voice stronger. Finally, I felt the correct frequency take hold, the world stabilizing around me. I let go of the threads by degrees, my fingers stiff.
The poster hung on the wall, and the only thing wobbly about it was the handwriting. I’d done it. I’d stabilized an inversion, completely on my own.
An inversion connected to Simon.
I stopped by the office, dropping off a star while I swiped a hall pass, and took a deep breath before returning to the Key World. The poster had reverted to normal, but it had taken more time than I expected. I slid into my seat nearly twenty minutes late. Ms. Powell shook her head and gave me the Disappointed Look. Happily, I’d developed an immunity to the Disappointed Look sometime around the third grade.
“Pass, Del?”
I handed over the one I’d swiped in the Echo. It was identical to ours, right down to the official time stamp. Powell ran her fingers over the surface and inspected it—and then me—closely. I lifted my chin. The pass was foolproof. The only thing wrong was its pitch.
“Glad you could join us,” she said at last, and went back to her lecture on fugues.
“Where did you go?” murmured Eliot.
“Inversion in the commons,” I whispered. “It’s fixed now.”