Erica O'Rourke - Dissonance

There was plenty of contempt in the room, but it was all aimed at her. I might have felt sorry for her, if I hadn’t felt like she was pitching her little speech directly to me. Walker training or school projects, Eliot and I were a team, and she was about to split us up. I slouched down as she yanked on the screen. It rolled up, displaying neat columns of names.

Eliot made a choking noise, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was partnered with Bree—who didn’t look any more thrilled than he did—or because I was paired up with Simon.

“We can switch partners, can’t we?” Bree asked, tossing her hair back. “If both groups agree?”

“If I wanted you to pick your own partners, I would have said so from the beginning,” Ms. Powell replied, unfazed by Bree’s venomous look.

Bree huffed and flounced without leaving her seat, then bent over to whisper something to Simon.

“You okay?” Eliot murmured. “You look weird.”

“Thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.”

He spun a mechanical pencil between his fingers, an over-under pattern I knew he’d spent hours practicing. “Watch him, okay? He’s . . .”

“I know what he is.” Trouble. My area of expertise. “Better than being stuck with Bree.”

“She’s not terrible,” Eliot said, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Not terrible to look at, anyway.”

It wasn’t jealousy, exactly, that zinged through me. More like annoyance that he’d fallen under her spell so quickly, like he was any other guy. Worry, too. I knew how much experience he had with girls, and none of it was enough for him to deal with Bree. She’d have him for a midmorning snack and forget about him by lunch.

“Longest sixteen measures of your life,” I said, and froze as Simon twisted around to face me again.

“Hey,” he said, friendly despite the tension swirling around the four of us.

“Hey,” I said, feeling stupid and obvious. I stared at the scar at the corner of his mouth, the one I’d seen in another world.

Ms. Powell spoke. “Now that you have your partners, take a few minutes to get acquainted, and we’ll—” The bell rang, off-key enough that Eliot and I both winced. “Never mind. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, partner,” Simon said, and turned to gather up his books.

“Today,” I said, and he swiveled back, looking confused. “We have history together? Last period?”

He nodded slowly, but it was clear he’d never noticed. Heat rose in my cheeks.

“Can you believe Powell?” Bree said, tugging him toward the door. “This class is such a waste.” He didn’t give me a second glance. As usual.

I shoved everything into my backpack and followed Eliot into the hallway. “She actually split us up.”

Eliot looked up from his phone and blinked. “Huh? Yeah, it sucks. Why’d your mom send you and Addie to that Echo?”

“She didn’t. The assignment was to pick the Echo ourselves, remember? And it wasn’t supposed to be Addie. My dad bailed at the last minute.”

“But why did she approve it? I’ve been looking at the data you brought back, and those breaks were way outside acceptable stability parameters. She should have noticed when she ran the map.”

“The map was fine when she ran it.” My training Walks had to be analyzed by a licensed Walker before I could go out. Years ago that meant a navigator had to check each Echo in person. These days they ran the proposed route through a computer, and an algorithm would determine if it was safe to visit. My mom was one of the best navigators around; if she said a world was stable enough for a homework assignment, it was. “Echoes go bad all the time.”

“A branch that big should take weeks to degrade. Yours changed in hours.” He shook his head. “Maybe your mom screwed up. If the world was damaged before you arrived, you’re not to blame. She is.”

The Consort would be a lot tougher on a full-fledged Walker. She could lose her position—or worse. “My mom doesn’t make those kinds of mistakes.”

“Neither do I,” he said. “This wasn’t your fault, Del.”

I remembered the sensation of the strings, knotted and straining against my fingertips, and wondered if, for once, Eliot was wrong.

The day did not improve. “Delaney,” Bree called out with forced cheer on my way to ninth hour. I kept walking.

“Delaney.” She tapped my shoulder sharply. “I was calling you.”

“Delancey,” I said. “Not Delaney.”

Bree waved a hand. “Whatever. Can you believe Powell?”

I should have known she wasn’t going to let the assignment go. We weren’t friends. I didn’t have any Original friends, and if I did, she wouldn’t be one of them. I folded my arms and waited.

“We should be allowed to switch partners,” she said, oozing chumminess. “Don’t you think? It’s not fair that we have to depend on someone we don’t even know for a grade. What if we don’t get along? What if they’re a complete idiot?”

I bristled, but kept my tone syrupy. “Eliot won’t hold that against you. He’s very patient.”

Her mask slipped as my words registered. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it. Won’t you be happier sticking with you own kind?”

“My own kind?” I didn’t think she meant Walkers.

She simpered. “You know. Socially speaking. I’m only trying to help.”

“Sweet of you to worry. But Powell won’t let us switch.”

“She will if you ask. For some reason, she likes you.” She looked me over, the brightness in her voice ringing like steel. “Convince her to let us trade.”

Annoyance shifted to anger. “Why? So you can climb all over Simon? He was tired of you back in September, Bree. He won’t be interested in a rerun.” I turned on my heel and left her fuming in the hallway.

Bree and her friends viewed everyone as either a stepping stone or a target. I was the weird girl who was constantly skipping class and blowing off homework, so far on the fringes of the social scene I didn’t qualify as either. I wasn’t dazzled by her talent or taken in by her performances, but I’d never tried to outshine her. At most, I’d been an afterthought.

Now I was a threat.

“Del,” said Mrs. Gregory as I slid into my seat. “Good of you to join us. We missed you yesterday. As we so often do.”

“Not all of us,” said Bree, coming in behind me. Snickers crackled through the room.

“Family emergency,” I said.

“And yet the office has no record of either one of your parents calling to inform us of this . . . emergency. Which means, as you’re certainly aware by now, your absence is unexcused.”

I sighed. The Walks I took during school weren’t part of any assignment. They were my own secret ramblings, illegal but irresistible. I couldn’t stand being cooped up in a classroom, not when the multiverse beckoned to me from every pivot I passed, new frequencies calling to me like a siren song. The War of 1812 or quadratic equations couldn’t compete. Hence, my familiarity with the inside of the dean’s office.

Gathering up my books, I waved halfheartedly. “See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t leave yet.” She gave me a stack of papers and a thin smile. “Pass these out, if you will. You can see the dean after our pop quiz.”

Like one quiz would make a difference to my abysmal grade. Wordlessly I started circling the room. When I reached Bree’s desk, she took a paper and casually, deliberately, knocked the rest out of my hands.

“Sorry,” she said.

I bent to scoop up the papers, and she added, “At least he knows I exist.”

“Excuse me?” I reached for another quiz, and she planted her leopard-print ballet flat on top of it.