White noise. Lucy basked in it. The library was almost as much of a sanctuary as the laboratory. A good researcher never relied on speculation; she needed evidence. Which was why Lucy had come here as soon as she’d apologized—for the twentieth time—to her first-period history teacher for being late.
She needed answers. Facts.
Although her gag reflex had calmed down on the ride to school, she seemed to have developed a new symptom.
Cole let Lucy choose the radio station—he liked ’90s grunge, she was more Ella Fitzgerald—but when she touched the dial, the radio went berserk, blasting static. As if Lucy or the Tesla Egg—or both—were interfering with the radio.
Except that didn’t make sense. It would take a big electromagnetic field to disrupt a radio, and human beings couldn’t produce anything on that scale.
The welcome window for the library’s electronic-resources search engine flashed up on her computer screen.
Nikola Tesla, she typed.
Lucy could have Googled Tesla at home, but she knew better than to trust everything she found online. In her downtime, she often edited inaccuracies on Wikipedia. Plus, she didn’t want to leave a digital footprint. And yes, she knew that was paranoid. Not that, to her knowledge, her parents went through her browser history. Still, she’d rather be safe than sorry.
5 matches.
Lucy tapped a finger against the mouse, perusing the list. One title jumped out at her.
AC/DC: The Current Wars.
During her homeschooling, she’d learned that Thomas Edison invented DC—direct current—but that alternating current was gradually introduced because it was safer. Lucy’s father had never mentioned that Tesla was the one to invent AC, however, or that there had been a war. AC power was superior to DC because it could safely travel long distances, and it powered every home in America.
If Tesla had won the war over electrical current, Lucy wondered, why wasn’t he as much of a household name as the inventor of the lightbulb?
She scribbled down the call number for the book and bounded toward the stacks. When presented with the impossibly improbable, Lucy was determined to approach the problem the way her father had trained her. She would research and experiment, and discover a way to undo whatever had happened to her in the Tesla Suite so she could stop lying to her best friend and go back to kissing her boyfriend.
Once she found the tome she was looking for, Lucy ensconced herself in an especially secluded corner of the library.
Time lost all meaning as she devoured the life of Nikola Tesla.
Before she could blink, the bell rang for next period. Feeling unsteady on her feet—which was getting old fast—Lucy closed the book and gathered her things, walking at a snail’s pace toward the checkout desk. She’d left the Tesla Egg in her locker for safekeeping, so Lucy knew this tilt-a-whirl feeling was all her.
Disturbing fact number one: Tesla was born on the stroke of midnight during an electrical storm.
So was Lucy.
Born on two days, Lucy’s younger self used to demand two birthday cakes: one chocolate, the other red velvet. Never mind that she didn’t have enough guests at her birthday parties to finish one. It was a rare indulgent act on the part of her otherwise pragmatic parents.
Disturbing fact number two: Tesla was plagued by ill health and visions—flashes of light behind his eyes throughout his entire life. He believed these symptoms were prophetic, but they sounded like seizures to Lucy.
On their own, neither fact was more than a random, bizarre parallel to Lucy’s life.
But then there was disturbing fact number three.
The Westinghouse Electric & Manufacturing Company had paid the rent on Tesla’s New Yorker room from 1934 until his death. The same company that funded her father’s Ph.D. research and had just built a state-of-the-art physics lab at Gilbert College.
That seemed a little too coincidental.
Could her father’s doctoral work have been connected to Tesla’s experiments somehow? Would he know how to reverse whatever had happened to her? Asking for his help, of course, would require Lucy to admit what had happened. And that would very likely end her college career before it had begun.
Not wanting to be late for another class, Lucy cleared her throat impatiently when she discovered the librarian’s desk empty.
“Wait a sec—” came a muffled voice before a blond head popped up from behind the desk.
“Oh. Hi, Lucy.” Megan Harper said her name like she’d just swallowed a bug.
The other girl was gorgeous: long, perfectly tousled hair and legs that went on for days, making her the star hurdler of the track team. Thinking of Megan in her uniform sidling next to Cole at practice, it had never frustrated Lucy more that she couldn’t play on a team because of her condition. The fact that he’d sold Lucy’s test answers to Megan of all people only made it worse.
“I need to check this out,” she said, handing over the book.
The other girl wriggled her nose as she glanced at the title with the natural disdain of those who’d always belonged to the in-crowd.
“Extra-credit project?”
“No.” Lucy shrugged, cheeks heating. “Just fun.”
“We all have to make our own, I suppose.” Megan brandished a sugary-bitchy smile. “Student ID.”
Begrudgingly, Lucy forked over the laminated nightmare. Why hadn’t she let Claudia style her hair for the photo like she’d offered? Megan barely stifled a snicker at Lucy’s unruly black curls. Lucy had invested in a straightening iron soon after the photo was snapped. Not soon enough, as it turned out.
The computer beeped twice as Megan scanned in the barcode of her ID and then the book. “Speaking of fun,” she purred at Lucy, slanting forward like they were co-conspirators. “We missed you at the swim party. I kept Cole entertained, though.”
Blood roared in Lucy’s ears. Don’t rise to the bait.
“I bet,” she replied shortly. It didn’t matter if nobody else at school understood why Lucy and Cole were together.
Megan raised her eyebrows. “I’m glad you don’t mind sharing … your homework, I mean.”
Lucy leaned across the desk, panic surging in a cold sweat across her back. “Shh! Keep your voice down.”
“I thought that was my line.” Nonchalantly, Megan tapped the sign on the desk that read: LIBRARIAN, and slid the scanned book toward Lucy.
“The cheating was a one-time thing.” Lucy’s voice was tight.
Megan’s lips parted in a supermodel pout. “Is that what Cole told you?”
“I mean it,” Lucy ground out. “He could get expelled. So could you.”
The other girl flipped her hair, unperturbed. “And you.”
Mutually assured destruction. How could Cole have jeopardized his scholarship and Lucy’s college plans?
In an oh-so-innocent voice, Megan said, “I’d never rat Cole out.” The implication wasn’t exactly subtle.
“Glad we’re clear.” Lucy clutched the book to her chest as if it could provide a protective force field.
“Of course. Cole’s an amazing guy. I mean, he’s even willing to overlook your…” She glanced pointedly at Lucy’s charm bracelet.
Sucker punch. Cole was one of the only people at Eaton High besides Claudia who didn’t see Lucy as Helmet Head. Lucy would always be supremely grateful he’d moved to town after that phase in her life. Megan, however, had been one of the kids cheering on Tony Morelli.
“Hold on to him—if you can. Not everyone is so open-minded.”
Tears pricked at Lucy’s eyes and then something strange happened. The tears evaporated, replaced with rage. Pure, hot rage. It swam from Lucy’s heart through her veins. Her body sang with it. Time became too fast and too slow at once. From the corner of her eye, she spied the stapler on the far side of the desk rise from the tabletop and fly toward them.
Not them.
Megan.
Megan’s head to be precise.
“Watch out!” Lucy yelled. She plunged forward, pushing Megan out of the stapler’s trajectory. Thwack. It crashed against Lucy’s temple and clattered to the floor.
Megan shrieked. “What the hell?”
“I—” Lucy had no words. Only fear. Fear because the rage, and the power that came with it, had felt so good. Electric. And hers.
The other girl’s expression changed from fury to apprehension.
“Shit. You’re bleeding.”
It was true. A cold, wet trickle dripped down her cheek. Lucy hadn’t even noticed.
“I—” she tried again, but broke off. Lucy needed to get away.
“Freak,” she heard Megan mutter as she ran from the library.
This time Lucy didn’t have a comeback.