––––––––
“She’s still awake,” Liam said, leaning lazily against the house. We were staked out at my house. (Okay, my house in a different world.) It was like a TV show with the two of us making small talk to pass the time. We just needed some donuts to make it official. And maybe some really cool code names. I could be Scarlett Redglove. I totally look like a Scarlett.
Admittedly, I was a little sad that we were leaving this reality. I’d gotten used to the beauty of the cerulean plants. But Liam told me we couldn’t stay in any one place for too long. It created ripples and left us vulnerable to Nevins.
I craned my neck so I could see Gavyn just inside her window. She’d been on her phone for over two hours. Seriously! Who was she talking to? If she was anything like me she was lucky if it even rang. It was 2 a.m. for Pete’s sake!
“Maybe she has a boyfriend,” Liam suggested, raising an eyebrow and following my gaze. He looked bored. He’d already used his switchblade to clean the dirt from underneath his fingernails. Now he was absentmindedly braiding together a few long pieces of azure grass.
“That is so unfair,” I whispered, looking at her in a new light. I hadn’t imagined that the other Gavyns were more interesting than me. They probably did really cool stuff too, stuff that required two arms, like video games, and guitar, and texting while driving.
“What? No boy toy waiting for you at home?”
I snorted. “Hardly.” Boys usually looked at me like I had gaping sores on my face. If they looked at me at all. I watched the other Gavyn, green with envy. She could probably put her own hair into a ponytail too, or a French braid.
In the corner of her room something caught my eye. I squinted. (It was really becoming a habit. Maybe I needed glasses.)
“So are you—”
I slapped Liam’s arm, effectively shutting him up just as a scream pierced the night air. Gavyn scuttled across her bed and pressed against the open window; the only thing that stopped her from falling was the screen.
Nevin stood before her, wielding a knife. His other hand was clenched around a tiny object. A needle.
“Shit!” Liam exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “Stay here.” He disappeared around the side of the house.
I ignored him, hot on his heels. No way was I going to let myself die.
We tore into the house and up the stairs. Liam threw me an angry glance when he realized I was still behind him, but didn’t say anything. I felt like I was running in a dream. You know how you run and run and run but your destination never gets any closer? And your legs feel like lead and are practically too heavy to move? Like that.
Finally, Liam threw open the door at the top of the stairs. I was one step behind him, but he put his arm out and I ran into it with a huff. “Don’t look,” he whispered, but it was too late.
Ducking under his arm, my frantic eyes searched the room. Gavyn lay across the bed; blood welled from a wound in her chest. She was alone.
“No!” I cried, darting across the short distance and pressing my hand to her chest. Gavyn’s eyes were glassy, but she was still alive. “Help me!” I screamed at Liam, but he stood in the doorway, still as a statue. “Liam! Please!” My one-handed attempt was doing nothing to stanch the flow of blood.
Gavyn opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a gurgle and a streak of red. Her eyebrows lowered in confusion.
“Shh,” I cried, “it’s going to be okay.” I tried to press harder but the blood seeped through my fingers. It soaked her pretty green tank top and the daisy comforter. “Liam,” I sobbed, “do something.”
Finally, I felt him behind me. With deft fingers, he pried me away from Gavyn. Her face was slack, all the light evaporated from her eyes. “No. No, no, no...”
“She’s gone.” His expression was shocked.
“You let him kill her!” I screamed, pounding my fist against his chest. It left little blood splotches in the shape of baby’s feet. “He killed her!” Liam opened his mouth several times to speak but no words came out. “No—” I moaned, falling against him. He caught me easily.
This wasn’t like when I’d killed Liam, or Liam had killed Nevin. This was me. This was me lying on the bed in a pool of blood. I was her. She was me. And she was dead.
I was dead.
A little voice behind us shattered me.
“Gavy?” It was a sweet, soft voice, like honey-soaked flower petals. I pushed Liam away.
A girl stood before me dressed in a short pink nightgown covered with horses. Her dark hair was mussed and tangled. In her hand she clutched an over-loved stuffed white rabbit that only had one floppy ear. She smiled sleepily at me. “Where’s your arm, Gavy?”
“Emily?” I whispered.
Liam grabbed my hand and before I realized what was happening, there was tinkling glass and we slid from that world.
***
“Gavyn...I’m sorry.” Liam sat on the edge of the bed, hands fisted in his lap. “He shouldn’t have—” He cut off, shaking his head. He hadn’t moved for a long time.
Neither had I.
We’d hopped worlds and checked into a seedy motel. Liam had left and returned with food, but I ignored him. I lay face first on the mattress, arm curled underneath me. We hadn’t talked on the car ride (no more hovercrafts) and I couldn’t even begin to describe this world. I’d stared out the window, not seeing anything.
I couldn’t decide what I was angrier about: the fact that Gavyn died or that we left Emily behind. As if reading my thoughts, Liam said, “We couldn’t take her with us. I hope you know that.”
“She’s just a little girl,” I mumbled into the pillow. “Do you know what she must be going through? She just found her sister murdered. She’s never going to be the same.” I sniffed. “Can you imagine what that’s like?”
Liam was quiet for a few seconds. “Actually, I don’t have to imagine.” He looked down at his hands. “I know.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I sat up. In all of my grieving for Gavyn, for Emily, and for myself, I hadn’t considered Liam. He had dark circles under his eyes. We were well into the wee hours of the morning. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon.
His face was stripped raw. I waited him out, hoping he would say more.
Liam debated with himself, his expression going from torn to guilty to heartbroken. Then it hardened. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t we do something else?” He leaned closer to me. “I can think of a few things.”
I put my hand on his chest and he stilled. “Stop it, Liam. Just stop.” I met his eyes. What are you keeping from me?
“Stop what?” Then he kissed me, his mouth hard and unyielding on mine. It wasn’t a passionate kiss; hell, it wasn’t even friendly.
I shoved him away and stood up, thinking it best if we had some distance between us. “Fuck you, Liam.” I enunciated each word. They stood singly, each of them an island.
Not looking at him, I turned on my heel and walked out of the motel.
Outside, I followed the sidewalk that spanned the guest rooms. The motel was the worst kind, something my mom would call The Cockroach Inn. The early morning sun was a deep orange ringed with purples, pinks, and blues. It illuminated the edges of a blood-red sky. It didn’t, however, make the motel look any more inviting.
The air was chilly and I wished I’d brought my stolen jacket. Looking down, I realized that my tank top was spattered with blood.
My blood.
I’d never considered what it would be like to watch myself die. Actually, I’d never thought about dying. Not even when I found out there were hundreds of thousands of Nevins who wanted to kill me.
Weird.
I walked a little way from the motel, stopping at a tiny park. There, I sat on a bench and considered Liam. I didn’t understand what he gained from being an asshole to me. I’d never asked to be here. I didn’t want to be here. He’d ruined a perfectly good snow day with his whole “interdimensional destruction.”
And I missed my mom.
She’d probably made it home by now and realized I was missing. She was probably scared and worried. She’d probably called the cops. I was going to be in deep shit when I got back.
If I got back.
I should’ve left a note or something just to remind her how much I love her...just in case. I hated to imagine her being worried about me, pacing the halls of our house, wringing her hands. Mrs. Johnson would come over and sit with her. Make her tea and force her to eat. That was what she did when Emily was born.
At least Mom wouldn’t be alone.
Liam slid onto the bench next to me. I glanced at him, but he stared into the sunrise, eyes squinted. My stomach clenched. It was this new thing I was trying out, I guess. Every time I saw Liam something happened to me. Stomach clenching, butterflies, sweaty palms, irrational thoughts...
Despite everything, he was still hot. And totally make-out worthy.
His hands were folded in his lap. Veins bulged on the backs of them like he couldn’t relax. He had really nice hands with long fingers and short nails. There were a few shiny scars that marred their surface. But they were artist’s hands, ones that could create or destroy.
He caught me staring at him—of course he did. “See something you like?” The cocky arrogance was back. Did he really think that would help?
I shook my head even as my face flushed scarlet. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” He stretched his long legs out in front of him, blocking the sidewalk. Not that there was anyone else out. This dimension looked like a ghost town.
“Act like nothing matters.”
He didn’t look at me. “Because nothing does matter. Nothing.”
I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat. I really missed my mom. “Then why am I here?”
Liam’s lips quirked. “You can’t help following me because I’m so good-looking.”
“Liam!” I struggled to keep my voice somewhere below glass-shattering. But he was seriously pissing me off. “Don’t you know how this is supposed to work? We fight. You come to find me and apologize. We make up.” I stood up and whirled so that I faced him. “In movies we’d have hot make-up sex, but hell, I’d settle for a handshake. Anything other than this.”
“Did you just say ‘make-up sex’?”
I glared at him, a million expletives running through my brain. “Gah!” He really fired me up and yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make any headway. Before I could stomp off into the morning, he caught my arm. He pulled until I was sitting next him, our legs brushing.
“I’m sorry.”
“Good,” I said, nodding. “You should be.”
He smiled a little, but then it disappeared. “I’m an only child,” he said.
“Well, good. Your parents couldn’t handle more than one of you.”
Liam leveled a long-suffering look at me. “Now who’s being frustrating?”
I sighed. “Sorry.” He was right. I was being a brat.
“When I was four, my mother was murdered by a group of protesters. We were on our way to visit my father at work.” He blinked into the sun. “They shot her. Point blank range. Right in front of me.”
“Oh, Liam.” I reached for his hand, but it was curled into an unyielding fist. My hand was ineffectually small compared to his. I put it on his arm instead, feeling the tightly corded muscles beneath his skin.
“After my mom fell, I went to her, screaming and crying. I didn’t really understand what was happening, but she wouldn’t get up. Everyone around me was yelling and no one would help her. Then they pointed the gun at me. I’ll never forget what the cold metal felt like against my temple.” He pressed his fingers there, remembering. “Someone in the murdering crowd had a heart, though, because they knocked the gun aside. It went off, shooting someone else. Mass chaos erupted. I ran and hid. My father found me later.”
“Liam...I—”
“No, Gavyn. Don’t. You’re not sorry. You don’t know me. I never should have brought you into this.”
“But I—”
“I said don’t!” he yelled.
I jumped and cringed away from him. He continued to seethe, eyes hard and scary.
“I’ll see you back at the hotel,” he said finally. He got up and strode down the sidewalk, his long legs eating up the distance. Away from the hotel. Away from me.