Erica O'Rourke - Dissonance

“They’re threads. Like a tapestry, but they don’t show a picture. They make a symphony. The most amazing symphony you’ve ever heard.”

“Then let me hear it,” he said. “Please. Before it goes bad.”

“And then we run,” I said. “Promise me.”

He kissed me, infinitely sweet, infinitely slow.

I traced his face with my fingertips, feeling the hint of stubble, the sharp line of his jaw, the shape of his mouth. I took his hands and kissed his palm, the way he’d once kissed mine.

Then I reached into the pivot beside him, feeling for the threads at the center of the world.

There. Just like I’d told him, a tapestry of strings and sound, strong and sturdy, off-key but not unpleasant, like hearing music from an unknown land.

His eyes met mine, sharp and dark and sorrowful. He slid his hand along my sleeve, over my hand, his fingers overlaying mine.

“It’s amazing,” he said, his face a mixture of wonderment and fear.

“It’s the fabric of the world. You’re touching infinity.”

“And I’m breaking it,” he said. “I’m sorry, Del.”

“Don’t apologize. We’re going to fix it.”

“No. We’re not.” Before I could ask what he meant, he wrenched the strings away, snapping them cleanly. The frequency screeched and skipped.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, and the world began to cleave.

IT’S A BIG deal, the end of the world. There should be thunder and lightning and the parting of seas. It should look as momentous as it feels. As it is.

Around us, the few leaves clinging stubbornly to the trees turned muddy, the silvery bark going a dull gray. The sandy-orange brick of the school changed to beige, matching the mortar. Addie shot from the side of the building.

“Cleavers!” she shouted. “Time to go.”

“It wasn’t the Cleavers,” I said, feeling sick. “It was us.”

She skidded to a halt. “What? Why?”

“Because it was the only way,” said Simon. “Leave me here and the inversions stop.”

“Leave us here,” I corrected, unease creeping over me. “We have time to find a solution.”

“No! Del, this isn’t a solution. This will kill you. We have to go home. Now.”

“She’s right.” Simon brought my hands to his lips. “You promised you’d take care of my mom.”

“What?” I stared at him. “You promised we’d run!”

“I never promised.”

He hadn’t. He’d been so careful not to promise. “You are such a jerk .” I beat my fists against his chest. I wanted to scream the world down. To hate him for breaking my heart after he’d been the one to make me open it in the first place. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re not leaving. I’m telling you to go.” He pushed me toward Addie as the grass around the school turned silvery white. “Take her back.”

I shook her off and ran to him. “Don’t do this,” I pleaded. “Come with us.”

“Delancey Sullivan,” he murmured. “The girl who Walks between worlds. No wonder I kept falling for you. Can’t imagine a world where I wouldn’t.”

“I love you,” I said, crying now, finally. I didn’t think I’d ever stop.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, and stepped back as Addie caught me, her shouts lost in the ragged sounds of my sobs.

There was a ping, and a streak of silver raced across the ground between us, the inversion at the school splitting the Echo like a chasm. On his side of the flickering line, the world dimmed as if the sun had hidden behind clouds. On my side, the buildings swayed and slumped, the ground softening like tar. If I didn’t get back to the train station, I’d be trapped here—with Simon on the other side of that line, forever out of reach.

Simon made worlds stronger, Monty had said. Maybe his side would unravel more slowly. Maybe even slowly enough for me to get back and rescue him. I threw my backpack over the widening gap. If I was right, he’d need those supplies more than I did.

“Don’t get caught in the unraveling,” I shouted as he slung it over his shoulder. “Keep moving. I’ll find you.”

“Del!” Addie screamed over the white noise of the cleaving. “We have to get out!”

“Go!” he shouted.

I went, reality toppling around me.

MY FEET POUNDED along the ashen, sagging pavement, trying to outrun my grief. It followed behind me like a tangible thing, a weighty shadow blocking out rational thought. Addie urged me along, shocked into silence.

I reached the pivot, lungs on fire, muscles quivering. The white cairn on this side had scattered, stones tumbled across the grass. The power of entropy. I sank to my knees.

Grief caught me in its jaws and snapped me in two.

“Up,” Addie said. “You can lose it when we get home. Stay with me, Del.”

I listened for Simon’s frequency, trying to hear it one more time, but it was pointless. I’d never find him, I’d never be able to save him. The Key World was damaged, and it was all because of me.

Ignoring Addie’s pleas, I picked up a rock and threw it as hard as I could at the encroaching grayness. It flickered out of existence. I threw another. And another. And another, as if I could stop the unraveling somehow, as if my actions could freeze it in place. And then my fingers reached for another pebble, and brushed against something else. Smooth plastic instead of rough stone.

I wiped my eyes on my shirt and looked more closely at the inch-wide disk in my hand. Navy blue, the same as Simon’s eyes. Four holes in the middle, arranged in a square, just big enough for a needle to fit through.

My mom, handing my grandfather his sweater. “I don’t know how you manage to lose so many buttons.”

Monty, finger to his lips, winking at me.

“Breadcrumbs, Delancey. To mark the way home.”

It sat, humble and innocuous, in the palm of my hand, proof that Monty had been here. I combed through the remaining stones, and more buttons tumbled out. Tortoiseshell, polished wood, tarnished brass filled my hand, each one familiar, each one an indictment, each one bringing the truth closer, along with the cleaving.

Monty, who’d known Simon was half-Walker since the beginning.

Monty, who’d insisted we hide here.

Monty, who would do anything to find my grandmother.

“I don’t think he’s slipped at all.” Simon’s mom, eyes troubled. “He’s exactly as he used to be.”

“Simon needs to go into the Echoes. The plan won’t work without him.”

The crack of Addie’s palm against my cheek brought me back. “Quit throwing rocks,” she snapped. “We have to get out. Now.”

“Monty,” I said, showing her the buttons. “He came here a bunch of times.”

“Who cares? He won’t be coming back, and neither will we.” She took my hand and reached for the pivot.

But Monty hadn’t known we’d cleave it. He’d sent Simon to this specific world, knowing he’d amplify it. Believing we would come back. But for what?

What he always wanted. Rose.

She’d been a practical woman, my mom said. She and Monty would have had a plan. She must have fled here, a world that was sturdy enough to sustain her, dissonant enough to hide her tracks, with plenty of branches to hide in. She’d left behind her pendant because she’d never intended to return.

She wouldn’t have left a trail for the Consort to follow. But a sign. Something small that only Monty would have understood. Breadcrumbs.

Rose is my home.

Monty wasn’t trying to bring her back. He was trying to join her.

The plan had gone wrong, somehow. Maybe the Consort had been watching too closely; maybe Monty had been captured. The breadcrumbs faded and the trail was lost.