Now That You're Here (Duplexity, Part I) (12 page)

He calls my name, but I let the door shut behind me and walk-run back home. Mom's sitting at the computer with her phone to her ear. She doesn't see me.

Just like he didn't see me. Not really. He was looking into my eyes, but in his mind he was seeing her.

Why does that bother me?

I slam the door, flop onto my bed and curl up on my side. My heart pounds in my ears.

The idea of me and Danny is absurd. Nothing good would come of us being together. That's the truth of the matter. Just look at Mom and Dad.

When I was a kid—maybe four or five years old—I watched my parents dancing. I don't remember where we were, and I've never asked. I don't want them to spoil it. In my memory, there are trees with twinkling lights and candles on tables. Mom's dress swishes around as she and Dad sway in circles. He holds her right hand like it's a delicate thing, and his left arm is wrapped around her waist. He tucks her hand against his chest and she rests her chin on his shoulder. Their eyes are closed.

They were together. They were happy. And now look at them, ten years later.

Who's to say the same thing wouldn't happen to me and Danny. If.

I roll on my back and stare at the ceiling.

Still, it would be nice for him to look at me like that, the way he looks at the other Eve.

Enough. This is stupid. I have work to do.

I push myself off the bed, tuck in my earbuds and douse my brain with Bach. Time to get busy. Time to review those physics notes. I read Faraday's law of induction from the textbook out loud.

“ ‘The induced electromotive force in any closed circuit is equal to the negative of the time rate of change of the magnetic flux through the circuit.' ”

Three times I read it, but the words are just noise. I close my eyes and see him looking at me, feel his hand touching my face.

Focus, Eevee. You need to get this. You need to nail the grades, lock in the GPA, make it into the right college, the right research-assistant position. Then you'll land the right job and…

I read the definition two more times, enunciating every word.

Land the right job and then…And then what?

Dad says a relationship would be an unnecessary distraction from finals and college-entrance exams. It would only get in the way of my goals.

I read through the first sentence again, but end up staring at the wall. How does that feel, liking someone so much you want time to stop? Those were his words.

About me.

Only, not me.

I bend the corner of the textbook up and down. Why is this bothering me so much? I need to just let it go. Buckle down and do what's expected of me. So I can go places. And accomplish stuff.

Alone.

I slam the textbook shut and slide it off the desk. It lands on the carpet with a thud.

I want him to feel that way about me.

It's irrational. Stupid.

But it's the truth.

From the kitchen, I hear the front door open. My hands work faster, trying to clean up the mess. The paper towels make swishing sounds as I sweep them across the floor. In my mind, I rehearse what I'll tell Sid about what happened here.

But it isn't Sid who walks into the room.

It's Eevee.

She tears paper towels from the roll and joins me on the floor. Together we gather up the hair, reaching around the edges of the cabinets and the legs of the chair.

I turn around, still on my hands and knees, and she's there again, in front of me, looking at me with those eyes. I smile. “You came back.”

“I came back.”

I move closer and lean in, afraid I'm going to scare her off again. But she doesn't pull away. Her eyes are wide, her lips, so close.

The front door opens.

Sid's home from work.

First thing Wednesday morning Warren and I dash to Mac's room, hoping to catch him before class and tell him about Danny. But instead of Mac, we're greeted by Mr. Rubino, Mac's go-to substitute.

“Sorry,” he says, writing notes on the whiteboard. The green marker squeaks as it forms each word. “Mr. MacAllister is at the ACE conference today and tomorrow.”

“Fail,” Warren groans.

The first students begin filtering in. Mr. Rubino recaps the marker and shuffles his lecture notes. “I'm sure whatever it is, it can wait until he gets back.”

“Here's hoping.” I grab Warren by the sleeve.

Outside the room we synchronize our watches, so to speak. One of Warren's Dark-Web contacts—C
aptain Kaboom—sug
gested the explosion generated an EMP that created a shockwave that pushed Danny through to our universe. It didn't sound likely, but since Warren and I know next to nothing about electromag
netic pulses or radiation, we decided research was in order.

“Library at lunch?” I hold out my fist.

“Library. Lunch.” He bumps it.

The first bell rings and we part ways.

Warren groans as he scrolls through the search results on the library computer. “Over 500,000.”

I check the clock. We have twenty minutes until our next class. “Where do we start?”

“Wiki, I guess.” He clicks the first link and we wait. The library computers are super slow. Across the shelves, I can just see Danny's shoulder. The page finally loads.

“About time,” Warren says. He scrolls as we read.

“Produces damaging current and voltage surges,” I whisper.

“Looks like this is mostly about high-altitude EMPs.” He clicks the back button. “From what Parallel Boy said, this happened at ground level.”

“Nothing about the effects on humans either.”

He clicks another link that leads to a particularly ugly site. The bright aqua background makes my eyes ache. “This one looks really technical.”

The word
symptoms
catches my eye. “Wait.”

Warren stops scrolling and we both lean closer to the monitor.

“What are you guys doing?”

We bolt upright in our seats. Missy is standing behind us, her braids hanging down the front of her shoulders. How long has she been there, listening? She tips her head to the right and peers beyond us at the computer.

“Research,” I say, reaching for the mouse. Warren clicks the button first, dragging the browser window lower on the screen. The heading with the letters
EMP
stands out against the aqua. I scoot my chair over, hoping my shoulder will block her view.

“Research about what?” Her voice is like syrup. She sets her books down on the table beside us. We need to get rid of her before she makes herself comfortable. I look at Warren, but he's in a Missy stupor.

“Temperature variances in Phoenix over the last one hundred years.” I tap Warren's foot with my own. “Right? Warren?”

“Phoenix,” Warren says, “right.” His face is flushed.

“Is that your science fair entry?”

“Yeah,” I say, hoping she buys it.

She doesn't. Her face is incredulous. “Isn't that a bit rudimentary?”

“Well, it's just the start of a really, really big project with lots and lots of components that we don't have time to— Oh!” I point to the clock. “Speaking of the time, we need to get back to work now, don't we?”

Warren doesn't respond.

“I could help you, if you want.” Missy smiles, then a big, goofy grin spreads across Warren's face. I'm surprised his goggles aren't steaming up, the way he's looking at her. He opens his mouth to respond to her offer, but I cut him off.

“No thanks. We've got it under control.”

Her smile falls. “Fine.” She hugs her books to her chest. “I'll be over there studying, in case you change your mind. Bye, Warren.”

Finally, she's gone.

“Earth to Warren.” I snap my fingers in front of his face.

He blinks and his brain switches back on. “Huh? Oh.”

“Nice to see you again. Can we get back to work now?” I check to make sure we're out of Missy's line of sight and pull the browser window back up. “Isn't harmful to humans,” I read, “unless detonated near a hospital or individuals with electrical implants.”

“Does he have a pacemaker?”

I look over at Danny, still by the shelves. “I have no idea.”

“Whoa, cool.” Warren points at the screen. “It says here the body fluids of someone with an electrical implant hit by microwaves would turn to steam and vaporize.”

“That's horrific.”

“Catching a reflection of the wave,” he continues, “on a metal surface could cause severe burns and brain damage. Didn't Danny say he was holding on to a chain-link fence?”

He walks toward us, carrying a book in one hand and tossing an apple with the other.

I keep my voice low. “Brain damage, Warren? Really?”

“It says so right here.”

“He does not have brain damage.”

Danny drops the book on the table and sets the apple on top.

I turn the book to read the title. “
Beyond the Street: The 100 Leading Figures in Urban Art.
I'm surprised they let that book in here.”

“You don't have a pacemaker, do you?” Warren asks.

“That's random. No.”

“Warren thinks you have brain damage.”

“I didn't say…”

Danny scrunches up his face and starts twitching, his tongue out and arms scrambled. Mrs. Colliard, the librarian, clears her throat and gives us the evil eye.

“I didn't say you had brain damage,” Warren mutters under his breath.

“I've been told worse.” Danny rolls the apple back and forth across the table. “So you guys figure anything out?”

I shake my head, but Warren says, “One thing. We know what we're doing for our science project.”

“We do?”

“The effects of EMPs on humans.”

“No.” I hold up my hands. “We are not studying him.”

“Of course we are,” Warren says. “We've already begun.”

“He's not a lab rat.”

“No one said he was.”

Mrs. Colliard clears her throat again. I lower my voice to a growl. “That's what it'll lead to.”

“Why do you think that?” He crosses his arms but keeps his voice down. “Be logical, Solomon. We figure out what's up with him and we get our project done. If we discover something amazing along the way, like parallel transport, we also win the science fair. Oh, and
change the face of science.
”

I cross my arms, too. “He can't be involved.”

Danny stops rolling the apple. “Why not?”

“Because we can't draw attention to you.” I turn back to Warren. “What are we going to do? Build our own EMP device? Who's not being logical now?”

“Will it help solve whatever's going on with me?”

“Maybe it will generate a shock wave that will push you back to your own universe,” Warren says.

“Then do it. I'm your lab rat.”