Erica O'Rourke - Dissonance

Twenty minutes later we were sitting in the Depot’s half-full parking lot, staring at the train crash’s memorial.

“How does it work?” he asked in a low voice.

“Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know. Felt like a whispering kind of moment. Clandestine.”

“Everything with you is clandestine,” I said.

“It doesn’t need to be. You want to announce to the school we’re together, I’m more than fine with it.”

“One thing at a time, okay?” Bree’s reaction didn’t worry me nearly as much as the Consort’s.

I climbed out, Eliot’s map in hand. The edges of pivot points caught on my coat, stronger than before. We needed a large, stable rift, one I could cross without much concentration. No sense making this more difficult than necessary.

“You have to hold on to me.” I checked the screen and headed for the far end of the parking lot. “Don’t let go, even for a second.”

“Got it.” He gave me a smile that tilted toward nervous, and took my hand in his.

“I can do this alone,” I told him, trying to give him an out. “You don’t need to come with.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s dangerous, right? Even for you?”

“It can be. But I am very, very good.”

His smile quirked up. “I’m sure you are.”

“Do you see the rift?”

The air around the pivot looked more dense, a sliver of night that the amber glow of the streetlamps couldn’t penetrate. I gestured, and his eyes locked on my hand.

“Nope. But I feel weird, like an electrical storm is coming.” He took my hand. “Go ahead, Del. I trust you.”

Not many people did—not even me. But belief is a powerful thing. In that moment I was trustworthy because he believed in me. Simon’s faith transformed me into the person he thought I was.

With Simon’s hand gripping mine, I felt my way through, the air oppressive and unyielding. I breathed out, slow and steady, my entire body attuning to the frequency, fixing the sound in my mind, pushing away thoughts of Simon, of the Consort, of anything except the world I was trying to reach.

My foot slid forward a few inches, the air resisting the entire way.

It had to be Simon. His frequency was locked into the Key World, holding us back.

When I looked over, his jaw was set in concentration. He’d never agree to quit.

I pressed on, inch by inch, and gradually my hand pushed into the other world, the resonance unpleasant but not painful. Foot, knee, elbow, shoulder, head, each a struggle.

Finally I was clear, except for my hand holding his. I willed the pivot to part, planted my feet, and tugged.

There was an awful, excruciating tension as the pivot ground along my wrist. It wouldn’t work. I’d lose him. Maybe I’d lost him already, and he’d disintegrated in the subatomic spaces between worlds. I swore under my breath, hauled as hard as I could, channeling my panic into action.

Like a cork from a bottle, Simon burst free. We went down in a tangle of arms and legs on the pavement.

“You’re here,” I said. “Oh, God, you’re really here. I thought—”

“It worked?” Wide-eyed, he took in the nearly deserted parking lot. We’d landed at the end of a row, at the base of a parking meter. “We did it? Holy crap, Del.”

I fought back tears of relief. We’d made it. Simon could Walk, and everything I’d ever been taught was wrong. I flopped back onto the ground, heedless of the gravel biting into me, and stared up at the sky, surprised the stars were lodged in their familiar constellations. My whole world tilted on a new axis. The stars should be different. Everything was different.

I listened carefully, gauging the pitch and stability, searching for any breaks that might hint at a problem, but the Echo sounded safe. How had the Consort been so wrong?

It wasn’t the first time. I thought back to the girl with the note cards, how I’d caused an Echo to transpose. How Monty had promised tuning could stabilize entire worlds. Maybe they weren’t wrong. Maybe the Consort wasn’t telling us everything.

Simon pulled me to my feet. “Are you okay? You said it can make you sick.”

“We’ve got a few hours before frequency poisoning kicks in. Hear the difference?”

He shook his head. “Still staticky, though. Where are we?”

The Depot was gone. In its place stood a boxy redbrick building, and the platform was lined with benches and warning signs. “New station. I bet the crash happened, but they didn’t move the location. But we can’t know for sure.”

Simon took it in, his eyes catching every detail. “It’s so real.”

“For the people in this world, it is.” I wondered if Simon would be visible, or go unnoticed, the way Walkers did.

“And my house is here? Can we check it out?”

“That’s not a good idea.” Echo objects weren’t supposed to come in contact with their Originals, and I assumed the principle applied regardless of where the meeting took place. The strain on the threads could be dangerous. “Maybe we should—”

“Do you think my mom is there?” He started off, not waiting for my response.

I chased after him. “Wait! You don’t know what you’ll find. It’s not a good idea to rush off.”

God, I sounded like Addie. All caution and common sense, while Simon viewed the world like he’d gone through the looking glass. My usual recklessness waned when he was at risk.

“Listen to me, okay? We can check out the house. But she’s not your mom. She’s your Echo’s mom. She might not even be home.”

“I have to see,” he told me. “You said we have to find a world where she’s cured. Maybe this one is it.”

“On the first try?” Unlikely. But he looked so hopeful, I matched my stride to his, and we went in search of his family.

“The town moved,” he said after a few blocks.

At home it was the north side of town that was busy, even at night. Restaurants and shops and lots of pedestrians, even when the weather was lousy. But here the business district had shifted south, toward the train station. We passed by Grundy’s, and he paused.

“Some things are the same,” I said, nodding at the familiar sign. “It’s hard to predict what changes from world to world.”

“But it’s only the Key World that matters?” He sounded troubled.

“Echoes matter,” I said softly. “But not in the same way. And not to all Walkers.”

Our words made smoky puffs in the cold air. “Is that why you don’t get attached? Because you can always find something similar. Or better.”

“Real is better,” I said quietly. My time with the Walkers was running out, but maybe I could forge a future with Simon in it. “It matters more.”

“Does it? This place feels real.”

Was Doughnut World Simon real? To me, yes. Was he enough?

I’d thought so, for a while. If I’d spent time with him over music and coffee and free-throw lessons, I might have gotten to know him beyond making out in a car. But the Simon standing in front of me was the one who’d told me about his family and asked about mine, who’d taught me how to shoot free throws and learned how to play the piano, however poorly. This was the Simon I wanted, not because of which world he belonged to, but because of who he was.

I pointed to his house. “There. Your mom’s Echo might be inside. She might be healthy. Would you rather have her, or the one back home?”

He eyed the door with a new wariness. “We have to see if she’s sick.”

“I’ll go in,” I said. Better not to risk an encounter between Simons. “Echoes don’t notice me unless I make an effort. What should I look for?”

“Check the cabinet to the right of the sink for medication. Or the calendar by the phone—look for doctor’s appointments.”