Now That You're Here (Duplexity, Part I)

by Amy K. Nichols

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t. “Me too,” I manage to say with only a small quaver. “Wait—” Frantically, I search my pockets. “I didn’t give you anything to remember me by.” And then, “Oh.” Logic has left my brain. “You wouldn’t be able to take anything with you anyway.” My hands are shaking. I’m a mess.

  He smiles and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry. I could never forget you, Eevee Solomon.”

  He moves to hug me again but Warren interrupts. “The device is switched on and the timer is ticking down. Here.” He hands Danny a pair of goggles. “Just in case.”

  “Okay,” Danny says, pulling the goggles over his eyes. “Let’s do this.” He shakes Warren’s hand and we walk to the cage. Just before going inside, he turns to me, smiles and kisses me on the cheek.

  I watch Warren shut the door. Watch him check the seal. I’m so lost in my thoughts, he has to ask me twice to get the clipboard so we can record results.

  Warren and I move to the far side of the garage. He holds his stopwatch in front of us. One minute left to go. When it reaches zero, the timer mechanism will release the stopgap on the power connection, the device will detonate, and then…

  “You doing okay?” Warren calls.

  “Yep,” Danny calls back.

  My hands feel cold wrapped around the clipboard. My eyes refuse to blink, watching the numbers race down to zero. My mind, though, floods with regret, echoing again and again all the things I wish I’d said to him, things now I’ll never get a chance to say.

  There’s a chair, but I can’t sit still. On a wooden pallet lies a mess of copper wire and computer parts. I stay away from it, standing as close to the door as I can.

  “You doing okay?” Warren yells.

  “Yep,” I answer, because what am I supposed to say? That I’m scared? Of leaving. Of staying. Of Eevee finding out the truth about me and Red December.

  Warren’s voice comes again, starting the countdown. “Three.”

  I close my eyes and imagine her. Dark hair. Sweet smile. If this goes bad, I—

  “Two.”

  —want my last thought to be of her. Oh God. I don’t want to—

  “One.”

  —leave.

  I press myself against the wall and wait for it….

  The sound of an alarm pings into the silence. I pull the goggles off. Everything inside the cage is the same, except for a simple wisp of smoke rising from the cell phone.

  I’m still him. I’m still here.

  The EMP went off and I’m still here.

  The door rattles, opens. Warren runs in as I run out.

  Eevee rushes toward me and I catch her in my arms. Hold her tight. Look at her beautiful face. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  She smiles as Warren shouts, “The EMP worked! Corban’s phone is toast!”

  In the days after our homemade EMP fails to send Danny back home, I find myself leafing through the women’s magazines my mother has accumulated. According to Strut! magazine, there are seven sure signs you’re in love with another person:

  1. You want to spend every waking minute with the person. (Every sleeping minute, too!)

  Danny and I spend as much time together as we can. I cut out of class early or skip school altogether. He comes to my window late, after Dad has gone to bed. It’s a dangerous game, but now that we’re together, we don’t want to waste a single minute.

  2. You would give the person the world if you could.

  We go to the mall one afternoon, share a pretzel and look at the window displays. He tells me how different everything is from the mall in his Phoenix. I show him the geocaches Warren and I have found. As we walk toward the exit, we pass a jewelry cart in the center walkway, loaded with bangles and earrings, scarves and sunglasses.

  “Hey, check it out.” Danny points at a square pendant hanging from a leather thong. “This looks kinda like the necklace my mom gave me.” He turns to the saleswoman. “How much?”

  While he talks to her, I read the tag. This necklace is structured from pure bismuth. Bismuth crystals are known for their stunning iridescent colors and unique stair-step structures.

  Danny takes the necklace down from the display and clasps it around my neck.

  3. You miss the person like crazy when you have to be apart.

  When we do go to school, I’m distracted. Danny is all I think about. I have a difficult time carrying on simple conversations, even with Warren (though I suspect he’s happily having his own concentration issues, thanks to Missy). Sitting through classes, I struggle to focus, counting the minutes until I can see him again. Einstein called time a “stubbornly persistent illusion.” He couldn’t have been more right. And it’s never more stubbornly persistent than those last five minutes before the bell rings.

  4. You find everything the person says and does totally fascinating.

  We sit side by side in the backyard, me looking at the necklace around my neck and him looking at me.

  “Did you choose this one because of the fractal pattern?”

  “Yes,” he says, shaking his head no.

  “Look at it closer.” I hold the pendant out toward him. “See the stair-step formation? Everything is constructed in patterns. Leaves. Tree branches. This crystal.” I let it drop back to my neck and look up at the sky. “I think even the stars must have a fractal structure. We just haven’t found the right vantage point yet to see it.” I take his hand and point to the creases in the curve between his thumb and index finger. “Even we have fractal patterns.”

  He holds his hand up to his face for a closer look. “How do you know all this stuff?”

  “I don’t know. I just like understanding how things work and why.” I take his hand again and hold it in mine. “Your turn. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  He makes a thinking face. “Ah. How’s this? My middle name is Winchester.”

  “Like the gun?”

  “Yep. It was my great-great-grandfather’s name.”

  “Daniel Winchester Ogden.” I smirk. “Makes you sound dangerous.”

  “I am dangerous.” He tries to look tough, but cracks into a smile. “What about you? Why do you spell your name that way?”

  “I like the symmetry of it.”

  He looks at me for a moment, then shakes his head. “Most people I can figure out right away. But not you.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Not you.”

  5. You get jealous if anyone else makes a pass at them.

  Sometimes he catches me off guard and kisses me when I least expect it. Just outside the school gates. Over homework with my dad barely ten feet away. Every kiss feels like a new, unexpected thing. And after every one, I pray that feeling never ends.

  But one time he kisses me and it’s different. His lips press harder, his arms hold me tighter, his hands wander.

  I pull away. “Tell me. About her.”

  At first he looks hurt, but then he flops back on the couch and says everything I already know.

  He tells me how she was. With him.

  The other Eevee is so different from me. She does whatever she wants, whenever she wants. She isn’t controlled by anyone.

  “I can see why you like her.”

  He scowls. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

  I hate being jealous of her. I hate hating her.

  Hating myself.

  6. You can’t imagine a life without the person.

  Working on English homework at Dad’s, I whisper, “Don’t you think it’s strange that you met me in your universe, and then just happened to end up next to me here in my class?”

  “No,” he says, not looking up from his paper. “I think it’s awesome.”

  “I’m serious. Isn’t that a bit too coincidental?” I tap my pencil on the table. Every system has an underlying order. Every microcosm is a reflection of the macro. In an ordered system, is there room for coincidence?

  Unless…

&nb
sp; “What if you’re a nonlinear complication in our deterministic system?”

  He looks up. “Are you even speaking English?”

  “If you’re nonlinear here, are you nonlinear in every parallel system? But if you’re consistently nonlinear, then that would make you linear.” My brain starts to cramp.

  He puts his pencil down and stretches. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

  “What if Eevee and Danny meet in every universe?”

  He grins. “Sounds perfect.”

  7. You’re happy and life couldn’t be better.

  We sit at her dad’s kitchen table after dinner. Sid’s in the other room, keeping an ear out, I’m sure. We’ve been spending all of our time together, relishing all of our time together. I don’t know who’s happier I’m still here, her or me. All that time I was fighting to get home, I never realized what I had right in front of me. I miss my family, and Germ—how could I not?—but I think if they saw me now, they’d understand. They’d want this for me, too. They’d want me to embrace this life, now that I’m here.

  She taps my foot under the table. Tap tap. I don’t look up from the textbook. This time we’re reading “The Lottery” for that crazy Fish she-troll. I’m at the part where Mrs. Hutchinson finds her husband and kids in the crowd. Tap tap.

  “Shhh.”

  She folds her arms on the table. I pretend not to notice her smiling up at me through her eyelashes. I turn the page. She taps my foot again.

  “What? I’m reading.”

  She reaches out to cover the pages with her hands, but I pull the book away. “You’re totally going to flunk if you don’t pay attention.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You lie.” I start reading again just to drive her crazy. “ ‘A sudden hush fell on the crowd as…’ ” The words on the page blur. Static fills my head. I feel the book fall from my hands as the pulsing takes over. Through the confusion, a woman’s voice.

  …can’t believe you’re seriously considering this.

  Mom?

  Two figures emerge in the haze. I can barely make them out. But then, Dad’s voice.

  I don’t see any other way. Do you?

  I fight to push through, but that other force pushes me back.

  Danny? What’s wrong?

  They’re almost in focus. My chest goes so tight I’m gonna die. I ease up, let the pulsing pound me. Cold shivers through me, and then, there they are.

  Here I am.

  Kind of.

  The living room walls glow. The whole place hums, shifting in and out of focus. I’m so close.

  Then the force slams into me, races through me, pushes me back. My world swirls into a haze and I’m falling, flailing.

  The kitchen chair catches me. My chest burns, my head spins.

  I was there.

  I was actually there.

  Across the table, Eevee stares at me, too stunned to speak.

  I’m stunned, too, and not just because it happened again. That force that pushes back? I think I know what that is. Or rather, who.

  It’s him. The other Danny.

  And then, after six blissful, drama-free days, the storm breaks.

  Danny and I walk across Mom’s yard after a long day of avoiding school to spend time together. I hear Warren call my name and turn to see him running across the street, backpack bouncing behind him. His goggles are crooked and his words run together.

  “Wherehaveyoubeen?”

  “What?”

  “Beenlookingforyouallday.” He leans over and holds his knees.

  “Slow down,” I say. “What’s wrong?”

  “Mac,” he says, panting. “He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean—”

  “Fired.” He stands up and adjusts his backpack. “Murray fired him.”

  “What?!” I grab Danny’s arm. “What for?”

  “Rumor is, he set up an illegal lab on campus. Some are saying drugs.”

  I scoff. “Yeah, right.”

  “You know what I think?” He tries to catch his breath. “It’s those guys in suits. And whatever’s going on at his house. If only we’d been able to talk to him before this.” He lifts his goggles to wipe his face and mutters about Mac’s terrible timing for being MIA. His goggles snap back into place. “And get this: someone got past my firewall and jacked my hard drive.”

  Oh no. “Do you think it was because of the…?”

  He nods, his lips forming a thin line. “The EMP.”

  Still reeling, I walk through the front door and stop. Mom and Dad are seated at Mom’s kitchen table, and Dad has that look on his face.

  I’ve only seen the look two other times, once when I forgot to lock my bike and someone took it; and once when I stole Phoebe Markel’s Sassy doll. My parents decided those dolls instilled the wrong ideas in young girls’ minds and forbade me to play with them.

  I hated giving that doll back.

  “What’s wrong?” I set my bag down by the couch and hear Danny shut the door behind me. Mom looks at Dad. Dad nods at Mom. Mom puts her phone on speaker and turns up the volume.

  “Ms. Bennett, this is Stacy Wright, guidance counselor at Palo Brea High School. I’m calling in reference to the recent changes in Eve’s behavior. She’s had some unexcused absences and her teachers have notified me of their concern about her grades. Obviously, given Eve’s outstanding achievements, these changes have raised flags. Please call me back so we can set up a time to discuss this matter. Thank you.”

  The look on Dad’s face says it all. I’m doomed.

  “So tell me.” He crosses his arms. “Just how many days have you been absent, young lady?”

  I open my mouth to answer and my brain tumbles, trying to figure out the number. I don’t even know what day it is. “Two? I think?”

  He explodes. “You don’t even know?!” Mom puts her hand to her mouth. “And where were you during these however-many days?”

  “I…” I really don’t want to answer the question. I don’t know how. So I close my mouth and stare at my feet.

  Danny clears his throat. “Mr. Solomon?”

  Dad holds up his hand. “This doesn’t concern…” Then his eyes narrow. “Danny, can you tell us where Eve was the days she wasn’t at school?”

  “She was with me, sir.”

  “I see.”

  Mom walks toward me. “Eevee, it’s normal to want to express your will and push boundar—”

  “Bullshit,” Dad says. “What’s happened to your grades, Eve?”

  “I was talking, Sid.”

  “You were giving her an out.” He turns back to me. “Your grades, young lady.”

  I can’t look him in the eye. “I missed a test in chemistry. And I have three late assignments. Two in physics and one in history.” He looks devastated. Grades are Dad’s lifeblood. I scramble for something good to tell him. “But my grade in English is actually better, thanks to Danny. And I’m almost caught up on the other work.”

  It doesn’t help. He still looks like he’s going to kill me.

  “Whatever’s going on here…” He points back and forth between me and Danny. “This sneaking around. It stops now. No more.”

  “Yes, sir,” Danny says.

  “And you.” He takes a step toward Danny. “I trusted you. You told me you could follow the rule.”

  “Sid,” Mom says.

  He puts his finger in Danny’s face. “Eve is my daughter and I will not let her future be ruined because some delinquent—”

  “Sid!” Mom yells. “That’s enough. You’re in my house. Sit down.”

  He walks toward me, his face contorted, and he says the worst thing possible. “I’m really disappointed in you, Eve. I thought we’d raised you better than this.” Then he walks back to the table and crosses his arms. He doesn’t sit.

  “You don’t know what’s really going on,” I say, finally finding my voice. “You don’t understand.”

  Something I said catches Mom’s attention. She
takes me aside. “Honey,” she whispers, “are you…in trouble?”

  “What?”

  “I mean…” She looks embarrassed.

  Oh my God. “No, Mom.” I push her arm away. “Nothing like that. It’s…” I close my eyes. “Danny has this. Thing. Where he.”

  I hear the front door close. Danny is gone.

  All hell breaks loose.

  I leave. Turn away from them and walk out. Stupid, sure; but everything I can think of to say would only make it worse. The whole thing is my fault.

  The skateboard feels solid under my feet and I relax a little as I ride. Maybe they’ll go easier on her without me there. I’ll just get some fresh air and go back later, after things have died down.

  It’s late. Rush-hour traffic crowds Thunderbird Road. Fiery sunspots glint off chrome and glass. I’m so wired I don’t think I could sit still right now if I tried. It feels good to ride. To be out. To be moving. The city air is full of car exhaust and desert dust. This is freedom. This is the way Phoenix should feel.

  I know it’s a long shot, but I skate all the way to Germ’s house. By the time I get there, my legs are like rubber. This time, though, it’s worth it. There’s a beat-up Nova in the driveway and the porch light is on. The door opens and Germ walks out of the house. Behind him is another guy I’ve never seen before.

  My feet hit the sidewalk, leaving the board behind. “Germ!”

  He eyes me as he slips a baseball cap backward over his scruffy hair. The other guy says something I can’t hear and Germ shakes his head.

  “Man,” I say when I’m closer, “what a crazy ride.”

  “Yeah,” he says. He takes the toothpick out of his mouth and spits in the grass. “How’s it going?”

  The other guy—gangly and covered in tats—starts to speak, but Germ elbows him.

  “Same old.” I stare at my best friend. His hair is longer, dirtier, and he’s skinnier than ever. “Trying to figure some things out.”