The Art of Saving the World

by Corinne Duyvis

  The scent of gasoline hung in the air. My nose twitched. Damn, that was strong. The smell was normal, though, judging from the others’ lack of reaction, so I kept my mouth shut.

  Behind me, Four stepped out of the car. “I need to use the bathroom,” she said. “I can buy us some soda. Want any?”

  “Iced tea, please,” I said.

  “Iced tea,” Rainbow agreed.

  Four smiled, a quick flutter of amusement. “That’s what I was getting.”

  Moments later, she was gone.

  Rainbow sat slouched in the back seat—she’d kicked off her shoes, both feet up on the seats.

  “You, me, nighttime, a gas station,” I said. “It’s becoming a habit.”

  She smiled wanly. “Yeah.”

  “I like your girlfriend,” I blurted out. “She seems tough. And sweet.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Rainbow said. “My girlfriend doesn’t have a problem looking me in the eye.”

  I bit my lip.

  “I’d somehow thought that once I’d convinced this Tara I was telling the truth, she’d be like my Tara. Things would be normal between us. Comfortable. I don’t know why I thought that. Stupid.”

  “How did you convince her, anyway?”

  “Told her stuff about her mom she hasn’t told anyone else. The locations of certain birthmarks. The name of the plushie she still sleeps with. God, no wonder she freaked out.” Rainbow shook her head. “The way Tara looked at me . . . We never see our loved ones as strangers. Y’know? Whenever Caro or Mom or whoever looks at us, even if they’re tired or mad, they see us. There’s recognition. The way Tara looked at me had none of that. Blank. Apprehensive. It hurt. I miss . . . We were on a date, by the way. My Tara and me.”

  I blinked at the abrupt topic change. “Yeah?”

  Rainbow stared at her feet as she talked. Her lips screwed into a smile that felt anything but sincere.

  “Before I arrived in this dimension, Tara and I were out for my birthday. And our four-month anniversary. I’d been sitting across from her, eating breadsticks. I went to the bathroom and . . . Poof. I showed up here. I keep wondering whether she thinks I sneaked out of the restaurant or got kidnapped. Or whether, if I ever go home, I’ll reappear in front of that bathroom sink, and for Tara no time will have passed at all.”

  I thought: Hazel Stanczak went missing on her sixteenth birthday.

  And: Never seen or heard from again.

  Died in a dimension not even her own.

  “Wait . . .” I paused. “Four months? How did you two meet?”

  “Internet. Early summer, I messaged her about art she’d done of an actress I liked. We talked every day from then on. We met up a month later.”

  “Alpha knew her Tara since age eight,” I said. “Their parents met in some kind of troll-fighting group.”

  For the first time, Rainbow looked away from her shoes and up at me. “I knew Alpha and her Tara couldn’t have met online,” she said. “But this . . . What are the odds? Different worlds, circumstances, and somehow Tara and I end up in the exact same position. What does that mean?”

  “Fate?” It felt feeble.

  “True love, bringing us together across dimensions?” Rainbow scoffed. I saw a glimmer of uncertainty, though. “Mentioning that to my Tara would probably be coming on too strong.”

  “Yeah, that’s more of a six-month-anniversary kind of topic.” I smiled crookedly. “Do you plan on telling her any of this?”

  “If I get home? Yes. Everything. I could never keep something this huge from her. If she actually believes me . . . Wow. She’ll freak out about Neven. What about you? Any special someone you’ll tell?”

  “No special someone.” It was embarrassing to admit—sixteen and I’d never even gone out on a date, let alone have a gorgeous (and possibly fated) girlfriend like Rainbow did.

  At least Rainbow kept the gender ambiguous. As nervous as the topic made me, somehow I couldn’t stop wanting to know more about the other Hazels. Every last detail of their lives.

  Maybe it’d help me figure out my own.

  “I don’t get much chance,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound pathetic. “Can’t go anywhere but Franny’s Food or mini-golf, can’t invite people home.”

  “Oh, of course. Jeez.”

  Rainbow’s pity felt itchy and awkward. “It’s all right,” I said. “Look at Four. She grew up normally and we’re not that different.” I paused to consider that. “Therapy and stuff aside, I might not be that different from Red, either. I can recognize myself, at least. Parts.”

  I peered at Rainbow. If I focused on the profile of her face alone, pretended the colored hair poking out of her hoodie was simply a cheerful scarf . . .

  It didn’t work. The shape of her nose and the familiar set of her mouth didn’t mean a thing—not after hearing the fierceness of her voice and the derision in her laughter and seeing her step up to people the way I would never dare to.

  Right now, though, with that puzzled frown on her face, she didn’t seem all that fierce. Maybe she was stuck on Tara. Maybe she wasn’t impressed with my not-exactly-groundbreaking observations.

  The silence nagged at me. Without really deciding to, I rambled on. “I mean, there’s still tons of differences. There’s you.” I gestured at the hair. “Alpha is obvious. Red wears dresses and has endo and the rest of us don’t. Four . . .” I trailed off, not knowing what would distinguish Four from the rest of us. The zits didn’t count. I had one growing on my chin right now. “Four is bisexual, I guess?”

  “Red and I talked, actually,” Rainbow said. “I have some endo symptoms, too, although nowhere near as bad as hers. When—if—I get back home, I’m getting it checked out. And Four’s not bisexual. Maybe biromantic, but she’s not sure about that yet, either.”

  “Biromantic?”

  “Yeah. You don’t know . . .?” She raised an eyebrow. I hoped it was surprise instead of mockery. “Being into people romantically is different from being into them sexually. I mean, I don’t talk about this much, but . . . I like girls, but I’m not sexually attracted to them. Or anyone. Tara and I do have sex sometimes. It’s nice when it happens”—her cheeks reddened, but she kept talking—“but it’s not like I look at her and feel that urge. Not the way Tara describes it, or what I read about.” She hesitated. “Four said she didn’t mind you knowing that she’s the same. She gets crushes but doesn’t feel attracted to people like that. It’s why she’s so unsure she’s bi. I don’t know whether Red’s similar.”

  “Me too,” I blurted out.

  My face went instantly white-hot. I’d been trying so hard not to say a word—to simply absorb and stay noncommittal. With those two words, suddenly, it felt official.

  The rest came out a hurried ramble. “I mean, I think I’m the same. I’ve never actually done it, but I’ve also never really wanted to, outside of curiosity. But I . . . do like girls.” The last words were quiet.

  I couldn’t believe I’d said them.

  I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation.

  I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with my duplicate self at a dodgy Pennsylvania gas station in the middle of the night. That was not how I’d imagined coming out.

  (Oh, Christ, I was coming out? Was this it?)

  “Only girls?” Rainbow asked, and I nodded. “Congratulations. Sounds like you might be an asexual lesbian.”

  “That’s a . . . thing?” I was torn between carrying on the conversation and being stuck on the word lesbian. Applied to me. On someone else’s lips.

  Lesbian.

  I’d never even called myself that.

  I stared out the windshield, trying to keep calm, even if sweat was suddenly pouring down my back. I wished I could rewind the last minute the way the Powers could. I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t—What if I was wrong, what if—

  “You’ve never heard of asexuality? It can be different for everyone. Like, I said I enjoy sex with Tara, but plenty of
ace people don’t enjoy sex at all. Some like kissing, some don’t, some have a sex drive, some don’t, some do feel attraction but only rarely. Things like that. Before Tara, I thought actual lust would just happen eventually, but I’m sixteen now, and we’ve been together for months . . . Nothing. Tara and I have been reading about it together.”

  “I can’t really look for these things,” I mumbled. “My internet use is monitored.”

  Why was it so hot here? God, I needed to take off this coat, I needed—

  Was this another panic attack? Was I just freaking out the normal way?

  “That’s messed up.” Rainbow grimaced. “If it helps, Four didn’t know much about it, either. So, how come—”

  “We shouldn’t be talking about this,” I said abruptly. “It’s silly. I need to be saving the world. And Alpha is in that ambulance, and, and, and it doesn’t feel right.” I needed to be outside. Cold air in my face. No one asking me questions I couldn’t answer. A moment to catch my breath.

  I fumbled with the door handle. “I’m gonna check on her.”

  With that, I was out the door.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  I heard the helicopters before I saw them.

  A glimpse of one outside the passenger’s-side window. Another at the edge of the windshield. They stayed at a distance, barely visible in the night sky over the hilly landscape.

  I might’ve believed it was a coincidence—surely there were helicopters all over the state—but I knew better. Having only a researcher accompanying all five Hazels was nowhere near sufficient. Especially when that researcher had already lost the MGA’s trust by waiting hours to tell them she’d found us. No way would the organization risk losing sight of us again.

  I doubted Four or Rainbow noticed the helicopters. Torrance probably did, but she did a good job of hiding it.

  The helicopters’ distant whirrs settled into a rhythm that was oddly comforting.

  Familiar.

  I kicked off my shoes and drew my legs onto the seat. For the first time, I dozed off.

  Torrance met several agents and an MGA doctor at the entrance of a Harrisburg hospital. The agents wasted no time in confiscating the weapons we’d used in Damford. They paid particular attention to me.

  “You’re looking for my knife, right?” I said as a female agent patted me down. “I left it with the dragon. She insisted.”

  They were smart enough to doubt my lie—I’d hidden the knife instead—but when even a metal detector offered no results, they gave up.

  An agent and the doctor took over the ambulance to bring Alpha to the farm; another agent would escort Mr. Ávila home; the remaining three stuck with us and Torrance, guiding us to the hospital’s fourth floor.

  The hospital wasn’t what I’d expected. There were no beds lined up against the walls or patients stumbling around asking for help like on TV. The people we did see wore white coats and official-looking name tags. I felt awkward about staring, but they stared at us, too, four identical girls flanked by four severe-looking adults. Agents Sanghani and Valk had come, along with an agent I barely knew. I’d last seen Valk in the crashed van the night of my birthday; tonight she’d simply nodded at me as though nothing had changed.

  We exited the elevator. Valk’s hand went to her ear. “Director Facet is fifteen minutes out.”

  “We can still visit Dad, right? We don’t need to wait?” I asked.

  She gestured at a door down the hall. “No more than two visitors at a time. Hospital rules.”

  “Are you serious?” Rainbow asked.

  “And leave the door open.”

  “We came willingly, and we’re on the fourth floor,” Rainbow said. “What could we even do?”

  Valk didn’t blink. “Kidnap your father via your dragon.”

  Four looked puzzled. “Why would we kidnap . . .?”

  “After the past thirty-five hours, we’re not ruling out any scenario. Keep the door open, Hazel.” She paused. “Hazels? Hm.”

  “Either works,” Red said.

  “If you do see Neven—the dragon—please don’t shoot her,” I said. “She’s a friend.”

  “If that dragon attempts to take you, I am afraid I will absolutely shoot it.”

  “We’ll negotiate first,” Sanghani assured us.

  I smiled slightly. Red and Four seemed uncertain. Rainbow looked downright annoyed.

  I still wasn’t sure if them returning home with me was the right call.

  I still wasn’t sure if returning home to begin with was the right call.

  For the past hours, my mind had gone around in circles, yanking me down, and I was still mired in doubt as I pushed open the door to the hospital room. Four followed.

  Seeing Dad sitting cross-legged on his bed helped my thoughts slow. He looked so normal. After apartment buildings and dragons and Philadelphia and trolls and strangers and libraries and so much of this big, big world I’d never seen—

  Dad simply looked like Dad.

  “H-Hazel?” He looked from me to Four and back. After a second, I realized why: He couldn’t tell us apart.

  “It’s . . . it’s me,” I said.

  And then I was on the bed and latching on to him and crying so hard that for two full minutes I couldn’t even talk. Dad ran his fingers through my tangled hair, pulling me in close.

  When I quieted down, Dad just said, “Technically, we can’t even be mad.”

  I peered up, not comprehending.

  “It’s not like Mom and I ever gave you a curfew.” His lips quirked up. “If only we’d known flying around on dragons is what you get up to when you’re out.”

  I laughed. “I won’t make a habit of it.”

  “Start small. Maybe go get frozen yogurt.”

  “I could.” I drew my legs onto the bed. “I could do that now.”

  Dad scrunched up his face. Tears gleamed in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, you could, huh?”

  “Yogurt Palace,” Four said. I’d almost forgotten she was there. She stood awkwardly by the door. “I mean . . . that’s where I like to go in Philadelphia.”

  “It’s Caro’s favorite, too,” I said.

  I tried to imagine it:

  Taking one of those small taster cups (I’d never even held one), surrounded by friends (ones I could invite home after), and carefully considering which flavors and toppings I wanted (then paying with money from my own wallet). The thought of a normal, everyday life, outside my radius, was something I’d pictured a thousand times, yet it was more alien than anything that’d happened today.

  As nice as the daydreams were, sooner or later, I’d remind myself, It’s not going to happen, and drag myself back to Earth.

  Froyo places were like sex and travel and privacy: the most normal thing in the world, and utterly out of reach. They were things other people did. Not me.

  “You really don’t have a curfew?” Four asked. “Mine is nine thirty. Eleven on weekends.”

  “That sounds reasonable.” Dad studied her. Four was still wearing Lina’s clothes. They didn’t fit right. The zits on her forehead must still have been hidden under strategically placed hair, but I realized suddenly I hadn’t noticed them in a while.

  I couldn’t blame Dad for not telling us apart. I couldn’t, either.

  “Are you . . .?” Dad asked.

  Four nodded. “Thank you for pushing me out of the way of that canoe. Even if I’m not really your daughter.”

  For a moment, Dad said nothing. Then: “I came up with the name Hazel.”

  “I know. I mean, my dad did, too.”

  “And I told you bedtime stories. Which was really just me retelling Pixar movies.”

  “Mom never did the voices,” she said, smiling. I mouthed Four’s words along with her, same inflection, same pace.

  “Which one was your favorite?”

  “The Incredibles.”

  He shifted to face her properly, bunching up the sheets. “Was it really?”

  “Well, no. But I used to
think it seemed cooler.” Four placed her hands on the counter behind her and flicked her thumb against the edge. “It’s really Up.”

  “You didn’t hide it well. You asked for a bedroom mural with that flying house when you were five.”

  “And you two said no,” she said. “I locked myself in the bathroom for an hour, I was so disappointed.”

  “We said . . .” Dad’s eyebrows crinkled together.

  “They said yes,” I said, suddenly remembering. I hadn’t thought of this in ages. “Mom and I painted it together. Well, I helped fill in the sky while she did everything else. Dug looked cross-eyed.”

  “You still wanted that mural, though?” Dad asked Four. When she nodded, he said, “Well. You seem pretty real to me.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Rainbow and Red visited Dad next. While they were inside, Torrance went down the hall to get us candy bars from the vending machine. “Want anything?”

  “Twix,” Four and I answered in unison.

  “So did Rainbow and Red. I’m not sure why I even asked.”

  Agent Valk unsubtly followed Torrance—they really didn’t trust her—while the other agents split their attention between Dad’s room and the plush private waiting room Four and I sat in.

  “I wonder what they’re talking about,” I said. The only time Rainbow and Red had seen Dad—my dad—was on that Philadelphia rooftop after Neven plucked him from the water.

  “I shouldn’t have gone in.” Four sat hunched across the table with her hands in her lap. “It’s my fault he’s injured. And then he reassured me?”

  “How is it your fault?”

  “How is it not?” The agony was plain on her face. “That canoe only hit him because he pushed me out of the way. He was near the rift in the first place because of me. All of you came to Philadelphia because of me! I wasted hours of your time and I haven’t contributed anything, and I screwed up with the whistle, and—”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She shook her head like she already regretted speaking. I wondered how similar I’d looked in that SUV with Rainbow earlier, wishing I could take back my words.