‘So everything in the email is true, about who you are?’ he asks, his voice level, but with the merest hint of interest colouring the edges.
‘Yes.’ I don’t elaborate. I can see from the twitch at the corner of his mouth that he wants to say more, that he has a million and one questions. I need him to get the bug of curiosity without me pushing him.
‘And in these other worlds, you and I are friends?’
‘Kind of.’
He raises an eyebrow and the look hits me like a dart to the heart. He is still my Tyler, the same Tyler who’s been at my side the whole way through this journey. Even if he’s wearing a very sensible button-down shirt and chinos. An outfit my Tyler wouldn’t wear even ironically. This Tyler looks like a teacher. Not that I can criticize him; heisa teacher. And let’s be honest, he’s making the look work for him.
‘We were rivals. I used to call you my nemesis.’
‘Nemesis, eh?’
‘It was a misunderstanding. Then we figured it out and then we were … friends, yeah. Friends.’ I don’t tell him about the kissing, about the longing, about that night in New Yorkwhere we very nearly … I clear my throat. None of that matters.
‘And why exactly was a teacher your nemesis?’
‘You were different in my world. Not a teacher. You were ambitious and driven and oh the things you achieved.’
‘You think being a teacher is less than that?’
‘Well … no … I mean …’ I don’t know what to say.
‘Was I happy?’
‘I don’t know.’ I never even thought to ask the question.
‘Exactly.’
I change the subject and move back to the problem at hand. ‘I need to find a way home.’
He nods and takes a sip of his coffee. ‘So. I have a few questions.’ He flashes me a small smile. ‘They might be kind of personal.’
‘Fire away.’
‘Right.’ He clears his throat. Just how personal is he about to get? ‘Why aren’t you freaking out?’
I open my mouth to speak and then close it again. He never asked me this before, but it’s a very good question. Why aren’t I freaking out? ‘I guess I am. Like, inside. But …’ I pause. My dad’s words ring in my ears. ‘My father has this saying. About how you shouldn’t worry about the things you can’t change—’
‘Because you can’t change them?’
‘Exactly! And you shouldn’t worry about the things you can change …’
I wait for him to cut in, but he doesn’t, a blank expression on his face.
‘Because,’ I continue, ‘you should just get off your arse and fix them.’
Tyler grins. ‘Not a bad motto to live by,’ he says.
‘So that’s why I’m not having like a proper freak-out. What good would it do? It wouldn’t magic things back tonormal.’ I wave my hand around me as if to say that this isnotnormal.
‘So you’re trying to fix it?’
‘I’m a scientist. This is a puzzle to be solved. But I need you to help me.’
‘Why me?’ he asks, and the question seems genuine. He’s not asking for me to stroke his ego, he’s asking because he genuinely can’t understand why I would want his assistance.
‘You’re a genius.’
