by Dakota Rusk
“Sorry,” I said.
We climbed the stairs, single file; it was just a minute or so before we’d reach our rooms. None of us knew what to suggest; should we stay together, keep each other’s spirits up until the news came? Or should be go our separate ways, isolate ourselves and face whatever happened alone?
My phone vibrated; a text alert. I reached into my pocket for it. The others all did the same; I knew what that must mean.
My text was from Donald. Referendum passed! We’re all 2 B magicked home. Thought u’d want 2 know. Celebrate 2moro?
I didn’t reply; I just stuck the phone back in my pocket, as did everyone else.
When we reached our doors—across the hall from each other—there was a single awkward moment of indecision. I took it on myself to bring it to a close.
“Well,” I said brightly, “back to classes tomorrow. Might as well get a jump on the reading.”
“Good idea,” said Gerrid, and Merri mumbled her agreement.
The boys disappeared behind their door; then Merri and I entered our own room.
I made some noises about how far behind I was in Cosmology, and I’d better catch up because I didn’t have to tell Merri what Dr. Bernstein was like; and she agreed, and said she had a lot on her own plate. And we sat behind our desks and read—quietly, and separately, dining on leftover noodles and pot stickers from our fridge for dinner—until it was time to go to bed.
11
Ever since the witches had arrived, I’d suffered a feeling that’s hard to describe…I guess I’d call it a lack of certainty. Before I came to Parallel U.—and even more so during freshman year, with all the trouble and heartache I encountered—I never once doubted who I was, where I stood, what was worth fighting for. And I was always ready to fight for it.
But for the past few months I’d felt like I had no center. I seemed to have turned into a kind of sponge, just soaking up the opinions and values and beliefs of whoever was in front of me. I tried hard to fight it, but it was no use. When Jocasta Foxglove had attempted to get lure over to her side, I’d done my best to defend my friends and the university; but I couldn’t help it—what she said had made sense to me. Then when I went back to my friends and they tore into the witches for their dishonesty and duplicity, I’d tried to defend them—even as I was persuaded by the charges against them.
The day of the referendum was the most morally certain I’d been in ages. I spent the whole day absolutely in line with my friends against the delegates from Parallel 17.
But…we lost. And shortly after we heard the news, I began to recover from the disappointment. And when my friends didn’t do the same—when they remained sunk in a kind of stubborn depression—I started to wonder how much I’d really been allied with them over the referendum. When I came back from breakfast and found Merri still in bed—and when I came back again two hours later, from my morning classes, and found her still there, eyes red from crying and refusing to speak—I felt a little pang of…well, disgust, to be honest.
We’d lost, fair and square. It was time to get over it.
But…had I lost? Really? I’d never had as much invested in the referendum as Merri did—or Darius, or Gerrid. I realized now, with a kind of shock, that it wasn’t the referendum I’d been supporting…it was them. They were my friends, and I loved them. I’d have stood by their side against anything.
And I still loved them. But what could I do for them? How was I supposed to help them now? Especially since, on some deep level, I wasn’t feeling what they were feeling? And maybe I never had?
Because now that all the commotion was over, the one thing uppermost in my mind was: home. In return for controlling the university, the witches had promised to send students back to their parallels of origin. My friends had judged it too high a price to pay; but they’d been overruled. That battle was over. So surely now, all that remained was to hold the witches to their word.
It was near the end of the term. The winter holiday was just a few weeks away. I wasn’t the only one who was imagining myself back with my family in time for the Sol Invictus celebrations.
And yes—I now believed I had a family. At the end of freshman year I’d been persuaded that my parallel had been consumed by the energies of the Terminus Engine, retroactively wiping from existence. I’d grieved—oh, how I’d grieved!—and emerged from that darkness stronger, wiser, and sadder.
But ever since I’d had that vision—being in my mother’s head, seeing my city, my home, my sisters—I’d been slowly making room in my heart for them to return there. And almost without my realizing it, they’d moved back in. I was as sure of them as I’d ever been of anything. I didn’t dare ask myself how it was possible; reason was the enemy…magic was my friend.
I really had gone over to the witches.
And yet…when I met Donald and Ntombi for lunch, I couldn’t help being repelled by their smugness and ungraciousness over the referendum.
“I guess that’s brought your bawface brainiac lot down a peg or six,” said Donald as he tried—unsuccessfully—to extract some dribbled egg yolk from his beard. “Can’t say they haven’t had it comin’. You can’t stop progress, you know. Stupid even to try.”
“Some people,” said Ntombi as she meticulously peeled an orange—quite an engineering feat, given her half-inch fingernails, “never know when to give up.”
“You’ve got to slap ‘em upside the head with it,” Donald continued, still plucking at the yolk while peering down cross-eyed at it to survey his progress. “I imagine they’re feelin’ a bit gobsmacked this morning, but you’ll see, it’ll do ’em good in the end.”
I felt such a fury well up in me that I could barely speak. I slowly rose up from the table—and as tall as I am, when I rise up, it can be a pretty clear statement of whatever I want it to be—and looked down at them with as much disdain as I could muster (which was quite a lot).
“Those ‘bawfaced brainiacs,’ as you call them,” I said in my iciest voice, “—whatever that even means—are the only reason you’re even sitting there. They’re the only reason there’s a place to sit. They’re the only reason anything in this time-space continuum still exists. They saved you. They saved everybody.”
And then I reached into my pocket, took out some money to cover my share of the lunch bill, threw it on the table so that it clattered all over, some of it skittering into Donald’s lap, and headed right out the door.
So there I was, back on the side of my original friends—the fearless, rational, self-sacrificing friends who were always ready to fight…just like me. Just like my best self, anyway…the self I kept losing.
By the time I got back to the dorm a furious wind was billowing my sails, and I decided that if I found Merri still in bed, I’d shake her awake and force her to be her best self, too.
But she wasn’t still in bed. Oh, she was still in her Pikachu T-shirt and sweat pants—her usual sleeping attire—and her bed was still unmade, so it was pretty clear she’d just gotten out of it. But she was seated in the middle of the room, by the hot-plate—where coffee was brewing. And with her were Gerrid, Darius…
…and Valery, who looked up as I walked in and said, “Fabia! Good morning. Maybe you can help me talk sense into these recalcitrant children.”
I slid my backpack off my shoulders and joined them. “What about?”
“He wants us to be collaborators,” said Darius with a sad shake of his head.
“To work with the new Nazi regime,” added Merri with a sneer.
Valery, who had just taken a sip from his styrofoam cup, now plunked it onto the rickety table so forcefully that some of it spilled over the side and onto his shirtsleeve. “I’ve had just about enough of that kind of melodrama,” he said, wiping his sleeve against his pants leg. “It’s not worthy of you, really. It’s…juvenile.”
“Well, so are we,” said Merri defiantly. “I’m still in my teens, anyway.”
“I’ve never known anyone more adult and self-actualized,” Vale
ry said, shaking a finger at her. “Which is why this petulant display of self-pity and willful misrepresentation is so beneath you.” He sat back in his chair, and the sunlight from the window hit his face so that for the first time I could see the black rings under his eyes. “We’ve all had a full night to nurse our feelings of betrayal and injustice. Now it’s time to get to work—to do what we can to make certain our principles and traditions aren’t completely abandoned by the incoming administration.”
“What’s the point?” asked Gerrid as he listlessly toyed with the remains of a sugar packet.
“That’s a question only a nihilist or a child would ask,” Valery scolded him. “The point is whatever we make it. And I think there’s a good chance we can make a significant one.”
I reached for the battered coffee pot and poured myself a cup; it wobbled on the table as it was being filled. “I still don’t know what all this is about.”
Valery swiveled on his seat (which was a beanbag chair, so it was a pretty difficult maneuver for him; and the spectacle he made while attempting it was so comic, I almost laughed in spite of all the grimness in the room). “We prepared for this day,” he said; “we hoped it would never happen, of course, but we weren’t foolish enough to place all our trust in that hope. We reasoned that if it should come to pass, we’d be ready.”
I felt a flurry of excitement. “You’ve found a way to fight back?”
Merri snorted. “Hardly.”
Valery shot her an irritated look, then turned his attention back to me. “Some months ago, the Board of Regents and I submitted a proposal to the delegation from Parallel 17 regarding the implementation of a new curriculum, should the referendum pass.”
“I still can’t believe it did,” moaned Gerrid.
Valery sighed and soldiered on. “We suggested a twenty-member advisory board, made up of ten members of the Parallel 17 delegation to be chosen by them, plus myself, the Dean, five senior faculty members, and three students. The board’s job would be to come up with the new core curriculum—recommending which of the current courses would be discontinued in order to make room for the new…” He balked a bit, before saying the word. “…magic-based replacements.”
“It’s capitulation,” said Darius.
“It’s compromise,” Valery shot back. “It’s the way of the world; and right now, it’s the only way forward. If you prefer, you can continue to wallow in your romantic despair and bemoan the vicious whims of fate. But in the end, who benefits from that? Self-destruction is self-destruction—whether it’s an active attempt to harm yourself, or a refusal to lift a finger to prevent someone else from harming you. There are degrees of ethical engagement, and the sign of a fully mature mind is the recognition that any shade of gray is better than solid black.”
I suddenly lost my taste for coffee; I left my cup on the table untouched, and sat back. “You said, three students?” I asked.
Valery sensed what I was thinking and his face flushed with sudden embarrassment. “Well…yes. We had only three slots open on the board.”
Only because you suggested ten members, I wanted to point out. You could have proposed twenty-one. But instead I said, “And the three would be Merri, Gerrid, and Darius? Three sophomores, instead of juniors or seniors?”
He nodded. “Their familiarity with the curriculum is every bit as thorough as any upperclassman’s. And their stature among the student body is simply unmatched; after all, they’re the students who—as mere freshmen—discovered and shut down the Terminus Engine.”
“They’re some of the students who did that,” I reminded him, with a little serrated edge to my voice that I didn’t mean to allow in.
He blushed harder. “Yes, well—of course, your preeminence is every bit the equal of theirs. But, uh—forgive me. It’s just that your own acquaintance with the curriculum—”
I raised a hand to interrupt him. “I understand,” I said. “I’m sorry. I can totally see why I’d have no value in that capacity. I didn’t mean to snark at you. I think we’re all a little highly strung at the moment.”
He took off his glasses and rubbed the lenses with his soiled tie. “Yes; I’d agree. I’m grateful for your understanding.” He held his glasses up, saw that they were actually smudgier than before, then sighed and put them back on anyway.
I took a deep breath. I had a decision to make. I could allow my hurt feelings to take over—even though I really did understand Valery’s point of view—and leave everyone here to bicker and quarrel and snipe…
…or I could be the one to rise above it all. I could show Valery that I had resources beyond my strength and my courage and my willingness to fight. I could show him that of the four of us here with him now, I was the one who understood what he meant—I was the one capable of being the person he wanted each of us to be.
I turned to Merri. “Of course you should accept. And you, too,” I added, turning to take in Gerrid and Darius. “What are you thinking? This isn’t like you—this attitude of, ‘My side didn’t win, so I’m going to storm off and sulk.’
“This is Parallel U.,” I continued. “This is the only place in the multiverse where everything comes together—all the knowledge, wisdom, culture, and learning that every society on every parallel Earth has ever come up with. If you think about it, it’s sort of amazing this place has been around for half a decade without any ideological or philosophical clashes. All those different ideas and theories and beliefs aren’t like pairs of socks you can just tuck into a drawer all nice and snug. They’re writhing, churning, living things; they feed and seed and grow, and they fight for space to do it in. This accommodation of Parallel 17 is a precedent; how the university responds now will determine how it responds in the future, when this happens again—which of course it will. Of course it will.” I stared at Merri, daring her to meet my eyes. “Look at me, Merri, and tell me I’m wrong.”
Her gaze flickered up, then darted back down to her hands. “You’re not wrong.”
“Anyone else?” I asked, turning to Darius and Gerrid.
Gerrid squirmed in his chair, resisting me; but Darius shot me a beaming smile. “What can I say? You’re the smartest of all of us, Fabia.”
From anyone else, that would’ve sounded condescending; but I knew that, from Darius, praise couldn’t ever be anything but genuine.
I got up. “I’ll leave you to thrash out the details, then.”
Just before I turned to go, Valery reached out and gently grasped my hand. When I looked at him, he said, simply, “Thank you.”I’d done it. I’d brought them all back together—I’d given them back their best selves. And it had taken more out of me than any victory I’d ever had in the arena.
As I descended the stairs I felt my face swell and my chest contract; and I knew I was going to cry. I was going to cry very soon, and very hard—and all that mattered right now was that I get outside before doing it, so that all the other students going about their business in the dorm wouldn’t see me.
I barely made it through the door before the first atomic blast erupted from my face; it was so explosive, I actually caused a girl on bicycle to fall over.
I rushed down the sidewalk; I felt my knees growing weak, so I dropped onto a granite bench, put my face in my hands, and bawled like a baby. At this point, I couldn’t even say why. It was just, as I’ve already said, that I had no center anymore…I kept tacking back and forth, from one extreme to another, and even when I was being as brave and decisive as I’d ever been in my life, it all felt so confusing…so right and yet so wrong, all at the same time…
“Um, excuse me.” A faintly familiar voice snapped me out of my squalling misery. I sniffed up the remainder of my tears and lifted my head.
Rowella Ravencroft stood over me, her hair gathered up in a bright green ribbon and a cheerful patterned cloak draped over her shoulders.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I said, a hair too defiantly.
“You d
on’t look it.”
“It was stupid. Over now.”
She half-turned to go, then paused indecisively and turned back. Before I could say anything, she’d sat down next to me.
“I don’t suppose any introductions are in order,” she said. “You obviously know who I am, and I know who you are.”
“You do?” I said, drying my eyes with the knuckles of my fingers.
She nodded. “I remember you from freshman year. You were Merri’s friend.” She inclined her head at the dorm. “But that’s a different Merri in there now, I understand.”
“It is.” I straightened my spine and told myself to be wary. I had no idea what this girl wanted from me.
She scrunched up her mouth into an attractive little pout. “I didn’t know that. It’s really a shame. I only heard about what happened to the first Merri—my Merri—last night. It was very upsetting. She was so…heroic. Good goddess! I can scarcely believe anyone would do that.”
“Merri would,” I said, growing bolder. “Merri did.”
Rowella looked suddenly chastened. “One of the things I most looked forward to about coming back here, was apologizing to her for how awful I was to her freshman year. She only ever tried to be my friend, and I was so rude and hateful; just because I was frightened and insecure…in over my head.”
I glared at her. “You left an effigy of her, after you dropped out. A little Merri doll smothered in a box of sand.”
She put her hands over her face. “You know about that?” she said when she finally showed herself again. “I’m mortified. I was really just completely out of control.” She looked at me searchingly. “You were her roommate after me, yes?”
“Correct.”
“And…you’re the roommate to this Merri, as well?”
I nodded.
Rowella turned and looked at the dorm; then returned her attention to me. “Maybe you can tell me, then. I thought—well, I can’t apologize to my Merri. But maybe I can apologize to this one. They’re essentially the same person, from what I’m told. Maybe she’ll be able to give me the forgiveness I need.”
