11

Half an hour later, Will’s feet crunched as he set off with Gaia toward her apartment. The cold stung right through his jacket. But at least the snow had stopped falling. Gaia avoided the ice, her hands plunged into the fraying pockets of her coat.

The plane had been saved, and there had been the rush of jubilation. But then exhaustion as all that tension was released.

“Go home,” Andrew had said, his blue eyes blinking through those thick glasses. “Get some sleep. Later we can celebrate. I’ll take us to Nebuchadnezzar at Somerset House for lunch. I’ll have my car pick you up at twelve thirty.”

“I can walk,” Will had replied. “It’s not far.”

“No, I insist. Anyway, Will, I think you might like to see the car . . .” And Andrew had smiled. “In fact, perhaps you could bring some of your inventions along to lunch. I’d love to see a few examples.”

Will had hesitated. He wasn’t keen on lugging his inventions to the restaurant—even in Andrew’s car. But he realized that this was another way for Andrew to extend a hand. To try to mend any broken bridges. And if anyone should be doing that, Will admitted, it really should be himself.

Now, as Will walked with Gaia, his brain struggled to take in the night’s events. The full analysis would come later. But he was honest with himself. And he knew this: He had felt more alive, and at the same time more at peace, in these past few hours than he had in a long while. It had felt good to be working on something that meant something—and to be working with other people. Maybe he wasn’t really the loner he’d come to think himself to be.

He glanced up. The sky was streaked with gray and a yellow that was clear and pure. Fluorescent strips from shop windows cut through the weak light.

As they turned into Gaia’s street, a pigeon fluttered down from a tree. Snow and slush were scattered across the road. The sudden shower made Will blink.

“This is it,” Gaia said.

She was looking up at a first-floor apartment, above an estate agent on Charlotte Street. It was neatly painted, the windows screened with wooden shutters.

“Now, don’t eat breakfast, because if I know Andrew, he’ll be ordering the whole menu,” she said. “He’s skinny, but he likes to eat.”

Will watched as she reached into her pocket, found the key, started to turn it in the lock.

“See you later,” she said.

“Wait—” He had to say it.

“What? I’m letting out all the heat.”

“I’m sorry,” Will said.

“I’ll close the door.”

“No—I mean, I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved. To you, I mean. Like at school—”

And she cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. Really.” Her gaze was intense and even. “I’m used to it. If I took offense every time Dad was rude to me, I’d be in a constant state of misery.” She stepped inside. “Anyway, I knew you didn’t really mean it. That’s what I meant about seeing through you.” She gave him a tight smile. “See you later.”

Will didn’t know how to reply. Whatever she said seemed to surprise him. So he simply held up a hand in farewell.

He waited until she’d pushed the door shut. Before he turned away toward Natalia’s, he gazed up at the first-floor windows, hidden by the shutters. He wondered what she was going back to . . . What her father was like. Suddenly, it touched him deeply, reached right inside his chest. And he felt the truth of his words. He really was sorry. It felt as though a brittle casing he’d built up around himself was beginning to crack—even if it wasn’t quite ready to fall away.

As he turned the key in Double Entry, Will heard Natalia cry out. She was wrapped in an old blue blanket, sitting with a cup of coffee by the stove, which evidently had been fixed. Dmitri was balled on her lap. Her eyes brightened.

“William! I was so worried about you.”

“Didn’t you get my text?”

“Yes, but then I couldn’t sleep and I watched the news. It said there have been huge flares from the sun. My phone stopped working, and I wanted to call you, to tell you. Did you hear?”

Will took off his jacket, hung it on the back of a chair. “I heard.”

“But did the project go well? Where did you sleep? Who is your friend? Is it the girl Roden told me about? Is she from school?”

“Yeah, from school. I’ll tell you in the morning. I’m really tired.”

And Natalia’s expression softened. “William, I am sorry— you have been studying all night? You have that look. You look exhausted. Go to bed. What time shall I wake you?”

Will was already in the hall, one hand on the banister. “It’s all right,” he called.

“By the way,” she shouted, “you know it is already the morning!”

In his room, Will dragged the curtains shut, kicked off his shoes, pulled off his clothes, and fell into bed. When he shut his eyes, he saw plasma bursts, the blink of the ATC tracking screen. Andrew’s air punch. Gaia’s closed expression as she turned to walk up the stairs to her apartment. And then his consciousness faded and his brain was invaded by dreams.

Will could not have known it, but this was the last time he would ever fall asleep in this house.

Unlike Will, Gaia barely slept. She’d thrown her coat over the comforter to try to keep herself warm. But the room was icy. Then there was the noise. Through the window she could hear buses up and down on the road outside, their brakes squealing.

But most of all, there were the thoughts that raced through her head. They whirled, but it was as if she herself were spinning, her brain struggling and failing to find a point on which to fix. It was a sensation she hated. Most of all, she tried to be in control. Of herself, if nothing else.

Every so often, the thought of the night’s success burst through her body. It would not let her rest. Perhaps now, she thought, Will would finally be convinced. STORM had to happen. There was no way around it. She needed it, even more than Andrew. What else did she have?

At eleven, she heard her father get out of bed. He staggered through to the bathroom, feet thudding on the carpet. She heard the sound of vomiting. Curling up, she pulled the comforter over her head.