I could imagine it perfectly. Permanent expulsion. Thrown in an oubliette. I’d never see him again. But the risk of losing him, of going back to a time when he looked past me as if I were an impression, was equally awful.
“They?” he asked.
I swallowed. “My family. My . . . people, I guess you could call them. Do you promise?”
“Not to tell anyone that I’m hallucinating during second lunch? Done.”
I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans and dove in. “When you play basketball, do you ever wonder if the game could have gone a different way? Like, what if the lineup changed? Or if you’d called a time-out instead of playing through? Taken a shot instead of passed the ball? Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you’d made different choices?”
“Sure. Everyone does.”
“Not me. I don’t have to, because I can see it.”
My words started out halting and low, wilting in the face of his skepticism. But my need for him to believe me was greater than my fear, and I used that need to lend my voice strength.
“Every time you make a decision, from what you had for breakfast to who you fall in love with, the universe splits in two. One half is the part you remember. It’s real. That’s the decision you made. The other half is the what-if.”
“Like parallel worlds,” he said with a frown.
“Yes. Except, this is the only one that counts. We call it the Key World.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again.
“The other worlds are called Echoes. They’re filled with copies of people, and those people make more choices, and their choices make more worlds, and it goes on and on. For infinity. Sometimes the Echoes cause problems, and the Walkers—my people—have to protect the Key World.”
“You’re crazy.”
I was a lot of things, most of them bad. But crazy wasn’t one of them. I hopped down from the mats and stalked toward him. “Then what did you see?”
“You cut class to visit parallel worlds. You’re actually telling me that.”
“I’m telling you there are entire worlds out there, ones you can’t imagine. Worlds where we’re still British subjects. Worlds where penicillin was never invented. Worlds where women never got the vote, or the Beatles never broke up. It’s not even big choices, sometimes. In sixth grade I took a field trip to a world where Texas seceded because someone forgot to send a telegram.”
He shook his head. “This is a joke. You’re taping me, and you’re going to upload the video.”
“Do you see any cameras?”
His face softened, turned sympathetic. He took my hands in his. “You’re upset.”
“Of course I’m upset. I’m not supposed to tell people like you. Hell, there’s now a world out there where I didn’t tell you.” There were worlds where Simon hadn’t caught me. But those Echoes wouldn’t last, because I couldn’t sustain them—and there was something painfully ironic about that fact. Now that I’d told him the truth, it felt inevitable, like we’d been guided to this moment by the same universe that had twined us together in the first place.
“Is there a world where you and Eliot didn’t fight?”
There were worlds where Simon hadn’t chosen me. There were worlds I hadn’t gone after him. But Eliot and I lived in this world. No Echoes, no second chances, no way around the fact I’d broken his heart. I felt sick at the thought. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“It’s really stressing you out, isn’t it? Have you tried talking to him?”
I yanked my hands away. “You think I’m making this up because of Eliot? You think I’m delusional because we fought? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You asked me for the truth, and I’m telling you. I’m a Walker. What you saw was me Walking to another world, fixing it, and coming back.”
His sympathy vanished. “Prove it. Take me with you.”
I recoiled. “That’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible,” he mimicked. “Isn’t that what you said before? Teach me how to Walk to one of these other worlds.”
I couldn’t teach Simon how to Walk any more than I could teach him to fly. “It’s a genetic condition. You can’t do it if you aren’t born into it. And you weren’t, trust me.”
“How do you know?”
“Remember how you keep saying I’m a music prodigy? It’s a Walker thing.”
“I suck at music, so I’m not allowed to go with? That’s crap.”
“That’s life,” I said, Monty’s words coming back to me. “I didn’t say it was fair. Trust me, that’s one of the first things we learn. Life isn’t fair. The good guys don’t always win. There are plenty of worlds where the human race is better off, but we don’t get to pick and choose. Our job is to protect the Key World. Anything else is gravy.”
“Fine. Do it again, and I’ll watch.”
I started to protest, but he cut me off. “Either you’re crazy, or you’re lying, or you’re for real. But only one of those ends up with us leaving this room together, Del. Your choice.”
My shoulders dropped. “Am I going to come back and find the school psychologist?”
“I promised you I wouldn’t say anything. I keep my word.”
“I’m crossing over and coming straight back. If you’re not here . . .” I couldn’t think of a dire enough threat. Anything I could imagine was child’s play compared to what the Consort would do.
“I’ll be here,” he said.
I closed my eyes and listened for a pivot. A freshly formed one hovered less than a foot away. It must have sprung up when he’d decided to hear me out.
“Ready?” I asked, opening my eyes to find him watching me. It was a physical sensation, sweeping over me from my forehead to my toes and back again, turning my entire body to pins and needles. I felt oddly exposed as I reached for the pivot, its edges sharp as a paper cut. Even after everything I’d revealed, it was terrifying to let him see this part of me.
The weight of Simon’s gaze propelled me through the rift.
The equipment room stood deserted, the door swinging wide. I heard a slam and peered out at the empty field house. His Echo had left, true to his word. Even without the dissonance, this was not a world I wanted to stay in.
I ducked back through and crashed into the broad planes of Simon’s chest. His arms wrapped around me, and I soaked up the sound of the Key World streaming from him like sunlight.
“I thought I could find it.” He looked down at me, pupils huge and astonished. “I figured I’d follow you through. But you . . . vanished. You left.”
There was something in his voice beyond surprise. Bewilderment, maybe, and hurt.
“I came back.”
“You came back.” He kissed me softly, and then less softly, and then he was backing me toward the mats I’d been sitting on, his hands woven through my hair, my hands sliding along his back. “It’s real. It’s amazing, Del. You’re amazing.”
“Glad you finally noticed,” I said between kisses.
If this was what happened when you were honest with people, I’d have to try it more often.
Then again, I wasn’t being entirely honest. I didn’t tell him that he was sharing memories with his Echoes, that I’d kissed him in other worlds. Too much at one time, I thought, feeling liquid and golden from his touch. Better to tell him when I understood what had happened.
The muffled sound of the bell stopped me from saying anything else. “Class,” he said against my neck.
I touched my swollen lips, envisioning Eliot’s reaction when he spotted us. This room was a refuge, a world of its own, and I didn’t want to leave. “Let’s skip.”