“And I’m always here for you. I hope you know that, but we can find someone for you to talk to,” she goes on. “As for your pain, let me do some research—maybe get some referrals. We can find out what’s going on, okay? And if the first doctor we see isn’t helpful, we’ll move on to the next. Maybe I can even get you an appointment when you’re home for the holidays.”
A swell of gratitude rises in me. “Thank you.”
She tells me she’ll see me at the gala tomorrow. For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to believe everything will be okay.
It’s only after we’ve said goodbye, when my thumb taps to end the call, that I realize my dad’s ring is no longer there.
37
No.
I drop my book bag in the middle of the hall, hands grasping at stray papers, heart beating wildly as I shove past books in search of one I won’t find.
My dad’s journal isn’t here.
Tension gnaws at me. I dump everything from my bag onto the ground, combing through it all, hoping I’ve missed something. But it’s no use. And I know what this means. If Iamslowly fading from this reality piece by piece, he wouldn’t have had a daughter to pass these items onto. None of us would exist. Not in this branch of time.
What happens if we can’t get everything in order to send William back tomorrow? Does he keep existing here until there’s nothing left of him? Ofme? Do I become a giant void of nothing somewhere in the universe? If time continues to fold, to takeand takeand disappear, what then?
I lunge for my phone and open my group chat with Jared and Madelene. Proof of their existence is here, in these messages and in our old photos, and this solid fact coaxes a relieved exhale from my lungs, though it doesn’t fully stop the devastation from crashing down. Even after telling my mom everything, I still couldn’ttell her my biggest fear. That maybe she’ll forget. That she could wake up in a different life, one where everything’s rearranged and her past is no longer tangled with her present.
I close my eyes.Please, I think.I don’t want to lose everything.
“Carmichael?”
When I open my eyes, Sumner’s moving beside me, kneeling into the mess I’ve made, brows furrowed. “Whoa, what’s wrong?”
“His journal,” I whisper. “His ring—they’re gone.”
His face dims. “Shit.” He pinches the skin above his nose, his knuckles bumping his frames. “This isn’t how any of this was supposed to go.”
And in the softness of his words, I hear the crumpled defeat of any hope we’d tried so hard to grasp. I slump against the wall, head tipped back. “What if we’re too late?”
His teeth graze his lower lip. “I won’t give up without trying—and neither will you. Because that’s not who you are, okay? Iknowyou.”
There’s a raw determination in the way he says it, intentional weight in those words. Almost like a confession. And then he’s collecting my scattered belongings, mechanical pencils and loose erasers and various textbooks, and shoving them in my bag. I thread my hands through my hair as he gets to his feet, offering me a hand.
“Give me five minutes,” he says, passing me my bag. “Trust me.”
William and Lionel are bickering over gear alignment when I step into the Forgotten Lounge. I try to keep my face neutral asthey explain the problem, and true to his word, Sumner’s quick to rejoin us.
But he’s not alone. Sabine and Inessa walk in behind him.
“We got the SparkNotes version,” Inessa says, flinging her coat onto the nearest chair and rubbing her hands together. “I havesomany questions.”
“But we’re here to help,” Sabine adds off my confused expression. “Don’t worry. We don’t plan on saying anything.”
Sumner catches my eye. “I figured we needed to expand the team.”
My panic fades. Inessa has a sharp eye for detail when it comes to coding, and Sabine’s one of the strongest engineering brains in our grade. How had I not thought of it before? I’d been playing it too safe.
They jump in straightaway. Lionel shows Inessa the road map on his laptop and explains what we’ve accomplished so far while Sumner walks Sabine through the mechanics, tucking a pencil behind his ear as he talks with his hands. The focus is taut, the thoughtful silence interrupted by the occasional “Are you sure you set that rotator correctly?” and “Let’s test the armature speed one more time.”
We’re an hour into assembling when Inessa turns to William.
“Okay, no offense, but I thought it was kinda weird you’d never heard of Oprah.Everyone’sheard of Oprah.”
“Who’s Oprah?” Sumner deadpans.
