Now That You're Here (Duplexity, Part I) (28 page)

Who would have ever guessed the discovery of wormholes between parallel universes would happen in a science teacher's half-packed living room in the suburbs of Phoenix, Arizona?

Ironically, it's Warren who's now arguing that wormholes can't possibly be the answer. Mac deflects each objection with his own counterpoint. Watching them is like watching a seat-of-the-pants tennis match with a volley that just won't end.

With a groan, Mac runs a hand through his hair and stares up at the ceiling. “Listen, it's two a.m. We have a long way to go yet. Let's take ten and regroup.” He caps the marker and goes to the kitchen. Warren follows.

Danny sits with his arms crossed, his jaw tight. What is he thinking about? He startles a bit when I put my hand on his knee. “Want to get some air?”

“That sounds good.”

We walk through the kitchen, where Warren and Mac are still debating, out to the back patio. The light just reaches the shadowed shop building where the transporter is locked away. Where will Mac go to finish his work? Will he ever come back? I shiver, either from the thought of never seeing Mac again or the fact that my body thinks anything under 70° is cold.

Danny wraps his arms around me and rests his chin against my forehead. “I need to tell you something.”

“You built a transport device, too?”

The sound of his laugh comes from deep in his chest. “No. It's something else.”

More revelations? I'm sure he can feel my heart pounding.

“The morning of the explosion,” he says, his arms warm around mine, “Germ and I weren't at the mall just to skate and see a parade. We were there doing a job. For Red December.”

“What?” I step back. “You mean, you blew up…”

“No.” He shakes his head. “We didn't know anything about that. We just helped them spread their propaganda through graffiti, though I guess that's bad enough. Friday morning was our last gig for them. We were tagging buildings when the bombs went off.” He exhales slowly. “I think they set us up to get caught. Or worse.”

The pieces fall into place. “And now Danny—the other Danny—is taking the blame.”

“I'm scared, Eevee. I'm afraid to go back. I'm afraid to stay here.” His jaw muscles flex. “I'm afraid you're going to hate me now that you know what really happened.”

“Hate you?”

“Yeah.” His face is grim. “Your boyfriend is a suspected terrorist.”

Boyfriend. The word shocks me like a jolt of electricity. For a second I forget what we're talking about.

“But I'm not,” he says.

“You're not?” Not my boyfriend or a terrorist?

“No.” He shakes his head, his eyes wide and intent on mine. “I didn't know what Red December was up to. I swear.”

Oh, good. Not a
terrorist
. My head spins. I'm out of my league here. How do other girls handle this stuff? I look at his face and realize I know one thing for sure. “I don't think I could ever hate you, Danny Ogden.”

His shoulders relax like he's unloaded a huge weight. He takes hold of my hands. “Eevee, if we can't fix this thing happening with me—”

“But we will.”

“Okay, but if we don't—”

“We will.”

He puts his hands on my shoulders, leveling his eyes with mine. “Listen. If we don't. If I end up going, I'll try to find a way back. From there.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I promise.”

The odds are against him—against us—but if there's even a slim chance, I'll take it.

Mac and Warren are already at work when we get back to the living room. Did they even take a break?

“What we have to figure out,” Mac says, “is why only
he
went through the wormhole.”

“So you two have agreed that's what it was?” I ask, taking my seat again on the couch next to Danny. “A wormhole?”

Warren makes a face. “We've tabled the discussion for the time being.”

Behind him Mac mouths,
It's a wormhole
. I try not to smirk, but Warren sees my face and turns back to see what he missed. Mac continues like nothing happened at all. “Theoretically speaking, if you could isolate a wormhole—”

“But—” Warren interrupts.

Mac holds up a hand. “I know. Logistics. Just hear me out. If you could isolate a wormhole and”—he holds one hand like he's dangling a string and the other hand cupped below—“suspend a neutron star above the entrance, the gravitational effects would be great enough to suck a person through to the other side. Assuming they survived the spaghettif
ication, the person would have just traveled through time.”

“But that's time travel,” I say. “This is different.”

“Well…” Mac holds up a finger. “Yes and no. If what we're dealing with is a wormhole between universes, who's to say it couldn't work the same way?”

Now I'm the incredulous one. “But if his world is being influenced by a neutron star, wouldn't people have noticed?”

“And it doesn't resolve the issue of only him going through,” Warren says.

“True,” Mac says. “But let's not give up on this yet. What do we know about stars?”

Warren answers first. “They're made of hydrogen, helium, carbon, oxygen.”

“Good,” Mac says, writing on the board. “Also, nitrogen. Trace amounts of heavy metals.” He adds the words
CHROMIUM, CADMIUM, IRON,
then stands back and we all look at the board.

“My dad used to teach me about stars,” Danny says, and I think back to the night of our perfect day. “He said the stuff that's inside stars is the same stuff that's inside us.” He looks at the three of us, then shrugs. “I thought maybe that could be…”

Warren begins to dismiss him, but Mac holds up a hand. “Hang on.” His eyes move like he's reading formulas in the thin air. “Now, that's an interesting thought, Danny.”

“You mean, my dad is right?” Danny asks.

“He could be,” Mac says, scribbling again on the board. “What if the EMP somehow affected those elements—that star stuff—inside you, causing you to generate the gravitational pull needed to move through the portal between our worlds?”

I look at Danny, this boy who stepped out of nowhere and landed on my doorstep. “So, you're saying he
is
the neutron star?”

“I'm not saying it,” Mac says. He points at Danny. “
He
is. Let's give credit where credit is due.”

Warren scoffs. “That's impossible.”

“Is it?” I think back to the day Warren handed the note to Missy during physics. “In class, the apple levitated as a reaction to the force of the electromag
nets. Your transporter uses the same system, but requires an anti-gravitational force. We know Danny is affected by the jumping, that something happens to him physically, right?”

“God, yes,” Danny says to me. “It feels like my insides are on fire.”

Mac holds his head with both hands. “What if that burning he feels is an internal fusion reaction? Could that be our answer? Stop the reaction, stop him from jumping.”

“But what if we can't?” I ask. “When a neutron star runs out of fuel, it collapses in on itself. Goes supernova and creates a black hole. What would that do to him?”

His face falls. “I don't know.”

“Maybe we can neutralize it somehow.” I realize I'm standing. “Maybe if we can switch it off, the reaction will find equilibrium.”

“Neutralize?” Warren says. “How do you fix a dying star?”

Of course. You don't.

“All of this is ridiculous,” Warren says, waving his hands at the whiteboard. “How could a neutron star exist
inside of a person
? It's highly unlikely that Danny contains most of the heavy metals found in stars, let alone enough to sustain such a reaction.”

“Most of the pieces are there,” Mac says. “But you're right. Is any of this even possible? Short of cutting Danny open to see how he ticks, all we have is a theory.”

The thought of cutting Danny open horrifies me, so I change the subject. “If he's generating his own gravitational pull, then why didn't his whole body jump?”