Parallelogram Omnibus Edition

by Brande, Robin

  “Oh, Jake—”

  He stops petting Red and reaches for my hand.

  “I understand you not wanting to say it in front of some reporter, but . . .”

  I close my eyes. This can not be happening. Some guy I’m way too attracted to for my own good is asking me whether I love him. And he’s not asking me, he’s asking Halli.

  “Miss Markham?”

  And now the driver is here. Of course. And Sarah and Daniel are in the back. They must not have made it all the way home before Bates was able to reach them.

  “Just tell me,” Jake whispers. “I need to know.”

  I cover my face with my hand. He gently pries it away.

  And with nowhere else to hide, I have to tell him the truth:

  “Yes, I think I do.”

  38

  “Well, he’s certainly dreamy, isn’t he?” Sarah asks as soon as I get in the car. Red hops onto the seat next to her and rests his head on her lap. She seems to have that effect on all males.

  “Now,” Sarah says, “tell us absolutely everything about you and this Jake person, and don’t leave out any of the good parts. Unless they’d embarrass Daniel, in which case, Daniel, I’ll have to ask you to leap out of the vehicle. Driver, go slowly.”

  The car interior is too dark for me to see either of them clearly, but I can feel Daniel’s eyes on me.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I say. “He works for my parents. They sent him as an escort.”

  “Why can’t our parents ever send me with an escort who looks like that?” Sarah asks. “It’s always either Daniel or our Aunt Miriam.”

  “So what about you and Bryan?” I say, ready to change the subject. “You two looked pretty happy together.”

  “Nice bloke, good hair—we shall see,” she says.

  “How long have you known him?” Daniel asks me.

  “Just a couple of days,” I say. “He was the reporter at a board—”

  “No,” Daniel says, “Jake.” His voice isn’t his regular voice. There’s a flat sort of deadness to it.

  “Oh. Since last week,” I say. “He showed up at . . . my house,” I almost said Halli’s, “to pick me up and take me to my parents.”

  “So you’ve finally met the delinquent parents!” Sarah says. “Oh, that must have been rich. I wish I could have seen it. Did our Bryan film it?”

  I’m not surprised she’d ask. Sarah’s grown up watching film clips of Halli. It probably seems natural to her that every aspect of Halli’s life will eventually be on view.

  “Not the initial meeting,” I say. “But he was at a board meeting later.”

  “Bored, indeed,” Sarah complains. “Who cares about that? We want to have seen the look on your parents’ faces when confronted with the child they abandoned and neglected. And the look on your face—were you very stern with them, then? Oh, I wish I could have seen it!”

  “Sarah—” Daniel warns.

  “What? Can’t we speak freely? We’re all friends here, aren’t we, Halli?”

  “We are, and it’s fine,” I tell them. “I don’t mind.”

  But it’s nice of Daniel to try to rein his sister in, just in case it might hurt Halli’s feelings.

  But he knows I’m not Halli, so that can’t be the reason.

  “I hope we didn’t interrupt anything important just now,” Daniel says. “Between you and Jake.”

  “No, nothing important,” I say. Daniel wasn’t trying to spare my feelings, he just wanted to return to a topic he’s more interested in.

  “You seemed to be very involved when we drove up,” he says. “Perhaps you wish we’d driven on and left you two alone.”

  “Daniel, you sound as though you’re jealous!” Sarah says. “This is Halli Markham, remember? Not the other cousin. How is Audie?” she asks me. “Why isn’t she here? She’s coming for our father’s party, isn’t she?”

  “I don’t think she can make it, Sarah. I’m sorry.”

  “No! Unacceptable!” she says. “Not when my brother’s been pining for her night and day since he saw her last!”

  “Sarah—” he says.

  “No, Daniel, I’m quite serious. You’ve been wretched to live with. Dear Halli, can’t you please help my poor, love-starved brother? He simply has to see her again. Can’t you assemble a brigade of some sort to kidnap her wherever she is and bring her here?”

  My eyes have adjusted to the dark by now, and Daniel and I can both see each other clearly. He gives me a sad sort of chuckle and looks away. Not like he’s angry, but more like he’s embarrassed.

  “I’ll try,” I say. “I agree. She should be here. We should all be here.”

  “Quite correct,” Sarah says. “Oh, look—we’re almost there. Now, hide here for a moment while Daniel and I go in first. We haven’t told our parents you’re staying yet—you’re meant to be a surprise. They think they’re not meeting you until the party. They’re simply going to die of admiration when they see you walk through our door! Ready, Dan?”

  Sarah exits first, and I catch Daniel’s arm.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “Really sorry. Everything is so messed up right now.”

  “I’m certain that’s true,” he says.

  “Where can we talk? When? I have so much I have to tell you.”

  Sarah has come running back. “Daniel! Come on! Halli, wait two minutes—”

  “I look forward to it,” Daniel tells me in a very formal kind of way, then he exits the car. He follows Sarah up the walkway into a narrow, two-story house.

  I watch the two of them go in. The place looks cozy, well-lit, warm. I’m sure the people inside—most of them, at least—will happily welcome me.

  I lean forward and cradle my head in my hands. What am I doing here? Everything has gotten so out of hand. The whole point of coming to London was to see Daniel—to talk to him. To find out everything he knows and have him help me get Halli back. Everything else—visiting Halli’s parents’ facility, having Jake and some reporter tag along—those were supposed to be just an excuse, a way to make it happen.

  But it’s all turned around. A few days ago, I thought the hard part would be getting here in the first place. Now I know the hard part starts right now, through those doors, with Daniel.

  And it’s nobody’s fault but mine. I’ve lost my focus. I’ve gotten so caught up with Jake, I’ve completely lost my mind and forgotten what I’m supposed to do.

  “Will you be staying, Miss Markham?” the driver asks me. I never caught his name.

  “Yes,” I answer. “At least for tonight.”

  “Very good, Miss.” He leaves the car door he’s been holding open, and goes to the back to retrieve my duffel. Then he takes up his station again and waits for me to come out.

  Two minutes surely must have passed. I wouldn’t mind making it ten minutes more. I have no strategy. I didn’t think I’d need one. It’s Daniel. He and I should be able to talk easily, effortlessly.

  I see the front door open. Sarah is wildly gesturing for me.

  “Come on, Red,” I say. “Show time.”

  39

  I am sitting at a table in a cramped little kitchen—even smaller than the one my mom and I share at home—and I’m surrounded by people all talking at once, laughing, debating in a good-natured way, obviously enjoying each other’s company, and we’re eating leftovers and drinking tea and having a grand old time except for one thing: Daniel politely excused himself a little while ago and hasn’t come back.

  He’s not the kind of guy to do it for effect—he’s not pouting, hoping to make some statement—I think he’s just being honest with himself right now about the fact that he doesn’t want to be around me.

  Which is a horrible, horrible fact, and not one I want to let go on for one more second. This is ridiculous. I have to fix it.

  “Do you guys mind?” I ask. “I just remembered I need to ask Daniel something. Is it okay if I go find him?”

  “Upstairs,” his mother, Francie,
tells me. Both Daniel’s parents told me to call them by their first names. “Third door on the right,” she says. Then she and Sarah and the dad, Sam, go back to arguing whether some food I’ve never heard of tastes better mashed or chopped, and which ancient civilization first discovered it. Sarah says chopped and Persian, her parents think mashed and Incan. That’s how the whole conversation has been tonight—a mixture of the modern and the historical. It’s pretty funny to listen to. Even when I was one of their topics.

  “No, that was the year she and her grandmother first trekked to the Arctic—remember?” Sarah asked.

  “Are you sure?” Sam said. “I thought that was when they were in India—wasn’t that the year with the tiger?”

  Sarah looked exasperated. “I wrote a report about it for school. Of course I remember.”

  And since I didn’t know the answers to any of their trivia questions about Halli, I just let them all hash it out, and sat here with a mysterious smile on my face.

  But now it’s time for facing Daniel, which might even be harder than facing a tiger. I excuse myself from the table and head upstairs with Red.

  The carpeting on the floors looks worn, but the place is clean. Cluttered, but clean. A lot like my house, with too much stuff stuffed into every room.

  Daniel’s door is closed. I knock.

  “Yes?”

  I open the door. He’s sitting on his bed, reading a book. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of those—everything here seems to run on tablets.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  There’s no place to sit, really, except on the bed or on the floor, and even though Daniel would probably be more comfortable with me standing, it’s time to break the ice. I sit down on the edge of his bed, a decent distance away from him, and pat the space between us for Red to jump up and fill.

  There’s no point in pretending. In pretending about anything.

  “Do you hate me?” I ask.

  “No. Of course not.” Daniel closes his book and sets it aside. “Of course I don’t hate you.”

  “You saw.”

  “Yes,” he says, “I saw.”

  “He thinks I’m Halli,” I say, as if that answers everything. But since we’re not pretending, I know it doesn’t.

  “What are your feelings for him?” Daniel asks.

  “Confused.”

  He nods. And takes that in.

  “He’s in love with Halli,” I say. “He’s constantly trying to win her over.”

  “Which it seems he has,” Daniel says.

  “But I’m not Halli,” I say. “I don’t want to be Halli. I don’t know if she’s alive or whether I can still save her, but I have to do everything I can. And I’m hoping you’ll help me. It’s why I’m here. I came all the way to England just to talk to you. Everything else . . . doesn’t really matter. You have to believe me about that.”

  And I have to believe it myself. Because otherwise everything I’m doing is a waste, and whether or not Halli survives becomes unimportant compared to my love life.

  And that’s not how I want it to be. I know if she were in my place, she’d be working night and day to find me, to bring me back. She wouldn’t be hanging out in cafés and hotel rooms just letting the hours and days tick by. I’ve already let too much time slip away. It’s all starting to hit me right now, and I’m getting a little panicked.

  Besides, it’s not just Halli—I want myself back, too. No matter how much I might enjoy a few moments here and there inside this body, particularly when Jake is around. It’s time for me to go back to my own life. I want that. I think I forgot that.

  And part of my old life is in front of me.

  “I’m sorry about everything,” I tell Daniel. “This isn’t how I wanted it. The last time I saw you, I couldn’t wait to see you again. And this afternoon, when you first showed up, the way I felt . . . that’s how I want it. I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m sorry for all of it.”

  And that, I know, is the truth. It’s like I’ve just woken up from a trance.

  Daniel studies my face. Then he takes a deep breath. He props himself up against the wall behind him and makes more room for me and the dog.

  “All right,” he says, “let’s hear it. All of it. Start from the beginning.”

  And even though Sarah barges in several times over the next few hours—“Come downstairs! What are you two about?” “It’s my turn now, Dan. She was meant to be in my room.” “Invite your own friends! Halli Markham is mine”—Daniel and I don’t budge. We’ll sit here all night if we have to, even if it means I never get to sleep again.

  Because this is science now, and we’re not leaving until we figure it out.

  40

  “Audie.” Daniel is gently shaking me awake.

  I’m bent over, half of me still in a sitting position on his bed, half of me slumped to the side. I think Daniel must have fallen asleep, too, because I don’t remember hearing his voice for however long I’ve been passed out. It might have been fifteen minutes, it might have been an hour.

  Sunlight is streaming through the curtains. It’s not exactly like waking up in a simulated meadow, with a deer grazing nearby, or in a room overpoweringly scented with roses, but I think this kind of room suits me better. Reminds me of home. Reminds who I really am underneath all this.

  “I think Red needs to go out,” I say. He’s standing by the door, wagging his tail.

  Daniel stands up and stretches. “I’ll go with you.”

  My teeth feel like they’re coated in wax. My tongue, too. I could use a good tooth brushing and a long, hot shower. But my duffel is in Sarah’s room, and I don’t want to wake her up to get my toothbrush, so for now I’ll have to make do with the cup of tea Francie hands me when we come downstairs to the kitchen.

  Daniel’s father is sitting there, too. Only Sarah is missing.

  “She had to leave already,” Francie tells me. “Her school has an early start.”

  “Not yours?” I ask Daniel.

  “Not today,” he says.

  The air is frosty outside—much cooler than it’s been—and as usual I don’t have the proper clothes. But Daniel lends me a thick coat of his and finds some gloves that belong to Sarah, and the two of us set off with Red to stretch all of our legs.

  “Any new thoughts?” I ask Daniel. “I thought maybe with a little sleep . . .”

  “A few,” he says. “But it’s too early yet. Let me wake up.”

  A wet fog covers the ground, misting around our shins. Red lopes along, running ahead, coming back, staying near us but still enjoying his freedom. It’s not like walking on the beach with someone who will throw him a stick, but it’s still fresh air, and it’s morning, and both of those make him frisky.

  We walk for a long time. Up small streets, across a busy one where Daniel has to save me from being hit by a car because I forgot to look the wrong way again, then finally to a grassy park where Red is happy to chase the British version of squirrels. There’s even a pond with a few cold-tolerant ducks in it, and Red, who seems oblivious to freezing water, jumps in to investigate. Then when he notices Daniel and I have walked on, he splashes out to find us and ends up shaking himself dry in just the right spot to soak both of our legs through our clothes. You can take a dog across the ocean, but he still doesn’t know how to behave.

  “Shouldn’t you be going to school?” I ask Daniel, realizing how late it must be.

  “I won’t be going today. Today I think we need to visit my parents’ studio.”

  I already confessed to Daniel last night how awful I feel for wasting so much time—time I should have spent thinking my hardest about how to solve the physics of my problem—and now visiting his parents seems like more of the same.

  I tell him so.

  “No, I think it will help,” he says. “I have an idea. It might be totally wrong, but it’s all I can think of right now. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” I
say.

  “Right, then,” he answers. “We should go back home now. You’re going to have to start by telling my parents.”

  “Telling them what?” I ask, more than a little alarmed.

  “Everything,” Daniel says. “Everything from before—from when we first met—and everything now.”

  “But . . . why?” It seems crazy. Bringing someone else in at this point—trying to convince Daniel’s parents that what’s been happening in my life the past month or so isn’t a dream, isn’t a fantasy, but involves highly complex and sometimes impossible to understand physics, seems like another huge waste of time.

  And it might create more problems than it can ever solve, if, for example, Daniel’s parents come to the same kind of conclusion Jake has—that what I really have is a head injury or a mental problem, and I belong in a hospital, not in a parallel universe.

  “I can’t do it,” I tell Daniel. “I think that’s a big mistake.”

  “Do you trust me?” he asks again.

  I groan.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, Daniel. Of course I trust you.”

  “Then come on,” he says. “I have a plan. Let’s test whether it has any hope of working.”

  41

  There’s a car sitting in front of Daniel’s house. A car I recognize.

  The windows are shaded dark, so I can’t see in from outside, but I know who’ll be sitting in the back seat.

  “I’ll . . . meet you in there,” I tell Daniel.

  He looks at me, and I can imagine what he’s thinking. But he just responds with a nod and turns up the walk to his house.

  I stand outside the car. The window closest to me rolls down.

  “Get in,” Jake says. “You must be freezing.”

  “I have to go back inside,” I tell him. “I can’t stay out here long.”

  “Halli,” he says, giving me that familiar, nearly-irresistible smile, “get in.”

  I glance back toward the house, but Daniel has already gone inside.

  “Just for a moment,” I say, opening the door.

  Red is happy to jump in and reunite with his stick-throwing buddy.