“I know, I know.” How do I explain this? He’s right. I ease down next to him on the bed.
“What did you mean when you said Finn isn’t from here? Was … was he an alien?” Ben asks cautiously.
I nearly laugh at the absurdity of it, but then I realize what I’m about to tell him is equally absurd.
“No. He was a Traveler. And so am I. We can move between realities.” I stop to clear my throat. “I know that sounds crazy, Ben, but it’s true.”
“And Eversor…?”
“She’s a Traveler, too. If we can see our reflection—in a mirror or a piece of glass—we can use it like a portal. It takes us to another reality.”
“You just … disappear? Like she did? Poof?”
“Something like that. And we don’t always disappear. Most of the time we trade with someone on the other side.”
He digests that for a moment, but his face makes it clear that he’s not any less confused. “Are you from here? This reality?”
“Yes. I only just found out I could travel.” My eyes meet his. “But the Jessa you were dating last week wasn’t me.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then he opens it again. “How?”
“We switched. I was in her reality, hiding from Eversor. She came here. We were trying to throw her off.”
“And that Jessa just up and decided I was boyfriend material?”
I sit back down next to him. “No. In her reality, you two have been dating for almost a year. She’s in love with you, Ben.”
Something flares in his eyes, but he bites his lip hard and tamps it down. “And you came back without knowing what the hell was going on.”
“I knew,” I say. “I get all of her memories. She gets all of mine. We’re the same person, just in two different places.”
“So did you feel any of that? What she felt?”
I make myself look him in the eyes. I owe him that much. “I felt every bit of it.”
He lets out a long stream of air through his lips and shakes his head, still trying to wrap his brain around it.
“I hated hurting you,” I say. “I’m sorry.” The tears start again, and he shushes me, bringing his fingers up to gently wipe my face.
“It’s okay, St. Clair. At least I know what’s going on now.” He wraps an arm around me and pulls me in again. “You’re one of the freaking X-Men and didn’t tell me. Some friend.”
I laugh explosively, my shoulders shaking, and then I sit back up and look at him.
“It’s not over yet,” I say. “Someone was giving Eversor orders, and they’re both still after me. We’re not going to be able to hang out for a while—until I get this sorted out. I don’t want you put in danger.”
“Tough luck,” Ben says, grasping my hand. “I’m signing on as a junior X-Man, and you’re not keeping me out of the club.”
“Ben—”
“I mean it, St. Clair. I’m in.”
“I can’t make you a Traveler,” I tell him. “It doesn’t work that way. And you could get hurt. Or worse.” I swallow again, not wanting to think about worse.
“You’re stuck with me,” he says. “I’ve saved your butt too many times. And I’m fixing to save it again, if I have to.”
47
The Comforts of Home
“Take it back!” Danny calls out. “Take it back!”
“All right, all right … gimme a second.” I grab the DVD remote off the table and reverse the movie a half-dozen frames.
“Right there!” He points. “Watch!”
I hit play and lean in to see what he’s talking about.
“You’re right!” I turn to look at him. “When Iron Man head-butts Thor, it dents his helmet. Holy cow!”
“I don’t know how either of you can see anything in that movie,” my mom calls out from the laundry room. “It all goes so fast in those fight sequences.”
“That’s why it’s called action-adventure,” I say.
“They shouldn’t fight,” Danny says. “They are friends.”
I walk over and lean in the doorway of the laundry room. After the events of yesterday, it’s almost bizarre to have this slice of normalcy. I’d say it’s comforting, but the knowledge that someone’s trying to murder most of the universe—including me—is never far from my mind. Normalcy is a temporary balm, and always will be until I find a way to get this target off my back—and the backs of all the people I care for.
Mom looks up from the pile of laundry she’s sorting.
“What’s up?’ she asks.
“Are you going to watch with us?”
“Huh? Oh, you guys go ahead.” She gestures with a dirty hand towel. “I need to get a load put in and then I need to fold all that.” She points at the basket full of clothes she just pulled out of the dryer.
I pick up the basket. “Why don’t I bring it out to the couch and we can fold while we watch?”
“Okay.” She smiles. “I can make us some popcorn, too.”
“I’m already on it,” I tell her. “Danny!”
“What?” he calls from the living room.
“Popcorn!”
“Okay!”
I can hear him stomping over to the kitchen and pulling open the pantry doors.
“I’ll make two!” he calls out gleefully.