Page 45 of Parallel

“No. We were both just—” She grows still, suddenly, her eyes flashing to mine in alarm. “You don’tknow.”

“I don’t knowwhat?”

She stares at her shoes, brown-and-white saddle shoes. The school uniform she’s wearing could come from any time, really, but shoes like that haven’t been popular for decades. It takes her a moment to reply. “You weren’t dreaming,” she says. “You were timetraveling.”

A chill slides up my spine. Four days ago, I laughed at the suggestion, but there’s nothing about this girl that screamsmad scientist. Her voice is matter-of-fact, reluctant even. And hearing the same information twice in four days is…unsettling. I lean back against the wall. “That can’t be true,” I whisper. “I’d know if I was doingit.”

“Yeah?” she asks. “So if you hurt yourself—maybe got a tattoo in one of those dreams—would you be hurt when youwoke?”

I think back to the hickey on my neck that day, the one that couldn’t have come from Jeff. “That doesn’t prove anything. Maybe it happens when I’masleep.”

Her mouth curves upward. “You’re getting tattoos in yoursleep?”

I close my eyes, struggling to make sense of this, create some logical argument. “Of course I’m not, but I think I’d know if I was timetraveling.”

“Apparently not,” she says softly. She’s probably 15 years younger than me, but right now she looks at me with sympathy, like a parent explaining death to a child. And as bizarre and difficult to believe as all of this is, I need answers and she might just havethem.

“Can I ask you some questions?” I plead. “I’m trying to figure out why all this is happening,and—”

Her shoulders sag. “I need to go,” she whispers, as she turns to walkaway.

“Wait!” I cry. “Wait.Please!”

She turns around the corner and I lunge forward, my hand reaching out…and passing through thinair.

Only her clothes remain, in a pile on thefloor.

I slide down the wall, staring blankly at the vacant space where she should be standing. Is it possible she really just did it? Is it possible I could do ittoo?

I think I’m starting tobelieve.

21

QUINN

When Nick finds me, I’m still on the floor, slumped against the wall. “Quinn,” he says, dropping to his knees and gripping my shoulders. “Whathappened?”

“I just watched a teenage girl disappear in front of my eyes,” I whisper. “She was there, and then she wasn’t.” I nod at the clothes in my lap. “These arehers.”

I wait for him to smirk, to look at me the same way he did Dr. Grosbaum, but it doesn’t happen. His eyes meet mine and in them I see faith. His belief in me makes my throat tighten. There’s been too little of that in my life. “Do you have any idea who shewas?”

I shake my head. “None. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but…I think it’s possible Dr. Grosbaum wasn’t quite as crazy as wethought.”

“Did she say where she was going?” he asks. “What about her clothes? Did you check them?” He reaches for the clothes in my lap, digging into the skirt’s deep pockets and pulling a handful of paper out. Candy wrappers, a few dollars, and something else. He holds it aloft after he’s examined it. “It’s a concert ticket for tonight. It’s in Baltimore, but we could make it if we left rightnow.”

“If she doesn’t have her ticket, is she still going togo?”

A small smile cracks his face. “Are you really under the impression that a teenager capable ofvanishing in midairis going to find a missing concert ticket anobstacle?”

I laugh, the sound slightly unhinged. I can’t believe we’re discussing this, and I can’t believe it really may be true. “I guessnot.”

He pulls me to my feet. “Then let’s go to aconcert.”

* * *

By the timewe’ve made it through the tangle of traffic and construction on 95, found the club, and bought our tickets, the opening band—who I’ve never heard of—is done, and the crowd is chanting for the headliner, who I’ve also never heard of. Fortunately, the show is pretty loosely attended so we are able to push all the way to the front of the stage with ease. We get there and then walk all the way back, but she is nowhere to be found. She was probably my only chance to understand this and it just slipped through my fingers. My shoulders drop. “She’s nothere.”

“We could wait…” Nick urges. “Maybe…”

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