your own appearance, which is common,” said Sarah. “I think you’re beautiful. Right now, I’m going to be selfish and say that’s what matters.”
“That’s not selfish.”
“Isn’t it?” Her smile was even sadder than before. “You can’t stay here, Artie. I need to be alone with the numbers. I need to focus on them right now. I need to show them that I can handle them.”
“They’re just numbers.”
“No. These numbers are different. These numbers are awake. They can see me, and they’re trying to decide whether I’m good enough to see them.” She glanced at the chalkboard, fingers twitching. Then she raised her hand.
The chalk pulled itself up off the floor and flew to her, smacking into her palm. She closed her fingers around it.
“I’ll be home soon, I promise,” she said. “The cuckoos can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. I just need to finish this equation and I can come home.”
“Sarah—”
“Kiss me one more time before you have to go?” Her voice was soft, plaintive. There was no way I could have told her no. I stepped forward, pressing my lips to hers, and she melted against me, languid and slow. I could have kissed her forever. I wanted to kiss her forever, the rest of the world be damned.
Sarah was the one to eventually pull away.
“Don’t worry about me, Artie.” She looked at me, and her smile was heartbreakingly bright, and devastatingly beautiful. I couldn’t look at it. I couldn’t look away.
“Please,” I whispered. “What you’re trying to do will destroy the world.”
“It won’t. Ingrid said—”
“She’s a cuckoo. Cuckoos lie.”
For a moment, I saw doubt in her eyes. “I’m a cuckoo. Do you think I lie?”
“Not to me,” I said.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, and her eyes flashed white, and everything went black.
* * *
I sat up with a gasp, feeling the heavy weight of gravity settle over me, along with a dozen sensations I hadn’t realized were missing—the whisper of the night wind, the cool dampness of the air, the looming shadow of the sky, which was considering whether or not it was time to rain. In Portland, the sky is always considering whether it’s time to rain.
“Good,” said Elsie. She was bending over me, her hands on her knees, an uncharacteristically solemn expression on her face. I could see the lights of the compound behind her. It looked like the whole house was lit up, even the rooms that were usually left closed-off unless more of the family was in residence.
Elsie’s finger jabbed at the center of my chest, jerking me back into the moment. “I thought you were dead, you asshole.”
“I told you he was still breathing,” said Sam.
I craned my neck back. He was standing behind me, arms crossed, still in his vaguely simian form. His tail was wrapped tightly around his left leg, like he was anchoring himself in place.
“What . . .” My throat was dry. I swallowed hard and tried again. “What happened?”
“You dropped your charm and went down, dude. It was like someone had flipped your switch or something.” Sam shook his head. “We couldn’t figure out how to peel you off the cuckoo without touching her, and with the way you’d gone down, we were sort of worried you’d jerk us into whatever hallucinatory Wonderland you’d gone and tumbled into. So we left you alone until we got to the house.”
“So how . . . ?”
“I opened the car door and unbuckled your seatbelt, and you fell out of the car,” said Elsie. “You didn’t wake up, so I stuffed your anti-telepathy charm into your pocket. That did the trick. And before you ask, Annie took Sarah inside.”
Then she hauled back and kicked me in the hip.
“Hey! Ow!” I put my arms up to block my face, just in case she had some wacky ideas about continuing her assault. “What the fuck, Els?”
“Never, ever, ever do that to me again, you asshole.” She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around me before I had a chance to respond, yanking me against her and burying her face in the front of my shirt. Her shoulders moved in uneven little hitches. I realized, to my dismay, that she was crying.
My badass big sister who could handle anything the world wanted to throw at us was crying.
“You’re not allowed to leave me,” she said, voice muffled by the way her head was bent, the way her lips were pressed to my shirt. She sounded . . .