I knotted my fingers together. “They will if you don’t tell.”
“Lie for you.” She scoffed. “You’ve definitely lost it.”
“You don’t understand,” I said, desperation flooding me. “Addie, please.”
“I understand you’re a lying little weasel. I’ve been wasting my time babysitting when I could have been helping Mom and Dad. I put my own reputation on the line. I told Lattimer he should consider ending your suspension early, that you were a lock to pass the test. I told him you’d learned your lesson.” She laughed. “We’re both idiots, I guess.”
Addie had backed me up with Lattimer?
“You never told me.”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Unlike you, I don’t lead people on. Make them believe something that was never true. Like me, thinking you’d changed.” She waved the phone at me. “Or Eliot, thinking you cared about him.”
I snatched the phone back. “Leave him out of this.”
“What did you do to him? Eliot would walk through fire for you, so it must have been something big. Was it because you were Walking without him? Or did he get sick of your weird obsession with Simon Lane?”
I forced myself to look away from the pivot.
“It’s both,” she said softly. “Simon and Walking. You were chasing after his Echoes. That is . . . pathetic.”
“You can’t prove any of it,” I said, fear turning ugly and vicious inside me. “Nobody’s ever interested in your theories, Addie.”
“I’ll find proof,” she said, heading toward the stairs. The smile she leveled at me was as brilliant and hard as a diamond. “And once I do, I will bury you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I STOOD IN my empty room, the pivot throbbing in time with my head. How long before Addie tracked down the proof she needed? My first instinct was to call Eliot, but he wasn’t an option anymore. My second was to ask Monty for help, but when I found him, he was sitting in the living room while my parents washed dishes ten feet away.
I was running out of choices—and time.
“I’m going out,” I called.
Mom turned. “It’s nine o’clock at night. Where are you going?”
“Eliot’s.” The lie rolled easily off my tongue.
From the living room, Monty broke into a coughing fit. “Aren’t you going to say good-bye?”
I gave him a quick hug. Before I pulled away, he pressed something into my hand, curling my fingers around it. “Just in case.”
It was a small silver pendant, a tuning fork like Addie and my mom had. I wasn’t supposed to have one until I got my license. “Thanks, Grandpa.”
“Use it well.” He settled back into the recliner, eyes shut.
“It’s a school night,” my dad reminded me. “Be back by curfew.”
Making curfew was the least of my worries.
I’d left origami stars behind in every Echo I visited, and they were still resonating at the Key World frequency. But instead of guiding me home, my breadcrumbs would lead Addie straight to the proof she needed. I couldn’t even collect them without my signal laying a fresh trail.
Even without proof, an accusation would be enough for the Consort to look more closely at what I’d been up to. When they did, they’d find Simon, with his SRT and his Baroque events.
Simon, who needed me to save his mom’s life.
What’s the point if you can’t save people? Make the world better?
My future with the Walkers was unraveling faster than any cleaving. If the Consort was going to cast me out, I might as well use my last few Walks for good.
When I looked up and found myself standing across the street from Simon’s house, the choice was easy.
Iggy heard me coming before I could knock on the door, his big bass woofs rattling the windows. Simon’s shadow appeared, and then he was standing in front of me, one hand gripping Iggy’s collar, one hand braced on the doorframe. The clever things I’d imagined saying—the defenses I’d counted on for so long—flew out of my head.
He was backlit, the lamp glow keeping his face in darkness. I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or angry to see me shivering on the steps.
“I can’t promise,” I said, huddled in my coat. “And if it puts you in danger, I won’t do it. But I’ll try.”
There was a long, awful pause, a pivot swelling as he studied me.
He held out his hand.
I took it, and he pulled me into the warmth and the light, into him. The awful tightness in my chest loosened, finally, and I could breathe him in, soap and sunshine even at night.
“Come and meet my mom,” he said.
The front room was clearly for show, with furniture that looked too small for Simon’s height and sprawl. He led me through the narrow kitchen, with white cabinets and cheery, apple-green walls and a round table with three chairs. It opened up into a bright, cozy family room. The woman sitting on the couch, feet tucked under her, a red chenille throw on her lap, looked up expectantly. A book lay facedown on the table in front of her, a teacup at her elbow.
“You brought a friend home! Why didn’t you tell me?” Mrs. Lane said, and started to get up. Simon went to her side immediately, but she waved him off.
She was taller than me, but not by much. He must have gotten his height from his dad. A scarf covered her head, a few wisps of honey-blond hair poking out at the edges, but her eyes were the same dark, sparkling blue as her son’s—intelligent, lively, and right now, full of speculation.
“Mom, this is Del Sullivan.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Del. I’m Amelia.”
“You too. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not. I was reading, and Simon is entertaining that monstrous dog.” Iggy nosed his way over to her, and she gave him an affectionate scratch around the ears. “Take her coat, Simon. Please, sit down.”
Iggy plopped down in front of her. “I was talking to our guest, you beast. Del, would you like tea?”
“No, thank you.” Simon slipped my coat off my shoulders, his fingertips grazing the nape of my neck. I wrinkled my nose at him—getting grabby in front of his mom was not the impression I wanted to make—but his face was a picture of innocence. He nudged me toward an overstuffed armchair in a red-and-white stripe, and I perched on the edge, ready to bolt.
“Simon says you’re working on a music project together?” she asked. “I hope he’s not making it too hard on you.”
“Hey,” he said, sprawling on the floor at my feet. “I’m not that bad.”
I saw Simon in her grin. “You absolutely are, and you know it.”
He hung his head in mock defeat. “I’m going to make it up to her. I’m going to teach her the finer points of a pick and roll.”
“I’m sure Del will find that tremendously useful,” she said. She shifted her attention to me. “In your career as a professional basketball player, of course.”
“It’s always been my dream,” I said, drawn in despite myself. The affection between them was so obvious, and they included me as if it was perfectly natural. A pang of envy ran through me.
He ran a hand along my calf. “Don’t tease, Delancey. I have other talents.”
I kicked him as discreetly as I could.
“He makes an excellent toasted cheese sandwich,” Amelia said, as if she was giving the matter great thought. “And his chicken soup has come a long way.”
Simon nodded gravely. “I’m amazing with a can opener.”
“Delancey,” Amelia mused over her teacup. “That’s a pretty name. Unusual.”
Traditional, for Walkers. “I was born in New York,” I said. “But my parents knew we were coming back here, so they named me after the subway stop near our apartment. I’m lucky we didn’t live near Flushing.”