Lydia considered her best friend, this girl who rarely left her bedroom unless she had to go to school or to work or occasionally over to dinner at Lydia’s house. I’ve never in my life shown any interest in grass or trees or heaven forbid, sunshine. And then there was the whole yoga thing.
“I don’t understand you,” Lydia said. “I think something’s going on.”
Halli smiled. She stood up and brushed off my legs. “See you later.” She’d already studied the map of our campus, and knew where the science classrooms were. She started heading west.
“Wait,” Lydia said. “I’m...I’m going shopping tonight. For shoes to wear to the ball. Do you want to come?”
Halli couldn’t know this, but Lydia never asked me to go shopping with her. I’ve always had such a bad attitude toward it, mainly because I never have as much money to spend as she does. Her job teaching yoga pays a lot better than my job working for our mothers. Plus I’ve never cared about clothes nearly as much as she does. So Lydia learned a long time ago she’d have more fun shopping alone.
But something about Halli must have intrigued her enough to risk spending a few hours with her at the mall. Maybe Lydia wanted to test how much I’d really changed.
Halli didn’t care about clothes, either. Her closet in Colorado told me that much. All she had in there were one skirt, one dress, two nice shirts, and the rest were all jeans, shorts, sweaters, and T-shirts. And not too many of those, either. Her closet was the barest, cleanest one I’ve ever seen.
She also kept only a few pairs of shoes: one pair of hiking boots, one pair of sneakers, one pair of sandals. No wonder one of her first tasks was to bag up all the various moldy, mismatched, too-small and too-scuffed-up shoes of mine. I never noticed them anymore, but the pile of them littering my closet floor must have driven Halli nuts.
As she mentally scanned the shoes she’d bagged up and moved into our storage shed in the back yard, Halli couldn’t really remember me having any shoes nice enough to wear to some fancy event. So shoe shopping might not be such a bad idea.
Besides, Halli recognized Lydia’s value as a kind of tour guide to my world. If Lydia were willing to take her out some place Halli might not otherwise go, and let Halli observe a portion of my civilization beyond my house and my school and whatever Professor Whitfield and Albert tried to teach her from afar, she knew it was in her best interest to say yes.
Although she still needed to be practical.
“How much?” Halli asked. “For a pair of shoes?”
Lydia rolled her eyes. So I hadn’t changed at all—I was still always freaked out about money.
But Halli wasn’t having any of that attitude. Ginny always told her that you teach people how to treat you. So Halli called Lydia on it right away.
“Don’t be mean,” she said pleasantly, but directly. “I’m asking because I need to know. How much money will a pair of shoes cost?”
“Oh...I wasn’t trying to be mean …” Lydia wasn’t used to me standing up for myself. She’d seen Halli in action with Gemma, but I guess she hadn’t expected it to happen to her. “You know...maybe twenty dollars for a cheap pair. We can look for stuff on sale if you want.”
“All right,” Halli said. “That sounds good.” She knew I had about twenty-seven dollars and some change in my purse at home. She didn’t want to touch my savings account, but she didn’t mind spending my cash. She could replenish it as soon as she found work.
“So...do you want to go straight from school, or later tonight?” Lydia asked. She was unusually solicitous. Usually she just tells me what we’re doing, no questions asked.
“We can go after school,” Halli said. “I just need to be home in time to cook dinner.”
“You’re...cooking now, too?” Lydia said. She looked like she wanted to laugh, but suppressed it. She probably didn’t want Halli calling her out on it again. Instead she just asked, “Since when?”
Halli smiled. “Like I said, lots of changes.”
25
True to her word, Lydia took Halli to the cheapest shoe store in the mall, and found her a great sale: buy one pair for $14, get the second pair half off. So Halli bought some black flats to go with her dress for the ball, and a new pair of sneakers that she wore out of the store.
Lydia wasn’t thrilled with the selection there. She wanted higher heels, a wider toe box, pale green if she could find it. Lydia always knows what she wants.
“Let’s try a couple more places,” she suggested, checking her watch. “I’ll still get you home before dinner.”
Halli didn’t mind spending more time tagging along. She’d already gained valuable information by watching Lydia extract cash from an ATM, and she’d secretly been able to observe all kinds of different people: what they wore, how they behaved, what they talked about whenever she was close enough to eavesdrop.
So far she hadn’t found a single person like her.
It’s not like she and Ginny were considered ordinary even in Halli’s own universe. They were famous for a reason. But Halli had hoped she might meet at least one person from my life who was interested in the same things she was. So far the closest she’d come was Lydia’s obsession with yoga.
But then, on their way toward Lydia’s favorite bohemian-style clothing store, they passed a window display that set Halli’s heart racing. The sign in the window said Get Out More, and the mannequins were dressed like the kind of people Halli wanted to know.
“You go ahead,” she told Lydia. “I’ll be in here.” Then without waiting for an answer, Halli opened the doors and entered a two-story palace of play.
Bicycles. Skis. Canoes. Kayaks. Tents. Sleeping Bags. Backpacks. And that was just on the first floor.
“Hi, can we help you today?” a man in khaki shorts and a khaki shirt asked her.
Halli nodded and kept walking.
There was an announcement board at the base of the staircase, listing all the classes offered in the store that month: Rock Climbing Basics. Hiking Basics. Backcountry Cooking Basics. Outdoor First Aid. Navigation Basics. How Not to Get Lost, and Be Found When You Are. At least a dozen topics.
Halli scanned the list. She could teach each and every course on that board.
“Looking for anything in particular?” the helpful man asked.
“Do people get paid to teach these classes?”
“It depends,” he said. “Some of them are in-house, taught by our staff, some are by experts.”
“How much do they get paid?” Halli asked.
I’ve never been good at asking people questions like that, but it didn’t seem to bother Halli. Or the salesperson she was talking to.
“I’m not sure,” the man said. “You can talk to our community coordinator.”
“Now?” Halli asked.
“No, he won’t be in until the morning. I can write down his name for you.”
“That would be good,” Halli said. She had no intention of working in that store, but she wanted all the information she could get about how much money she might make teaching what she knew.
She accepted the slip of paper with the coordinator’s name, then turned and ascended the stairs.
The second floor was packed with clothing of every kind: pants, shirts, jackets, hats, sweaters, socks, scarves, gloves. Clothes for skiing, hiking, running, biking, clothes for the cold, for the rain, clothes on the sale rack from the summer that was gone. Halli took her time weaving through the collections, running her hands along the fabrics, stopping here and there to take a closer look.
And the whole time she could feel the tension leaving her body—my body. Could feel the secret smile on my face. For the first time since waking up in my world, she felt comfortable and at ease. She didn’t have to be on alert, ready for the next thing that might come at her. She could relax. She was home.
At least for this moment.
Off in the distance she could see a section devoted exclusively to boots. And since Ginny had always taught her to build
her expedition gear from the feet up, Halli knew she’d have to start there first.
“Can I help you find something?” another friendly salesperson asked.
Halli shook her head. She didn’t feel the need to speak. This was a meditation for her now, a quiet time of solitude, just her and the life she used to know.
She browsed through the boots, picking them up, studying their designs, their materials, and comparing them to what she knew. Some of these would do very well for her, she thought. And that was a very encouraging idea.
What wasn’t so encouraging was the price tag: around $200 for a good pair. She didn’t know how long it would take to earn that.
Of course, she already had a long list of expenses: travel, lodging, food, supplies. She always knew clothing would have to be included. I might have enough in my closet to get her through a typical day of my own life, but not through a typical day of hers. Halli knew that at some point she’d need to return to a store just like this and start rebuilding her wardrobe from scratch.
“There you are,” Lydia said a while later. She sounded a little annoyed. “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you doing just sitting up here?”
In the same way some people go to art galleries and sit on the benches and stare at the paintings, Halli had planted herself in one of the chairs in front of the boot display, and sat there contemplating her life.
Making plans. Always plans.
But it was time for action again. “Ready?” Halli said, slapping my thighs and standing up. “Let’s go.” She led Lydia back down the staircase.
“You weren’t seriously thinking about buying any of those, were you?” Lydia asked. “I mean, it’s not really you.”
“Some day,” Halli said.
“Why? Is this about Colorado?” Lydia asked. “Are you really going to go?”
“Yes.”
The salesman who’d written down the name for Halli saw her returning to the first floor. “He’ll be in around nine,” he reminded her. “Give him a call then.”
“Thanks,” Halli said, then she continued out through the door.
“Who’ll be in around nine?” Lydia asked.
Halli smiled. “You have a lot of questions.”
“It’s because I don’t understand what’s going on with you lately,” Lydia said. “It’s like you’re a whole other person. Cooking, doing yoga, studying algebra—on purpose...”
“People change,” was all Halli said.
“You don’t,” Lydia answered.
Halli patted her on the back. “I do now.”
26
My mom was still at work when Halli got home. She quickly chopped up some vegetables, got a stew started, then went into my room to get to work.
There was a message on my laptop from Professor Whitfield. Halli returned the call.
“Any sign of her yet?” he asked.
“None,” she said.
The professor looked bad. Like he hadn’t been sleeping very well. His beard looked a little too wild and bushy. His hair wasn’t much neater.
Albert stuck his face in front of the screen. “Hi, Halli. How are those worksheets working out?”
“Great,” she said. “Keep sending them. I really appreciate it.”
Albert retreated again, leaving just the professor in front of Halli. He rubbed his eyes. He really looked tired.
“I’ve been doing some calculations,” he said. “Everything I can think of. I reviewed all the readouts from when Audie was here. I just can’t get a handle on this. I don’t know what else to do.”
“I know it’s hard to accept,” Halli said, “but I don’t think we can do anything. Not until Audie contacts me again. You need some sleep. You look awful.”
Professor Whitfield shook his head. “When the worst thing that has ever happened in your career has happened, sleep isn’t really an option.”
“Professor,” Halli said sternly, “you need to face reality. Audie may never come back. Or she might—we don’t know. But until we do know, we have to move forward. The longer I’m here, the more likely someone is going to wonder whether something’s wrong. Audie’s friend Lydia asked me a lot of questions today. So did Audie’s mother last night. I’m not sure how much longer I can fool people. So let’s focus on getting me out of here as soon as possible.”
Professor Whitfield ran a hand across his beard. “Yes, you’re right. Albert and I talked about it last night. We think it would be very useful for you to bring Audie’s body back here so we can run more tests on it. I don’t know what we’ll find, but it seems worth a try.”
“Exactly,” Halli said. “Good idea. Although I have to warn you, Audie’s mother wants to meet you. So she might have to come along, at least for a few days.”
This was not good news to the professor. He nodded grimly.
Albert stuck his face in front of the screen again. “Then if we’re trying to expedite things, maybe I should send you even more worksheets than I was planning. You could even try a practice test this weekend, if you feel up to it. Just to see where we are.”
“Sounds good,” Halli said. “Why not?”
“You know,” the professor said, “maybe Audie’s mother wanting to come visit isn’t a bad thing after all. It would give you an excuse to come out here right away, rather than wait until you can graduate. We’ll treat it like any pre-college visit. We can get someone to show Audie’s mom around campus while you and Albert and I work in the lab.”
“I like that,” Halli said. “When can we do it?”
“As soon as next week, I’d imagine,” Professor Whitfield said. “Let me see what travel arrangements I can make.”
“And you’d better make sure Audie’s mom can come then,” Albert said. “Remember, Audie said she travels a lot.”
“Not often enough,” Halli muttered. She would have loved to have the house to herself, instead of my mother hanging around every night and all weekend.
“I’ll work on it on my end,” the professor said. “You just keep studying algebra.”
“I will, but...” Halli peered at the face on her screen. “Professor, there’s something I learned on expeditions. It doesn’t matter if you’re the healthiest person on your team, because you can only go as fast and as far as the weakest member. So it always pays to make sure everyone else is well-rested, properly hydrated, well-fed—you get the picture.”
Professor Whitfield raised an eyebrow. “Yes...”
“So that’s why I’m telling you, you have to get some sleep. Start taking better care of yourself. People make mistakes when they’re tired. I don’t want you to make any mistakes.”
“You mean any more mistakes,” he said. Halli could hear the defeat in his voice.
“Look,” she said, “things happen.” She could imagine Ginny’s voice in her head, filling in the rest: That’s life. Now what are you going to do about it? Halli had been where the professor was so many times in her life, forlorn because of some unexpected crisis—a crisis she knew she had caused—that Halli was sure meant she and Ginny would fail.
But there was no point in giving in to self-pity. It just interfered with coming up with solutions to solve whatever problem they faced.
“I have to study now,” Halli said. “Send me more worksheets. I’ll study all night if I have to.
“But not you, Professor,” she added. “Go to bed early. You’re no good to me like this. I mean it.”
Professor Whitfield blinked. Audie Masters had never talked to him that way. If there were ever any doubt that it wasn’t me behind that face he was looking at, Halli had just dispelled it.
But the professor knew what was true. And he knew Halli was right.
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
“Me, too,” Halli answered. Then she clicked off the call.
And lay back on my bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the first time she felt exactly the way the professor did.
27
Halli was seven when Ginny took her on her first trek to the North Pole. I actually saw some of the footage of that when Sarah showed it to me one day when we were together up in the Alps: a miniature hologram of Ginny and Halli leaning into the fierce wind, both of them on skis, harnesses around their waists so they could each pull a sled heaped with their supplies.
I remember watching that and feeling so...inadequate. Like I’d never done anything interesting with my life, even in seventeen years, let alone in my first seven.
But what Daniel said about it afterward made sense: that I didn’t grow up with someone like Ginny. I didn’t grow up with any of Halli’s early experiences. It wasn’t fair for me to compare myself to her, any more than it would be fair for her to feel inadequate because she didn’t understand physics. We all have our skills.
And one of Halli’s is definitely survival. Ginny made sure of that.
It was mid-April, and the two of them had already been traveling across the sea ice for 22 days straight. They’d brought enough food to last for a month, even though Ginny hoped they would finish their route sooner than that.
But they’d run into problems: wind storms, shifting ice, and worst of all, the polar bears.
“You have to always keep watch,” Ginny warned Halli. “Polar bears are silent and they’re smart. They’ll sneak up behind you, and you won’t even know it until they attack.”
That would have been enough for me to hear. I would have been all, “Hey, thanks, Grandma, but I think I’ll stay home instead.”
That kind of thought never even occurred to Halli.
Instead she followed Ginny’s example: ski with the right leg, ski with the left, pause and look around; ski right, ski left, pause and look around. It obviously added hours to their work every day, but it was better than suddenly feeling the jaws of death clamped around their necks.
They met their first polar bear on the third day: a large, hungry male running toward them with that strange pigeon-toed gait they have, his beady black eyes trained on the two humans he viewed as dinner.
Parallelogram Omnibus Edition Page 54
