The Art of Saving the World

by Corinne Duyvis

  “Do you have other ideas?” Red asked.

  Rainbow fell silent.

  “We could ask your Director Facet.” Four was hugging herself, like the bathrobe provided comfort. “If anything aside from the rift is endangering the world, wouldn’t the agency know?”

  “They’d just grab us and Neven to experiment.” Rainbow shrugged. “I don’t have any better ideas. But my family must be worried to death. I straight-up disappeared. On my birthday.”

  My fault, I thought with a pang.

  “I want to go home, OK? That’s all I know.”

  “Yeah.” Four’s head dipped.

  I snatched some pajamas off the pile. “Thanks for finding these.” I smiled at Red. (Was that the same fake-awkward smile I’d just seen on Four?) I said something nonsensical about getting out of these wet clothes and, oh gosh, wasn’t that kitten print on Lina’s pajama top cute, and then I was gone, diving into the freshly vacated bathroom. Steam wrapped around me.

  I was panting. Why the hell was I panting? I felt so damn hot. I peeled off my T-shirt and my too-tight jeans and flung off my bra and underwear (matching, why were they matching, why bother when no one would see?) and found myself trembling in the center of the room.

  Shower. Right. Where was the towel Four had given me? I must’ve put it down in Lina’s room, and now I was already in here naked—

  (fires on the lawn)

  For some stupid reason, that towel was the final straw. My legs collapsed under me. Tears left burning tracks on my face.

  (logs slamming into those agents)

  I pressed my fists into my eyes to stop the tears.

  (that “Ah” sound Agent Valk made on seeing Agent Holloway in the front seat)

  (Rainbow’s hair, that necklace, was that me?)

  I took gasping breaths that didn’t reach deeply enough. My chest felt tight and I couldn’t breathe, and maybe this was it, this was the end, maybe I’d choke to death on tears and slime here in my aunt’s bathroom, and I’d never have to face the others or have to do whatever Neven wrongly believed I could do. The thought was terrifying and shameful and welcome, all at once.

  (leaving Dad at the hospital, wheezing, wincing)

  (agents pleading with me to stay, and, Christ, I’d run away)

  (buildings below us like a sprawling satellite photo, except it wasn’t a photo, I was really here and so were a million other people and everything was so damn huge)

  When my tears ran dry, I walked numbly into the shower and let too-hot water pound down on me.

  I hadn’t freaked out like this in weeks. I was such a weakling. I wasn’t even the one with a punctured lung, like Dad. I hadn’t been locked up like Neven or Red or Rainbow; I hadn’t been dropped off clueless and alone, like Four; I wasn’t the one ripped from my world.

  If anything, I should be thrilled. I could leave my radius. I had answers—the start of answers.

  I was important.

  I finished my shower. I walked out dripping, unlocked the door, and asked through the gap if someone would mind handing me my towel.

  Red passed me a fresh one, blue and fluffy. Our eyes met through the door gap. I smiled and closed the door and dropped the smile, and I didn’t think she noticed a thing.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Red and I took Lina’s bed.

  Rainbow took the futon in the corner of the bedroom.

  Four took the living room couch.

  I rarely slept well. I always tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling. I’d replay whatever embarrassing things I’d said that day. I’d theorize about the rift. I’d wonder whether the way I liked Marybeth was a crush or admiration or one of those really intense girl friendships people talked about.

  Except Marybeth and I weren’t that close. And I didn’t think you were supposed to stare at your friend’s lips and wonder the things I did. So maybe I was a lesbian after all, except, God, that word was so loaded and scary and the last thing I needed.

  This time, lying in an unfamiliar bed for the first time in my life, I fell asleep instantly.

  At four a.m., I woke with a gasp. For a while I lay awake, watching the unfamiliar room and the pale mirror image sleeping by my side, trying to shake off nightmare images of the crashed van in the ditch and of Dad in the water.

  When I woke again at eight, Rainbow had already gone. Red was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hair was a mess, though she must’ve at least finger-combed it. She uncapped a plastic orange container and shook it over her hand—rattle rattle—until she had two pills in her palm.

  “What’s that?” I said groggily.

  “You don’t . . .?”

  Just answer my question, I thought. Don’t look so unsure.

  Apparently, sleep hadn’t made me any less mean.

  “They’re painkillers.”

  “For what?”

  A nervous smile scrunched up her cheeks. “Wow. Our aunt lives in the same apartment with the same door code, but we’re so different that you don’t . . .? It’s for endometriosis.”

  I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “What?”

  “It’s a condition. There’s, like, extra tissue growing in my body. It’s mostly under control, but it hurts. You’ve never had problems?” She hesitated. “Especially around your period?”

  I shook my head.

  “Guess we are different,” Red said, even though, without her makeup and dress, we looked more alike than ever.

  I couldn’t stop staring at her and the others all throughout getting ready in the morning—using the bathroom one by one, raiding Lina’s fridge, and Red running out and failing to find a store open to buy toothbrushes and underwear.

  The other Hazels seemed self-conscious, Red and Four especially. It was so obvious, it bothered me every time I spotted it.

  And it bothered me that it bothered me.

  “Did anyone see the news?” Red asked over breakfast.

  “Is it bad?” Four bit her lip. I couldn’t help but think, Stop, you look like a child, and your teeth—

  I shouldn’t have even noticed such things, yet it was all I could see this morning. (Did my front teeth look that big when I bit my lip? Did I bite my lip just as often? I didn’t, right? I couldn’t.)

  I leaned into Red. “I’m guessing the world is still ending in catastrophic ways?”

  The city remained a mess. Every time I looked out the window and felt dizzy at how high up we were, I saw the flashing lights of emergency vehicles and a dozen choppers in the sky.

  Neven swore the rift wasn’t my problem, though. Maybe Red found something in the news that’d point us in the right direction.

  “The rift is almost north of the city now.” Red opened a laptop that had to be Lina’s. “It keeps snapping shut and reopening somewhere else. Then, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after a few hours, snap, it’s gone again. It’s moving north, but not in a straight line and not steadily, so they can’t predict its next location. They’re moving the Liberty Bell out of the city as a precaution. The National Guard is evacuating high-risk neighborhoods and recommending people leave the city. There’s pressure on the mayor to order an evacuation of the whole Greater Philadelphia area, but that’s millions of people, and the roads are already clogged.”

  “Yeah, that photo you showed earlier was ridiculous,” Rainbow said.

  I’d missed that conversation. I hardly expected them to freeze up the moment I wasn’t looking, but it was still strange to realize that they weren’t just me, they were mes who lived their own lives while my back was turned.

  “Are a lot of people hurt?” Four asked, beating me to it.

  “Probably. The numbers vary.” Red bit her lip, but seemed to catch herself and stopped. “The rift also caused fires and electrocutions. Twice, it’s emitted a toxic gas.”

  A chill ran down my spine. This thing wreaking havoc on the city had spent sixteen years in my backyard.

  “There’s also talk about little gray monsters,” Red went o
n. “I might’ve seen those when I went out earlier, actually. I didn’t get a close look.”

  Given what we’d seen in the barn last night, they probably weren’t the only otherworldly creatures running around town.

  “For a minute last night, the rift apparently sucked in air. Like a vacuum. Aside from that, it only sent out . . . stuff. A manhole cover from the 1900s, hundreds of live lizards, several tons of basalt, and I could go on. Not much is confirmed on video; the National Guard—and probably the MGA—are keeping people away from the rift. Although I did see a fake video of Abraham Lincoln appearing in the street.”

  An undignified snort escaped me. “I’d almost believe it at this point.”

  “Wanna see? There’s unicorns in the background.” Red cracked a smile. “People from across the state are reporting problems, too.”

  I’d brought up another spoonful of cereal, then paused. “Across the state?”

  “I haven’t seen anything definitive,” she hurried to add. “They may just want attention. Some town up north claims to have a troll infestation. The videos aren’t convincing.”

  “In conclusion: chaos,” Rainbow said.

  Red nodded. “That sums it up. I didn’t even mention all the people freaking out over seeing a really ugly dragon.”

  “They’re calling Neven ugly?” I asked. “Mean.”

  “She has some passionate defenders. I saw two long discussions on the topic.”

  “Poor Neven,” Four mused. Casper chose that moment to jump on her lap and study the food on the table. “Sorry, Cas. You’re not allowed on the table.” Four scratched the soft fur on his neck.

  (Of course she knew my aunt’s house rules. Of course.)

  “Anything about our”—I almost said my, but that felt wrong, like I was hogging the attention—“destiny?” My cheeks heated up, and I found myself laughing. “Jeez. ‘Destiny.’ How ridiculous is that?”

  “Unless your—our—destiny is fighting trolls or giving Neven a makeover, there’s nothing in the news,” Red said. “I mean, nothing new or supernatural. There’s other news. Obviously.”

  We fell silent. The only sound was Casper’s purring and the background blend of choppers and sirens and car horns. The rift had left downtown, but the aftermath lingered.

  “Maybe this destiny isn’t supernatural?” Four suggested.

  Rainbow chowed down on her cereal. “Could be. Isn’t it silly to need to, I don’t know, take the ring to Mordor, or prevent a time traveler from blowing up LA, when there’s so much existing crap to deal with?”

  Red leaned over to scratch Casper’s chin. “Preventing LA from getting blown up is silly?”

  “It’s like news coverage, right? Earthquake in the United States, nine dead, it’s horrible, gets around-the-clock coverage and an auto repair guy from three towns away gets interviewed. Earthquake someplace else, hundreds dead, it gets a brief mention on the evening news. I bet this rift isn’t doing half as much damage as that tsunami last month. I don’t even remember which country it hit.”

  I didn’t remember a tsunami, period. Maybe it’d happened in Rainbow’s world but not mine. But maybe it had happened here, and I’d either forgotten or missed it; I supposed the fact that I didn’t know proved her point.

  Rainbow went on. “Why isn’t there a Chosen One sent to help them? Or to stop queer persecution around the world, or save refugees, or prevent mass shootings, or, I don’t know, take down the prison-industrial complex right here at home? Governments screw their people more than any supernatural cause could.”

  The three of us stared at her.

  “Um,” Four said. “The prison-what?”

  Apparently, alternate-universe me was into politics. I studied Rainbow’s face, fascinated. As different as we were, I’d still recognized parts of her. For those few seconds, though, she could’ve been an entirely different person.

  Rainbow deflated. “I mean. It probably is a supernatural problem. And I don’t know what some sixteen-year-old Pennsylvania blonde could do about anything I mentioned. I’m just saying. Some other Chosen One should.”

  “We can take that up with the Powers That Be,” I said, relieved to be joking about it. “File a complaint—”

  Four yelped. An orange blur shot from her lap. Casper hit the ground, hissing. Four cradled her hand to her chest. “He just freaked. Out of nowhere!”

  A line of fur on Casper’s back stood upright. His tail went puffy.

  Four went for the sink and ran her hand under the tap. Two red lines welled up.

  “Are you OK?” Red asked.

  Casper hissed again.

  Rainbow crouched and squinted at the living room. “What was that?”

  I followed her gaze.

  Skkkkrt.

  Skkrt.

  A muffled thump.

  A cabinet under the TV slammed open, and something darted out.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “What the—!” Rainbow jolted back.

  Four slammed the tap, cutting off the water.

  Blu-ray boxes tumbled from the cabinet. The shape blurred through the living room—grayish, four legs, roughly Casper’s size—and disappeared under the coffee table before I got a good look.

  Casper darted forward. He let out a warning yowl, fixated on the shape underneath the coffee table.

  “Um,” Rainbow said. “What is that?”

  “No clue,” Four breathed.

  Slowly, a hand stretched out from under the table.

  A hand.

  I stared, wide-eyed.

  The hand was half the size of my own. It was long-stretched, with a thumb and three pencil-thin fingers, knuckly and crooked. Each ended in a sharp point.

  A second hand reached out. Its nails tapped against the laminate floor, then pressed flat. The shape dragged itself out from under the table, revealing rough brown-and-gray arms nearly as thin as its fingers. Then a triangle ear. A head like a misshapen lump of earth, a bald face that was all craters and black patches. The other ear was missing. A craggy mouth formed an uneven line below flat nostrils and buggy amber eyes.

  “That . . .,” Red whispered. “That must’ve come from the rift.”

  The creature’s eyes flicked from Casper to us. Its body was like a spring, all tight tension ready to explode. It was crouched on all fours, its back arched, but its limbs seemed more human than animal. It might walk on two feet just as easily as crawl.

  “I think that’s what I saw outside earlier,” Red said. “Those . . . monster things people talked about online. How’d it get up here?”

  “What do we do?” Four said.

  I glanced at Rainbow just as Red glanced at me.

  Great. Four indecisive girls were as useless as one.

  With no clue about my destiny, I hadn’t known how to prepare, but in retrospect, finding weapons would’ve been a smart move. Neven had told me to hold on to my knife, which I’d left on the breakfast table—

  Knives. Kitchen. Duh. The contents of Lina’s knife block would be more useful than that weirdly shaped thing from the canoe last night. I turned toward the kitchen counter—

  The creature lunged. Casper dove aside, instantly raising his paw. He hissed so loudly I thought he might choke.

  Last night’s knife might not be better than Lina’s, but it was a whole lot closer. I snatched up the knife and removed the sheath.

  Red grabbed Rainbow by her shirt and pulled her back, clearing my path. “Go!”

  The creature’s claws raked Casper’s side. He yowled.

  Oh, shit. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but I didn’t have time to think about it. I burst past them. I did not want to explain to Lina why I let her cat die on my first visit to her apartment.

  “Hey!” I ran into the living room and skidded to a stop two feet from where the creature and Casper fought. Maybe I could scare the creature away. I swung the knife in front of me. It flashed white in the light. “Get off him!”

  The creature crouched on the
ground, following Casper’s movements with its amber eyes. When I yelled, it paused. Its head turned, looking up at me. The rest of its body remained perfectly still.

  Casper took cover behind my legs. Specks of blood followed in his wake. He hissed again.

  “Get—get out.” I made another wild slash in the air.

  The creature pushed itself up on two legs. Its eyes stayed fixed on Casper and me. Only when it stood upright did its body turn along with its head, facing the two of us. Its jagged mouth tightened.

  Then it leaped.

  Casper shot away from under my feet. I yelped. I pointed the knife in front of me and stumbled back.

  Right where the blade connected, something dark sprayed through the air. There was a gnarling sound, like rocks rubbing up against each other. The creature landed behind me. Within seconds, claws pinned my legs through my jeans. I crouched without thinking. I stabbed the knife into the creature’s back. The blade went through easily, and the creature spasmed, releasing my jeans and tumbling away. It scrambled to get back up. Even wounded, it moved nearly too fast to keep track of. I choked back a scream and slashed again. Again.

  The creature didn’t bleed: It fell apart, like the collapse of a sandcastle. Everywhere I cut, it crumbled. Dirt spilled onto the floor.

  Only when the dirt stopped twitching did I dare slow down.

  “Wow,” one of the Hazels breathed.

  The three of them stood behind me, with Rainbow and Red closest—Rainbow holding a massive serrated bread knife—and Four in the kitchen behind them. A cabinet stood open. Four held a knife of her own. Red held a wooden cutting board.

  I blinked. “What were you gonna do with that?”

  Red looked down at the cutting board. A blush flooded her face. “I thought I could . . .” She held it up and mimicked thwacking something.

  “It could be a shield,” Four offered.

  “Holy shit.” Rainbow stared at the pile of dirt as Casper cautiously sniffed at the nearest remains. “You killed it. Awesome.”

  All I’d done was flail around until the creature stopped moving. The whole thing had taken seconds. Not exactly a cunning strategy. I wiped the knife on my jeans until it was gleaming white again, then sheathed it.