I’m not really good at lying. I was glad Halli took the lead.
“And this morning?” Daniel said to me. “I didn’t see you at breakfast.”
Halli answered again. “Audie loves to get up before dawn and go watch the sunrise. How was it today?”
“Beautiful,” I said. “Stunning.”
Daniel smiled at me again. “I see.”
I found Halli’s leg under the table and lightly kicked it. She kicked me back.
“So,” Halli said to Sarah, “what are your plans for the day?”
“Martin and I are climbing,” Sarah pointed to a rocky peak in the distance, “that.”
“Are you?” Daniel said.
“Are we?” Martin asked.
“This is my holiday,” Sarah declared, “and I came to be a mountain climber. I’m not leaving until I thoroughly am one. I don’t think yesterday qualifies, since carrying the wounded is not exactly the road to valor and fame, is it, Halli Markham?”
“Well—” Halli started, but then Daniel broke in.
“Jealous?” he asked his sister.
“Of Halli Markham?” Sarah said. “Terribly! And look at her—she’s gorgeous beyond belief. Everything about her makes me boil.”
Sarah said it in such a friendly, off-hand way, it made Halli laugh.
I could tell Halli thought Sarah was as much of a kick as I did. There was something so careless and casual about her, but also confident and spirited. She was the kind of person who’d be great at parties. Not like Gemma at all, sticking her hand down the back of a certain person’s pants and making everyone uncomfortable.
“So what do you say, Martin?” Sarah asked. “Shall we conquer the peak today?”
He propped his legs up on the bench across from him. “Or we could stay here and keep Daniel company.”
“Oh, yes,” Sarah scoffed. “Poor dear has hardly gotten any attention at all. How many women tut-tutted over you at dinner last night, Dan? A dozen? More?”
“That’s right,” he answered, “I botched my ankle for attention.”
“See?” Sarah said.
“I still think a day off wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Martin said. “Let our legs catch up with us.”
Sarah sat up straighter. “Do not try to deter me, sir. Halli Markham, you are a woman of adventure. If the men will not be men, I appeal to you. Would you care to be my guide up that mountain?”
“I would, but . . .” Halli turned her gaze to me. “It depends on my cousin. Audie, can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure.” I got up and followed her away from the group.
“Do you want to go with us?” Halli asked. “It might be fun.”
I did, but I didn’t. The blisters on my heels had gotten worse. And even though I’d made it through the hiking so far, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel climbing nonstop up that huge mountain Sarah had pointed to.
And then there was the confidence problem. As in, I had no confidence that I could actually keep up with Halli and Sarah. I could tell that when Halli was with me she held herself back from hiking as hard and fast as she could have alone. And looking at Sarah, I was sure she was in better shape than I was, too. It was embarrassing. I didn’t want to be the weakest one in the trio.
And last, there was the disappearance issue. What if hiking that peak took all day? There would come a point, I knew, when my body would have to get its sleep. The longest I’ve ever stayed up studying for a test was 4:00 in the morning. That would be noon Halli’s time. I’d planned on leaving some time before then—finding some private place to just disappear from, and heading back to my bed. What was Halli supposed to tell Sarah when I suddenly wasn’t there anymore?
And since that was the least humiliating, that was the excuse I went with.
“Then I’ll stay, too,” Halli said. “I’m not going to leave you.”
“Why? No, you should go—it sounds like fun. I’ll be fine. At least Daniel and Martin speak English—it won’t be like that last place.”
“Are you sure?” Halli asked.
“I came here to have an interesting time, and I will—I am. Just being here is a thousand times more interesting than being home. I’ll stay for a little while longer, then head home. I could use the sleep. Then I’ll see you tomorrow and you can tell me all about it.”
Halli and I rejoined the group, where Sarah was happy to announce, “It worked. Martin’s coming, too.”
“Now that she’s upbraided my manhood,” he said.
“Will you still go?” Sarah asked Halli.
“Sure,” she said.
“That way if either of us breaks something,” Sarah said, “we know you can get us back down.”
“Let’s rather not,” Martin said.
“Agreed,” Halli said.
While the three of them gathered up their gear and packed their lunches, Daniel waited. He waited while they said their goodbyes. Waited while I went inside the main hut to get us both cups of hot, dark coffee. Waited while I brought them back out and sat across from him, ready to begin a polite hour or so of making simple, courteous conversation.
But Daniel had a different idea.
He leaned across the table, looked me straight in the eye and said, “Halli Markham doesn’t have any cousins. Or any siblings. So tell me, Audie, who are you really?”
40
There are times in your life when you feel like you’ve just reached the top of the roller coaster, and suddenly the track falls out from underneath you.
“Wh-what?” I’m sure my face went either completely white or completely red. Either way he had to know he’d caught me.
Daniel didn’t bother repeating his question. He knew I’d heard it. He just waited and watched me die.
“Uhhh, like Halli said—our families don’t really get along.”
“Which families?” he asked.
“You know, her . . .” I had to think fast. She’d told the three of them that I wasn’t related through Ginny’s side. That meant Halli and I had to have a common grandparent on . . . my father’s side? I couldn’t think it through as completely as I wanted to. Daniel was still watching, waiting for my answer.
“Halli’s father hates my father. They’re brothers.” That would make Halli and me cousins, right? Without Ginny being our same grandmother. I felt pretty good about the quick answer under pressure.
“What are their names?” Daniel asked.
“Whose names?” Obviously I was stalling. I started to feel sick to my stomach.
“The two brothers’,” Daniel said patiently.
“Oh, uh . . .” It was worse than being called on by Mrs. Arnold. Worse than being called on in any class, because usually even if I haven’t done the reading I can still fake my way through. But here, I really didn’t have a clue.
Had Halli ever said her father’s name? I searched my brain. If she did tell me, I had no memory of it.
And what name should I say for my father? Should I go with his real name, or make up something?
I went with the real. Because there was no time and I just couldn’t think of anything else.
“John.”
“John what?” Daniel asked.
I knew this answer was going to be wrong, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t think of any name that would have been better, so I went ahead and told the truth. “Masters. I’m Audie Masters.”
Daniel nodded, his gaze still fixed on me. Did I say before that his eyes were nice? They weren’t. They were hideously mud-colored and piercing and annoying.
“So you took your father’s surname?”
“Of course,” I said without thinking.
“I see. And his brother’s name is?”
I was lost and I knew it. “Uhh . . .”
And then I came to my senses. Why was I killing myself for this guy? I didn’t owe him a thing—not an answer, not an explanation, not even courtesy. I could just get up from the table and walk away. It’s not like he could follow me with th
at sprained ankle—at least not very fast.
I glanced around at the other tables to see if anyone else was listening. I wouldn’t want someone else chasing after me saying, “Yeah—who are you? Tell us!” in whatever language they spoke.
But in the time Daniel and I had been sitting there, everyone else had packed up and left. Either to go on some sort of day-jaunt like Halli and Sarah and Martin, or off to some other hut for the night.
I looked back at Daniel. Who still waited for my answer.
“Would you like some help?” Daniel asked. A kind sort of smile teased around his lips.
My shoulders slumped. “Yes, please.”
He reached inside his coat and pulled out a screen. It was thin like the one Halli had, but smaller—more the size of a paperback book.
Daniel pressed the surface of it a couple of times, then read to me.
“‘Halli Markham, explorer. Daughter of Regina Markham and Jameson Bellows—’”
Jameson. I never would have guessed that. And certainly wouldn’t have come up with Bellows.
“‘—Granddaughter of Virginia Markham, explorer.’”
Audie Masters, granddaughter of Marion Fletcher, shopper.
Daniel pressed the screen once more, and read again. “‘Jameson Bellows, creator of osmotic power technologies, President and CEO of Osmotic Power Systems . . .’” Daniel looked up from the screen. “We’ll skip ahead to Jameson Bellows’s family, shall we? ‘Parents: deceased. Siblings: none.’”
Daniel and I stared at each other. So I wasn’t Halli’s cousin on our fathers’ sides. But I wasn’t out of options yet.
“Okay, so I lied. My father is Halli’s mother’s brother.” I said it quickly, hoping maybe that would confuse him.
It didn’t. Daniel poked his little screen. “‘Regina Markham . . . et cetera, et cetera . . . parents deceased, siblings none.’”
“That’s not true!” I said, thinking of my uncle Mike. He might not get along with my mother, but he does exist. “There’s a brother.”
Daniel poked again, and came up with the answer. “‘Virginia Markham, et cetera. Children Regina Markham, et cetera, and Claude Markham, deceased.’”
“Deceased?” I asked. “How?”
Daniel consulted his screen. “‘Died age five. Kidney failure.’”
Poor Uncle Mike! Poor Ginny, losing her little boy like that.
Daniel looked up at me again. “So, Audie, the question remains: who are you?”
I felt exhausted by the whole thing. Not only by the genealogy test I’d just flunked, but also by all the effort I’d put into lying.
“I’m who I said—Audie Masters. That’s all I can tell you.”
Apparently Daniel wasn’t expecting an answer like that. “Why?” He didn’t seem irritated, just genuinely curious.
“Because it’s very, very complicated.”
Daniel pointed to his outstretched leg. “I have nothing but time. I would be grateful if you’d explain it to me.”
I looked at him. Considered him. He had a nice open face. Looked like a calm enough guy. Hadn’t he proven that yesterday, joking around when he was obviously in pain? And despite what I said, he actually did have a nice smile and kind-looking eyes. He seemed . . . decent. Even though he’d obviously and cruelly tricked me into confessing I wasn’t who Halli and I said I was, he wasn’t all, “Ah-hah! Liar! Seize her!” about it. He just wanted me to know that he knew. I might have done the same thing.
Although I probably wouldn’t have been able to carry it out as slowly and methodically as he had. That was actually kind of impressive.
So, taking all that into consideration, I had to wonder what it might be like to try out my story on a total stranger—not just any stranger, but this one. Would he believe me? Would it freak him out? Would he pass it all off as fantasy?
And what are the rules about this whole thing? I know with time travel you’re not supposed to let yourself see yourself—it affects the space-time continuum and can seriously fry your brain. And I think you’re not supposed to reveal to other people that you’ve come from the future or the past—it might alter their choices, and you’re not supposed to meddle with that.
But if you’ve traveled from one parallel universe to another, and you don’t know anything about that other universe’s future or past (which was obvious, based on the test I’d just flunked), and you don’t have any secret information that might mess up the direction of someone’s life—do you have an ethical duty to keep silent? Or is it all right to share?
And if it was all right to tell someone, was this guy the right one? I didn’t know Daniel Whoever-He-Was any more than I knew any of the other people Halli and I had come across in the Alps. Why hadn’t I told that Austrian woman a few days ago, “Hey, I’m from another Earth!”? Or break that news to the two Italian guys—just to see how they’d take it?
Meanwhile Daniel the injured Brit was still waiting patiently, gazing at me with those warm brown eyes.
“I’m not sure I’m supposed to—”
But it wouldn’t have mattered if I was supposed to tell him or not. Because some things are out of your control.
An itch. A tingle. Right at the base of my skull.
And then a yank, a rip, a whoosh.
Leaving Daniel, I was sure, with nothing to look at but an empty pile of clothes.
41
I love my mother, but I’m looking forward to her leaving on her next trip.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said as she poked her head in and saw me stir—or really, thud back onto my bed. “Did I wake you?”
“Um . . . not really.” My skin felt moist. Like maybe the vapor trail had left a layer of dew all over me. Or maybe I started sweating mid-air.
She came in and sat on the edge of my bed. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said.
I had to search my brain to remember what she was talking about. Half of me was still back in the Alps.
“I want you to know I trust you,” she said. “You’re a smart, honest girl, and I never should have suspected you of sneaking around behind my back.”
Oh, that. The Professor Whitfield thing. “It’s okay,” I said, knowing very well that while I wasn’t lying to her about what she thought I was lying to her about, there was this whole other thing.
“Well, I should let you get back to sleep.” She patted my leg, but she didn’t leave.
When she sat there another minute more, I finally thought to ask, “Is something wrong?”
My mom sighed. “Just this Philadelphia situation. I woke up thinking about it and haven’t been able to get back to sleep.”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Their board wants to fire the whole executive staff,” my mother said. “That’s why they’re flying me in so last-minute. They’re hoping I can save them. But I was reading over some of the materials they sent me, and the company really is in a mess.”
She patted my leg again, but this time she got up. “But, I don’t need to keep you up, too. I just wanted to check in on you—old habit.”
“Do you . . . do that a lot?” I asked. I never would have cared before, but now the information seemed pretty critical.
“Not so much anymore,” she said. “Not like when you were little. You’ll understand one day when you have children. Sometimes you just like to watch them sleep. It’s very, I don’t know, calming.”
Not for me! Opposite of calming for me.
“That’s nice, Mom, but . . .”
She laughed. “I know. Silly at your age—you’re almost a grown woman. But soon you’ll be going off to college, so maybe I have to store away as much of you as I can.”
She leaned over and kissed my forehead.
Then she squinted at me in the dark. “Did you do something to your hair?”
I’d totally forgotten. My hand flew to the ends.
My mom reached over and turned on the lamp beside my bed. “Audie! You cut your hair.”
“Oh
. . . yeah,” I said. “Does it look bad?”
“No, it looks very nice,” she said. “But when did you do that?”
“Um, I don’t know—before I went to bed.”
“I would have cut it for you, honey. I didn’t know you wanted it shorter.”
“I didn’t know, either,” I said. “It was sort of a whim.”
“Well, it looks nice,” she said again. She ran her fingers through a section of it. “You did a really good job. I should have you cut mine someday.”
“I don’t know, I’m sort of just a beginner—”
“Well, I should let you get back to sleep,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up and chat with you all night. I know how tired you’ve been lately.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “But yeah, I’m kind of tired.”
She turned off my lamp. “Then I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, sweetie.”
“’Night, Mom.”
She quietly closed the door behind her. I waited until I heard her go back to her bedroom.
Then I turned on my light again and jumped out of bed. I stood in front of the mirror behind my door.
My hair. If I needed proof, this was it. It had gone over one way, come back another. I really was traveling to another universe with my full body. And what happened to my body over there stayed with me once I came back. That was an incredible piece of news. I couldn’t wait to tell the professor.
But the other thing is, I was starting to look like Halli.
Not strong and muscular like her, but the hair was definitely a big step. It didn’t look sad and scraggly anymore—it looked rich and strong and thick. I twisted my head back and forth to make the hair swing. It felt full and silky. I loved it. I loved Sarah for making it that way.
I really had to stare at myself for a long time. Was Halli inside me somehow? I mean, not her personally, but the potential of Halli? Could I ever look—or even better—be like her? It was a pretty staggering thought. All brought up by a little beauty parlor session out in the grass of the Alps.
I turned off the light and went back to bed. And thought about something else: Daniel saying he thought I looked beautiful. Well, he didn’t exactly say it, but he agreed when Sarah asked him. So how nice was that?
Parallelogram Omnibus Edition Page 15
