Parallelogram Omnibus Edition

by Brande, Robin

  But then of course that brought up all the other thoughts about Daniel, like how I’d probably blown a circuit in his brain.

  What did he think when I just disappeared? Did he think he was dreaming? Did he think he’d lost his mind? Did he look for me? Where—under the table? But then he would have found my clothes, and then what did he think? Do they have magic over there? Maybe he thinks I’m a magician.

  There was nothing I could do about it for a whole day. Halli was off hiking with Sarah and Martin, and wouldn’t be looking for me again until tomorrow. So Daniel would just have to spend the next however many hours trying to figure it out for himself.

  All I could think about was that last look on his face, as he patiently waited for me to answer his question about who I am. Telling me he had nothing but time. Telling me he’d be “grateful” if I’d explain what was going on.

  Well, he probably wasn’t feeling grateful toward me anymore. I could pretty much guarantee that.

  42

  I slept in, after who knows when I finally fell asleep. I woke up to the sound of the phone. I checked the clock: 9:15. I wondered how early I could talk to the professor on a Saturday morning.

  But I was going to have to wait a little while anyway. Usually my mom goes into the office on weekends, at least for a few hours, so all I had to do was wait for that. Then I could call the professor and video chat with him in private.

  I padded out into the kitchen. My mom was still on the phone. “That would be nice,” she was saying. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

  She hung up and said, “Sweetie, I love your hair!”

  “Thanks,” I said with a yawn. “Who was that?”

  “Elena. She’s at the office, but I told her I’m going to work from home today. I just need to go by and pick up some files first.”

  “Why . . . are you working from home?”

  “I feel like I’ve been gone an awful lot lately, and it might be nice to just stay put for the weekend.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that because of me—”

  “It’s not because of you,” she said. “I’m just plain exhausted. I want to sit around in my sweatpants and do my reading here. I don’t need to go to the office for that.”

  “But—”

  My mom gave me a quizzical look. “Don’t you want me here?”

  “Of course! Absolutely! I just thought . . . but no, you’re right. That would be great. You should relax.”

  I headed for the bathroom to splash my face and brush my teeth. And mostly to keep from babbling. She was going to get suspicious if I kept it up.

  “Oh, and Elena invited us over for dinner tonight,” my mom called after me. “I’d said we’d go—I assume that’s all right?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Actually, it sounded really nice. Maybe that’s what I needed: a good dose of Will. It had been days since I’d been able to breathe in the scent of him—ever since our all-too-short drive from school to the office on Wednesday.

  And who knows? Maybe he’d take a second look at me now that I had Halli hair. Was that so wrong to hope?

  Around 10:00 my mom left to go pick up some paperwork at the office. I wasn’t sure how long she’d be away, but I figured I had at least half an hour.

  I quickly contacted the professor. He was already in his office.

  “Look at my hair,” I said right away.

  “Oh. Yes, it’s very nice, Audie . . .”

  “No, look at it! Sarah cut it yesterday. Or last night—whenever. But she cut it over there. And it came back with me looking like this.” I paused. “Do you understand? Don’t you think that’s amazing?”

  Professor Whitfield laughed. “Yes, Audie, I do think that’s amazing—you’re absolutely right. I’m sorry I didn’t react right away. I’m still taking it all in.”

  I also told him about the vapor trail, or whatever it is, yanking me back last night. And about poor Daniel being left there to try to deal with it.

  “What would you think if that had happened to you?” I asked. “If you were talking to someone and they just suddenly disappeared?”

  “I’d think it was quantum tunneling or something like that,” the professor said. “Have you considered that, by the way?”

  “Quantum tunneling?” I said. “Not really.”

  “Well, I think we have to add that to the list of possibilities,” the professor said. “If an electron can disappear on one side of a barrier and reappear on the other, maybe it’s the same explanation for you.

  “Listen,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about something. Right now all we have are theories, but I’d like to start gathering some practical data. That hair of yours is a pretty significant step, but we’ll need a lot more to do a thorough analysis of what’s going on. Do you think you’d be up for some testing?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “This is something you’d have to clear with your mom—you’ve told her about it now, haven’t you?”

  “Oh . . . yeah. I told her everything yesterday after she came in while I was talking to you.”

  I was shocked at how easily the lie came out. But I was too interested in what the professor was going to say to let the whole thing about my mother stand in the way.

  “How’d she take it?” Professor Whitfield asked.

  “Not great,” I improvised. “She was pretty upset at first. But after a while, she realized what an opportunity this is for me.”

  “Really?” the professor said. “She didn’t . . . seem more concerned than that?”

  “Oh, yeah, she was at first—definitely,” I said. “But she seems okay with it now. It was a long talk.”

  “Hm. I’m surprised she didn’t want to talk to me, too.”

  “Oh, she did,” I continued lying. “But I told her you’d just say the same things, and we probably shouldn’t bother you.”

  I wondered if he could see the sweat that had broken out on my face. Maybe his computer resolution was too weak.

  “So anyway,” I said. “What were you saying about the testing?”

  “What I’d like is for you and your mother to come up here to the college,” he said. “I have a lab with a lot of pretty sophisticated equipment. I’d like to set up a few experiments so we can monitor you while you’re having the experience—see if we can really figure out what’s going on. What would you say to that?”

  “That’s a great idea!” Except for the part about my mom coming, too. “You mean you’d hook me up to machines, or something?”

  “Something like that,” he said. “I’d like to test your brain waves, your physiological responses, some other aspects—make sure everything is safe.”

  That sounded like an excellent idea. And it might be just the thing I need for my mother.

  Because as I was lying to the professor about having already told her, I realized that day is going to come at some point, whether I like it or not. And it’s probably going to come pretty soon, since I plan on putting all this in my Columbia application. I can’t very well reveal it to the admissions committee and not to my own mother. She’s going to find out one way or the other, and I suppose it had better come from me. Soon.

  But wouldn’t it be so much better if I could tell her after I’ve proved it’s safe? Be able to hand her some test results of some kind and assure her that what I’m doing isn’t dangerous?

  And I suppose if it is dangerous, I should probably know that, too. That will give the professor and me a chance to correct my methods so it really will be safe.

  A total win-win.

  Even though I’m going to have to tell some of the biggest lies of my life to get there.

  “So, when were you thinking?” I asked. “Like, sometime soon?”

  “The sooner the better,” Professor Whitfield said. “I’d like to get to the bottom of this.”

  I’d already been staring at the calendar on my desk. I knew what I was about to do, but it still felt so . . . wrong. But I had to remember t
hat the goal was ultimately to reassure my mom.

  “How about next week?” I said. “Like on Friday? We could come up for the weekend.”

  Not mentioning the fact that my mother will still be in Philadelphia over the weekend. No need to mention that.

  “Friday would be fine,” the professor said.

  But then I realized a major hurdle. “Um, how would we pay for it?” It was one thing to be a liar—I wasn’t also going to be a thief by charging up my mother’s credit card.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Professor Whitfield said. “There’s a travel budget written into all my grants. I’ll pay for your plane tickets and a hotel. I can make the arrangements today.”

  It was all happening so fast. And so easily. I know I should have felt more guilty. But I just kept thinking about my mom.

  And okay, about me.

  “Do you need to check with your mother first?” the professor asked.

  “No, I’m sure she’ll say yes. It’s just a weekend—it won’t be a problem. And she’s really been wanting to meet you.”

  “All right, good.” He had me give him my mother’s and my full names, our birthdates—everything he needed for the reservations.

  I heard the front door open.

  “Okay, so I have to go,” I said, “but it sounds like a plan.”

  “And you’ll keep me posted until then?” Professor Whitfield said. “I want to hear about anything unusual.”

  I heard my mom drop her keys in the front basket.

  “Yep, sounds great,” I said. “Talk to you soon!” And I clicked off just in time.

  My mom stuck her head in my doorway. “Did you have breakfast? I brought back bagels.”

  My mom and I may not cook, but it doesn’t mean we don’t eat.

  “Sounds great,” I told her. Everything sounds great.

  I’m going to Colorado.

  Alone.

  I wonder how this whole thing will work?

  43

  I took my time getting ready for tonight. I was in a good mood, ready to hang out with Will. I washed my newly-cut hair and picked out the kind of clothes I thought Halli might wear for an evening out: clean jeans and a long-sleeved red T-shirt. I checked myself in the mirror. I really did look different.

  I was feeling so good I thought maybe even Gemma wouldn’t bother me for once. Of course she ruined that idea right away.

  “Audie, girl,” she said as soon as we walked in, “what did you do to your hair?” She laughed and winked and tossed her own hair. “It’s so— ”

  “Thanks.” I didn’t wait to hear what it was “so.” Because I realized that as much as I hated Gemma before? Now seeing how she could be, as Sarah, made how she is so very worse.

  Do you know that you’re actually fun? And nice? And a pleasure to be around? And you don’t constantly wink or flip your hair or press your boobs against your boyfriend’s arm? Do you know you have some freakin’ dignity over there?

  Will bit into a tortilla chip. “I think it looks good.”

  I’m sure my face beamed. “Thank you, Will.” I had to resist the urge to really dork it out by adding, “Do you really like it? Do you? Oh my gosh, I’m so happy! You like it!”

  Lydia was still teaching her yoga class, so it was just the two moms and the happy couple and me for a while. I tried to focus on Will alone, but Gemma kept interjecting herself, draping herself over him, jabbering away about some “ball” her family was going to be throwing in a few weeks.

  I didn’t want to get involved, but I couldn’t resist. She was so stupid and irritating.

  “You mean you’re renting a ballroom,” I said. “We don’t actually call them ‘balls’ here—they’re just parties.”

  “No, it’s a ball,” she insisted. “Like we have in England.”

  Whatever. I couldn’t believe I even let myself get drawn in. Now she was going to keep talking about it.

  “Why are you throwing a ball?” my mother wanted to know.

  “It’s for Daddy’s 50th,” Gemma said. “He can’t get away to go back to England, so Mummy has invited everyone to come here to celebrate. It’s a surprise for him. People will be flying in from all over the world. Everybody loves Daddy—it should be quite the event.”

  I turned away and rolled my eyes. It was better than punching her in the face.

  My mother caught my eye. She winked. I’ve grown to hate the wink, now that Gemma has ruined it for me, but this time I had to smile. My mother could see the girl was driving me crazy. At least someone was on my side.

  “Will your brother be coming?” Elena asked Gemma, probably just to be polite. But suddenly I was paying attention.

  “Oh, yes, Colin will be here for a week or so. He had to get permission from the headmaster, but everyone understands Daddy’s 50th takes priority.”

  “Your brother’s name is Colin?” I asked. “Is that your only brother? How old is he? What does he look like?”

  Gemma shot me a suspicious look. I never ask questions, and here I’d given her four in a row. But I couldn’t help myself—finally she had some information for me that I was actually interested in.

  “He’s eighteen,” she said, choosing to answer just one. “He’s very successful—top marks at his school. He’ll be at Oxford next year, with Daddy.”

  Gemma’s father is a professor at Oxford. The only reason Gemma is here making my life miserable right now is that her father accepted an invitation to teach at our university for a few years. He’s going back at the end of the school year—just long enough for Gemma to keep interfering with Will all the way up to our graduation.

  “So when is this ball, did you say?” I asked.

  Gemma seemed strangely reluctant to answer. “October 20th ,” she sort of mumbled, then she looked around the room. “And, um, of course you’re all invited . . .”

  Oh. No, of course we weren’t. She’d forgotten that polite little detail.

  “I’ll just let Mummy know to add—” She glanced around the room again. Apparently math is even harder for her than it is for me. “—three. Or I suppose four, if you think Lydia will want to come.”

  “Thank you,” Elena said. “That’s very nice of you. I’m not sure we’ll be able to—”

  “I will,” I said immediately. Are you kidding? A chance to see Daniel’s duplicate in the flesh? Wait until Professor Whitfield heard about that. If the Sarah-Gemma differences were any indication, I bet this Colin guy would be nothing like Daniel. It was too juicy to pass up. Of course I had to meet him.

  This dinner wasn’t so bad after all. Science can pop up when you least expect it.

  I was in a much better mood by the time Elena served up her fabulous enchilada pie and three-bean salad, and didn’t even mind so much that Gemma never stopped talking and primping and winking. I was hungry for whatever she might say about her brother. How weird to think I would see him here, in my own universe, in just a few weeks. I couldn’t wait to see if he looked exactly like Daniel, or if there were subtle differences like between Halli and me.

  Eventually Lydia came home and nuked up her leftovers, and then Gemma started filling her in on the ball. Apparently now that she’d felt pressured into it, Gemma was going to start acting like inviting all of us was her idea.

  “Hey, Aud,” Will whispered from behind me while the two of them carried on. “Can you come talk to me for a sec?”

  “Of course. Great. Sure.” I tried not to leap up like a little kid just told there was a pony waiting for her in the yard.

  Will led me down the hall. He looked back to make sure we weren’t followed. Then he opened the door to his bedroom.

  I hardly ever get to go into Will’s bedroom anymore. Maybe the last time was a few years ago, when he had some book he wanted to lend me.

  Looking around his room now, I could see the décor had changed quite a bit. No more posters from his favorite movies and TV shows. Now the walls were bare, painted a sort of dark beige, and there were shelves and
narrow tables everywhere to accommodate all his computers. I counted four different monitors, two laptops, a bunch of hard drives, stacks and stacks of computer manuals—it was like walking into a computer store that slightly smelled of socks.

  Will reached behind me. “Let’s close the door.”

  A thrill went through me. This dinner just kept getting better and better. Will pulled down the top of his bedspread, and dug his hand under his pillow.

  He came out holding a box. A small, velvet-covered, burgundy box. The kind you see in movies. The kind that hold engagement rings.

  I felt a little dizzy. And not because I’d suddenly lost my mind and thought Will was going to propose—at least not to me. I’m not stupid. I was starting to feel sick.

  Will flipped open the box.

  A ring. A beautiful gold ring with two tiny diamonds on either side of a light blue heart-shaped gem. Not a classic-looking engagement ring, but a ring nonetheless.

  I didn’t say anything. I could feel a clammy sweat breaking out on my face.

  “Do you think it’s too much?” he asked.

  He was expecting me to speak.

  “Um, no—not at all.” My voice crackled. “It’s really pretty. Nice.”

  Will let out a breath. “Great. Okay, thanks.” He flipped the box closed and stowed it back under his pillow.

  “So that’s for . . . Gemma?” Might as well crumble my heart all the way.

  “Yeah,” Will said. “She’s been sort of hinting around—”

  I bet she has.

  “I got a good deal on it,” he said. “One forty-nine ninety-nine.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Great.” He could have said, “I paid for it by selling my spleen,” and I doubt I would have heard him any better. My ears were already shutting down. This was the opposite of Professor Whitfield’s above-beyond senses: mine were going down and off.

  “So,” I said, “I’m going to go now . . .”

  “Aud?” Will said. “You okay?”

  “Oh, yeah! Yeah. I just think I should probably . . . go.”

  “Can I just show you one more thing?” he asked.

  Because when you’ve already got someone on the torture rack, why not crank it a little more?