The Art of Saving the World

by Corinne Duyvis

  After a few moments of tight, tense silence, Five finally said, “You’re me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hazel Stanczak?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All four of you.”

  “Yeah.” Maybe I should’ve launched into the promised explanation, but the phone didn’t seem like the best medium.

  “What the hell,” she repeated.

  “Are you OK?” I asked. “Are you trapped?”

  A snort. “No.”

  The Hazels around me looked relieved.

  “What about the trolls? We could go someplace safer.”

  “It’s complicated,” she said, echoing my words. “You’re really not with the government? Did you tell them I’m here?”

  “No. I hoped the photo proved we’re on your side.”

  “One of you has rainbow hair. If we can be that different, who knows what you might be hiding.”

  Good point. “We’re running from the government, too.”

  “What’s up with the dragon?”

  “It’s—”

  “—complicated, right.” She seemed to consider the situation. “OK. Come back to the house. I think you could enter safely.”

  “No way. That neighborhood is infested.”

  “Really? I had no idea. Look: Were there other people at the house when you were here earlier?”

  I cringed at her sarcasm. Was that really me? “Yeah.”

  “Did the trolls attack them before they attacked you?”

  I tried to recall. Tara had been their first target, hadn’t she? “I think so.”

  “Did the trolls attack any of you before you attacked them?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It went kind of fast.” Kind of like this conversation. I’d expected a Hazel who was scared, frantic, trapped. If it weren’t for her voice, I’d be wondering whether we even had the right person.

  “Come back,” she said. “Not the dragon. Not anyone else. Just you four. As long as you’re not aggressive toward the trolls, they shouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Why—?”

  She’d already hung up.

  Returning to the street where we’d just gotten our asses kicked so thoroughly that we had to be evacuated by a dragon didn’t seem like the smartest plan.

  But it was the only one we had.

  I gripped my hunting knife in my pocket. The others held on to their weapons, too, hiding them under their coats or in their sleeves. We could do “not aggressive,” but we wouldn’t slide into “please gruesomely murder us” territory.

  Two vehicles drove past as we headed down the Damford streets. Both were battered pickup trucks with a bunch of men and one or two women crouched in the back. Although the passengers craned their necks to watch us as they passed, the trucks didn’t slow.

  “They had shotguns,” Four whispered.

  “Probably more ‘sheriff-appointed, concerned citizens,’” Rainbow said.

  Damford’s citizens were taking on trolls with pickup trucks full of heavily armed adults, and here we were, a couple of sixteen-year-olds waltzing into troll territory armed with only claw hammers, weirdly shaped knives, and fabricated destinies.

  “Back at Lina’s apartment,” Four said thoughtfully, “we attacked first, too. The troll initially went after Casper.”

  We headed down Tara’s street. Before, we’d spotted signs of trolls, but we hadn’t seen the trolls themselves until that car alarm went off. Now scattered trolls crept through the twilight. Two crouched under a rosebush, watching us with eager amber eyes. One sat perched on a rooftop. A handful of trolls were even following from a distance. They slinked past houses, through front yards, and across driveways, keeping their eyes on us all the way.

  Hazel Five was right: None of the trolls attacked us.

  “How?” I whispered, watching a troll chase a raccoon into a backyard. They’d attacked Casper and Tara unprovoked. Based on reports, they’d attacked other targets out of the blue, too.

  But not us.

  “I guess we’re about to find out,” Red said. “Wait. Did you hear that?”

  “Screaming.” Four’s eyes went wide. “Someone’s screaming.”

  We broke into a run. The trolls sprinted along with us. The voice—voices?—grew louder the closer we got to Tara’s garage. A gray SUV stood crookedly in its center. The same car Tara’s dad had driven earlier.

  A girl who had to be Hazel Five—we only saw her from the back, but the hair fit—stood by the open driver’s-side door with feet spread and fists balled.

  A woman was half sitting in the driver’s seat. One foot was outside, perfectly still, like she’d frozen partway through exiting the car. A rip in her coat stretched from elbow to wrist, and the skin beside her ear bled from a trio of scratches. The blood contrasted sharply with her pink-white skin. Her rimless eyeglasses sat crooked on her nose, while her short platinum hair was tousled. Specks of blood clung to the strands by her ear. Even from where we stood in the driveway, I recognized her as the researcher we’d seen with Tara’s dad.

  Trolls were all around her: on the car’s roof, on the windshield, on the ground, perched against the opposite wall. There was even one inside the vehicle, wrapping spindly, irregular fingers around the steering wheel.

  “H-Hazel.” The researcher cleared her throat. “Hazel, I promise—”

  “Shut up!” Five whirled toward the four of us. Hesitation passed over her face. Then her bloodshot eyes narrowed into a scowl I didn’t recognize. “You sent her?” she spat. “So much for being on my side.”

  Rainbow raised her hands defensively. “We didn’t send anyone!”

  “They didn’t!” the researcher said. “Tara mentioned another ‘sister’ in the house, so I thought—”

  “Shut up.”

  The trolls’ attention shifted back and forth between us and the researcher. They seemed on edge, eager to attack, but like something was holding them back. Sharp claws twitched by their sides and dug into the concrete floor and walls.

  Some of the trolls only came halfway to my calves, while one reached past my knee. Many had grainy white streaks running across their bodies. No—through their bodies. The trolls were dirt inside and out. One had roots protruding from its hip, and another was missing an arm, making its body stand crooked. Its one side was a straight slope from head to hand. Like poorly made clay figures.

  “Hazel,” the researcher said carefully, “I want to talk.”

  “We’ve done more than enough talking, Emma!” With every yell of Five’s, the trolls jolted. Yet they still didn’t attack. “Did you call the agents? How far out are they?”

  “I haven’t told anyone,” the researcher—Emma?—said. They knew each other? “Cross my heart. Hope to die. Et cetera.”

  Five’s fists tightened.

  “If I’d called people, why would I come here myself? It’s kind of risky.” Emma nodded at the trolls. They inched closer. “And I’d be foolish to tip you off and give you time to run. I’d be offended you thought that about me if I wasn’t, y’know, terrified.”

  “On that note, maybe we could all go someplace safe in that car.” Red’s voice trembled. She tried to hold it still. “The library? Leave town? Before those trolls change their minds about not attacking us?”

  “They won’t. Unless you give them a reason.” Five lifted her chin. “I’m safest right here.”

  “Are you sure they won’t attack?” Emma peered around, taking in the trolls around the garage—at least a dozen. She didn’t seem convinced.

  “You, they’ll definitely attack. You’re lucky I got down here on time.”

  I frowned. “What are you saying?” Had she trained them?

  “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine. Come inside. You too, Emma.”

  “I thought you didn’t want me here—”

  “If you haven’t reported my location yet, I don’t want to give you that chance. And if you did tell people, and they show up . . .” Five turned
toward a door that had to lead to the house. “Well. You’ll make a good hostage.”

  Several trolls dropped from the walls and gathered around Five’s legs.

  “Correction,” Rainbow whispered to me. “Now we’ve found the evil twin.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  We followed Five through a sparsely decorated hallway and into a messy foyer and an even messier kitchen. Trolls followed us all the way. Their claws skittered on tile floors. My brain kept yelling at me to run, run, run—this deep lizard feeling I tried to tune out.

  A soup pan was simmering on the stove, sending the sweet-and-savory smell of tomato wafting around the kitchen. Five stirred the contents.

  Even with over half a dozen trolls in the kitchen, I couldn’t stop staring at her.

  Five’s hair was like mine, Four’s, and Red’s: thick and dark blond. Her clothes were plain—a gray shirt and checkered pajama pants that barely reached her ankles. Her eyes were a bloodshot, shiny red. She looked agitated. Tense. We all did, but the difference was that Four, me, even Red, were tense in a way that suggested we were ready to flee.

  Five was tense in a way that suggested she was ready to fight.

  “Hazel . . .?” Emma tried.

  Five had been rifling through the cabinets above the sink. Abruptly, she turned and leaned her back against stained countertops. Cutting boards and bowls had been dumped unceremoniously in the sink. The only items left on the counter were a soup spoon and a cleaver. The blade looked sparkling clean, like she hadn’t been using it but wanted to keep it within easy reach.

  I hoped it was meant for the trolls.

  Five eyed Emma. “Why?” she asked simply.

  We stood around the breakfast bar. Two trolls had climbed on its surface and leaned toward us. I could barely tear my eyes away.

  When Emma didn’t answer, Five went on. “Why haven’t you reported me? I know your superiors want me back. Them, too.” She tugged her chin at us.

  Emma adjusted her glasses. “Yeah. Director Facet won’t be happy when he finds out I didn’t call this in.”

  “So—why?”

  “All five of you fled from us. You fought us. If Facet sent a team to take you in, people would get hurt, and odds are, you’d escape again anyway. That helps precisely no one.”

  “Probably.” Rainbow looked wary.

  Emma smiled—a little forced and awkward, but I had a feeling she meant it. “Sorry for everything that’s gone down. I haven’t met most of you, by the way: I’m Dr. Emma Torrance.”

  I knew that name. She might’ve been present for some of my checkups.

  Dr. Torrance searched our faces. “Instead of chasing you, it seemed more useful to talk. We’re not on opposite sides, you know.”

  “We really are,” Five cut in. “You kept me prisoner.”

  “You had nowhere else to go.”

  “You didn’t exactly try to give me a place to go to!”

  “We were still looking for a way to get you back to your dimension. We never wanted—”

  “I don’t care what you wanted,” Five interrupted. The trolls made sudden chittering sounds. “I care about what you did. If I can’t go home, the least you can do is leave me alone.”

  “You know I want to.” Dr. Torrance’s gaze flicked from Five to the trolls. Two were inching closer. “After seeing what’s happening here, I can’t.”

  “I’m getting a handle on it. I didn’t—I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Five closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Instantly, the trolls creeping toward Dr. Torrance slowed.

  Almost like the two were related.

  Five hadn’t trained the trolls. She’d connected with them. Mentally. Telepathically. Something.

  Dr. Torrance stared at the trolls. She snapped toward Five. “Is this new? Or have you been hiding it from us? Holy shit.”

  “It’s new.” Five stirred the soup, sending drops splashing. She ignored the cleaver by her side like it was the most normal thing in the world to leave spare butcher blades the size of her lower arm lying around the house.

  Slowly, I said, “I’m missing some history here.”

  “Can I tell them?” Dr. Torrance asked.

  “You ask for my permission now before you do shit?” Five looked at me over her shoulder. “Tell me your deal, first. I knew a Hazel Stanczak existed in this world. Why are there multiple? Is that another something none of you bothered to tell me?” She directed that last part at Dr. Torrance.

  “The three of them only arrived last night.”

  “You knew about me?” I asked Five.

  “You’re the homegrown Hazel, then?” Five lifted her chin. “I’ve been living on your lawn on and off for the past two years. Hi.”

  Two years.

  Neven had been here for years, too, but this was me, this was . . .

  “Two years?” I squeezed out. “You’ve been—You arrived—” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. I looked between Dr. Torrance, who grimaced apologetically, and Five, who stood at the stove, unfazed.

  “Yeah, I arrived alongside these jerks.” Five gestured at the nearest troll with a dripping spoon. “And I escaped two days ago. Again alongside these jerks.”

  “You’ll have to tell me—” Dr. Torrance started.

  “I don’t have to do anything.” Five glared at Dr. Torrance, then at me. “And I said, you first. Why are there four of you now?”

  I felt like I’d gotten punched in the gut. Five was me. The MGA knew me. Saw me grow up. Watched me from diner parking lots. High-fived me on my birthday.

  And they’d kept a version of me prisoner. Kept her from me and from the world.

  Wordlessly, I slumped onto the nearest bar seat. Even keeping an eye on the trolls was an afterthought.

  Neven had admitted the Powers That Be had brought the trolls here and later allowed them to escape. Apparently, Five had tagged along both of those times. Why had they sent her?

  I chewed my lip. I’d thought I was clueless this morning, sitting at Lina’s breakfast table. I hadn’t known the half of it.

  “Still waiting,” Five said.

  Red and Rainbow jumped in to explain the situation: their arrival, the rift, the MGA, and, finally, Neven’s reveals about the Powers That Be and our task. While Dr. Torrance listened with interest, Five focused on her cooking. Her movements seemed tight and controlled even if the actions themselves were harmless: Stirring. Tasting. Consulting a propped-up cookbook that showed appetizing photos of tomato soup.

  “Was that it?” Five said curtly.

  “Most of it. Can you tell us how . . .?” Red cleared her throat. “Are you really controlling the trolls?”

  “Yeah,” Dr. Torrance said. “Let’s revisit that part, please.”

  During Red and Rainbow’s explanation, more trolls had slipped into the kitchen from the living room and hallway. One clambered in via the open window above the sink. The scratching of claws and a strange gnarling-grinding noise mixed with the background sound of a newscaster’s voice from the living room.

  I gripped the knife in my pocket. With my thumb, I worked off the sheath.

  Five tasted the soup again and stared at the pot. “It needs that basil. This stupid kitchen doesn’t have any . . .” She turned down the flame on the stove. “You can go.”

  “What?” I tore my attention away from the trolls.

  “After what we just told you?” Rainbow said.

  “I think we need you,” I said. “If you can control these trolls, that has to be—”

  “You can go,” she bit. “What were you going to say? That I’m the solution? Do you think I wouldn’t have stopped all this if I could? Do you think I like seeing people die? The trolls do what they want. I can sort of push around the ones closest to me, but that’s it.” She pointed at the door. “Out.”

  “But—”

  “I’m going to eat my shitty tomato soup, and I’m going to get out of here, and anyone who tries to stop or follow me gets a troll in thei
r face. Out!”

  Four inched back. A few trolls eagerly advanced.

  “Wait. Let me . . .” Rainbow stumbled to the back of the kitchen, then stood on her tiptoes and reached for a cabinet. She plucked out a small plastic container, thumped back onto her feet, and turned. Two trolls sat inches away. Their backs were curved, their teeth bared. One made a hissing sound.

  Rainbow visibly swallowed. Slowly, she held up the container.

  A fragile smile wavered on Four’s face. “Basil.” Fear clenched her voice. “I love basil.”

  “Me too,” Rainbow said. Red and I echoed it.

  Five snatched the container from Rainbow’s hand. “How did you know it was there?”

  “Tara’s little brother is allergic,” Rainbow said. “Not lethally, but . . . enough that their dad wants to keep it somewhere he can’t easily reach.”

  “You know Tara.”

  “In my world, yes.” Pause. “In your world, her dad keeps the basil with the other herbs?”

  “Wouldn’t know. She’s never lived here.” At our puzzled looks, Five seemed to give in. “We stay on the move. One time, when we were in the area, Tara’s dad pointed out this house. They’d lived here until the trolls drove them out. I figured that, in this world, her family might still live here.”

  Rainbow hesitated. “Why don’t you believe us? We’re trying to help.”

  Five slammed the dried-basil container on the counter. “This situation is bad enough. I don’t need you complicating it. Leave before you get hurt. You too, Emma.”

  I reeled at the sudden one-eighty.

  Dr. Torrance looked just as confused. “I thought you wanted to keep an eye on me.”

  “Do you prefer those trolls claw your face off?” Five snapped. “Because right now, it looks like that’s their plan. I said I can’t control them. I’m not the solution to any of this Chosen One crap.”

  “You’ll believe in trolls, and dragons, and—and other dimensions,” I said, “but the rest of our story is a step too far?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s nothing to understand. If I told you I can turn my fingers into cats or control people’s minds with soap, would you buy that? What if I told you that I’ll bring about world peace if you give me your life savings? Hey, if dragons exist, anything’s possible. Pay up. No? Didn’t think so.”