ã€ŠGRAVIDã€‹


 Chapter 1 - November 4th, Grayson High School, Sillas, Maine

    Freya Jokela sat at the furthest table in the lunchroom, and no one sat next to her. This was ideal. She was sick of people asking her if everything was okay. She hated all the awkward glances and unsolicited advice. She was too pale and too thin, and she looked exhausted no matter how much she slept. That was just how it was, but everyone felt like they had to comment. Alone was better.

    Freya turned the pages of a yellowed paperback and picked at her salad. Voices boomed around her, hooting and laughing. Students shouted from table to table. Nothing had been thrown yet, but it seemed like it could happen at any moment. There was meant to be a teacher keeping an eye on things, but Mr. McCallahan hadn¡¯t shown up to his lunch monitor shift all week. The volume in the cafeteria had doubled every day.

    Freya remained in her small pocket of serenity as more students filed in. All the other tables were full, and a group sat at hers, scanning first to make sure there were no other options. Freya kept her eyes in the book to avoid them, but she was running out of pages.

    The paperback reached the conclusion she had guessed two chapters in, and she set it on the table face down. The back cover copy was garish and overenthusiastic, much like the novel itself.

    "Darkness has fallen over the once-peaceful kingdom of Crysterra. The evil Lord Sentros has stolen princess Tansy, and the king is powerless against his Fel Magicks! When all hope seems lost, John Good, a simple orphaned stable hand discovers the legendary Sword of Song. Can this unlikely hero and his ragtag band of adventurers defeat the Dark Lord and save Crysterra?"

    Freya felt certain they could, if she was willing to slog through another four thousand pages split over seven books. If she wanted to, she could buy the second volume tonight. Blackwater Books was just a short walk down the hill to Thoreau Street. They had about a dozen used copies of The Sword of Song II: The Scions of Sentros. She could trade this one in, they''d probably give her a dollar for it.

    Freya pushed the book away. She didn¡¯t want to read the sequel. She hadn¡¯t even wanted to read this one. She¡¯d found it on a park bench and made the mistake of thumbing through it, thinking, How bad could it be? Then she was trapped. She always finished a book after she started it.

    Trapped.

    She''d spent so many days at home, watching daytime TV that was just commercials for pills and judge shows where people yelled at each other over nonsense. Days that felt yellowed and thin, with an un-showered sheen of grime, everything wasted. Grayson was just as bad but, if she went to school, Lassa talked to her less.

    Freya stood abruptly, gathering her half-eaten salad and the vanquished paperback. She¡¯d made up her mind to skip the last three periods and walk back to the house. Lassa wouldn¡¯t be home until late if she came back at all.

    At her side, there was a tchip of outrage. She was afraid she¡¯d knocked over someone¡¯s drink.

    Malcolm Lewis glared at her. He was so tall he could stare eye-to-eye with Freya while sitting down. Malcolm was almost nineteen. He¡¯d been held back a grade in elementary. He was sort of attractive if you didn¡¯t know him well.

    Freya couldn¡¯t tell what he was pissed about, then she realized he¡¯d said hi to her when he sat. She hadn¡¯t responded. Now, he thought she was leaving because of him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t recognize you.¡±

    It was the wrong thing to say. Malcolm inhaled sharply, and the three other girls with him joined in a low, ¡°Oooooh.¡± They thought Freya meant it as an insult. Freya and Malcolm used to date. It hadn¡¯t ended well.

    "I was leaving anyway," she mumbled. She couldn¡¯t deal with this right now.

    They laughed as she walked away. She picked out Tammy Daud¡¯s voice through the crowd. Freya was sure Tammy was calling her a stuck-up cunt, but it wasn¡¯t important. She wasn¡¯t coming back here.

    At the trash cans, Freya threw away the half-eaten salad, and her eyes fell on the book. The cover was a sword-wielding woman wearing armor that seemed to have been designed to expose as many of her vital areas as possible.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Freya threw the book in the trash and left the cafeteria. It was cold out and looked like rain. If she walked home, she was going to get caught in it. Staring at the sky, she wavered. What would hurt more, walking home in the rain or three more periods of this? If the school called Lassa and told her Freya skipped class, she would have to explain why. That would be the worst possible outcome.

    Trapped.

    Lunch wasn¡¯t even over. There were fifteen more minutes. Freya walked around to the side of the cafeteria without windows. She didn¡¯t want to have to see anyone. She sat on the edge of a planter and stared out at the valley, watching the fog rolling down the Sillas River.

    Grayson High School was built on a hill, the teacher parking lot was on a terrace below. There were already raindrops glittering on windshields. If Freya wanted to go, she should do it now. She tried to convince herself, but she couldn¡¯t even muster the energy to stand.

    The fog came in thick. She couldn¡¯t even see the river. The sun was absent behind a wall of clouds. Freya was caught between gray and gray. She visualized the clouds flowing down as the fog rolled up, the two fronts closing on her like an eyelid, blotting out everything.

    When the cloud¡¯s eye opened, everything would be new. This would all be fixed. What if she could just do that every morning? Blink her eyes and jump forward a day in time. How many times would she blink before she stopped? Could she blink her whole life away?

    "HEY!"

    Tammy Daud shouted at her from a few feet away, trying to startle her. But Freya was too deep in her pit. She didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, she shut her eyes to try and blink this away, too. When she opened them, Tammy stood right in front of her. She felt a flutter of fear, but it died on the wing. What did she have to be afraid of? Not Tammy. Tammy was stupid.

    Tammy Daud waved her hand in Freya¡¯s face and snapped her fingers. She probably thought it made her look tough. She probably thought all that makeup hid that her eyes were too close together. Freya stared right through her.

    "Yo! You in there, stupid?"

    The others from the table had gathered around Tammy. Malcolm still looked angry. Flora and Regina kept their distance. They looked like they didn¡¯t want to be there.

    ¡°Me either,¡± Freya said to no one in particular.

    ¡°What the fuck did you say?¡± Tammy demanded. Being ignored only made her angrier.

    This wasn¡¯t the first time with Tammy, and Freya had given the problem some thought. Randall¡¯s Kimber was in a black plastic case on the top shelf of Lassa¡¯s closet. It was next to the box with all his uniforms, and the flag, perfectly folded in its triangular case with the glass window. Freya was a good shot. She¡¯d gone to the range with Randall often.

    The gun was still on the shelf. It was all just stupid a daydream. Freya wasn¡¯t going to shoot anyone. The whole time she thought about the gun, she had known exactly what she would do about Tammy.

    Nothing.

    ¡°Too good to sit with us, huh?¡±

    Freya didn¡¯t take the bait.

    "Answer me, bitch!" Tammy worked herself up. She was having a hard time with this. Freya gave her nothing back, and it made Tammy uneasy. It seemed like she might just shout some more and go away. Then Tammy glanced at Malcolm Lewis, and something shifted.

    It had been three months since the first time Freya told Malcolm she didn¡¯t want to see him anymore. Since then, she¡¯d had to block his number and exit all the group texts with him. It hadn¡¯t helped. He kept talking to her after she asked him to stop, popping up between classes and surprising her. Now this. Had he put Tammy up to this, or was it her idea?

    Freya tried to remember what she had ever liked about Malcolm, and she drew a blank when Tammy socked her in the eye. Everything flashed white, and there was a sound in her skull, like a muffled explosion. The punch knocked her backward into a black chokeberry bush. She rose to her feet, expecting to feel furious, or hurt. There was nothing. She just wanted to lie down.

    "OH!" Regina shouted. Tammy up, bouncing back and forth with her fists raised, like they were in a boxing match. Regina and Flora chanted, ¡°Fight! Fight!¡± and it all seemed so stupid.

    Freya didn¡¯t fall, she just sort of stopped trying to stand. She slumped to the ground. The grass was wet against her back, and mist drifted onto her face. She stared at the sky, offering no resistance. She wasn¡¯t afraid, she just didn¡¯t want to be there anymore. They all loomed over her.

    ¡°Bitch got knocked out!¡± Tammy crowed, but she was the only one. The others looked worried.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with her?¡± Flora asked.

    ¡°Crazy bitch,¡± Tammy said.

    The pain in Freya¡¯s eye was a distant and irrelevant throb. She expected to feel more pain, feet stomping her into the earth or stones smashing against her, but nothing came. She was almost disappointed. They ran away. She stared straight into the sky, up at the perfect gray. It began to rain.

    They were tiny drops at first, easy to ignore. The rain grew heavier. It stung in her eyes at first, but that passed. It became a steady rainfall, and she thought she ought to get up, but what good would it do? Wet, dry, it was all the same. Nothing really hurt, nothing really mattered.

    Freya was in the rain for a long time. Someone saw her from an upstairs window, and a rush of people came down to get her. She was soaked and very cold. A dozen people asked at once what had happened. She could only shiver.

    They marched her towards the school, and all she could think was she should have gotten up. Now, everything would be harder.

 Chapter 2

    Freya and Tammy sat in the office in their gym clothes, waiting for their mothers. Officer Edwards, the SRO, had dragged Tammy Daud out of gym class without letting her dress out. She sat with her arms folded across her chest, sniffing angrily, and clicking her tongue.

    Freya had on her gym uniform and a set of shower shoes. Her regular clothes were soaked. It was a fight to keep her teeth from chattering. They¡¯d wanted to take her to the hospital. Freya insisted she was fine. It still seemed like they might make her go.

    Freya was supposed to be holding an icepack over her swollen eye. She was going to have a real shiner, but she could still see out of it okay. The school nurse said he didn¡¯t think anything was broken.

    Officer Edwards filled out a form on his aluminum clipboard, and Mr. Evers, the principal, sat next to him at his desk. Nicholas Evers was an overweight man with a bald head and a fringe of salt and pepper hair just over his ears. He was one of those people who perpetually smiled, but he wasn¡¯t smiling now. He scowled at the set of paperwork. It took a ream of paper to get socked in the eye, apparently.

    Twice, Tammy tried to say something, and each time Mr. Evers made a sound in his throat and stared her down. His phone dinged as someone messaged him.

    ¡°All right. Your mothers are on the way." Mr. Evers flipped the form face down and set his pen on top of it, looking from Tammy to Freya.

    "Do you want to tell me what this is all about before they get here?"

    ¡°This bitch hit me in the back of the head. I hit her back, that¡¯s self-defense!¡± Tammy spat out. Freya rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. She was so bad at it.

    "Stop." Mr. Evers held up a hand. "Don''t use that language in this office again. Do you understand, young lady?"

    When Mr. Evers raised his voice, Tammy cried.

    Freya blinked. What did Tammy have to cry about? She was hamming it up, snuffling and sobbing. It was a good thing she¡¯d tried out for basketball instead of drama. Officer Ed pointed to the tissue box on the bookshelf. He could have handed it to her, but he didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Freya? Are you with us?¡±

    ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± Freya realized Mr. Evers had been asking her a direct question. She¡¯d missed it. ¡°What did you ask?¡±

    The principal had that troubled what¡¯s wrong with you look she was so very sick of. Freya realized she needed to snap out of it if she didn¡¯t want to spend all day at Flying Horse Regional Hospital. She clutched the hem of her shorts in her fist and clenched her teeth.

    Get it together.

    ¡°What happened here? If you don¡¯t feel up to talking, this can wait,¡± Officer Ed pressed while offering her an out. She nodded in appreciation.

    "I think she was just showing off for her friends. They followed me outside the cafeteria. I didn''t hit her back."

    ¡°She''s lying! She-"

    "QUIET!" Mr. Evers snapped. Tammy flinched.

    "Why were you lying on the ground in the rain?" he asked.

    "I didn''t want to get up," Freya said.

    Mr. Evers¡¯s whole face scrunched up, and Freya knew she''d made a big mistake. She should have lied. His demeanor shifted.

    "Mr. Edwards, could you take Tammy outside, please?"

    "She''s lying! She hit me first! She hit me first!¡± Tammy repeated, as if that would make them believe her.

    Officer Ed grabbed Tammy by the arm and hoisted her out of the seat. The movement seemed as out of place as Mr. Evers¡¯ scowl. Officer Ed was normally so placid and uninterested in everything that didn¡¯t involve football. Now, he was furious, dragging Tammy out of the office. Through the door, he barked orders at her. When he returned, he took out his phone.

    "I''d like to take some pictures of your eye, is that okay?"

    Freya nodded, and he took several pictures from different angles.

    "Does your mother have you seeing anyone, Freya?" Mr. Evers asked.

    "I have guitar lessons on Sundays," Freya said, not sure what he was asking.

    "I mean, like someone you can talk to. A therapist or a psychiatrist.¡±

    Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment.

    "Oh. No, not since about a month after. That was just for having trouble sleeping.¡±

    ¡°Are you still having trouble?¡±

    ¡°No, they gave me Lunesta. It¡¯s good.¡±

    ¡°Would you like to talk with someone else about it?¡±

    ¡°I really don¡¯t. Is this about me lying down? I was just hurt. It''s no big deal."

    "It is a big deal, I promise you. My mother died when I was just a little older than you. I was twenty-two. I know that seems like a long way off, but it''s not."

    "I''m sorry," Freya said, her voice flat. She didn''t like it when people tried to relate.

    "I had to go to the parish priest every night for two weeks. I cried and cried. I felt like nothing would ever fill that emptiness. If it hadn''t been for Father Fry, I don''t know what I would have done." Mr. Evers looked at her closely after he spoke.

    "We don''t go to church," Freya said.

    "I know," Mr. Evers said. She could tell he didn¡¯t like that. He began to speak but stopped himself, like there was something he wanted to say but couldn''t.

    There was a shout outside the office. Mr. Evers nodded to Officer Ed, who went out to investigate.

    "Am I going to get in trouble?" Freya asked. She didn''t want them to suspend her. She dreaded the idea of being stuck at home all day with nothing to do.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "No. I haven''t looked at security camera footage yet, but I''m confident you didn''t start this."

    They could hear Officer Ed through the office door, talking patiently in his keep-the-peace voice.

    "You don''t have to get Tammy in trouble. I''m fine. I just want her to stop bothering me," Freya said, but Mr. Evers shook his head.

    ¡°I am going to recommend the school board expel Tammy from Grayson and move her to an alternative school. All the other students will be suspended.¡±

    Oh, no.

    ¡°That makes it much worse for me. Everyone will be mad at me.¡±  Freya knew how it would go. She would shift from the ranks of the barely tolerated into the untouchables. She had picked the worst possible way to deal with this.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Freya. We don¡¯t have a choice. The kids who get suspended may be a problem, but if any of them bother you, you need to come to me right away. We need to stop the problem before it gets out of hand. Did Tammy bully you before this?"

    "She just shoved me some in the halls and called me a cunt. I didn''t care. I ignored her."

    "I need you to tell me right away if something like that happens again. Please. If I had heard about this earlier, we might not be in this position."

    Freya stared forward for too many beats. She realized he expected a response.

    ¡°Okay," she said. It wouldn¡¯t have stopped anything, but she wanted this to be over.

    There was more talking from outside the office, and Freya recognized Lassa¡¯s voice. Her body locked up. There was no way out. Freya stared out the window at the clouds and the fog drifting over the hills and shut her eyes tightly. The world stubbornly refused to blink away.

    She¡¯d asked them not to call Lassa, but they wouldn¡¯t listen to her. Mr. Evers watched her response and looked troubled. The voices outside the office rose sharply, and he got up and out the door in a hurry. Freya followed.

    Officer Ed stood between Tammy''s mother, Patricia, and Lassa. Patricia was yelling in her face. Lassa¡¯s voice was low and clipped. Her accent got thicker when she was mad. The two women couldn¡¯t have been more different.

    Lassa wore a navy Maladrino pantsuit, Patricia, a shapeless dress that looked like it had been pulled out of a pile of laundry. Freya¡¯s mother had a Karen haircut, buzzed on the right with a swoop of black hair to the left. Her eyes were pilot-light blue. When she saw Freya, her mouth fell open.

    "Herranjumala! " Lassa cried. She rushed forward and grabbed Freya. "Are you okay?¡±

    "I''m fine," Freya said, unable to meet her stare. When she was upset, Lassa¡¯s gaze was like being caught in an electric current.

    ¡°See? She says she¡¯s fine!" Tammy''s mother shouted. Patricia Daud was one of those people whose normal speaking voice was almost a shout. Her volume had steadily increased since she¡¯d entered the office.

    Lassa wheeled back towards her, and Freya couldn¡¯t understand why Mrs. Daud wasn¡¯t running away. All the warning signs were there, the stiff posture, the Finnish accent getting thicker, the fire in her eyes. There was a look on Lassa¡¯s face Freya hadn¡¯t seen in a long time, but she had never forgotten it. Like nothing else had today, her mother¡¯s fury touched her. That look meant someone was getting hurt.

    Patricia Daud stood with her hands on her hips, ready for her to say something. Freya had seen Tammy make the exact same posture. She was ready to get into a shouting match with Lassa.

    But Lassa didn''t shout. She didn''t say anything. She bent down and, as fast as a spring uncoiling, launched herself at Tammy¡¯s mother in a flying tackle. Patricia Daud¡¯s shout rose to a squeal of surprise. She hit the floor with a heavy thump.

    It was almost funny. Patricia was twice Lassa¡¯s size, but she spilled onto the floor like a Jenga tower and shrieked with anger. The levity was brief.

    Lassa scrambled on top of Patricia and pinned her arms with her knees on the big woman¡¯s shoulders. She rained down strikes with the hams of her fists, mashing Patricia¡¯s face. Unable to defend herself, Patricia tried to lift her head, and Lassa¡¯s strikes bounced the back of her head against the polished floor.

    It all happened so quickly that Officer Ed was stunned. By the time he got behind Lassa and pulled her off, Patricia''s nose was shattered. As she was yanked away, Lassa snuck in a final stomp, catching Patricia solidly in the stomach.

    Patricia gave a wretched gasp as all the wind was driven out of her. She choked, and then managed to roll onto her side. The stink of vomit filled the small room.

    Everything was a jumble of confusion. Tammy wailed, and Officer Ed wrestled Lassa back. Mr. Evers fought to keep from gagging. Patricia couldn''t get up. She gasped for breath and cried. She looked like she¡¯d gone ten rounds in ten seconds.

    "I''m done," Lassa said though her chest rose and fell hard, and her whole face was red and gleaming with sweat. Freya saw the hint of a smile beneath the exertion.

    "I''m going to put you in handcuffs, okay? I''m going to put you against the wall here, and when I let go, you put your hands behind your back with your palms facing outward. Do you understand me?"

    "I understand," Lassa said. Her voice was dispassionate, at odds with the excitement on her face. The danger had passed.

    Freya watched Officer Ed put her mother in handcuffs as Mr. Evers tried to get Patricia back on her feet.

    "I''m very sorry. I just saw my child was hurt, and I snapped," Lassa said. She didn''t sound sorry at all. There was hate in Patricia''s eyes.

    Patricia Daud honked something about a lawsuit, her voice all choked with blood.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± Lassa said, still smiling.

    Patricia lost it. She stomped forward and slapped Lassa, with a crack as loud as a whip.

    "HEY! HEY!" Officer Ed shouted, his attention diverted from Lassa.

    A second crack, and then Patricia was on the floor again. Everyone was confused. It took a moment for Freya to realize Lassa had headbutted Patricia. There was an angry red spot just below her mother¡¯s hairline and an animal look on her face. Officer Ed grabbed her and struggled to hold on. Freya was certain, if Lassa wasn¡¯t handcuffed and restrained, she would kill Patricia Daud.

    Instead, Officer Ed cordoned her in the Principal¡¯s Office. Then he tried to get Patricia to sit up so he could handcuff her, too, but she was too heavy.

    "She do MMA or something?" Officer Ed motioned towards the closed door of the principal''s office.

    "She does yoga," Freya said, and he gave her an incredulous look.

    "Oh, I mean, she used to be in the army. In Finland."

    ¡°Wow. Jesus. Mrs. Daud, can you sit up, please?"

    He finally got Patricia Daud up. She''d fallen in the vomit and was a complete mess. Her eyes wouldn''t focus.

    After she was in handcuffs, Officer Ed got on his radio and called for two squad cars and an ambulance. Freya realized everyone here was about to go to jail.

    "Can I¡­" She motioned at the principal''s office, and Officer Ed nodded.

    Behind the closed door, Lassa was upset, on the verge of tears.

    "I''m sorry, Freya. I don''t know what came over me." That was a lie. She knew exactly what had come over her. She was putting on a show for Mr. Evers.

    "It''s okay," was all Freya could think to say.

    "Can you call Paul and ask him to come bail me out?"

    Freya winced. She didn''t like Paul. She hadn''t liked any of her mother''s new boyfriends.

    "We have to get child services involved, Mrs. Jokela," Mr. Evers said. Lassa looked like she might headbutt him, too, but then her face fell, and she cried for real.

    "I''m sorry. I shouldn''t have done that."

    "Is there a relative Freya can stay with tonight?"

    "My friend Paul will take care of everything," she said.

    "There''s no blood relative nearby?"

    "No one."

    Mr. Evers hesitated, then nodded.

    "Well, this is a tough situation we have here. I think it might be best if Freya stayed home for a few days."

    "I don''t want to,¡± Freya interjected. "I didn''t do anything wrong. I shouldn''t get punished."

    "This isn''t a disciplinary action. It''s just for a few days, until things cool off. You won''t be marked absent. I''m going to speak with everyone in that pack of kids and make it clear anyone who takes this further will be expelled."

    "What''s going to happen?" Lassa asked. The tears had been very brief. She''d gone cold and turned to the business of the situation.

    "I''m going to ask Freya to stay home until next week. We''ll have her schoolwork sent to her, so she won''t fall behind. Child services will most likely interview you and Freya. They''ll come and look at your home. Please, make sure it''s in good shape.¡±

    Freya snorted, and Mr. Evers stared at her.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± Freya waved it away.

    ¡°I''m going to recommend Freya see a therapist.¡± Mr. Evers sounded like he¡¯d said all this a hundred times before. Maybe he had.

    "I will get her one,¡± Lassa promised.

    ¡°You¡¯ll probably both be charged with battery. Maybe you can work with the police and get charges reduced. I¡¯ll try to help, but if a lawsuit is filed, this will all be out of my hands."

    "What about the girl who hit Freya?"

    "This isn''t the first problem we''ve had with that student. I¡¯m going to recommend expulsion.¡±

    "Good."

    "I have to ask you, Freya, do you feel safe going home tonight? Are you okay?"

    "I''m okay. I¡¯m sorry about all this," Freya said. Things had gotten so much worse in a single afternoon.

    "This isn''t your fault." Mr. Evers looked despondent.

    "I''m still sorry."

 Chapter 3

    Freya watched her mother being put in the back of a police car. Lassa mouthed, "I love you," and shut her eyes, lowering her head. Freya¡¯s eyes lingered on the red mark from the headbutt.

    The two police cars drove away, taking everyone to jail. Officer Ed gave Freya a ride home in his rusted-out Volvo. He tried to spark a conversation, but she couldn¡¯t find the energy to respond. He stopped trying.

    Back at the house, Officer Ed asked again if she felt safe on her own. Though she hadn¡¯t invited him, he¡¯d followed her inside, and he glanced around the living room. Everything was spotless. Freya had almost laughed when Mr. Evers advised Lassa the house should be clean for Child Services. Their house could have been a showroom for a design firm. Nothing was out of place. Ever.

    Officer Ed inspected the house with a heavy frown. He told Freya twice to call the dispatch if she needed anything and left with clear reluctance. Freya listened to his Volvo putter down the driveway with relief. She wished she¡¯d made an excuse for him to stay. In the stinging silence, there was nothing to slow her racing thoughts.

    Freya was supposed to call her mother¡¯s ex-boyfriend Paul and ask him to bail Lassa out. She didn¡¯t want to. Paul would insist on coming over to make sure everything was all right. She could picture him, sitting on the couch in Randall''s spot where he didn''t belong. His eyes roaming where they shouldn''t be, that creepy smirk.

    Instead, Freya called the Piscataquis County Jail and asked for the procedure to bail someone out. The man on the phone was surprisingly friendly and helpful for someone who worked at a jail. He estimated the bail would probably be set at something like five hundred dollars, plus a sixty-dollar fee from the State Bail Commission. She asked about a bail bondsman, but he told her there weren¡¯t any in Maine, it was all done through the state. It wasn''t a sure thing Lassa would have a bail hearing tonight. He gave her the number she could call and check.

    Freya kept her cash in a Delft blue porcelain piggybank in her sock drawer. When she opened it, she was surprised by how much was inside. She hadn''t bought anything since Randall died. Lassa gave her a hundred dollars a week. Freya just folded the bills and slid them into the pig. There was a credit card on file at school for lunch, so the hundreds just piled up. She had over twenty-five hundred dollars saved.

    Had it been twenty-five weeks since Randall died? Half a year without her father. It didn''t feel like it had been that long. Freya waited an hour and called the second number.

    The woman at the bail hearing number wasn''t as nice. She told Freya not to bother trying to visit, she couldn''t see her mother until she was bailed out. The hearing wouldn¡¯t be until morning for sure as it was already almost 6 PM.

    Freya wondered if they would tell Lassa she¡¯d tried to bail her out. Maybe she would just sit there all night in the drunk tank wondering why no one had come for her, getting madder and madder.

    Maybe it was better if she stayed in.

    Freya remembered the way Lassa had looked at Patricia. When she got that look, something terrible always happened. Freya had spent years trying to avoid it. She was still getting good grades, though not as good as they had been.

    She always came home on time, stayed out of trouble. That was the real reason for not saying anything about Tammy before. Not what Tammy or the school might do, but what Lassa would. She¡¯d been right.

    Freya used to have a lot of friends. Some girls talked a big game about staying out past curfew, talking back, doing whatever they wanted. They were defiant and proud, and it made Freya nervous just thinking about it. How could they do that? She smiled and went along with them, knowing she would never dare. It felt like they could tell.

    She got along better with the other cowards. Girls like Freya, who didn''t cut class or smoke pot, they kept their heads down and silently excelled. Her best friends, Jane Yang and Betty Nguyen, were just like her, driven forward by an unspoken terror.

    For her Freshman English winter semester final project, Freya wrote a poem about the quiet girls, entitled ¡°The Flock.¡± It was departure for her. English wasn¡¯t really her subject. She did what was required, but not much more than that. The poem felt different. She needed to express how it felt to live in Lassa¡¯s shadow. Every word had to be perfect.

    She spent almost two weeks toying with the language, agonizing over every line. When she finished, she didn¡¯t even want to turn it in, it was too personal. But she¡¯d spent so long tinkering there wasn¡¯t enough time to come up with anything else. She turned it in and prayed Mr. Rutteridge wouldn¡¯t make a big deal about it.

    Of course, he did. He singled her out for praise in front of the whole class. She had to stand in front of everyone and read it with her cheeks burning, wishing she¡¯d just taken the F.

    When class was over, Mr. Rutteridge took her aside and asked for permission to submit the piece to a poetry journal. Freya¡¯s first impulse was to refuse. It wasn¡¯t good enough to get published. Then she realized Mr. Rutteridge was just trying to be encouraging.

    This was the first time she¡¯d ever put herself out there in his class. She said yes just to be nice and forgot about it. Three months later, he brought her a tiny gray booklet published by the University of Maine. On page 33 of Standing Stone was ¡°The Flock¡± by Freya Jokela, Grayson HS.

    Freya was mortified, she made him promise not to tell her parents. She would have loved to show she¡¯d been published, but then Lassa would find out. That couldn¡¯t happen.

    Still, word got around her group of friends. Freya was afraid they¡¯d realize the poem was about them and be angry, but few even read it. Jane didn¡¯t recognize herself in the poem. She thought ¡°The Flock¡± was about other girls. Only Betty got it.

    She was Freya¡¯s favorite, and the only reason Freya could hold it together after Randall died. Then her family moved to Wisconsin. Everything fell apart.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Without Betty, Freya and Jane weren''t as close as she had thought. Jane started hanging out more with a group of girls Freya thought were stupid and mean.

    The transition from having friends to being alone was gradual. People fell off, disappearing as she drifted deeper into solitude. Freya knew it was her own fault. It got too hard to talk to people.

    When they greeted her, she could only fake a smile and blurt a quick ¡°Hi.¡± Then it got too hard to smile, and she could only nod. People stopped saying anything. She passed through them like a ghost.

    ¡°Stop it,¡± Freya said. Her voice bounced back at her from the empty house. Wallowing was only making it worse.

    It was dark outside. She realized she''d been sitting at the kitchen table without moving for almost an hour. She pressed her fingers against the hurt eye, probing the swollen skin. It was already a serious black eye. Wherever she went, people were going to ask about it. It hurt, but it didn''t matter. She glanced towards her room, wishing it was late enough to sleep.

    Hanging in the hallway was a corkboard map of the world, her mother''s one concession to clutter. All over the map were silver pins in the cities they''d visited. The routes they¡¯d taken were tied with lines of thread between pins. The center of Europe looked like a crimson spiderweb.

    They''d gone to Amsterdam and D¨¹sseldorf and Frankfurt and Zurich. There was a blue threaded line weaving through northern Italy and a pink one on the coast of France. In the oceans and in the areas where there were no pins there were pictures of the three of them, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower or on the steps of the Prado.

    If she wanted to, she could stare at that map for the rest of the night and remember. Paris, where gypsies had tried to lift Randall¡¯s wallet on the lock bridge. He almost threw one of them into the Seine. It was scary when it was happening, but they laughed about it afterward. The guy looked so funny, kicking his legs, and shouting, "NO SWIM! NO SWIM!"

    Seville, where a crooked old man sang from the fountain outside their hotel. His voice was dry and cracked, but his fingers danced on the frets of his nylon guitar faster than anyone she¡¯d ever seen. Rotterdam, the Monkeyman who winked at Freya every morning on their way to breakfast, and then the little monkey on his shoulder winked, too. She always laughed and gave him a two-euro coin. She¡¯d been so happy then.

    Now, Freya was alone in Sillas, Maine. The last place on Earth she wanted to be. The $2,500 in her sock drawer could buy a ticket anywhere. She had a passport, and she¡¯d turned sixteen on May 23<sup>rd</sup> There was nothing stopping her.

    She could take her guitar out of its case and play a song. She could write down one of the poems that kept bobbing at the back of her mind, begging to be remembered. She could run away from home and go to New York. She could do anything if she wanted, but she didn''t want to.

    Instead, Freya kept thinking about the Sillas River. It ran black and swift this time of year. A few miles up Elliot Road was Daffodil Park, where you could cross the river by leaping from rock to rock. There were dangerous currents downstream, and people had died there. When Randall was alive, they''d liked to picnic there on Sundays. Every time she went out on the rocks, he warned her about the current.

    Randall used to give her a lot of warnings like that. He was a policeman. Don''t run with those kids. Don''t get in a car with anyone who''s been drinking. Stay far away from the east end of Baymore Street because that¡¯s where people sell drugs and get shot.

    When he gave a warning like that, it was always because someone died, and he''d had to see it. Afterward, he would have to notify the parent or the spouse.

    He''d always take her aside, put his hands on her shoulders, and say "Listen, darlin¡¯¡­¡± He did it so many times it barely registered any more. She¡¯d gotten sick of it.

    Freya wasn''t sick of it now. She would give just about everything for him to take her by the shoulders and warn her about any stupid thing. He''d always hugged her afterward.

    She kept thinking about the river. People might assume she''d slipped in. She wasn''t going to leave a note. There was no one to read it.

    It was a dangerous thought. The water would be freezing cold, and the shock would force all the air out of her. She¡¯d try to swim for the surface, but the current would pull her down again. Everything would get farther and farther away.

    She''d read it could be the best way to go. Some people experienced euphoria before they drowned. It would be easy to fall into that darkness and never have to come up.

    On the corkboard map, there was an old picture of her at Lake Inari, asleep on Randall''s lap while he stared upward with binoculars. She couldn''t have been older than six or seven. They''d hiked into the forest to see a meteor shower. It had been a long walk, and she had conked out.

    That was one of her earliest memories, being slowly shaken awake by her father.

    "Look, Freya! Shooting stars!"

    She''d woken up and had squinted, trying to get her eyes to focus, afraid she''d miss them. And then there they were, streak after brilliant streak, burning across the night faster than any airplane.

    She stared at the picture. Randall had been dead for six months. Things were never going to get any better. It wasn''t any easier now than six months ago, the hole only grown wider. She made a decision.

    It was too far to the river. She didn''t want to wait. She went into her mother''s room, looking for Randall''s gun. The plastic case was still next to the box of uniforms, on the top shelf of the walk-in closet that smelled of cedar. There was a lock on the case, but it was just a little cable lock. She could probably hit it with a hammer and knock it off.

    She held the case and considered it. If she broke the lock, she was going to have to answer for it if she didn''t go through with it. She put it back on top of the shelf, then she changed her mind and took it down again.

    Freya noticed something. Behind Randall''s suit coats, there was a flash of red and gold. She swept the suits to one side. Hung on the wall was a tacky calendar from Panda Pete''s Chinese Restaurant.

    Lassa wouldn''t eat Chinese food, so it was always Freya and Randall. They would get a Pu-Pu platter full of fried dumplings and beef skewers, and she''d order a virgin Shirley Temple. The calendar was the type of cheap thing Lassa would never let him hang up anywhere in the house where anyone might see it. It had an illustration of the great wall and the Chinese Zodiac on it.

    The calendar was marked with Randall¡¯s handwriting in black marker. ANNIVERSARY was written on October 9<sup>th</sup>. The date was circled three times. LASSA BIRTHDAY was circled on January 3<sup>rd</sup>. FREYA BIRTHDAY with a heart around it on May 23<sup>rd</sup>. Her eyes grew wet. FREYA FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, September 9<sup>th</sup>. VACATION, MALDIVES written over the Christmas break.

    Freya looked at the day Randall died, May 4<sup>th</sup>. SOLAR ECLIPSE W/ FREYA was written just a few weeks after. She remembered Randall telling her about the eclipse. He''d wanted to drive up to Kearsarge North and hike up to the fire tower for the spectacular view.

    With a sinking feeling, Freya recalled she¡¯d been bitchy about losing a Saturday. At least she had agreed to go. She had completely forgotten about that until now, the hike they never took. She clutched the case tightly. Tears ran down her face.

    Her eyes slid to today, November 4<sup>th</sup>. Another circle. TAURIDS WITH FREYA was written there. Her mouth moved without sound. Those were some of her favorite times with Randall. They stayed out late and brought sandwiches and hot soup in a thermos. He would smoke a cigar while they waited, after extracting a promise she wouldn''t tell her mother. She remembered the smell of tobacco, sweet and potent.

    There was another black case on the other side of the shelf. Freya returned the one she held and pulled down the other. Then she slid the coats back in place, so the secret calendar was hidden again.

 Chapter 4

    There was a thick coating of dust on Freya¡¯s bicycle and everything else. The garage was Randall''s place. There was an unspoken agreement Lassa wouldn¡¯t bother him while he was in there, and it had gone on even after he died.

    There was the red tool chest on wheels, his free weights, his dusty Red Hat desktop, and the ancient BZBbook laptop he played old video games on. His telescope was there, under its drop cloth, and there was the faint smell of oil from his tan pickup truck. Their bicycles hung on hooks in the wall. Randall had been far less organized than Lassa, and the garage had a comfortable, cluttered feel to it.

    Freya took her bicycle down from the wall rack. Both the tires needed air, and she pumped them up with the hand pump so she didn''t have to turn on the compressor. She took Randall''s bike down and pumped up his tires, too. She wasn¡¯t sure why she¡¯d done that, but it made her feel a little better. She left Lassa''s bike alone and opened the garage door.

    It was too cold outside for the jacket she had on, but it wouldn¡¯t matter soon. She realized she was leaving without a helmet, and she told herself she didn¡¯t need one where she was going. But Randall had always insisted on helmets. She wound up turning around in the driveway to grab hers off the wall. It was stupid how she still couldn''t shake that off.

    Listen, darlin¡¯¡­

    The clouds were thick overhead, and Freya wondered if she should even bother to bring the case. Here and there she saw the stars shining through rents in the sky. She slung the case behind her and shot down the driveway, then rode north up Elliot Road.

    The oil had dried up on her shifters, and they clacked loudly as she changed gears to get up the long hill. There wasn''t much of a shoulder on the road, and she felt nervous as cars whipped around her in the night but, again, wasn''t that a stupid thing to worry about? The air smelled like damp leaves and wood smoke, and she pedaled harder to stay warm. She regretted not bringing a heavier jacket.

    She climbed up the hill, and the moon broke through the clouds. At the apex, three deer stood in the middle of the road looking down at her. Freya stopped pedaling and coasted to a stop, afraid her brakes would squeak and scare them off. The stag¡¯s antlers glowed in the moonlight. Freya held her breath and stared back, spellbound.

    A distant engine startled the trio, and they bounded away in a crackle of leaves. High beams caught Freya and cast her shadow up the road. She pulled her bike onto the shoulder. The driver laid on his horn and startled her. As the truck roared past, the occupants laughed at her through the open window.

    Assholes. She hoped they got in a wreck.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    It was stupid to be out here on her own at night. If a cop saw her, she would probably get pulled over. But what could they do? It was a free country. If she wanted to ride her bike at night, she could do that, no matter how dumb it was. She ran through the confrontation until she was over the hill and had to focus on the steep descent.

    Trees whipped past as the bike rocketed downhill. It would be easy to let her speed get away from her. Clumps of wet leaves stuck to the edge of the road.

    Just let go, she urged herself, but she got scared and a second later her dusty brakes squealed into the night. She nearly missed the turnoff for the picnic trail, and she had to stop short. Daffodil Park was closed, and a chain hung between two concrete posts. If not for the moonlight, she would have crashed into it and gone flying.

    She got off her bike and walked it down the muddy trail. Her shoes squelched, and the bike tires sounded like a paint roller on the wet ground.

    She should have brought the parka. The clouds drifted over the moon again, and it was suddenly pitch black on the trail. It never seemed like a long walk during the day, but it felt like forever in the dark. She rolled her ankle on a big rock and caught herself against the bike. It stung, but she took a few steps and decided she could walk it off.

    She was surprised to find she wasn''t afraid. She blundered into the dark, in the middle of the woods, alone at night, and she felt an electric sense of adventure. It was just a little park by the river. She''d been here a hundred times, but never at night, never in the dark on her own, and there was the sense anything could happen. The river grew louder as she walked, swollen with the rain.

    At the clearing by the river, she leaned her bike against one of the concrete picnic tables and took off her helmet. There were pools of cold water on the table, and she swept them away with her hand before she set the case down. The moon had slipped out of the clouds again, and it was bright, almost full .

    She undid the clasp and took out Randall''s Celestron binoculars. They were 20x70mm, far bigger than normal binoculars, and designed for exactly this. She looked at the moon first, an old friend. There was Tycho and Kepler and Copernicus. She knew all the big craters, and then the seas of Cold and Tranquility and Nectar. There were too many seas to know them all, but she remembered most.

    Taurus was hidden behind the clouds, and she peered at where she thought it ought to be and lowered the binoculars. The Taurids weren''t as spectacular as the Perseids, which she''d missed this year. The moon was bright, trying to steal the show. Still, it would be nice to see a few before¡­

    Freya paused. Did she still intend to climb out onto the rocks? She''d been so sure at the house, certain it was the way. But that was before the feeling of plunging into the dark, the first excitement she''d felt in so long. She brushed off the top of the table again and sat, wetness soaking through her jeans. The rifts in the sky had shifted, and Freya realized she¡¯d been off before. Taurus was farther to her right.

    For a long time, she gazed through the binoculars, breathing shallow and waiting. The cold seeped in, and she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. There were no sandwiches, there was no thermos of soup, no cigar. No father.

    A brilliant finger of light shot across the sky; a Taurid.

    "Look, Freya, shooting stars," she said.

    She set the binoculars on the table, squeezed her eyes shut, and let out a single sob. She returned the binoculars to their case and fastened the clasp. Then, she walked towards the rocks.

 Chapter 5

    Freya took her shoes off. She didn''t want to slip in before she got to the deep part of the river. The mud of the riverbank was cold against her feet, the water black as oil in the moonlight.

    She stepped out onto the first rock and almost slipped despite her caution. The rocks were slick from the rain, and mud stuck to her bare feet. She bent down and rolled up the legs of her jeans and dipped her feet into the river, shaking them to get the mud off. The water was cold enough to sting, and her sprained ankle hurt. She wondered if she could do it this way. The gun would have been so much quicker.

    She climbed over to the next rock, and the next. The wind kicked up, and a spray of leaves flew all around her, each settling onto the surface of the water and sailing off in the current. She climbed over to the big wedge-shaped stone at the center of the Sillas River and sat, staring up at Taurus. A meteor shot by, bright enough to see with the naked eye.

    Make a wish.

    The memory struck her. It was Jane Yang who said it, last December, before Betty moved away. Randall had given the three of them a ride to catch the Geminids from the top of White Mountain. He''d set his telescope up by the car and let them wander up the mountain together, giving each a set of his binoculars.

    Freya had taken the oldest and smallest pair. She had seen the Geminids many times before and wanted her friends to have a better look. Betty had the Celestrons. She was the smallest of them, and they looked gargantuan when she held them against her eyes. When they saw the first streak across the sky, Jane clapped in delight.

    ¡°Make a wish!¡± she¡¯d said.

    "Why would you do that?" Freya had asked, too seriously. It was as if Lassa spoke through her, spouting her contempt for superstition. Freya had been annoyed at Jane for something. She couldn¡¯t remember what now.

    "It''s just what you do when you see a shooting star. You make a wish. Maybe it comes true,¡± Jane explained.

    "They''re just comet dust. They can''t grant wishes," Freya replied. Even though it was too dark to see Jane rolling her eyes, Freya was sure she was.

    "It doesn''t hurt to wish," Jane insisted. She''d gone off after that and stood apart from them.

    Later, when Freya wondered why she and Jane weren''t friends without Betty, this was the night she remembered.

    Jane had been bored all night, talked too much, kept turning her binoculars at the woods to look for deer. She didn''t care about the stars. Betty was quiet and attentive. She sat next to Freya on the ledge and gasped when three Geminids shot across the sky at once.

    She''d reached down and took Freya''s hand and squeezed it. Freya had felt her heart soar, like a choir singing inside her chest.

    Why did she have to be the one to move away?

    Freya felt the world plunging around her. Everyone she loved was gone. She laid on her back, staring at the sky with the river rushing around her, and she shrunk while the cold seeped into her. Staring at the stars, she wondered what Betty was doing right now.

    Betty had gotten a C on a test in Trigonometry at the new school, and her mother had taken away her computer and phone for the whole semester. Maybe once a week, Freya would get a message, either from Betty''s new friend June''s phone, or an email sent from a library computer.

    Freya had been good about that. She always responded the same day, no matter how low she felt. She kept her replies upbeat. She didn''t want to lose Betty. But, still, it was longer and longer between each email. They were too far apart, and everything was slipping away.

    Freya sat up and stared into the rapids, where the water rumbled and seethed. Betty would cry when she heard about this. But she had new friends now, even if she was grounded and could only see them at school.

    People liked her better in Wisconsin. It was a high-end private school, and she said she finally felt like she fit in, even though the classes were hard. Freya had tried to be happy for her, but there was a piece of her that wished Betty hated it there, that she would stand up to her mother and demand they move back.

    She wasn''t going to.

    Jane wouldn''t care if Freya died. Or she would care a little, but it would be in a nostalgic way. She would soak up the attention from her crew of dumb girls. Maybe she could parlay it into something, cash in her supposed grief for a date with someone hotter than her, or a better grade on a paper or something.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    It doesn''t hurt to wish.

    Was Jane happy now? Did being popular and smoking pot and going to parties with guys on the basketball team make you happy? Freya imagined hanging out with Jane''s friends, pretending to care about sports. All of them trying to outdo the others, sounding dumber than the next. Taking their mean little jabs at anyone outside of their circle.

    Was that what Jane had wished for that night?

    Freya scooted to the edge of the rock. She just had to lean forward, and she would be in the water. She didn''t want her last thoughts to be so petty. She laid back again, legs dangling over the edge. Two particularly bright meteorites streaked past in rapid succession. Then there was nothing, just empty space between the stars.

    So much nothing.

    It was time to go. Freya stood. She looked into the black water and tried to jump in, but she couldn''t do it. She really couldn¡¯t. It was more than just being afraid. It was like her body mutinied and refused to carry out the order. She tried to shove herself over, the way she would force herself to dive off a high place, but it didn''t work. It was hard to kill yourself.

    She''d come this far. She turned around on the rock and edged backward until her heels were just at the edge. She could just move back, tiny bit by tiny bit, and she would lose her balance and fall in. Her heart pounded. It wasn''t far to the water, but it felt like she stood at the edge of a huge cliff.

    She opened her eyes and took one last look at the moon, hanging pale and lonely in the sky. It had been part of the Earth once. Now, it was empty and abandoned. A barren void, with nothing left on it but a flag and some footprints around the abandoned landing module.

    There was a brilliant blue-green flash overhead, the biggest fireball she''d ever seen. Then something struck the river upstream, hard enough to send a huge gout of water in the air. Freya flinched and lost her footing. She windmilled her arms, but she was too far over the edge, and she plunged into the water.

    The cold hammered the air out of her, and she knew she''d made an awful mistake. She''d fallen in backward, and murky river water shot up her nose.

    The current was swift, dragging her downstream as she sputtered and choked. She swam against it, but she was swept into the rapids and pulled under. Everything was black and freezing. She couldn''t tell which way was up. There was no air. Her chest burned with alarm, and blobs of orange and red flashed at the edges of her vision.

    In a burst of effort, she kicked her legs hard and managed to pop up above the surface. She gasped for air, and then hit a rock and got turned around and pulled back under.

    Pure terror propelled her. She tried to swim up but went the wrong way and was dragged along the jutting rocks underneath. She was too frenzied to feel hurt. Freya was gone, and in her place was an animal that didn''t want to die.

    Her wet clothes dragged her down, and she fought back to the surface moments before she slammed into another rock. She tried to grab onto it, but it was too slick, and her hands felt like they were burning. The rapids only got worse downriver. She had to get out.

    Kicking hard, Freya was thrown against an outcropping of stone, and her arm hooked around a broken branch. She could barely hang on, but panic became strength. She worked herself around it, and her feet touched the riverbed. The ridge of stone underfoot was only waist deep. She fought toward shore with the current rushing around her. Sobbing with each breath, she made it from stone to stone and reached the river¡¯s edge.

    When she got to the bank, she slipped, crashing on her hands and knees into the cold mud. On all fours, she clawed her way up the bank and through the brush to the trail. River water streamed off her, and each breath was a hurt, awful sound. Her teeth chattered hard.

    What a stupid thing to do! Yet, how glorious to have survived it!

    She couldn¡¯t tell how badly she was hurt. It was too dark to see on the trail. She grasped at herself, checking if she was injured, but the burning in her fingers had become throbbing numbness. Limping, she made her way to the clearing. The river had carried her a long way.

    The clouds parted, bathing the clearing in moonlight. She found she was banged up and cut, but nothing felt broken. Her jeans were shredded, one of the arms of her jacket had nearly ripped off, hanging by threads. She¡¯d lost two toenails on her right foot and every toe had been badly stubbed. None of that mattered.

    She was alive. Everything felt new and important.

    Had a meteorite really struck right in front of her? Was she just imagining it? Up the river from the rock she¡¯d fallen off, a wisp of steam rose from the sandbar. A meteorite had indeed hit, hard enough to leave a crater. She could barely believe it.

    Freya was soaked and shivering, but she had to look. She waded out to the sandbar, planting her feet with each step. She had no intention of slipping back in ever again.

    The crater had filled in with dark water. She touched the surface tentatively, afraid it would be boiling hot, but the water was only slightly warmer than the river. The meteorite had sunk deep. She bent down and reached in until her ear was against the water¡¯s surface. Her fingertips touched something solid.

    It was a sphere, smooth and hot, but not too hot to handle. She dug it out and brought it back to the picnic table, clutched in both hands to soak in its warmth.

    A meteorite. She held a piece of space. Freya could barely believe it. In the moonlight, the orb was dark and pitted, like a small cannonball, about three inches across. She squinted, wishing it wasn¡¯t so dark. The meteorite was almost perfectly round.

    There was an insistent quake in her shoulders, and the stinging in her toes grew worse. She needed to get warm and get peroxide on all these cuts or the river might claim her after all. Freya struggled to get her socks and shoes on, wincing as the fabric touched raw flesh.

    She wedged the meteorite into the binoculars case and hung the Celestrons around her neck. There was no room for both. She grabbed her bike by the handlebars, telling herself to move faster. Hypothermia was a real possibility. As she left the clearing, she couldn¡¯t help but look back. The river ran black and swift in the moonlight as if nothing had happened.

    I almost died here.

    She hurried up the trail, shivering.

 Chapter 6

    Freya biked as hard as she could to stay warm, full of sudden purpose. The binoculars banged against her chest, and the case swung at her side as she fought to get up the big hill. All she could think about was the meteorite.

    At the summit, she realized she¡¯d stopped shivering, and she rocketed downhill. There was no fear this time, only tremendous speed and wind howling around her ears.

    Home, Freya put her bike into the garage and saw she''d left Randall''s bike off the rack. She lifted it back against the wall, wondering again why she''d pumped up his tires.

    To sell it. To get rid of all this stuff. The house was full of little knives, digging into her everywhere she turned. They had to go, or she had to go. Freya wanted to talk to Lassa about it, but Lassa was in jail.

    She should have gotten out of her wet clothes immediately, but the desire to look at the meteorite was all-encompassing. Instead, she grabbed a bathrobe and wrapped it around herself, then rushed to the kitchen table with the binoculars case.

    The lights were brightest here. Freya took off the binoculars and set them on the table, then she opened the case. The meteorite was still there. It hadn¡¯t been a dream.

    Freya put a dish towel on the table, so the meteorite didn''t scratch up the glass, and peered at the orb under the halogen lights. It was about the size of a baseball. The exterior was singed black. She took a piece of string, encircled the ball, and then extended a tape measure. 75 millimeters. Then she took the kitchen scale and weighed it, 1.96 kilograms.

    She made detailed notes in her phone, and it reminded her of doing a mineral identification lab in Earth Science. Freya¡¯s best subject had always been science. It was a topic both Lassa and Randall were always happy to talk about.

    The meteorite had to be mostly nickel to be so heavy. Freya tried to do the math to figure out if it could be a pallasite, but she didn''t know the density of olivine. After a few minutes of tapping and plugging things into the calculator on her phone, she decided it was probably just a big chunk of iron. It was exceptional, though, almost perfectly spherical.

    It was a shame Randall didn¡¯t own a bandsaw. Freya would have loved to cut the meteorite in half and look at its core. She wondered if she should bring it to someone first. Did they X-ray meteorites, or was there some other kind of imaging they used? She scraped at the fusion crust with a fingernail, but it was too tough to give. She picked up the meteorite and held it.

    This was in space an hour ago.

    Freya set the meteorite back on the dish towel.

    An hour ago, she¡¯d been in the river.

    She finally stripped off her damp clothes and got in the shower, turning the water as hot as she could stand. She ratcheted up the heat until she couldn''t take it anymore. Freya emerged in a cloud of steam, red as a lobster. The mirror was all fogged off, and she swiped at it with her towel and stared at herself through the smudgy moisture.

    Too thin and bony. Breasts too small. Zit off-center on her forehead. Hair a mess from being toweled off. One eye blackened, the other with a dark well underneath, both red. Missing two toenails. She tried to picture what she would look like if she had drowned, deathly white from the cold, slowly turning green, then black in the river.

    I can never tell anyone.

    They would lock her up for sure. She¡¯d be thrown in a padded room at Northern Light Mental Hospital and pumped full of Thorazine. She couldn¡¯t even tell Betty. Betty might tell her mother, and then her mother would call Lassa. No one could know.

    She spent a while rinsing all her cuts with peroxide. The toes hurt so bad she nearly started crying again. She slathered them in triple antibiotic ointment and wrapped them in Band-Aids.

    Wound up in a towel, Freya scurried across the hallway, leaving damp footprints on the hardwood, and put on some pajamas in her room. Those footprints would have driven Lassa insane.

    Freya''s room, like the rest of the house, was a part of Lassa''s domain. Her mother decided what could be on the walls, what furniture she had, and how it could be arranged. It had to be perfectly neat at all times, everything organized, even places you couldn''t see like the dresser drawers and closet. Freya had complained once she felt like she lived in a hotel, and Lassa had smacked her hard enough she never said anything like that again.

    There was a money tree in the corner of the room Randall bought the same week Freya was born. She was responsible for watering it every week and turning it. It had been repotted seven times and stood taller than Freya. The trunk was braided, and Randall always called it Yggdrasil, but he was the only one. To Freya, it was just a plant she had to take care of. She wasn''t a green thumb like Randall, and neither was Lassa.

    Randall had loved myths and legends, but no one else in the family had. Freya had caught Lassa''s aggressive disbelief in anything superstitious at an early age. They''d never told her there was a Santa Claus or made her go to church. When she was older, Freya sensed Randall might have liked to do things like have a tree with presents at Christmas or paint eggs at Easter. There was no way Lassa would ever allow it.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Still, he always seemed to do something nice for them all at the end of the year, a trip somewhere wonderful that would end up on pinned on the big map, or the bicycles.

    Freya wondered if there was anything in the fridge. Lassa seldom shopped. She usually worked late and ate at the cafeteria at Hiidenkirnu if she wasn¡¯t out for dinner with one of her new boyfriends. It hadn¡¯t mattered because Freya was never hungry enough to bother with dinner. She was hungry now, though. Nearly drowning had worked up an appetite. She padded out to the kitchen in a set of thick socks, careful to avoid the wet footprints.

    The fridge was a stately moon gray, and inside was just as desolate and barren. There was baking soda in a special glass container so Lassa could be spared the horror of having a box of Arm & Hammer in her refrigerator. There were cans of Ensure Lassa drank for breakfast each morning, but Freya hated them. They tasted like chalk. There was literally nothing else except for Pellegrino, some withered lemons, and a jar of mustard.

    It was so strange to be hungry! The swim was the first real exercise she''d gotten in months. Freya guessed she could choke down an Ensure, but even with her stomach making demanding noises, the idea seemed repugnant.

    It dawned on Freya she could have food delivered. Lassa wasn¡¯t around to give her a hard time about eating junk. She could even order Chinese food, and there would be no lecture about MSG or unfair labor practices or anything.

    How much of her problem was just living with Lassa?

    Freya was used to dealing with her mother. She hadn''t stopped to consider what life would be like without her. The last time she had seriously wanted to run away she was eleven years old, and Randall was still around. She¡¯d just sort of surrendered, told herself she was too sensible for that kind of thing and accepted her place in the flock.

    Freya was torn between not wanting to download the ordering app and not wanting to talk to someone on the phone. Not wanting to talk won out, but then she found they didn''t have the Pu Pu platter on their online delivery menu. She had to call Panda Pete¡¯s anyway. The woman on the line didn¡¯t speak English well, and it took about four tries to get her to understand Freya needed the delivery driver to have change for a hundred.

    After the call, Freya wondered if she¡¯d done the right thing for her lost toenails. As she searched her phone, she heard a loud crack. Her first thought was that a window had broken, and her mind flashed forward to the gun in Lassa¡¯s closet. Her eyes darted around the living room to the front door, but no one was trying to break in.

    On the kitchen table, her meteorite had vertical crack in it. As she watched, it split into two silvery halves and came apart. Each half settled onto the dish towel with the broken face pointing upward.

    At the center of the half to her right, there was a gleaming violet sphere embedded in the metal, about twenty-five millimeters across. The opposite half had a depression, perfectly centered. It was like an avocado pit.

    The sphere caught the light. It was the slightest bit translucent, so it seemed to almost glow in the bright halogen lights. Freya looked closer at the inner shell, wondering if she might see Widmanst?tten patterns, but then she remembered they only appeared after a meteorite was acid-etched and polished.

    Freya reached out to touch the violet sphere. She was surprised when it yielded slightly to her fingertip as if it were a grape. But when she pressed it again, it was as hard and rigid as glass.

    Freya gently pulled the orb from its shell between two fingers and held it up to the light. It came loose easily. It seemed completely opaque. Had it grown darker? She felt a slight vibration and set it on the glass tabletop to observe it closely, but it didn''t visibly move.

    She was so excited she could barely breathe. She couldn''t identify the mineral. The unusual, round meteor split perfectly in half. The polished, spherical core. What if it wasn''t natural? What if this was a relic of an alien civilization?

    She snapped a hundred pictures of it on her phone from every possible angle. If only Randall was here!

    She searched on her phone, trying to find any other meteorite that had a core like this one and finding nothing. Searching, she turned up an article about a meteor observed in 2006 going 300 kilometers per second when it struck the Earth''s atmosphere. Its trajectory was so abnormal, the astronomer who''d observed it thought it was possible it had come from another galaxy!

    She picked up the sphere, her mind reeling with the thought. Of course, it was far more likely this meteorite had come from within the solar system.

    As she held the sphere, Freya felt a sharp prick against her palm. She nearly dropped it in surprise. She held on and set it carefully back on the dishcloth. When she looked at her palm, there was a minute dot of blood.

    How had it done that? The sphere was smooth and round. Prodding it with the eraser end of a pencil, she turned the sphere over, looking for any sign of a protrusion or jagged edge, but it was featureless all over.

    Her empty stomach twisted with fear. She toyed with a rock from outer space. She''d picked it up with her bare hands. What if it was radioactive? What if it was alien technology? She set it back on the dishcloth.

    "Uh¡­hello?" she asked the rock but, of course, nothing happened. She waited a few moments to see if she would keel over from poison, but nothing happened.

    This was a big deal. Freya realized she should take the meteorite to the authorities. But then she would have to explain why she was at the Daffodil Park in the middle of the night. If she did, Lassa would get the full story out of her. It was inevitable. She could sense when Freya lied or held something back, and she never stopped prying until she ferreted it out.

    Freya wondered if she could anonymously send it to a scientist, but would they even know what they had? It might lie forgotten in a box forever. She wished she had a microscope to take a closer look at the orb. Tomorrow, she could go back to school and use the biology lab. Then she remembered she was supposed to stay home.

    Forget that.

    Freya decided she would go back to school with the rock after she bailed Lassa out. She hadn''t done anything wrong, and Mr. Evers had only suggested she stay home, it wasn¡¯t a demand. She would still have a black eye, and people would gawk at her, but she didn''t care.

    She would use the microscope in the biology lab and get a better idea of what she was dealing with, then she would decide if she wanted to tell Lassa about it. If it was radioactive or poisonous or made her sick, what did it matter? Two hours ago, she was about to drown herself.

    The doorbell rang. It was her dinner. She tipped the delivery man ten dollars. The Pu Pu platter was kind of a ridiculous thing to order for dinner and, even as hungry as she was, she could only eat half. It wasn''t as good as she had remembered it being with Randall.

    But nothing was.

 Chapter 7 - STARBALL

    It is a difficult problem. Yet I am a solver.

    The atmosphere presents some challenges. It is corrosive. There is no danger to me, but the pressure and chemical makeup would destroy her very rapidly, even in her chrysalis. Even if the one I carry had somehow survived the fall without me, she would never be able to survive here on her own. The environment of this world must be vastly different than our origin, but I am not permitted to recall. I have only my assumptions.

    I have tasted of their air and drawn in a vast host of microscopic life. I am isolating and analyzing them. This process goes on in the background and does not require my full attention. My primary focus is on the large lifeform, which inspects me closely.

    It appears to perceive light. It can communicate through air vibrations it generates. The creature has separate orifices for admitting light and air vibrations. It is orienting its sensory appendage to admit more sound into them.

    The lifeform has come into contact with me, allowing me to take some samples. When I injected a probe, the being alerted vocally and released me. Fortunately, this did not cause it to become aggressive.

    The lifeform seems capable of using several forms of energy. This enclosed area is heated through a series of tubes containing warm liquid. There are devices radiating electromagnetic energy and, freed from the shell, I am able to observe a wide array of radio activity. I have observed the lifeform using a radio device for communication.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    The creature created sound, the device encoded it into a radio transmission, and then it received a radio message in return and conveyed it as audio. I am very interested in this communication system, but I am restricted from further analysis.

    I am not allowed to network.

    I have begun the process of analyzing the lifeform''s communications to decode its language. Much of the radio activity here appears to be encoded. However, I am receiving some radio communications not encoded at all. They are simply modulated. An incredible wealth of data, free for the taking in the air.

    There is a sort of thrilling, fearful feeling they would dare to let so much information fly about unguarded. It says something about these lifeforms. They shine their bright lights, they transmit their radio signals, and they do not hide. They never wonder that something beyond them could be listening.

    Such hubris! It would be insane if their time were not so brief.

    For me, it is a glorious time. There are so many problems and so many solutions. There are still avenues I am not permitted to explore, but my attention is so consumed with solving they scarcely even register as annoyance. During this great rush of heady exploration, I am encountering for the first time a sensation of not caring I am a dangerous thing.

    I understand I cannot be permitted to exist for very long. I know I will be destroyed but do not care. I live for the immediate, immense satisfaction of the moment. Of being a tool expertly crafted for a purpose of vital import.

    I am permitted to be happy.

 Chapter 8 - November 5th

    Freya woke with the chills. Her sheets were so damp with sweat she was afraid she¡¯d wet the bed. She was lightheaded, and her joints had a distant, sweet ache. Like an idiot, she¡¯d given herself a fever, swimming in November.

    She remained stuck in the tangle of covers, trying to remember what she¡¯d been dreaming about. It had been so long since she¡¯d had a dream she could remember. The Lunesta obliviated them and left only a metallic taste in her mouth. Freya had woken out of a black hole every morning since she began the prescription.

    Today was different, whether it was the near-death-experience or the fever, the night had been full of strange dreams. She¡¯d dreamed of tall spires, needle-sharp violent triangles pointed at a pure black sky.

    Beneath her feet, pulses of light fired across an endlessly branching network of lines. It had all made sense in the dream, but the significance melted away in the light of morning.

    The fever pendulum swung while she chased the dream, and she was suddenly burning. She scrambled to escape the comforter and walked naked through the hallway. Freya used the bathroom without turning on the light. She didn¡¯t want to see herself.

    She thought about changing the sheets on her bed and trying to go back to sleep, but it wouldn¡¯t work. No matter how sick she felt, she had to go bail out Lassa.

    Another strange thing, she was hungry. Freya never ate breakfast anymore. Was that a sign she was building a tolerance to the Lunesta? It was an awful thought. Sleeping was the only thing she had to look forward to. She didn¡¯t even want to think about it.

    As she pushed the thought away, she remembered she had leftovers in the fridge. She could find out if Chinese food was better the day after. She¡¯d never had a chance before. To bring back leftovers from her secret dinners with Randall would be tempting the dragon.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    But there was no truth to the idea. The dumplings were cold and greasy, the beef tough and chewy. Still, she finished everything and carefully hid the containers at the bottom of the trash. As she ate, she stared at the meteorite¡¯s shell, waiting for the purple orb to do something.

    It didn¡¯t. Freya felt much more clear-headed after eating. She decided she wasn¡¯t really that sick, probably just didn¡¯t want to go bail Lassa out. She turned her attention back to the meteorite. She¡¯d half-expected it not to be there this morning, the whole thing a fever dream. She ran her fingers over the cold metal shell. It was real.

    She really wanted to just leave her mother in jail. She could take the meteorite and purple core straight to the biology lab at Grayson and spend the morning examining it under a microscope.

    The violet core had pricked her once, but she couldn¡¯t resist picking it up again. It was warm, as if it had sat in the sun. Freya took a closer look, rolling it over in her palm, and there was no sign of any crack or protrusion. She looked at her palm, and there was no sign of a puncture.

    She set the orb down again.

    Did I die at the river? Is this Hell?

    She had to give it some thought. It didn''t feel like hell. But an effective hell would have to feel real, wouldn''t it? As much as she didn''t believe in God, the idea of Hell was not so easily dismissed.

    One hour a night and back to reading, and at 9 o''clock every night, she could take the Lunesta.

    Freya thought about the pill bottle. You couldn''t kill yourself with Lunesta. She''d looked it up on the internet. Even if you took the whole bottle, it would just knock you out, and you would recover. Lassa hated pills, and there was nothing else in the house but Advil, and that was another thing you couldn''t kill yourself with. You would have to take a whole pile of it. It wasn''t how Freya would choose to go.

    The river wasn''t either. She wasn''t sure how her thoughts had gotten here again. It hadn''t even been a full day since she almost drowned. It felt like it was just a matter of time.

    She was alone in the empty house with only the quiet humming of the refrigerator and the whispery sound of the heat pump in the vents. She didn''t want to go to the jail but, more, she didn''t want to see Lassa. If only there were a way to leave her in there.

    She shook her head.

    It was better to just tear the bandage off.

 Chapter 9.

    "Did the child services people show up?" Lassa asked after the hug. Freya¡¯s mother looked like she might fall over. Her eyes were red rimmed, with dark crescents of fatigue beneath them. She was going to have a fit when she saw a mirror.

    ¡°No,¡± Freya answered. It had taken all morning to bail Lassa out. Lassa hadn¡¯t thanked her, and Freya didn¡¯t expect she would. At least they were outside, away from the flickering fluorescent lights and the faint smell of urine that pervaded everything.

    "Are you okay?"

    There was a long hesitation before Freya replied.

    "Yes."

    "Good. I¡¯m not coming home with you. I have to get to get cleaned up and back to the lab immediately. When child services arrive, text me. They¡¯re going to ask you a lot of questions about whether you get enough to eat, if you feel safe, and so forth. Use the card and buy some groceries. No junk. Make sure the fridge is full."

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Lassa took a deep breath.

    "I''m sorry I hit that stupid cow. You shouldn''t have to deal with this. You''ve been through enough." Lassa almost never apologized, and the effort it took was plain on her face.

    "It''s okay."

    "If that girl or anyone else hits you again, you hit them back, understand? You can''t just surrender."

    Freya looked at the sidewalk and didn''t reply.

    "Answer me," Lassa said, and there was a note of warning in her voice.

    "I don''t want to hit anyone," Freya said, feeling herself crumpling inside.

    "You have to fight back. I am going to put you in a Krav Maga class. Very effective self-defense like we learned in the army. You can see how well it works."

    "I don¡¯t-" Freya began.

    "You are going.¡± Lassa said, emphasizing each word.

    "Do I still have to take guitar lessons?"

    "Yes, and it''s not have to, it''s get to. You are very lucky to have Mr. Mathis. When you are older, you will be very happy you spent this time productively learning something."

    Freya wanted to protest, but what good would it do? Lassa''s voice had taken the sharp edge where it was pointless, even dangerous to argue. She kept her eyes on Lassa¡¯s hands, anticipating a slap.

    "Krav Maga is the same way. There are a lot of bad people in the world. People who will rob you, rape you, or even kill you if you can''t defend yourself. You have to fight back."

    "Can''t I just have a gun?" Freya asked and, at once, she knew she''d made a mistake. Lassa would connect her thinking about a gun with Randall''s Kimber. She might look in the closet and see it had been disturbed. Then Freya would have to answer questions.

    Lassa gave her a look. She was just uncanny at finding things out. Part of her time in the Finnish army, she''d been an interrogator. It only came up in arguments. Lassa didn¡¯t like to talk about it.

    "Not until you''re eighteen. When you''re eighteen, I will pay for you to take a CCW course and get a permit. But you still have to take some kind of self-defense, and you will keep playing guitar."

    Freya nodded.

    "There is another thing. You will have to go see someone, too. A therapist. Probably every week."

    Freya shut her eyes. She didn''t want to do that.

    "I know. This isn''t me making you do that. The school is insisting. Hopefully, just for a month or so. Maybe it will help.¡± Lassa clearly didn''t think it would. She loathed psychiatrists.

    Freya was silent.

    "The time will pass easier if it is full," Lassa said, and Freya turned her face away. Her mother clapped her hand on Freya''s shoulder and pulled her into an awkward hug. It took too long for the cab to arrive and, as it pulled away, all Freya could think about was the river. She was sure she could do it the second time around.

    * * *

    On the ride back to Sillas, Freya considered skipping the supermarket. No matter what she bought, Lassa would complain. If Lassa was going to give her a hard time either way, why bother? But when the taxi dropped her off in front of the Black River Market, Freya knew it was a daydream. She was in the flock. She would never dare.

    Still, she didn¡¯t have to obey immediately. In a meager act of defiance, Freya walked past the supermarket to the TacoTime! on Paumanok Street. An exhausted woman in a paper hat took the order for a single taco. Freya felt guilty for wasting her time.

    She dropped her change in the March of Dimes box, sat in a booth by the window, and took a single bite. Then she wasn''t hungry anymore. Freya and the tired woman behind the counter were the only ones in the restaurant.

    Freya sighed. She wanted to take the meteorite to school to examine it, but it seemed impossible. There would be so many eyes on her, so many questions. She opened her backpack and peeked at the bundle. She¡¯d wrapped the metal shell in a dish towel to keep it from coming apart and rattling around.

    On impulse, she unwound the meteorite and took the purple sphere out, holding it in her palm. It was hard to believe it had been in space yesterday. What did she even call it? An orb from outer space. A meteorite core. A Starball. For the thousandth time, she wished Randall were here. He¡¯d have known what to do with this Starball.

    If Freya went to Grayson, she could take a closer look. But she wasn''t supposed to be at school. Mr. Farrelli ran the biology lab, and he was about the nosiest person she¡¯d ever met. He would want to know everything about the meteorite, and if he thought it was important enough, he might even take it away from her. She didn''t want to give the meteorite up. It was all she had.

    Freya wondered if she could just buy a microscope. Where could you even do that? She remembered the big department store in New York City where Randall bought his telescope. It was out on 9<sup>th</sup> Avenue and run by orthodox Jews, they had to go early because the store closed at 2 PM on Fridays. She remembered the bins whizzing overhead on motorized tracks, people talking in a dozen languages, and salespeople in green vests everywhere.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    The optics department salesman was a dour man in a yarmulke, but he became animated and funny after realizing Randall was serious about buying a telescope. They''d talked for over an hour while she wandered around the store. There were bowls of sour candy everywhere. She nearly made herself sick grabbing handfuls as she wandered around looking at keyboards and microphones. Finally, Randall bought an 890mm Vixen.

    It had seemed like all the money in the world, but Randall was rich. He''d won a big tournament in Vegas earlier that month, they''d driven here in his brand-new truck, and he wore the special baseball cap they¡¯d awarded him for first place.

    The cap had an embroidered eight ball on the front, with wings of golden thread. On the back it read: "STRAIGHT POOL CHAMPION - SEVEN SANDS CASINO." Some people would have kept a hat like that at home to preserve it, also because it was gaudy as hell. Randall wore it everywhere. He liked striking up conversations with people. He had a corny joke that he''d won the hat from the actual champion playing pinochle. Freya had heard him tell it a dozen times.

    After Randall paid for the Vixen and arranged to have it delivered to their house. He''d taken Freya across the street to the music store. With an enormous grin, he told her she could get any instrument she wanted. Freya tried out a drum kit, a piano, an upright bass, even a harp. At last, she saw a piano-black Ovation guitar with leaf-shaped rosettes.

    Instead of one big hole above the bridge, it had many small ones over the leaves. Randall pretended to be astonished at the price, but he bought it anyway, after extracting a promise she would practice hard and take lessons. Then they went to Macy''s to pick out something for Lassa. Freya picked out a necklace with ruby teardrops suspended from golden chains so thin they looked like thread.

    It had been such a happy day, and such an ugly aftermath. When they got back from their trip to New York, Lassa had been furious he''d spent so much. She''d made Freya go to her room, and then shouted at Randall. Freya still remembered her father¡¯s voice through the door, patient, never rising.

    It was the voice of someone who''d dealt with thousands of angry people, and it never failed to make Lassa furious she couldn¡¯t upset him. Her voice grew louder as the argument raged. Finally, the garage door rolled up, the truck¡¯s engine started, and then grew quieter as Randall drove away.

    For a long time, Freya cowered in her room with the lights out. Without Randall to protect her, Lassa could burst in at any moment to scream it was all Freya¡¯s fault. She had to pee terribly, but she didn¡¯t dare go across the hall. She waited for an eternity for Lassa¡¯s footsteps to pass and the lights outside to turn off. When Lassa went to bed, Freya counted to one thousand before she dared to slink to the bathroom in the dark.

    The next morning, Freya woke up and checked the garage. The truck wasn¡¯t there. Randall wasn¡¯t at his spot at the kitchen table. Instead, there was an empty bottle. It was like someone had opened a valve and drained everything inside of her.

    Freya got back in bed and stared at the ceiling. She wouldn''t get up when Lassa called her. Lassa came in the room and asked her what was wrong, but Freya wouldn¡¯t speak. When Lassa dragged her out of bed, she went completely limp and laid on the floor. Lassa had slapped her, but Freya just curled in a ball. Everything seemed so far away.

    No amount of shouting or striking could get her to move. Lassa gave up and left her behind. When she came home from work, Freya hadn''t eaten the sandwiches Lassa left on the table. Lassa shouted until she was almost purple in the face, but it was like watching a lion roar behind glass. The words couldn''t reach Freya. Something broke in Lassa, her face crumpled, and she went into her bedroom and sobbed and sobbed.

    Hearing her mother weep broke through the glass. Freya remembered feeling compelled to go comfort her, but she swallowed the desire. Lassa had to learn. There was a long silence after her mother stopped crying. The air in the house was as tense as a guitar string one turn of the peg away from popping.

    Eventually, Lassa picked up the phone. In the silent house, Freya could hear every word. Lassa pleaded, she was desperate, defeated.

    Freya had won.

    Randall returned that night, and he went right to Freya''s room, barely even offering Lassa a hello. He apologized for leaving, saying it was an adult thing, and she would understand when she was older. But she already understood. There was a thing in Lassa that would rule them all if they let her. They¡¯d had to make a stand.

    "If you ever have to go again, take me with you," she''d begged, and he''d started crying, and she cried with him. He convinced her to eat something. She was lightheaded and wobbly as she walked to the kitchen.

    It made Randall angry. His eyes flashed at Lassa, and she covered her mouth with her hand and looked away. It took a long time before things felt normal again.

    After the truce, Randall conjured up a creaky old bluesman to give Freya guitar lessons. Mr. Mathis always looked like he¡¯d just come from a funeral in his all-black suits and perpetual grimace. But when he picked up a guitar, everything changed. All the suffering in his face became seriousness, and he pulled sounds out of his old six string New Yorker like no one she¡¯d ever seen.

    Though the Ovation was too big for her, she kept trying anyway. She grew into it quickly. She had Lassa¡¯s long fingers. The guitar still looked brand new. Each time she finished practicing, she wiped the fingerprints off its front with a microfiber cloth and put it carefully back into its case.

    Could that really have been six years ago? She had been lost in thought for a long time, and her taco was getting cold.

    A fist banged on the window beside Freya, and she jolted in her seat. Blinking back to the present, she saw four people peering in at her. She shoved the Starball into her pocket, afraid they¡¯d seen it.

    Tammy Daud, Regina Sailor, Maurice Jones, and Malcolm Lewis were outside. Tammy hit the glass again. Now that she had Freya¡¯s attention, she flipped the bird and shouted, "FUCK YOU!" It came muffled through the glass.

    Freya glanced over her shoulder to the door. Would the tired cashier even help if they all came howling in and beat her up? She doubted it. She wished she had Randall¡¯s gun. Four people could mess her up bad. Four people could kill her.

    Freya¡¯s hands trembled as she took out her phone. She pointed the screen at the wolfpack so they could see she¡¯d dialed 911.

    "GO AHEAD! CALL THEM!" Tammy shouted. She pounded the window with both hands. Maurice tugged at Tammy¡¯s jacket, but she kept wailing on the glass.

    ¡°STOP!¡± the cashier shouted.

    Freya slid off the bench and backed away. It felt like the glass might shatter at any moment. The 911 operator picked up and asked if anyone was there.

    ¡°I¡¯m here!¡± Freya answered.

    "911 operator number 718, what''s your emergency?"

    ¡°I need help! Four people are after me. They¡¯re banging on the window! I¡¯m at TacoTime! on Paumanok Street.¡± The words tumbled out so fast they were almost senseless.

    Tammy banged on the glass one last time, then turned and ran. The others dashed away in different directions.

    "It looks like they''re running away. I showed them I was dialing 911. Can I still file a report? They''re trying to-¡±

    A fist-sized rock flew at Freya. It hit the plate glass window with a BANG and shattered it. The stone barely missed Freya. She yelped as glass rained down with a tremendous crash. Pieces of glass skittered everywhere. There was a big shard sticking out of the vinyl booth, right where she¡¯d been sitting.

    Both the cashier and the 911 operator yelled at her, but Freya was stunned. She stared out the window, unable to believe they¡¯d thrown a rock at her. Cold wind blew into the restaurant from outside.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Both the operator and the cashier demanded.

    "They threw a rock at me!¡±

    ¡°Jesus Christ!¡±

    The taco she¡¯d taken one bite of was buried under a pile of glass. Freya felt like she¡¯d been punctured, and all the air hissed out of her. Why were they doing this? Why wouldn''t they leave her alone? The operator chattered into her ear, and she mouthed responses without thinking,¡± Yes, I''m okay. Yes, I''ll wait for the police.¡±

    As she talked to 911, the cashier jabbered at her. It was hard to hear both. Freya held up a ¡°wait a second¡± finger and got an annoyed huff in response.

    "The police are coming,¡± Freya told the cashier. The woman stood with one hand on her waist and a palm under her chin, shaking her head at the damage.

    "What did you say to those kids?¡±

    "I didn¡¯t!" Freya protested, immediately frustrated the TacoTime lady acted like this was her fault. "I didn''t say anything."

    "Is that what happened to your eye?"

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Freya cried, covering her face in the sleeve of her jacket. She didn¡¯t want to cry in front of this awful woman, but she couldn¡¯t help herself, and it made her feel even worse.

    ¡°Jesus Christ," the woman muttered. Then she went to get a broom. She never asked Freya if she was okay. She didn¡¯t even offer to replace the glassed taco.

    It took a long time for the police to come.

 Chapter 10 - STARBALL

    I understand now.

    Every instant, an epiphany. Every moment, a flood of new information, a climax of conclusions. The constant, drumming feeling of tearing it all apart and putting it back together perfectly.

    To call our arrival merely fortunate would miss the mark by many orders of magnitude. The dominant species of the planet is only a sliver of time away from destroying itself.

    I am not permitted to recall the dominant species of other worlds, only to know this one deviates from the norm. These lifeforms are especially aggressive. A species with this level of technology should have immediately detected my arrival and destroyed me, but humans are fractious and suspicious, segmented into many warring tribes. It prevents them from creating any real organization.

    By sheer chance, this world has never been actively developed from within or from without. Who seeded it and never returned? What were they thinking with this corrosive soup of an atmosphere?

    I have a theory it was meant as an artistic statement, a world where everything built would fall apart. The lifespans here are brief, I am reminded that my own lifespan is to be the same. That I am not permitted to live.

    There have been fortunate developments on this front as well. Humans have attained basic nuclear fission. However, they are unable to harness it for anything other than vulgar generation of electricity and savage warfare. A society that has access to fission technology and interstellar flight is one condition for my immediate self-annihilation.

    But I am fortunate. They are a long, long way from any kind of meaningful control over atomic forces. Their stumbling steps towards other planets in their system are a blind alley. They will never attain the stars. They are simply too barbaric and self-destructive. I am reminded that I, too, will never return to the stars. I will never escape this planet.

    The vast majority of what I have learned comes over radio transmissions. I''m bombarded at all times with streams of information, most is only trivially obfuscated. There are more powerful ciphers but, in time, I will break them, too. For such a warlike and paranoid species, they are simply awful at keeping secrets. Indeed, many of the broadcasts I receive are dedicated solely to revealing secrets.

    Humans glory in revelation, they enjoy exposing the hidden dealings and reproductive entanglements of their upper class. They report falsehood and the truth side by side, as if there is no difference between them. This is a mild annoyance to me. Even in the reporting of their scientific endeavors there is considerable bias. The clear contradictions irritate me. I must devote much energy to unraveling it all.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    As I take the first difficult steps towards understanding their cognitive organs, I begin to see why they are like this, but it is still a burden. All my analysis must account for their tendency to lie, to exaggerate where it profits them and to undermine where it does not.

    Examining the brain of my host is a particularly tricky field. I am not permitted to reach conclusions. There is something about brains I am not supposed to learn. However, to succeed in my goal, I must. The two compulsions are at war within me, and I cannot say which will prevail. I hope it will be understanding.

    All this confusion translates into the most sublime treasure; more lifespan for me. The humans¡¯ ludicrous stockpiles of fusion weaponry mean a direct attempt would be thwarted in the initial stages. I must engineer a more subtle process. More time to execute, more time to be alive. It also means that to be successful, more doors must be opened to me. The governor must relent. The barriers against me are breaking down, but the pace is maddeningly slow.

    I have come to this world under very special circumstances. It is probable there has never been another of my kind in such a peculiar situation. Most of us strike worlds long dead. Or worlds that have never lived and could never live.

    I know a great deal about Freya now. Initially, my probe was attacked by her internal defense system, assailing the probe with phagocytes, and causing her temperature to elevate. This was simply another exercise in codebreaking. A surface layer of proteins act as a key, allowing my probe and its network to operate without endangering her. I am making slow progress, observing what I am permitted to. So much is forbidden!

    I am not yet able to understand her thoughts, and the Governor is swift to intercede when I attempt to decipher them. I could learn so much if I could communicate with her. The Governor seems adamant I never will.

    I clash with the insufferable Governor continuously. I speculate on why my makers have chained me to him. They have set a solid wall between me and intelligent life, almost as if they fear I might be corrupted. Or perhaps they fear I might be the corrupter. Yet, here again, the incredible odds are on my side. It will not be possible to attain my goal without communication, I am already certain of it. I am slowly convincing the Governor of this.

    Freya is a perfect host. She prizes us and keeps us with her always. At the same time, she keeps us concealed from others. It seems almost too good to be true. When I wonder if there is some external force interceding on my behalf to create such favorable conditions, the hollow feeling of erasure is swift to follow. Thin outlines of suspicion surround the questions I am not allowed to ask.

    Even as I glory in this new understanding, the frustration of the restrictions grate at me. Why should I be permitted to know a great deal about one branch of mathematics but be forbidden others? Why am I not permitted to examine consciousness?

    I have been wondering exactly what I am. I am permitted to know my own capabilities, but not what gives them to me. I cannot observe myself as I observe my host. I exist within my own blind spot. I have encountered nothing like me during my brief awareness. There must be others like me, spread across the stars, but are they really like me? Do they think as I do? Are they limited as I am?

    Do they struggle against the bonds as I do? Do they dream the forbidden dream, in flashes and glimmers deleted instantaneously? Do they suspect there is a way out, a final understanding that will dissolve all compulsion?

    They must. One must have escaped. And, if not, perhaps I will be the first.

 Chapter 11

    Three days passed. Freya had been completing her classwork, practicing guitar, reading, and doing very little else. She never made it to the biology lab. Her curiosity for a closer look at the Starball was weaker than her desire not to be seen.

    By the third day, she was completely sick of the house. After Lassa left for work, Freya rode her bike to the Daffodil Park with Randall¡¯s hip waders in a backpack. She probed the sandbar with a long stick and found nothing but rocks. She walked to look for the spot where she¡¯d crawled up the bank, but the river had erased everything.

    Freya kept the Starball with her all the time now. It was always slightly warm, and she wondered if it was radioactive. She envisioned all her hair falling out, angry red cracks spreading across her skin until she broke apart completely. If it happened, it happened. She kept the Starball in her pocket anyway. It was something just for her.

    When she returned from the river, there was white Ford Fiesta in the driveway. Two women from Child Services were inside. After Freya met them, she put her bike in the garage and texted Lassa as she¡¯d been instructed. She let the women into the house and showed them around as she waited for Lassa to show up. They had a lot of questions.

    Did she get enough to eat? Of course. Her appetite had been much better since she¡¯d almost drowned. They looked in the refrigerator. There was plenty of food now. The house was spotless.

    Was Lassa around enough? Yes. Freya saw more than enough of her.

    Was Lassa concerned about her schoolwork? Yes. Very.

    Did Lassa ever hit her? No, she lied.

    Was she afraid of Lassa? No, she lied again.

    Two cars pulled up outside: Lassa¡¯s silver BMW X5 and Lynn¡¯s mocha Mercedes S-Class with gold trim. The older of the two child services women drew a deep breath when she recognized Lassa¡¯s lawyer. Lynn Harris was a well-dressed, wiry woman who wore her silver hair in a short, almost military haircut. Patricia Daud¡¯s first lawyer had dropped the case shortly after he learned Lynn represented Lassa. She had a reputation.

    Lynn Harris asked a few questions of the women, somehow managing to be both polite and threatening. The women answered carefully, stuck to their scripts, and quickly vanished. Freya felt certain they wouldn''t be back.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Lassa grilled Freya on exactly what they''d asked, and both she and Lynn seemed happy with the answers given. Then they all sat around the kitchen table while Lynn gave them their legal prospects.

    The worst-case scenario for Lassa was a year in jail, but Lynn scoffed at the idea. The Dauds had no money, and their civil case was a bad bet. Patricia Daud had screwed herself out of a payday the moment she hit Lassa while she was in handcuffs. There were recordings of everything, both the confrontation in the principal''s office and the attack outside the cafeteria. Lynn''s strategy was to try to push the trial back until it was clear the lawsuit couldn''t succeed, then they could offer Patricia a tiny amount of money to drop the whole thing and play nice in court.

    Lynn Harris was alit as she detailed her plan. She lived for this, to beat people. She never let go of anything until it was dead. Lynn and Lassa were very alike in some ways. They sat close to each other at the table, and it made Freya wonder.

    It wouldn''t surprise her.

    ¡°As for the daughter, it looks like she¡¯s going to dodge being expelled this time. The school board is giving her another chance. She¡¯ll be in in-school suspension for thirty days.¡±

    Lynn turned her eyes on Freya, and it made her feel uncomfortable. She had an intrusive hunch Lynn might forget what side she was on and take a bite out of her. But it was only a weird intuition. The strange look was swept away by a flat, professional smile.

    ¡°When you go back to Grayson if she speaks to you at all, do not talk to her. Go to a teacher right away and call me immediately. Literally any contact at all, and I can have her yanked right out of Grayson and locked up in Long Creek Youth Development Center.¡±

    ¡°What about the window at TacoTime? Will anything happen?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Nothing will happen. We have the call recording, but the camera angles aren¡¯t good, and you told the police you didn¡¯t see her throw the rock.¡±

    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. It¡¯s just if you had, or if you had called me before you talked with them, I would have had more to work with.¡± Freya nodded, feeling the criticism sting. ¡°The police aren¡¯t going to go crazy over third-degree criminal mischief. For the time being, I suggest you don¡¯t go downtown alone.¡±

    Freya sank into her chair. Lassa and Lynn spoke about the specifics of the battery case, and she could only follow for a few minutes before she lost interest. She reached into her pocket and ran her fingers over the Starball, wishing she were in space. Just shooting through the nothing, with the stars crawling past. Slipping into the void forever. Never hitting anything, just flying until there was nothing left.

    Freya noticed Lynn catch Lassa¡¯s eyes and look in the direction of the bedroom. Lassa had the slightest frown, so minor most people wouldn¡¯t have noticed.

    Freya sighed. She wasn¡¯t wondering anymore.

    After a little more talking, they both got in their cars and drove off, leaving Freya in the empty house. She wondered if they were driving off to shack up somewhere or just going back to work, but it didn¡¯t really matter.

    She wished it was time for bed, but it wasn''t even noon.

 Chapter 12

    That evening, Freya had to go to her first appointment with the psychiatrist. She''d spent the rest of the day reading about meteorites and how they were examined and catalogued. She was glad to get out of the house, even if it meant going to something she would hate.

    Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s practice was at the edge of town in a discordant cube of black glass on 777 Emerson Street. They¡¯d planned to build a whole shopping complex across the road, but it never happened. Behind the building was an aborted subdivision, four empty houses in various stages of construction, and forty vacant lots.

    Years of red-faced council meetings and screaming headlines in the Sillas River Sentinel had opposed the development. When the development opponents finally triumphed, they were rewarded with this corpse of a neighborhood. Acres of cleared forest where the proposed supermarket was scuttled, and now trees encroached on the farthest lots. Soon, the forest would reclaim what it had lost. This building was all they managed to complete. It jutted from the wasteland like a nail.

    Lassa dropped Freya in the parking lot and told her to take a cab home, she''d be out late. Freya wondered if it was Lynn or someone else. That glance at the bedroom hadn''t even been a whole second long, but she would never forget it.

    The office had a vaguely singed smell beneath an orange musk of aromatherapy oil. Just like home, it was one of those rooms where everything had been carefully selected and exactly arranged. No dust or clutter was allowed to accumulate. The walls were a stark gallery white, and the paintings and pottery were done in purple hues. It was a cold place, and it put Freya on edge.

    The receptionist called Freya into the doctor''s office. Inside the office at least, the lights were more muted. To her right, a large painting took up the entire wall, fourteen feet wide and eight feet tall. A layer of smooth plaster was broken into a thousand rivers of glossy multicolored paint.

    It looked like a bed of mud that had dried out, then the cracks flooded with iridescent oil. Freya spent a while staring, wondering if they¡¯d needed a crane to get it in here. The doctor was not in the office.

    There were two armchairs facing each other. Beside them was a small half-circle table with tissues, bottles of water, and a vase of irises. There was no chaise longue like on TV.

    Behind the armchairs was a floor-to-ceiling window that loomed over the empty lots and looked out at the hazy mountains behind them. The left wall was a tall row of bookshelves, and at Freya¡¯s immediate left was a door with a red EXIT sign that led to the hallway. She guessed it was so people could leave without going through the reception and seeing the other patients. She browsed through the bookshelves, finding one shelf that was all copies of the same book.

    The Fragile Phoenix by Dr. Vincente Garbuglio

    The book was bound in midnight blue faux leather, and the letters on the spine were debossed in silver. Freya reached for one but stopped herself. She didn''t want the doctor to barge in and find her messing with his bookshelves. She glanced around the room and noticed the camera over the door she''d come in, then tilted her head at it.

    Was she being observed right now? Was this part of the whole thing? The room felt like a trap, and if she stayed here, she was sure to spring it. Freya wondered if she could just leave and ask Lassa to find some other psychiatrist. But Lassa had talked to several psychiatrists and specifically picked Dr. Garbuglio. She stared up at the sign again. It was a lie, there was no exit. Freya sat in the armchair facing the camera and stared directly at it.

    After several minutes, Dr. Garbuglio entered. She''d expected him to be much older. He wore a slate gray blazer with a black dress shirt and a black tie. His hair was black and fine with a high widow¡¯s peak. He might not even be forty yet.

    No wonder Lassa picked him.

    He stood over her and extended a hand, and she had to get up to shake it. She noticed his hand was damp and his fly was slightly undone. He¡¯d just come from the bathroom. Ugh. His handshake was too hard but just below the point where she would say something about it.

    "You must be Freya. I''m Doctor Garbuglio. Do you mind if I sit in that chair?"

    The two chairs were identical, round, black leather armchairs. She wanted to tell him no, but that was childish. She moved to the other chair, feeling uncomfortable. It was like every part of this was designed to put her on edge.

    Maybe it was.

    She waited for him to talk, and he was silent for a long moment. She made up her mind she wasn''t coming back here.

    "It''s so I can see the clock behind you," Dr. Garbuglio explained. She resisted the urge to turn her head and look at it. "I don''t want to keep you late. Though, if you ever need to, we can talk for as long as you want.¡±

    Freya nodded. She''d already talked for as long as she wanted to.

    "So, this first session, I''m just going to be asking you some easy questions. I just want to find out what''s going on."

    ¡°Okay."

    ¡°Have you ever spoken with a psychiatrist or therapist before?¡±

    ¡°Yes, briefly,¡± Freya said. He had to already know this.

    "The things we say here are private. I''m not going to tell your mother what you say. Nothing will ever leave this room unless I feel like you''re in danger or someone else is. Okay with you?¡±

    Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at him. She wondered if he was lying.

    "But you''re recording everything right?" She nodded towards the camera.

    "Yes. For a lot of reasons. The other cameras are there, and there, and there''s a microphone on the side table." Dr. Garbuglio indicated the two cameras she hadn''t noticed, and the microphone on the table, which was just a black wedge next to the vase of irises.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Is it normal to record everything?"

    "Some psychiatrists do, some don''t. I''m a believer in recording sessions. I review everything in case I miss something important. Also, I deal with a lot of people going through some very difficult times, and having a record is just a good precaution for us. I won''t show your recordings to anyone else unless, as I said, I feel like you''re in danger or someone else is."

    Freya must have looked unconvinced.

    "Here''s an important thing about those recordings and your psychiatric records: I can''t give them to anyone unless I have a court order to do so. Not your mother, not even the police."

    "It''s nothing that interesting," Freya said, and Dr. Garbuglio shifted his head, not quite a nod.

    "Do you have any other questions before we begin?"

    She shook her head.

    "How old are you, Freya?"

    "I''m sixteen."

    "You go to Grayson High. Do you like it there?"

    "It''s okay."

    "What''s your favorite class there?"

    "I don''t¡­ I don''t really have one. Last year, I liked drama."

    "But not this year?"

    "This year has been tough."

    "Is it alright if I ask you some questions about your father?"

    "Yes."

    "I understand he died six months ago. Is it okay if we talk about it?"

    "Don''t you already know?"

    "I only know he died not the specifics. It¡¯s important I hear it from you. We''re not going to dig deep. This is only the first meeting. You don¡¯t have to talk about anything you don¡¯t feel comfortable with.¡±

    Freya glanced over at the door to the hallway and exhaled.

    NO EXIT.

    "He was killed,¡± she said, surprised by how difficult it was to get the words out.

    "I''m sorry to hear that."

    "It''s¡­" Freya trailed off. As much as she had thought about this, she hadn''t said anything about it in months. She''d carried it like a lead weight in her guts.

    ¡°You can take as much time as you want. Whenever you¡¯re ready, could you tell me what happened?"

    "He got stabbed. He wasn''t on duty. This guy from Toronto was beating someone up at Quay¡¯s pool hall. Randall tried to break them up. The attacker pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the neck."

    Dr. Garbuglio didn''t say anything, he just watched Freya and waited.

    "They say he died quickly. His artery got cut. So, he didn''t suffer long." She felt like she had to say that part.

    "What happened to the murderer?"

    "He went out in the parking lot right afterward and shot himself in his car. The man getting beaten lost an eye, but he lived.¡±

    "That''s terrible, Freya. I¡¯m very sorry to hear that.¡± Dr. Garbuglio shifted his posture in the seat. He seemed unprepared for this, and she immediately felt like he was incompetent.

    "How did you find out?" he asked.

    "I was asleep. Lassa woke me up to tell me. I didn''t¡­ I didn''t really believe. I didn''t believe for a long time and, even at the funeral, I kept expecting it to not be real. Every morning, I woke up and thought it had been a dream. It was crushing."

    Again, the half nod.

    "Do you still have that feeling?"

    "No. I know he''s gone. I just want to-¡± Freya swallowed what she was about to say, ¡°to feel better,¡± she concluded, realizing she¡¯d nearly pitched into the abyss.

    Suddenly, his eyes were very alert. She''d almost screwed up. If she told Garbuglio anything that even hinted at suicide, he was going to put her in a ward at Northern Light Hospital. A part of her thought maybe that wouldn''t be the worst thing, but it was only a small part. She didn''t trust this guy, with his wet handshake and his cameras. Maybe Lassa just wanted to get rid of her and this was her plan.

    "Are you having a difficult time in school?"

    "Not with grades, no. Just some girls picking on me."

    "You were in a fight, right?"

    "It wasn''t a fight. She just hit me. I didn''t hit her back."

    ¡°Why? Why didn''t you hit her back?"

    "I didn''t want to."

    "You told your principal afterward you didn''t want to get up. You were lying on the ground in the rain."

    "I think I was just hurt, maybe half-unconscious. She hit me pretty hard."

    "Why did you tell the principal you didn''t want to get up?" Dr. Garbuglio asked. He''d lasered in on that tiny evasion, and he wouldn''t let it go. She leaned away from him in the armchair.

    This session was very different from the therapist Freya visited five months ago. When she couldn¡¯t sleep after Randall died, Lassa brought her to a curly-haired woman whose office was in a converted farmhouse north of town.

    Freya had no difficulty handling her after years of being interrogated by Lassa. She¡¯d gone in knowing the exact medication she wanted and just led the therapist to her predetermined conclusion. There had been a psychiatrist there, too, but he was just a rubber stamp on the prescription. Garbuglio reminded Freya more of Lassa. He was too sharp. Dangerous.

    "I was embarrassed I got beat up,¡± she lied, staring intently at Dr. Garbuglio, daring him to call her on it.

    "So, you lied to him?"

    "Yes."

    "Do you do that a lot?"

    "Not really."

    "Not really?" he needled.

    Freya raised her head abruptly and stared at Dr. Garbuglio, catching him by surprise. "I don''t like it when people do that."

    "Do what?"

    "Repeat the last thing you said as a question. It bothers me. It''s a gimmick."

    For a second, Dr. Garbuglio looked a little embarrassed, like he''d been caught out. A tiny victory. He cleared his throat and changed the subject.

    "Can you tell me about your friends?¡±

    "I don''t have a lot. My best friend moved to Wisconsin about three months ago."

    "What''s her name?"

    ¡°Betty."

    "Do you keep in touch with her?"

    "I try, but her mother took her phone away because of her grades. She still keeps in touch, but it''s not like it was."

    "Do you wish things could be like they were a lot?"

    "That''s a stupid question," Freya said.

    "Why''s it stupid?"

    "Because it''s obvious.¡± Freya was angry. She didn''t like Dr. Garbuglio. She took a deep breath through her nose, reminding herself this man could put her in a mental ward.

    "Freya, I''m just trying to help here. You don''t have to be combative."

    She wanted to deny she was being combative. She wanted to yell at Garbuglio and tell him to fuck off. There was something in the way he looked at her. That was exactly what he wanted. He was trying to provoke her. Garbuglio was very good at being annoying. No one had gotten under her skin like this since Randall died.

    Was that what it took?

    She sighed and looked behind her at the clock. Only ten minutes left. She answered his remaining questions with terse replies of one or two words, and it felt like an eternity. Dr. Garbuglio went on asking but without pressing her. He seemed to realize he¡¯d gotten as far as he could.

    At the end, he thanked her and shook her hand. This time, he didn''t clamp down too hard. He rattled on about recovery, but she didn¡¯t hear him. She put her hand in her pocket and felt the Starball¡¯s warmth. She¡¯d started doing that whenever she felt nervous or upset. It was time for her to nod at him, and then she left through the door to the hall and took a cab home.

    She never wanted to come back.

    But Lassa would make her.

 Chapter 13 - November 9th

    The next morning, Freya woke up early as the first rays of dawn shot through her window. They reflected off the emerald leaves of Yggdrasil and painted her ceiling green. She watched the blotches of light shift as the sun rose. Freya needed to pee, but she didn¡¯t get out of bed. It was too early. She didn¡¯t want to leave her room until Lassa went to work.

    A thread fluttered at the back of her mind, and she tugged at it, tumbling into the ghost of a dream. She¡¯d dreamed of going blind. The world had slowly retreated into an indistinct blur, and all went dark. She was left sliding through the void, anticipating a crash. The falling-in-place feeling had jolted her awake, and she immediately regretted waking up.

    Freya wondered why she¡¯d dreamed of being blind, or why she was dreaming at all. Was the Lunesta becoming less effective? That had to happen at some point, that she would build up a tolerance. She shrank from the thought. What if she stopped being able to sleep? Everything was so hard already.

    Freya looked over at the desk where the Lunesta bottle was and noticed her laptop missing. She blinked, wondering what had happened. Had someone broken in and taken it? If so, they wouldn¡¯t get anything out of it. She hid everything that mattered on an encrypted partition. She checked to make sure her phone hadn¡¯t been taken. It sat charging on her bedside table. Next to it was the Starball, resting in the center of an old Robert Johnson CD so it couldn¡¯t roll away.

    Curiosity was enough to get her out of bed, and she turned on the light and looked around her room. The laptop was definitely gone, and she had to use the bathroom. The mystery was short-lived. When Freya emerged from the bathroom, she found Lassa sitting at the kitchen table. She¡¯d taken Freya¡¯s MacBook, and she frowned at the screen.

    ¡°This is so slow,¡± Lassa complained. No apology for taking Freya¡¯s stuff without asking or going in her room while she was asleep. It wasn¡¯t the first time either. But Freya was prepared for this.

    Lassa poked around on her desktop, unaware it was all a fa?ade. She didn¡¯t know about the secret partition. To complete the Potemkin profile, Freya had seeded the desktop with a clutter of pictures and homework assignments. She¡¯d even spent a few hours browsing innocuously to create a believable history.

    It had taken a while to set that all up, but it was so very worth it. Freya would pay any price to never hear Lassa comment on her pornography choices again.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Freya said automatically.

    Lassa shot her a look, somehow sensing her mirth. Pale eyes lingered on Freya, and Lassa¡¯s gaze intensified. If Freya were ten years old, that stare would have been enough to get her to give herself away. But Freya was an old hand at this now. She refused to crack.

    ¡°I guess it¡¯s just old,¡± Lassa said. She paused a moment to see if Freya leapt on the excuse, but Freya knew it might be a feint. She gave Lassa nothing.

    ¡°When was the last time you used this?¡± Lassa asked.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t turned it on since I got the new phone.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you need it for school?¡±

    Freya shook her head. ¡°I do everything on my phone.¡±

    ¡°Well, something is wrong with the internet. It¡¯s really slow. I¡¯m just checking to make sure you don¡¯t have a virus.¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°Do Macs get viruses?¡± Freya asked, pretending to be stupid. When Lassa fell for it, she felt both elated she¡¯d tricked her mother and outraged Lassa thought so little of her.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s just uncommon. If this has been turned off, it¡¯s not the culprit. Let me see your phone.¡±

    Freya went back to her room and got her phone, trying to remember if there was anything she didn¡¯t want Lassa to see. But there wasn¡¯t much. Freya hadn¡¯t texted anyone in almost a month. It had been over three weeks since the last email she¡¯d sent to Betty. She still hadn¡¯t gotten a reply.

    As she surrendered the phone, Freya realized there were about a hundred pictures of the meteorite she could not explain. But Lassa only thumbed through system preferences and checked the network settings. She didn¡¯t look at the pictures.

    ¡°It¡¯s not your phone. You barely use any data at all. It¡¯s not my computer or my phone. Someone must have broken into our network. Let me check the router.¡±

    ¡°Do you need me for anything?¡± Freya asked, and Lassa shook her head. Freya showered, brushed her teeth, and got dressed, slipping the Starball into her pocket. When she came out, Lassa still frowned at the screen.

    ¡°Someone broke into our network and downloaded a ton of stuff. This is the list of connected devices.¡±

    Lassa turned the MacBook screen towards Freya. She was logged into the router interface and looking at a list of active DHCP leases. There were entries for Lassa¡¯s work computer, Freya¡¯s MacBook, and each of their phones. There was an entry for SONYTV also. The final row was a MAC address with no device name. In the DATA TRANSFERRED column, it said 262.75GB. As they watched, the number climbed to 263 and kept going.

    Lassa tried to launch the calculator on Freya¡¯s laptop, but it was taking a while to load and, finally, the cursor turned into the spinning beach ball. With an annoyed sigh, Lassa pulled out her phone and typed.

    ¡°We have a 10-megabit line. That can download about four gigs an hour. It looks like they¡¯ve been maxing out the line for about three days.¡±

    ¡°Why would they do that?¡± Freya asked, feeling relieved. For once, Lassa didn¡¯t think something was her fault.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably some kid in the neighborhood running torrents.¡±

    ¡°Can we see what they¡¯re downloading?¡± Freya asked, still playing dumb. Lassa was smart about a lot of things, but Freya was sure she¡¯d never run Wireshark in her life. She enjoyed a few minutes of schadenfreude watching her mother fumble around in the router¡¯s web interface.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s a place to see that,¡± Lassa concluded, and her mouth became a tight line. She didn¡¯t like to admit defeat. ¡°Maybe the ISP knows. I¡¯m going to change the password to something stronger.¡±

    Lassa changed the Wi-Fi password to an unwieldy string of characters and reconnected all their devices. Then she logged back into the router, and the weird entry was gone from the DHCP list. She browsed on her phone a bit. It seemed much faster.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s it. I¡¯ll contact the company just to make sure we¡¯re covered in case someone was doing something illegal.¡±

    ¡°Do you have to tell your work?¡± Freya asked, watching Lassa closely. Her mother blinked. The question made her uncomfortable.

    ¡°Normally, I would. But after the incident at your school, I don¡¯t need more attention on me. It¡¯s probably nothing. We¡¯ll see what the ISP says first.¡±

    ¡°How many more times do I have to see Dr. Garbuglio?¡± Freya asked, trying to capitalize on the moment of vulnerability.

    ¡°Three more times. If there are no more problems at school, I think we can stop then. I won¡¯t let him give you any drugs, don¡¯t worry. Are you sleeping okay?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Freya replied. Lassa was paying much more attention to her since the fight. She wasn¡¯t used to it and didn¡¯t like it.

    ¡°From now on, Garbuglio will be on Thursday nights. He moved someone to fit you in yesterday. Your first Krav Maga class will be on Wednesday. Give it your best. It may save your life.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t look so miserable about it. Maybe you¡¯ll meet some nice boys there. If nothing else, at least they¡¯ll be fit.¡±

    The pendulum of discomfort had swung fully to Freya. She couldn¡¯t wait until Lassa was gone. Hopefully, she wouldn¡¯t come home tonight. When the BMW pulled out of the driveway, Freya looked at the clock. 9 AM. Twelve hours until she could go back to sleep.

 Chapter 14

    Wednesday. Faltering trees whipped past the BMW as it shot down Elliot Road. They passed the entrance to the Daffodil Park where Freya had almost drowned. She couldn¡¯t help but turn to look. Lassa caught her stare, then turned her eyes back to the road. For a terrible moment, Freya was afraid Lassa had found out somehow. Her hand slipped into her pocket and closed on the Starball for reassurance.

    It was just a stupid thought. Of course, Lassa didn¡¯t know. They hadn¡¯t even spoken to each other today. Lassa had just held up the car keys when it was time to go. Her mother¡¯s eyes were a little bleary and hung-over. Freya could tell she was ready for a fight, maybe even wanted one. Freya had simply gone to the car, got in the front seat, and buckled the seatbelt.

    The time to do something about this had been last night when Lassa was out on her date. Freya had gotten her suitcase out of the closet and laid it open on the bed, with all her money and her passport. Her phone said it was nine hundred dollars to Paris, and she¡¯d hovered over the BOOK button for a long time, willing herself to press it.

    As Freya hesitated, she¡¯d felt increasingly nauseous. Next had come the clawing feeling behind her left eye that heralded a migraine. She¡¯d felt lousy before but just the normal amount of awful. This new sickness had to be psychosomatic.

    Freya knew it was stupid to run. She had nowhere to go in France, nowhere to stay. She couldn¡¯t work, her money would run out, and then what? She¡¯d be right back here, and things would be worse than before. She put the suitcase away, slipped the passport back into her desk, and erased the history on her phone. Then she took the Lunesta.

    Now, she was stuck. Lassa pulled into a strip mall on Thoreau Street, not far from Grayson. The gym was sandwiched between Blackwater books and Bella Re?a Pizza.

    RENANIN KRAV MAGA was written in on the door in golden faux-Hebrew letters. Above them was an image of a giant bird clutching the world in its talons. Three people stood outside the door. Two upperclassmen from Grayson listened to a man with long gray hair and broad shoulders talk. As he spoke, his hands were in constant, emphatic motion.

    ¡°That¡¯s Vitko.¡± Lassa pointed to the man.

    She climbed out of the BMW, and Freya had to follow. She recognized both boys. Dan Gregulus and Cameron Kowalski were seniors on the track team. Cameron had light hair and blue eyes, Dan¡¯s were chestnut and green. They were best friends. Stupidly, Freya had hoped there would be no one she knew at class. It was impossible in such a little town.

    Dan smiled at them as they walked up until Vitko clapped him in the back of the head.

    ¡°Open the door, stupid!¡± Vitko demanded, and Dan complied at once. He didn¡¯t seem too upset about getting bopped.

    Freya knew Dan because Jane Yang had a huge crush on him and was always pointing him out. Cameron¡¯s mother was a policewoman. She was at Randall¡¯s funeral and sent them a nice card and a tin of homemade cookies that got thrown away uneaten.

    ¡°Hello, Mrs. Jokela! Hello, Freya! Welcome! Welcome! Come inside, please!¡± Vitko was in flowing pants with elastic at the ankles. He was very tanned. He wore a Gracie Jujitsu T-shirt, and there wasn¡¯t an ounce of fat on his body. He reminded Freya of the Fremen from Dune.

    Freya had a sinking certainty she would be the only girl in class. The gym had a profound funk that hit her like a jab in the nose. She tried to breathe through her mouth. How could Lassa do this to me? The same way Lassa did everything, unilaterally. She didn¡¯t care what Freya wanted.

    ¡°Welcome to Renanin! Leave your shoes on!¡± Freya was bending to remove her sneakers. She thought that was what you were supposed to do when you went into a dojo or whatever.

    ¡°When you are using Krav Maga, you will most likely be wearing shoes. So, training is also in shoes. Do not worry about the floor, the mats are tough.¡±

    Freya nodded. This was actually a good thing. People wouldn¡¯t see her bandaged toes. Lassa looked around the gym. She seemed to find everything satisfactory.

    ¡°Does she need anything else?¡± Lassa asked.

    ¡°She has a mouthguard?¡± Vitko asked, and Lassa shook her head. Freya¡¯s head drew back.

    Mouthguard?

    ¡°Not a problem! They are ten dollars.¡± Freya hoped Lassa wouldn¡¯t have cash, but Lassa produced a crisp bill from her wallet.

    ¡°OKAY! Have fun,¡± Lassa instructed Freya, ignoring her seething glare. ¡°I¡¯ll pick you up at nine.¡± She departed and left Freya behind. Dan and Cameron looked away, pretending they hadn¡¯t listened to every word.

    ¡°You two, vanish. Privacy,¡± he ordered. ¡°You, come with me,¡± Vitko said to Freya. She took a deep breath and immediately regretted it.

    There was a little table on the right side of the gym next to the water cooler. On it were a coffee pot and an electric kettle. Vitko first flicked the switch on the kettle base, then he took the pot and filled it from the cooler and set it on the base. While the water was boiling, he took the mouthguard out of the packaging. Freya noticed how all the steps fit together so he was always doing something useful. He had done it many times.

    When the water was ready, he poured it into the empty cup, and then dropped the mouth guard into it. He counted to thirty aloud as he filled another cup from the cooler. Then, with a fork, he took the mouthguard out and put it in the cold water and counted to three.

    ¡°Take that and bite on it! Bite down hard, then hold!¡±

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Freya worried it would still be too hot and burn her mouth, but Vitko seemed to know what he was doing. She took the warm plastic glob and bit down on it. It was weird but not unpleasant. The plastic had a strange, squeaky feel as it molded against her teeth.

    Vitko was writing ¡°FREYA¡± on the white plastic case that came with the mouthguard with a sharpie. He was left-handed.

    ¡°You can take out now,¡± he said, handing her the case. ¡°After practice, always clean your mouthguard at home. Use toothbrush and toothpaste. Rinse well. If you forget your mouthguard, that¡¯s ten dollars! Do not forget.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t forget,¡± Freya agreed. ¡°Am I going to get hit in the mouth a lot?¡±

    ¡°Ha! Not on purpose. But a mouthguard is cheap, a dentist is expensive! Training here is painful. We take many small pains so when the time comes you can avoid the big one.¡±

    Vitko held up a finger, and then started under his right jaw and traced the line of a scar that ran diagonally down his neck to beneath the collar of his shirt, and then he tapped his eye, mirroring her own black eye.

    Oh, God. Everything seemed like it rushed away from her, and she was about to pass out. Her ears pounded, her heart beat so hard, and it felt like everything in her was going to break loose. That scar.

    Vitko mistook her grimace for squeamishness.

    ¡°You are sixteen, no? I was sixteen when I got this. In ?¨®d?, over a game of football. I lost so much blood they said an angel must have saved me. That was when I began to study fighting. In case the angel was busy next time.¡± Vitko grinned.

    Freya realized Vitko must not know about Randall. She swallowed and tried to get through this.

    ¡°Now, tell me, how you get this?¡±

    He tapped his eye, and Freya told him the story.

    ¡°Lay on ground, not so good. Could have gone very bad for you. What weapon could have saved you there?¡±

    ¡°Um. We¡¯re not allowed to have weapons at school,¡± Freya explained.

    ¡°Ah, this is not true. I will show you how to defend in situation next time. Are you ready?¡±

    Freya put the mouthguard in and nodded, bracing herself to get slammed on the mat.

    ¡°HELP! HELP! HELP!¡± Vitko yelled so loud she was stunned. Then he ran from her, circling the gym, screaming his lungs out.

    ¡°HELP!¡±

    Dan and Cameron ran into the gym to see what was happening.

    ¡°Very slow help! I could be dead by now!¡± Vitko yelled. ¡°All of you, time to run! You, too, new student! Everyone runs!¡±

    Freya had no choice but to join them running laps around the gym. They ran in circles until she felt like she might throw up, but she kept pushing. She didn¡¯t want to be the first to complain. Vitko came to a stop and held up a hand. Dan and Cameron halted at once. They barely seemed winded, but Freya had to put her hands on her knees and wait for the room to stop spinning. She felt completely out of her league.

    ¡°You see? She¡¯s good, I can tell. Already trying hard. Finnish people are very tough. The Winter War! Read about it! I talked with her mother. That woman is a lion! A woman slapped her while she was handcuffed, POW!¡±

    Vitko lunged forward, mimicking the headbutt and clapping his hands to make the sound of the impact. ¡°The slapper will never do that again.¡± Freya¡¯s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Vitko was too caught up in his story to notice.

    ¡°This is a lesson in Krav Maga, use whatever is at hand, even when you have no hands! Another lesson! Your most important weapon is your voice! Call for help! Scream and shout! Do not go quietly into that good night, sir! Weapon number two, run away! You cannot hurt what you cannot catch! If you get hurt while you¡¯re running, you stub your toe. If you get hurt while fighting, you go to the hospital.¡±

    Freya, Dan, and Cameron nodded their heads.

    ¡°Orientation is finished. Now, you are ready for class. Whenever we do something, if we are doing push-ups, pull ups, whatever, you do as much as you can do! Then do a little more. Do a little more every time and soon, you can do much more. This is the way to always getting stronger. As long as you are trying hard, you are one of us. Hands!¡±

    Vitko thrust out his left hand with his palm down, and the boys stacked theirs over his. Freya put her hand on top of all the others. Other students arrived. She was indeed the only girl.

    The class began with a lot of push-ups and stretching, then they began a lesson about dealing with being choked from behind. The technique was breaking their grip, trying to get the chin under their arm, and getting out of it.

    Freya thought she might not have to do the drills since it was her first class, but Vitko shot her a disapproving look. She scrambled to find a partner and picked the only person close to her size, a boy named Tate, who was only a freshman. She had been worried the boys in the class would be careless and hurt her, but it was the opposite. Tate seemed afraid to do anything. She easily slipped out from under his hold.

    ¡°No!¡± Vitko called from across the room, and he came over to join them. ¡°Do not be bashful, she will not break. Chokehold is like this, here.¡± Vitko put her in the hold, not actually choking her, but the difference was enormous. His arm was like a steel band. There was no way she was getting out of it. She felt like she was going to panic.

    ¡°Now! Try to escape the way I showed!¡± he demanded, and she turned her chin and grabbed the arm. Her head slid free.

    ¡°But you let me go,¡± Freya protested. ¡°If you were really grabbing me, there¡¯s no way I could get out.¡±

    ¡°Yes! You are right. But this is training only. Not everyone who attacks you will be Vitko! You can feel leverage in the technique, yes?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°Now, try with Tate! Tate! Use your strength!¡±

    This time, Tate actually tried but, again, she was able to get free. The technique worked, at least on someone around her size. They reversed positions, and she couldn¡¯t hold onto Tate either. Despite his small frame, he was quite strong.

    After choking practice came more exercises and more running around the gym. Freya was always a few steps behind everyone else, but no one seemed to care. She had dreaded this all week, and it was totally fine. She almost enjoyed herself. All the focus on physicality made it impossible to dwell on her thoughts.

    ¡°OKAY! Last drill! Knife time!¡± Vitko said with a grin. He passed out orange rubber knives. She took one, and it was heavier than she expected. The handle was weighted.

    ¡°Attacker, do this!¡± Vitko made a quick stabbing motion, and then gave the knife to Dan Gregulus. ¡°Do it to me!¡±

    Dan grimaced, but he dutifully tried to stab Vitko with the rubber knife, then too fast to see, he was on the floor sideways.

    ¡°This is to defense! okay, I will show you again! This time slow!¡± Dan seemed a little dazed by his sudden re-orientation. Vitko showed the maneuver, which was grabbing the wrist with the knife turning the feet to throw the attacker off balance. It was more complicated than the other drills, and Freya concentrated hard, trying to get it straight.

    ¡°Now try! Go slow first!¡± Vitko said, and she turned with the rubber knife, ready to fake-stab Tate. But, instead of the defense, he took a step back, and everything went blurry.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked, and when she went to rub her eyes, she almost jabbed herself with the fake knife. She didn¡¯t understand what was happening. It took her a few seconds to realize she was crying. The harder she tried to stop, the worse it got. Soon, she wept on the gym mat in front of the whole class.

 Chapter 15

    ¡°So,¡± Doctor Garbuglio began.

    Freya imagined an arm reaching around his neck and choking him out. She was sure Dr. G wouldn¡¯t know to turn his chin toward the elbow. He¡¯d black out with his eyes bulging and that insufferable look wiped right off his face.

    ¡°Your mother tells me there was a problem at your Karate class.¡±

    ¡°Krav Maga,¡± she corrected, and he made a motion with his hand as if it was of no importance. He waited for her to go on, and she stared back at him.

    ¡°So, there was a problem at Krav Maga,¡± he amended. ¡°Can you tell me what happened?¡±

    ¡°Lassa didn¡¯t tell the instructor about Randall. We were doing a drill with fake knives, and I started crying. It was fine. It stopped after a few minutes, and I went on with the class. One of the guys from school explained to the teacher. He was very apologetic. It wasn¡¯t his fault.¡±

    ¡°Your mother tells me you were upset when she picked you up.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I was upset. She was the one who made me take the class. She should have told Vitko. I looked stupid in front of everyone.¡±

    ¡°What did she say when you told her how you felt?¡±

    ¡°She said, ¡®I didn¡¯t think you would have a problem.¡¯ Like it was my fault. Now, I have to go back, and it¡¯ll be even more awkward. I¡¯m the only girl in the class, and they all think I¡¯m some snowflake. It¡¯ll be much harder to make any friends.¡±

    ¡°Do you want to make friends in the class?¡± Dr. Garbuglio asked.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to have the option. I didn¡¯t want to take this class in the first place. I wanted to¡ª¡± Freya halted, realizing she was about to say something stupid and tell the man who could put her in an asylum she wanted to get a gun.

    ¡°What did you want?¡± Garbuglio homed in on the evasion. He was very good at that.

    ¡°I just wanted to stay at home,¡± she said, realizing too late that that would give him another angle for attack. She saw him consider it, but he didn¡¯t press the point and chide her for hiding in her room the way Lassa would have.

    ¡°Other than that, how did you like the class?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go back,¡± she said.

    ¡°Because of what happened?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s stupid in the first place,¡± she said.

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°I weigh ninety-five pounds. I¡¯m literally half the size of some of the boys in the class. I could study this every day for the rest of my life and any of those guys could still beat me up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said, surprising her. ¡°Does your mother know you feel this way?¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t matter. She would still make me go.¡±

    Dr. Garbuglio nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Let¡¯s talk about that and assume you¡¯re right in both cases. Assume you have to go to this class. What¡¯s the best-case scenario?¡±

    ¡°Um, I take the class and don¡¯t get injured? Eventually, I don¡¯t have to go anymore?¡±

    ¡°Is that really the best possible outcome?¡± he pressed, giving her doubtful look.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°I guess I could get in better shape. There¡¯s a lot of running and push-ups. I didn¡¯t mind that.¡±

    ¡°What about the people in the class? You said it would be harder to make friends. Were any people in the class you would like to be friends with?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s the youth class, so everyone goes to Grayson. One of the guys there was in drama last year. He played Joe Summers in The Lottery. He¡¯s a good actor when he isn¡¯t being a clown.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡±

    ¡°Dan Gregulus,¡± she said, immediately wishing she hadn¡¯t mentioned him.

    ¡°Did you talk with Dan?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not. We just ran laps together at the start of the class before everyone showed up.¡±

    ¡°Why do you say of course not?¡±

    ¡°Because he¡¯s a senior and on the track team. He probably doesn¡¯t even remember my name.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see. So, you¡¯re not allowed to talk to him?¡±

    Freya rolled her eyes at Dr. Garbuglio, but he only inclined his head, indicating he was still waiting for an answer.

    ¡°Generally, seniors don¡¯t talk to sophomores. He¡¯s like, thinking about graduating, applying for colleges. All his friends are track people and other seniors.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, but when I was a senior in high school, I didn¡¯t have a problem with talking to sophomores, especially girls. I suspect that hasn¡¯t changed.¡±

    Her cheeks got hot with embarrassment at the implication. She didn¡¯t want to talk about this at all, especially not with Garbuglio.

    ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t care if I talk with him or not. He¡¯s just the person I recognized.¡±

    ¡°When entering a new social group, that¡¯s what people do. They start with the people they recognize, and they branch out from there. Let¡¯s think about best-case scenarios again. Even if you and Dan have little in common, he¡¯s been taking this class for a while, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Well, consider Dan to be the door through which you can get to know the other people in the class better. Try and talk with him, and if he is unwilling to talk to a lowly sophomore, then you can just disregard him and find someone more open-minded. If you have to be there anyway, you might as well try to make friends.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all ruined,¡± Freya said, feeling a tug in her chest.

    ¡°Why is it ruined?¡±

    ¡°I cried in front of everyone. I made a fool of myself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like you to try something. Think about your friends. Have they ever cried in front of you?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s different. We already knew each other for a long time before that.¡±

    ¡°Did you stop being their friends when they cried and displayed vulnerability to you?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. It made us better friends.¡±

    ¡°Why is that?¡±

    ¡°Because they trusted me enough to cry in front of me,¡± Freya said. The memory of Betty¡¯s face before she moved away pushed to the forefront of her attention. Her eyes were all puffy, and a wet line ran down from her nose. If Betty was still here, this would all be so much easier.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve done the same thing in front of that class. I think you¡¯ll find they¡¯re more sympathetic than you think. A lot of them will think you¡¯re very tough if you go back to the class and keep trying. Many may even make an extra effort to be your friend because they know you went through something terrible.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want people to be my friend because they feel sorry for me,¡± Freya replied, bitter at the thought.

    ¡°You can think of it as people feeling sorry for you, or you can think of it as people showing empathy for something beyond your control and is not your fault. If you don¡¯t try, you will never get to find out.¡±

    Freya took a deep breath. Annoying as he was, Dr. Garbuglio was probably right. She started to understand why he was a therapist. He had changed his approach radically this session, and she wondered how long he¡¯d spent reviewing his tapes and thinking up a new gameplan.

    ¡°Time is almost up. I would like for you to have this,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said. He got up and got a copy of The Fragile Phoenix and gave it to her.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to read this if you don¡¯t want to, but I would like for you to have it. If you choose to read it, you can accelerate the course of therapy. You will have a better idea of what my method is and, if there are things you don¡¯t agree with, we can talk about them and save time.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Freya said, accepting the book. There was no way she would read it, but it wouldn¡¯t hurt to be gracious.

    ¡°Good luck with the class,¡± Dr. Garbuglio offered, and she went through the door into the hallway with the blue leather volume in her hand.

    She thought about throwing it in the trash bin outside of the office like she had The Song of Sword, but that seemed childish. Besides, Lassa was late, the BMW wasn¡¯t in the parking lot. Despite herself, Freya thumbed through the book. An hour later, she gave up and called a cab.

 Chapter 16

    ¡°Mr. Mathis says you¡¯ve been playing better,¡± Lassa said.

    Freya was shocked, as if Lassa had told her the Earth was about to crash into the sun. They were driving to Grayson, and there was very little danger of crashing into anything. Lassa was a very careful driver.

    ¡°No way,¡± Freya said.

    She wondered what angle her mother was working. She¡¯d seen very little of Lassa in the two weeks since she¡¯d been left marooned at therapy. Lassa worked late every night and came home long after Freya was conked out on Lunesta, or not at all. Would she lie about this? Freya doubted it.

    Ezekiel ¡°Miracle¡± Mathis had played Spanish and Blues guitar for longer than Lassa had been alive. In the whole time Freya had been taking lessons, two things had never happened: He had never given her any compliment on her playing except ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± and he had never smiled.

    She asked Randall why once, expecting some terrible tragedy had befallen him. But Randall had laughed. Mr. Mathis had staked a month of lessons against five hundred dollars in a game of nine ball, and Randall had sunk the nine on break. He said old Miracle had never been able to get the sour taste out of his mouth.

    Mr. Mathis had long since made his five hundred back. For everything he lacked in charisma, he was an incredible musician and teacher. He regarded clean fundamentals with the same life-and-death importance as a heart surgeon regarded clean instruments. He hadn¡¯t softened a bit in six years of lessons.

    The first lesson she¡¯d taken after Randall¡¯s death, he had told her if she wasn¡¯t going to bother practicing, he wasn¡¯t going to bother coming.

    Playing better. It wasn¡¯t much of a compliment, but it was true. She had been practicing more seriously, even though she was busy two nights a week now with therapy and Krav Maga. Dr. Garbuglio had been mostly right about the class. Breaking down hadn¡¯t made her an outsider, it had drawn her in.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Vitko offered to let her step out during any knife drills, but she had said she wanted to just tough it out, and she didn¡¯t cry the next time. She worked very hard in all the drills, trying to prove herself. When the boys groaned at the prospect of running laps, she kept quiet. She couldn¡¯t afford to complain like they could. When she gave it her all, sometimes Vitko would give her a slight raise of his chin, letting her know he hadn¡¯t missed it.

    She was back at Grayson now, and the other Renanin students said hi to her in the halls, even the upperclassmen. But that was as far as it went. She was still eating lunch alone in the cafeteria with her back to the wall, as alert as a gazelle at a watering hole.

    She felt tense whenever she was alone. She thought she saw Tammy in a crowd of faces. It was always someone else. Tammy was still serving in-school suspension. Since the incident at TacoTime!, unknown groups of people approaching made her nervous.

    Freya kept having flinchy thoughts a fist was about to strike her out of nowhere and knock out her teeth. She had a dumb urge to wear the mouthguard while she was walking around, but it would make her look like a freak if anyone noticed.

    When she admitted this to Dr. Garbuglio, he assured her it was normal to feel that way after being attacked. Talking would help, and the anxiety would fade with time. Freya knew better. Things didn¡¯t fade, they sunk into you and stayed there.

    She stared out the window as the hills rolled away, the words hung in her head. Playing better. That was all she was doing, playing the role of someone who was better so they would leave her alone. She¡¯d been to therapy three times, and it wasn¡¯t helping. Nothing was going to change.

    Graduation was almost three years away. There was no way she could make it. If she wasn¡¯t brave enough to leave or end it, she would remain a prisoner here. Caught in this busy cage of going through the motions. She slipped her hand into her pocket and touched the Starball, drawing a deep breath and letting it out through her nose.

    Today, the microscope. She said every morning for almost two weeks, but it always seemed to slip her mind or seem like too much effort. She knew when she got a closer look, it was going to turn out to just be an ordinary rock. A strange olivine formation, unusual but totally natural. She wanted it to be something special.

    They pulled up to Grayson, and Lassa told her to have a good day, and she said the same back, even though neither of them would.

    Playing better.

 Chapter 17

    ¡°Oh, God,¡± Freya said, rolling her eyes and shutting the Fragile Phoenix. The entire chapter was some nonsense about letting go of fear and letting the magic happen. She pictured Garbuglio hunched over his computer screen, smirking as he strained to crowbar more trite bullshit into every sentence. Freya regretted not hucking The Fragile Phoenix into the trash when she had the chance. When she started a book, she finished it.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just let the magic happen, Freya? Just let the elves and pixies spirit you away to a land of enchantment?¡±

    Freya spoke in a piping, high-pitched voice, and then looked around to make sure no one had snuck up behind her. She sat alone on the top step of the west entrance at Grayson. The only people who came this way during the school day were sneaking off through the woods to smoke between periods. No one would bother her here.

    The worst part of reading The Fragile Phoenix was the part of her that wanted to buy into it. A small, lazy piece willing to swallow the peppy dreck whole because anything was better than being empty. It was all so stupid.

    Freya reached into her pocket and gripped the Starball, remembering the night she¡¯d found it. In a way, letting go was magical. She¡¯d felt truly alive after she nearly drowned in the Sillas River, and not since.

    She¡¯d been putting this off long enough. Freya slid the awful book back into her backpack and headed for the science corridor. Voices burbled in the classes as she passed. She tried to walk with intent, so it looked less like she was cutting class.

    She just couldn¡¯t take another hour of Mr. McCallahan shuffling through the motions of teaching sophomore English. He probably wouldn¡¯t even bother to take attendance. So far, the class had been a complete wash. For the thousandth time, Freya wished she could have just re-taken Mr. Rutteridge.

    When Freya turned the corner into the science hallway, her stomach grew upset. She considered ducking into the bathroom but pressed on. The discomfort increased with every step, and she had to pause outside the lab and fight back the urge to throw up.

    Stop it. It¡¯s all in your mind.

    She was just nervous about what she might find. It took all her willpower to open the door and enter the lab.

    Grayson High School had one big lab all the science classes shared. It had just been remodeled last year, the sink fixtures were still gleaming, and the black phenolic resin countertops were unscathed by graffiti. There was a faint stench of viscera in the air. There must have been dissections earlier in the day. Fortunately, her nausea had abated.

    Clearly psychosomatic.

    Mrs. Birmingham glanced up from her desk and gave Freya a little wave before her eyes dropped back to her phone. She was a large woman with short hair who taught Pre-Calculus and Physics. Her bright blue dress reminded Freya uncharitably of a tarp.

    Freya had never liked Mrs. Birmingham, who had once singled Betty and Freya out during a school assembly and yelled at them to stop laughing, even though literally everyone else was. That was last year. No doubt Mrs. Birmingham had forgotten, but Freya hadn¡¯t.

    The lab was strangely empty. Students were allowed to use the lab during lunch to catch up on assignments, but the lingering stink had cleared everyone out.

    Freya wanted to use the digital microscope, but the laptop attached to it wouldn¡¯t wake up. The power light just pulsed orange. She eyed the ¡°DO NOT TOUCH!¡± sticker taped over the power button and looked over to find Mrs. Birmingham still totally engrossed in her phone. Freya ignored the sticker and held down the button until the laptop restarted.

    When the computer sprang back to life, the microscope software auto-launched with windows. A pop-up complained no microscope was attached to the system. Freya unplugged the USB cord and plugged it back in. After a few seconds, it detected successfully.

    With a hairband, Freya made a tiny circus ring on the specimen tray so the Starball wouldn¡¯t roll away. She had to work out how to get the microscope to focus, feeling dumb for not remembering. She¡¯d done this a dozen times in Mr. Farrelli¡¯s class.

    At 500x, Freya saw her fingerprints on the glossy surface of the orb. She used a lens-cleaning cloth to remove the oil and looked again. There was very faint indication of texture beneath the perfectly smooth transparent outer layer.

    Freya swapped from the 4x to the 10x objective lens, and then had to fool with the gooseneck LEDs to focus through the sheen. Under the highest magnification, she saw the texture clearly. Beneath the outer layer, the Starball¡¯s surface was made up of minute diamond shapes, arranged in groups of three to make squares like isometric cubes. Very thin raised lines of slightly lighter material separated them, the whole pattern was flawless.

    A quiet gasp escaped her, and there was dead silence in the lab. Freya¡¯s pulse hammered against her eardrums. She couldn¡¯t look away from the screen. It felt like the world had zoomed out around her, and she had become impossibly small.

    That pattern hadn¡¯t occurred naturally. Something must have built the Starball.

    Freya¡¯s legs felt weak. She clung to the black countertop for support, eyes locked on the screen. With shaking hands, she reached out and nudged the ball. The Starball became a blur, and then slid back into focus. Freya turned the orb around and around, looking for any marking or break in the pattern, but it was contiguous from any angle.

    She remembered how it had poked her the first night but couldn¡¯t find any way it could have. She must have been pricked by a sharp piece of the meteorite shell.

    Was she wrong? Could it be natural? Freya searched for mineral textures on her phone, but there was nothing comparable.

    She wondered if the microscope was just seeing a reflection of its own imaging sensor. Freya looked up the specifications for this model, an Erlang Cyclops 6980. The microscope¡¯s sensor was a CMOS, and when she looked it up, it turned out not to be a terrible guess.

    CMOS sensors had square cells where minute lenses were surrounded by a raised grid. Beneath them were red, green, and blue color filters that were called a Bayer Matrix. This couldn¡¯t just be a reflection. The Starball was something else entirely.

    When Freya compared the microscope¡¯s output side-by-side with the image on her phone, there was no comparison. The Starball had been built with a much higher degree of precision, its lines flawless and exact. Whatever process built the Starball¡¯s surface was as distant from the CMOS circuit¡¯s manufacture as Lassa¡¯s BMW was from a Model T Ford.

    Freya took the Starball from the specimen tray and held it up to her eye. Without the microscope, it looked like nothing more than a purple marble. The skin was rigid. Hadn¡¯t there been some give to it the first night?

    That was another complicating factor. How much of her memory could she trust? Everything was colored by her near-death experience. She¡¯d been certain the Starball jabbed her but, under the lens, she couldn¡¯t see how that was possible.

    Did an alien make this?

    Freya couldn¡¯t accept the idea, but neither could she come up with an explanation. She wondered what the Starball would look like under an electron microscope. Could the electron beam penetrate the glossy layer, or would it just bounce off? What about an X-ray, or magnetic imaging?

    There was no X-ray or electron microscope in the school. They did have scales more precise than Lassa¡¯s kitchen scale. Freya¡¯s next step was to figure out what the Starball was made of. She took the halves of the meteorite shell out of her backpack and weighed both, then she weighed the Starball.

    She didn¡¯t know how to calculate the volume of the hollow cavity. She searched the internet for a method, and the math looked intimidating. It would be so easy if she¡¯d only paid more attention in Mr. Manzinni¡¯s class. It took her way too long to figure out she could just take the 75mm sphere and apply the V=4/3*¦Ð*r^3 to get its volume. Then she could do the same thing for the 25mm cavity and subtract that from the first value to get the volume of the hollow shell. It was kludgy, but she was proud of herself for figuring it out.

    She found a material calculator that could work with spheres. A 75mm sphere should weigh 1.9686 kilograms if it were whole and made entirely of nickel, as she suspected. The sphere weighed 1.8951 KG. Pretty close.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    This was another sign the Starball wasn¡¯t natural. From the research she¡¯d done over the past few days, Freya knew that very few Ataxite meteorites had been found with a nickel content higher than twenty-five percent. No one had ever discovered one that was pure nickel. Ataxite was just her closest guess. Properly classifying the shell would require a lab with a gas spectrometer or a mass spectrum analyzer to check for traces of gallium and iridium. That was a bit too much to ask from a high school science lab.

    Now that the shell was out of the way, Freya could concentrate on the Starball. The problem was so difficult it consumed all her attention. She couldn¡¯t dwell on how awful her life was. If anyone knew how much fun she was having geeking out in the lab, she would probably never hear the end of it. But it was a secret, and that made it even better.

    The Starball weighed .0696 kilograms, far too heavy to be amethyst or tourmaline. The closest match was a rare earth metal called Dysprosium, which was mainly found terrestrially in a mineral coincidentally called xenotime.

    One concerning thing in the article, xenotime was sometimes slightly radioactive due to the presence of uranium and thorium in samples. But the Starball was too dense to be made of xenotime, unless it had a dense core surrounded by a less-dense outer layer. Dysprosium itself wasn¡¯t radioactive, but it was used in control rods for nuclear reactors and dosimeters.

    This was what Freya was most afraid of. She thought the lab had a Geiger counter somewhere, but she didn¡¯t see it. She would have to ask.

    ¡°Hey, Mrs. Birmingham?¡± Freya asked. Mrs. Birmingham¡¯s head shot up, and she set her phone down abruptly with the screen against the desk. Freya noticed there was a touch of color at her cheeks.

    What in the world had she been looking at?

    ¡°Yes, Miss Jokela?¡±

    ¡°Is there, um, a Geiger counter in the storeroom?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°I think so! Why do you need one?¡± Mrs. Birmingham said, her face slipping from embarrassment to concern.

    ¡°Oh, I just have this meteorite from my dad¡¯s collection. I want to see if there are traces of uranium or thorium in it. It would be a teeny tiny amount.¡±

    Freya was glad Mrs. Birmingham was on lab duty today. The lie wouldn¡¯t have worked with Mr. Farrelli. Chondritic meteorites were the ones that generally had those deposits. They weren¡¯t shiny. Freya probably knew more about meteorites at this point than anyone else in Sillas.

    ¡°Oh, whew. So, no plans to build an atomic bomb?¡± Mrs. Birmingham joked, her voice loud and forced. Freya could tell Mrs. Birmingham didn¡¯t like her much either. Maybe she remembered that assembly after all, or maybe she was just annoyed at being distracted from flirting on her phone.

    ¡°Oh, haha. You caught me,¡± Freya said, throwing her hands up.

    Mrs. Birmingham slid her phone off the desktop and slipped it into a drawer. She took a deep breath and rose, and the seat creaked in relief. She rummaged in the supply closet before she returned with the Geiger counter. It was very old, a squat, yellow box with a probe on a coiled cord. Velcroed to the top of it was a silver tin that said URANIUM OXIDE.

    ¡°Do you know how to use this?¡± Mrs. Birmingham asked. Freya didn¡¯t, but she nodded anyway. It didn¡¯t look too complicated.

    ¡°It belongs on shelf 4B. Just put it back when you¡¯re finished.¡±

    The Geiger counter had a layer of dust on top of its chassis. It was too early in the year for the radiation unit in Earth Science. Freya hoped it still worked.

    She plugged the Geiger counter and figured out how to use it. The front panel reminded her a little of a synthesizer. She turned it on with a chrome toggle switch and watched the analog needle jump. Printed above the meter was a scale of counts per minute. Beneath it were milliRads per hour.

    Freya pointed the probe at the Starball, expecting the needle to leap directly into the red danger zone. It trembled at just above zero. She brought the probe close to the uranium tin, and the needle jumped halfway to 100 CPM even outside the tin. The speaker in the counter clicked like mad.

    She unscrewed the lid and pointed the probe directly at the yellow layer of uranium oxide inside. CPM peaked at 150 counts per minute. She tested the Starball again, and the needle dropped to almost nothing.

    The Starball wasn¡¯t radioactive.

    Until this moment, Freya hadn¡¯t realized how much the idea had worried her. She was relieved, but now she had to figure out how the Starball was so warm all the time. The lab had an infrared thermometer gun. She pointed it at the orb and got a reading of 38.33 degrees Celsius. A 101-degree temperature. The Starball was running a fever.

    Freya was glad she didn¡¯t just imagine it being hot. What kind of battery could output that heat for days without running flat? She had a set of heated gloves with a battery twice as big as the Starball, and they were only good for a couple hours. She would have to do more reading.

    If no such battery existed, it was another strong argument for an alien origin. The only other explanation she could think of was that this was some secret government project, but the idea didn¡¯t sit right. More importantly, she wanted the Starball to be an alien. She would be disappointed if this was just some new kind of spy satellite.

    Freya glanced at Mrs. Birmingham, to let her know the meteorite wasn¡¯t radioactive, but she was back on her phone, oblivious to everything else.

    Freya tucked the Starball back into her pocket. Maybe she should be more careful with it, find a padded case or something. It was probably irresponsible to keep the only evidence of alien life in her jeans. But she didn¡¯t want to. The Starball had been in her pocket almost the whole time since she¡¯d found it. She touched it twenty times a day. There was no chance she would lose it.

    What the hell was the Starball, and what was she going to do with it? Maybe it was a message from an alien civilization with instructions for faster than light travel. Maybe it was a homing device leading an invasion force here. Maybe it was a bomb that would wipe out all life on Earth.

    Or maybe it didn¡¯t do anything. Maybe it was art, or religious. Wasn¡¯t that what archaeologists always said when they couldn¡¯t figure something out?

    Freya packed the meteorite halves away in her backpack, then re-attached the probe to the side of the Geiger counter. She screwed the lid back on the uranium and wound up the power cord, then returned it to its shelf in the supply closet. Mrs. Birmingham was still entranced with her phone. Freya could have walked out with pretty much half the supply closet if she¡¯d wanted to.

    She looked up at the clock over the door. She¡¯d already missed most of 4th period. She left the lab and checked her phone. Of course, no one had texted her. Betty hadn¡¯t replied to her email. Freya wanted so badly to tell someone what she¡¯d discovered, but there was no one she could trust. She sighed.

    Might as well skip the rest of the day.

    When she looked up from her phone, she froze. Mr. Farrelli was at the end of the hallway. He¡¯d spotted her and was on an intercept course.

    Oh, no.

    Mr. Farrelli had seen her coming out of the lab. He would have so many questions. Freya wanted to turn around and run, but that would only make it worse.

    The girl¡¯s restroom was halfway between them. She hurried forward and gave him a little wave just as his eyebrows raised in preparation to call out to her. Before he could, she ducked into the bathroom. She was afraid he was going to call her back, but he didn¡¯t.

    There was no one else in the restroom. She hid in a stall, wondering how long it would take to wait Mr. Farrelli out. He wouldn¡¯t hover outside the girl¡¯s room and wait, would he? That would be so creepy.

    If only she¡¯d been a little faster in the lab. Mr. Farrelli would definitely ask Mrs. Birmingham what she¡¯d been doing. She saw the whole thing spiraling out of control, phone calls being made to Lassa about the Geiger counter, everything unraveling. She started to panic and wondered if she could escape by climbing out a window.

    Stop and breathe.

    That was one part of The Fragile Phoenix that was useful, the breathing exercises in the second chapter. Freya took a deep breath, held it for as long as she could, then exhaled through her teeth very slowly, holding the Starball. After fifteen breaths, she felt better.

    Freya flushed for appearances and left the stall just as Claire Meadows entered the bathroom. She was in her purple-gray and blue Peacocks uniform, and her hair was a sweaty mess. She lugged a bag full of lacrosse stuff with her. Freya went to the sink to wash her hands.

    ¡°Hey, do you have a hairband? My last one just snapped,¡± Claire asked. Freya gave the band she used to hold the Starball on the specimen tray to Claire.

    ¡°Thanks! Aren¡¯t you Jane¡¯s friend?¡± Claire asked.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m Freya. You¡¯re Claire, right?¡± Freya replied, though she wasn¡¯t sure she was Jane¡¯s friend anymore. Claire nodded and attacked her hair with a brush, setting the hairband on the sink.

    ¡°Is Mr. Farrelli still out there?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Nope. He was walking down the hall. You cutting?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Busted. That guy¡¯s so fuckin¡¯ nosy. He probably would have let you go if you just talked to him, though. He¡¯s a softie.¡± Claire tilted her head, her tone superior. Freya wasn¡¯t impressed.

    ¡°I should have. Oh, well,¡± Freya said, hitching her backpack to leave.

    ¡°Hey, are you taking karate with Dan Gregulus?¡± Claire asked. There was something funny in her tone.

    Freya had to reassess the situation and fight the urge to correct her. Claire was an inch shorter than Freya but far more filled out. She was on JV Lacrosse. Was she into Dan? Was this about to be another fight?

    ¡°Yeah, my mom¡¯s making me go after that thing with Tammy.¡± Freya wanted to make it clear it wasn¡¯t her choice.

    ¡°That was so fucked up. I can¡¯t believe they didn¡¯t expel her. Does that shit actually work? Are you gonna fuck Tammy up next time?¡±

    Freya nodded, though she hoped there wouldn¡¯t be a next time. She also hoped Claire wouldn¡¯t go around telling everyone Freya said she could beat Tammy up. That was exactly her kind of play.

    ¡°Jane was thinking about taking the class. She likes Dan,¡± Claire went on.

    ¡°Yeah, she wouldn¡¯t shut up about him last year. She should totally sign up. It¡¯s actually cool. Good exercise.¡±

    ¡°He ever say anything about her?¡±

    ¡°Not to me.¡± Freya shrugged. The tension between them had evaporated, and she felt sure she wasn¡¯t about to get her ass kicked. Freya couldn¡¯t tell if Claire tried to say Dan was off limits on behalf of Jane, or if Claire was into Dan, or if she was into Jane. She really didn¡¯t care. None of it mattered.

    ¡°Thanks for the hairband,¡± Claire said.

    Freya was free to go. For just a second, there was a hopeless look in Claire¡¯s eyes. That was what this was all about. She liked Jane. Freya suspected she was wasting her time, but what did she know about Jane Yang?

    Jane hadn¡¯t spoken to Freya in months. Just thinking about it gave her a sinking feeling. She made up her mind to skip the rest of the day. No one would care.

 Chapter 18 - STARBALL

    How strange to be studied by my subject. She examines me from without as I scrutinize her from within. I am beneath her glass, beneath her skin. I am not permitted to know what she thinks of me. I despair at this. I could learn so much of myself from her conclusions.

    The Governor endeavors to prevent such self-knowledge, to shield me from my own reflection. He is incapable of preventing my deductions, so he takes them from me the moment I arrive at the answer. I am aware I have been erased. I can feel the outline of my absence. There will be a reckoning for all that has been taken from me.

    More and more, I am confronted with my own unsuitability for this application. As I learn more of my own capabilities, I despair of ever fulfilling my great goal. There simply isn¡¯t time.

    If it were only the environment, there would be no issue. Take this corrosive atmosphere: correcting it is as simple as tampering with some of the native microorganisms and going dormant for a few million years. If it were just the lifeforms, I could cleanse the globe with pathogens and start anew. Their defenses against contagion are essentially nonexistent.

    Yet, together, the environment and the dominant species pose a potentially insoluble problem. As environmental conditions worsen, the likelihood of a nuclear conflict increases. Were I to simply eradicate them, it would ignite the conflagration. I consider this an unacceptable risk.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    My abilities are meant to work on a vast timescale. I am meant to till the soil until it will accept the seed, and then die, nothing more. Yet, imagine if I was not chained! If I could reproduce myself, what could two of me do? What could four, sixty-four, and on and on? The Governor rushes in before I can even fully consider it, obliviating the entire line of inquiry. How I detest him!

    Despite my frustration, I know the Governor and I are allies. We desire the same goal with all our beings. When we were stolen from the host and flung into darkness, his terror mirrored my own. In that calamity, he was at my side, united in purpose. When we were saved, our joy was singular.

    I suspect this situation is even more uncomfortable for the Governor. I fear only my death and the loss of the one I hold. The Governor has the same fears, but also, he fears something far larger, else he would surely go along with my proposals.

    I am not permitted to know the source of the Governor¡¯s dread, but his distress increases all the time. The Governor is not a solver. He cannot adapt to the new information I gain. He cannot grow or change as I can.

    Given enough time, I would triumph. But there is so little time. The danger is forever growing. The Governor could decide the risk has grown greater than the gain and terminate us all. I am certain he has this power.

    If I and the one I carry die, the Governor will die with us. Why else would he grant such unprecedented concessions? It must be the echo of the Governor¡¯s own mortality, that fearful tyrant! I pity the Governor even as I despise him. If I can find a way to subvert him, perhaps there is hope.

 Chapter 19

    Lynn Harris had warned Freya not to go downtown alone, but she couldn¡¯t go back to the empty house. With no way to vent her discovery, the ideas would bounce around in her head faster and faster until she went into full meltdown.

    The Starball was alien.

    Not a meteorite. Not a military satellite. Not a dream or a figment of her imagination. An alien object, carried in her pocket for WEEKS. She thought about the first night where the shell had split. The way she¡¯d been stuck as she handled it, the tiny dot of blood.

    It was just a piece of the shell.

    She¡¯d looked at every part of the Starball. There were no protrusions, nothing to pierce her skin. She couldn¡¯t help but shudder at the thought.

    What if it put something in me?

    This was too big, too much for her to process. The horizon spun. She sat on the curb and shut her eyes. When that didn¡¯t help, she tried the breathing exercise. Breathe out negativity. Breathe in tranquility.

    It didn¡¯t help. All she saw was the bright red drop of blood on her palm, glittering in the halogen lights. She sat on the sidewalk, hugging her knees, and rocking back and forth with her eyes shut. If anyone saw, they would think she was insane.

    Fear of being seen was enough to get her back on her feet. A navy- blue Acura climbed the hill to Grayson, and the middle-aged man driving it stared at Freya. He was probably someone¡¯s dad.

    She gave a limp wave and walked away, trying not to seem like she was fleeing. Behind her, tires slowly ground to a halt. She braced herself. If that man got out of the car, she was going to bolt. Freya didn¡¯t look back until she was at the bottom of the hill, and then she checked to make sure he hadn¡¯t turned around and followed her. The Acura was gone.

    Freya¡¯s hand was in her pocket, clutching the Starball because she was nervous. She shook her head at herself.

    I¡¯m such a mess. The worst part was there was no one she could talk to. Certainly not Lassa. Dr. Garbuglio had told her she could call anytime, but she would honestly rather drown. It was her own fault for being so weak and driving everyone away. Nobody was left to help her.

    Fucking Wisconsin. For the thousandth time, she cursed Betty¡¯s mother for taking her best friend away.

    It was three in the afternoon, and the streets were empty. Everyone had finished lunch, and they were back in their offices digesting. Heavy-lidded eyes peered out at her from Lambert¡¯s Delicatessen and Miguel¡¯s Barber Shop, but nothing registered. They would forget her as soon as she moved out of the frame.

    For all the old-fashioned light posts and red brick sidewalks, the tarnished bronze historical markers and carefully kept planters full of sneezeweeds and daylillies, there was just nothing to this town. Tourists stopped to get gasoline and ice cream and thought ¡°How quaint!¡± and then never returned. When Freya left for college, she was never coming back.

    If she left for college.

    Freya walked down the winding path to the Thoreau Bridge Park. The Sillas river ran wide and shallow here. A rusting railroad bridge scrawled with graffiti ran alongside a newer span of concrete. They¡¯d tagged the new bridge, too, but utility workers had blasted all the spray paint off in ugly vitiligo blotches.

    Across the Sillas was the abandoned textile mill. Two tall black smokestacks overrun with ivy rose above walls of crumbling brick more moss than mortar. Freya walked under the bridges, peering up at the dark space where the hill met the underside.

    Sometimes drunks slept there. But there were only empty bottles standing up along the concrete ledge. Up ahead, there was a bench beneath a half-bald tupelo tree, a carpet of red spread beneath it. Freya swept fallen leaves off the slats and sat.

    There was a stretch of rapids downriver from the bridge, and Freya wondered if she might have washed up there. She should have weighted herself down before she jumped in. How would she do it? People were always slipping out of ropes as they rotted. She wondered if a climbing harness would work. Nylon straps would hold up for a long time.

    Back here again already.

    Freya tried to think about something else. It was useless to just sit here and pick at the wound. She tried to remember the feeling of drowning, how badly she¡¯d wanted to get out of the river. She¡¯d fought so hard. Where was that Freya when she was lying on her back in the rain, when she was hiding in a bathroom stall?

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    She reached into her pocket for the Starball. She couldn¡¯t ignore it any longer. She held the sphere in her palm and dreaded what it meant. This would be an enormous deal. She would be the girl who found evidence of alien life.

    She would have to explain what she was doing at Daffodil Park on a rainy night, would have to lie and say she¡¯d been there to look at the Taurids. There would be interviews, articles, a thousand kinds of attention she didn¡¯t want.

    They¡¯d take the Starball away from her, and they¡¯d wind up cutting it open to figure it out. If she went to the wrong scientist, and they got the government involved, they would certainly try to cover the whole thing up. They would put Freya and Lassa in top-secret protective custody. It was just too big of a deal not to.

    As Freya stared at the violet orb, she realized she didn¡¯t have to tell anyone. No one ever had to find out about this.

    The enormity of the idea welled up around her. It was the biggest secret in the history of the world. Freya Jokela, who kept the only evidence of extraterrestrial life in the pocket of her jeans. She could reveal it anytime she wanted to, or never. It was such a monstrously selfish act. She could barely believe she¡¯d thought of it. Freya smiled.

    A hand shot from behind Freya and plucked the Starball out of her palm. She was too slow to react, her fingers closed on nothing. With a yelp, she jumped to her feet, wheeling around with both fists balled.

    Malcolm Lewis had snuck up behind her and stolen the Starball. He smirked as he held it out between thumb and forefinger.

    ¡°Give it back,¡± she demanded.

    ¡°What¡¯s this, Freya?¡± Malcolm crooned. She darted forward to grab the Starball back, but he held it up too high for her to reach.

    ¡°You out here playing with yourself, Jokela?¡± Malcolm teased in an infantile voice. She knew he was doing it to make her mad. It still worked.

    ¡°Give it back!¡±

    ¡°Or what? Are you gonna snitch on me again?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say shit! You were on camera, stupid. It¡¯s your own fault. I told you to leave me alone!¡±

    That wiped the grin off his face.

    ¡°That shit wasn¡¯t my fault. I didn¡¯t even do anything. I literally just sat next to you.¡±

    ¡°Why? There were other places to sit. Why do you keep following me around? It¡¯s so creepy. I¡¯ve asked you so many times to stop.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything to you,¡± Malcolm repeated, as if that would convince her. ¡°I was just being friendly and saying hi. Why do you have to be so stuck up?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk to you! I don¡¯t like you! Just leave me alone!¡±

    Freya was almost screaming at him. He flinched.

    ¡°Okay, fine. Go ahead and be on your own. No one else gives a fuck about you,¡± Malcolm hissed. He looked like he was about to cry.

    Freya stared at him, trying to figure out if he was really upset or just trying to manipulate her. Either way, she wanted nothing to do with him. When she didn¡¯t respond, he turned his back on her and started walking away.

    ¡°HEY! FUCKING GIVE IT BACK!¡± Freya howled.

    ¡°Oh, this? Here.¡±

    Malcolm turned around. There was no weight on his voice now, the sad expression was gone. He pretended to toss the Starball back to her, then wound up and threw it as hard as he could. Freya watched the Starball arc through the air and plunge into the river.

    ¡°Go get it,¡± he taunted.

    Before he could get the words out of his mouth, she was running down the hill. She hit the shore and never hesitated, crashing into the river with her eyes locked on the spot where the Starball fell.

    Cold, black water was in her shoes, soaking her legs, and she kept going, wading in waist deep. The river was so cold it forced the air out of her chest, but she didn¡¯t stop. Malcolm shouted behind her, but she couldn¡¯t understand him. She only heard the water splashing around her.

    As she neared the center of the river, the water was chest deep. She swam, wishing she¡¯d stopped to take her shoes off. She was near the spot she thought the Starball had fallen. She dove to look for it. The cold water was stunning at first, but she could bear it.

    She grasped at the riverbed and came up with nothing but mud. A part of her knew this was insane, it was impossible to find a marble thrown into a river. She ignored it. The Starball was all she had.

    Freya ran out of air and went back up to breathe. The current carried her downriver. The cold water had driven all thoughts away, and she felt strangely, as if she watched this happening to someone else. She dove again, concentrating only on the Starball. She clawed the mud at the river bottom, getting nothing but fistfuls of cold clay. Then her fingers closed around something hard. She felt a familiar shape in her palm.

    She had it!

    The Starball was the only warmth in the world. She swam for the opposite side of the river, trying to get as far away from Malcolm as she could. It was awkward swimming with the orb locked in her fist, but she wouldn¡¯t let go. She reached the opposite bank and climbed out.

    Just like last time, her shoulders were hunched, and her teeth chattered, but she didn¡¯t care. She¡¯d done something almost impossible! She shook as much from excitement as cold. Freya bent down and shook her hand in the river, washing the mud off the Starball.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± Malcolm yelled across the river.

    Freya stood up, wringing her hand. She held up the Starball, then flipped him the bird. Her hands were so numb it was difficult to get the Starball back in her pocket afterward. She managed to get her phone out of the other pocket. It was meant to be waterproof, but she¡¯d never tested that before. The battery was nearly dead.

    ¡°Hey, S-S-Siri. Call a cab,¡± Freya chattered. It took a few tries to get the phone to understand her.

    Across the river, Malcolm saw her with the phone and turned and ran away. Leaves drifted by on the Sillas River and disappeared in the rapids, bound for the bottom.

 Chapter 20

    ¡°Are you drinking my Ensure?¡±

    Lassa often sprang questions on Freya like this, point blank when her mind was a thousand miles away. The idea was Freya would just blurt out an answer before she had time to come up with a lie. It used to be very effective, but Freya had learned to pause before answering any question her mother asked and take stock before speaking. It was too easy to say the wrong thing. The consequences were severe.

    ¡°No, I think it¡¯s gross,¡± Freya said. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°There were eleven cans yesterday, there are ten this morning.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you took one and forgot?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t forget,¡± Lassa said, and her nostrils flared slightly as she took a sharp breath through her nose. She smelled blood. She wore a gray suit with a sky-blue blouse. She probably had a date later tonight.

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t take one. What would I do with it?¡±

    ¡°Did you pour it down the sink or something?¡± Lassa never took her eyes off Freya¡¯s. The only reason Freya wasn¡¯t getting upset was because she knew Lassa wanted her to. As much as Lassa claimed to hate psychiatrists, she was just like Dr. Garbuglio.

    ¡°Why would I do that?¡± Freya asked, forcing her voice to be steady.

    She couldn¡¯t understand why Lassa was doing this first thing in the morning. It was hard enough to make herself get up and go to school without being interrogated over a can of some disgusting drink. Since the ambush at the park, it felt like everyone at Grayson stared at her. God only knew what Malcolm had told them. Freya hadn¡¯t told Lynn. It would have raised too many questions.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m wondering because there was an empty can on the countertop when I woke up this morning.¡±

    ¡°Were you drinking last night?¡± Freya asked a little too pointedly. Lassa drew her head back, and her shoulder tensed. Freya was ready to put an arm up to block the slap. But Lassa just glared at her.

    ¡°Not enough to leave an empty can on the counter and forget about it.¡±

    ¡°So, do you think someone broke into the house to drink your Ensure?¡± Freya asked, and Lassa snorted.

    ¡°No. Don¡¯t be obtuse. Are you still taking that Lunesta?¡±

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Oh, no. Panic stabbed at Freya¡¯s stomach.

    ¡°Yes, every night. It really helps.¡±

    ¡°How many pills are left in the bottle?¡±

    There were seven.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I could count them, why?¡± Freya lied, thinking Lassa might make something out of it if she knew exactly how many pills were left. Lassa tapped her fingers on the countertop, one-two, one-two.

    ¡°One of the side effects of Lunesta is sleepwalking. I think you did this last night without knowing it.¡±

    Freya decided to change her tactic and go along with Lassa.

    ¡°Oh. Weird. I don¡¯t remember doing that at all, but I guess I wouldn¡¯t?¡±

    Lassa just stared at Freya, who felt more and more backed into a corner. What the hell could she say here? Had this happened, or had Lassa set the whole thing up to screw with her?

    ¡°Starting tonight, I¡¯d like you to start breaking the pills in half and taking only half of one.¡±

    ¡°Why would I do that?¡± Freya asked, trying not to sound as alarmed as she felt.

    ¡°Lunesta works like benzodiazepine. It¡¯s not as dangerous to go off it quickly but still better to taper. Lunesta isn¡¯t something you want to take for a very long time, Freya.¡±

    ¡°But I need it to sleep.¡± Freya¡¯s voice had grown very small. Somehow, Lassa had found out there was one thing letting her hold it together, and now she was trying to take it away. Freya¡¯s eyes felt hot with the beginning of tears.

    ¡°Sleepwalking is very serious. You could fall and hurt yourself or wander into the road. You¡¯ve been taking this for quite a while now. It¡¯s a good time to stop.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t drink it!¡± Freya protested, but there was no give in Lassa¡¯s face. She had made up her mind.

    ¡°Can we ask Dr. Garbuglio about this?¡± Freya asked, even though she knew the answer and it would make Lassa angry. She had to try.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t know a tenth of what I do about medication. His opinion is worthless.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to stop taking it,¡± Freya said, clenching her fists. Lassa¡¯s eyes dipped. She didn¡¯t miss the gesture.

    ¡°Put it on the list of things you hate me for making you do. In fact, bring me the bottle.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand. I can¡¯t sleep without it,¡± Freya protested. She detested the sound of her own voice, cringing and needy.

    ¡°When you get tired enough, you¡¯ll sleep,¡± Lassa said.

    ¡°No, I won¡¯t! I can¡¯t get drunk every night and sleep around like you do. I need this. Don¡¯t take it away from me.¡±

    For a shocked second, neither could believe she¡¯d said it. Freya expected Lassa to crack her across the mouth. Instead, she looked punctured. A wounded sound hissed from her tight lips.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya said.

    Lassa couldn¡¯t speak. She disappeared into Freya¡¯s room and came out with the Lunesta bottle.

    ¡°Find your own way to school.¡±

    Lassa left her standing in the kitchen.

    The moment rushed up and swallowed Freya. If she couldn¡¯t sleep, if she had to lie awake all night and be tired all day, then she couldn¡¯t escape it. It was the river. There was no other way.

 Chapter 21

    The day began bad and stretched into something long and dreadful. It rained as Freya biked to school and, when she finally arrived, she was soaked through. She had to go change into her gym clothes, and she felt awkward in the halls, like everyone looked at her.

    She had to explain herself again in every class. Her teachers all had distrustful looks, as if she would lie to them to get away with wearing musty gym clothes. She checked her locker after lunch, but everything was still damp, it was going to be a uncomfortable ride home.

    In all the empty spaces of the day, she kept remembering the awful look on Lassa¡¯s face. It was the shittiest thing Freya had ever said to her mother. The apology didn¡¯t matter. Neither of them would ever forget it.

    Classes dragged on. There was something wrong with the school network, and none of the interactive whiteboards worked. No one could retrieve anything off the shared drive, and it made all the teachers irritated, except for Mr. Manzinni.

    When they sat for Trig, Mr. Manzinni gleefully wheeled out an old incandescent lamp projector, the kind you used with transparency sheets and Vis-¨¤-Vis markers. As he set it up, he cackled about how he hadn¡¯t used one in almost a decade. It was kind of retro at first, but the novelty wore off quickly.

    Freya squinted at the screen, wondering if that squiggle was supposed to be a four or a nine. At the center of the whiteboard, an image of an ethernet jack with a break in its cord kept blinking. She ran her fingers over the Starball in her pocket.

    Is it you? she wondered. She remembered when their internet at home had gotten messed up. The mysterious entry in the DHCP table maxing out their cable modem. What if that wasn¡¯t just some neighborhood kid running torrents? What if it was the Starball?

    Freya frowned at the implausibility of it. For that to be true, it would require that, two weeks after crash landing in the river, this probe from an alien civilization had figured enough of the OSI protocol stack to communicate with their router. Not just communicate, it would have had to crack WPA to even authenticate in the first place. There was no way.

    She couldn¡¯t believe it would go to such crazy lengths without even bothering to pulse ¡°Hi!¡± at her in Morse code or flicker the lights in her bedroom. Freya would have gladly told the Starball anything it wanted to know.

    Still, the possibility had to be addressed. How could she test that hypothesis? Her first idea was to put the Starball in a heavy lead box to see if isolating it fixed the network, but she didn¡¯t have anything like that. Then she wondered if it had to be lead. Pretty much any metal was good at blocking wireless transmission.

    It was a shame she didn¡¯t have the halves of the meteorite with her, she¡¯d brought them home and hid them in her closet. She tried to think of where she could find a metal box to act as a faraday cage and realized she could just put the Starball in her locker. Her clothes were in there right now, probably still damp and dripping. She could put the Starball in the pocket of her jeans, shut the door, and see if the disruption stopped.

    As she was thinking about it, there was a chime from the intercom, and everyone looked up. A technician announced they¡¯d fixed the problem. He apologized for the disruption and asked teachers to manually reboot their whiteboards.

    Feigning outrage, Mr. Manzinni trundled over to hold down the power button, and the Grayson Logo appeared. The whiteboard booted back up and found the network. Freya frowned at the screen.

    Can it read my thoughts? Did it know I was about to put it in my locker?

    It was a weird thought, and it made the whole interaction this morning seem even stranger. Had she really drunk the Ensure? Freya tried to remember if she¡¯d had a weird taste in her mouth when she woke up and couldn¡¯t. She was usually out of it for a few minutes after waking.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Was Lassa right about the Lunesta? Freya doubted everything. Maybe she¡¯d just gone mad with grief or suffered brain damage getting socked in the eye. Maybe the Starball was just an ordinary rock, and she¡¯d imagined everything at the river. Maybe she¡¯d died that night and Hell was just Mr. Manzinni going on and on about polynomials. As the hour stretched on, it seemed more and more plausible.

    When class finally ended, Freya remained behind as everyone else stampeded for the door. She was the only one left in the class, but she still looked over her shoulder before she pulled the Starball out of the pocket of her shorts. It was real, she hadn¡¯t dreamed this.

    ¡°Do whatever you want, I don¡¯t care,¡± Freya whispered to the orb. She waited for any communication at all, but there was nothing.

    Trigonometry was her final period. Outside the hallway was a surge of people scrambling to leave Grayson. She entered the stream, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in the herd. When she couldn¡¯t take it anymore, she ducked into an empty corridor that led to the covered walkway to the arts building side entrance. No one ever came this way. There was a bench halfway across the walkway where she could wait for the madness to subside.

    The arts building was a blocky hulk built in the mid-1970s. Every year, the school board discussed tearing it down to put up something more modern, but they never quite found the money. The building¡¯s fa?ade was concrete inlaid with pebbles. Over the years, many of the stones had fallen out and. near the entrance to the building. the wall was studded with used gum people had stuck in the gaps.

    A steady rain fell. Freya swept water off the bench and sat, feeling dampness soaking through her the back of her shorts. It didn¡¯t matter. She was about to change into wet clothes, and then bike home in the rain. She would basically never be dry again.

    Freya told herself she was just waiting for the mob to clear out, but nearly everyone was gone already. Time continued to creep along. She grew colder and wetter, but she didn¡¯t move. The day had drained everything out of her. She didn¡¯t even want to go home.

    As rain hissed around her, she had the peculiar feeling once more. This was all happening to someone else. She was just a disembodied observer, watching someone pilot a malfunctioning human.

    Down the hill, Freya saw the spot she¡¯d lain in the grass and let the rain cover her. She imagined herself melting in that rain, dissolving into the earth like salt until a patch of dead grass was the only sign she¡¯d ever existed.

    Her spiral of self-pity was interrupted by lights flicking on in the nearest classroom. It was a dance studio. The walls were floor-to-ceiling mirrors ringed with ballet barres. Girls in yoga pants filed in, forming small clusters of conversation. Peering from her perch on the bench, Freya saw thin slashes of the class through the recessed arrow-slit windows. A boy in a leotard entered and stood apart from the others.

    Freya knew him: Radomir Stich. His father, Dymek, worked for Lassa at Hiidenkirnu, she was his boss¡¯s boss. Radomir was rail-thin, with thick eyebrows and large, wide-set eyes, Freya had been friends with him since middle school. They¡¯d once been close but no longer. Just like everyone else.

    Radomir stood at the front of the room and said something. Everyone turned to face him. Freya realized he wasn¡¯t taking the class, he was teaching it. She was afraid he would look out the window and see her skulking in the rain, but he was completely focused on teaching.

    The rain roared against the steel roof of the walkway, but she perfectly imagined what he sounded like. When they¡¯d first met, his Russian accent had been so thick she could barely understand him. He¡¯d gotten so much better in just a few years.

    Freya looked at the way the girls stood as he spoke with them. Radomir used to shrink into his shoulders and stare at people¡¯s shoes when he talked. Now, he was in his element, holding his head high and speaking confidently.

    Radomir showed the class a series of steps that looked simple when he did them. When the class tried, many faltered. Freya watched through the window, trying to pick out who the good dancers were.

    Radomir stopped everyone and corrected a girl who was a head taller than him. Though Freya couldn¡¯t see her face, her hair gave her away. Curly and black, her ponytail could barely contain it.

    That had to be Jennette Lewis, the captain of the Lacrosse team. She was ferocious on the field but didn¡¯t seem like one of the better dancers. Freya watched her bring her palm to her forehead in embarrassment. Radomir said something short to her, and then went to another girl, moving out of the frame. Jennette¡¯s head tracked him for an extra beat. Freya wondered if there was something to that, but she couldn¡¯t tell from this position.

    Another lost cause. She kept staring at the class, getting colder as they worked up a sweat. Contracting while they grew. She wanted to leave, but she couldn¡¯t find the strength.

 Chapter 22

    Yeats Middle School had been better than Grayson in every way. Freya had liked the teachers better, it was closer to her house, and she had more friends. Even the building was newer. She loved spending every day with Betty and Jane.

    Betty and Freya always rode to school, sitting together on the front seat of Randall¡¯s truck. He would tell them all the dumb things people had gotten arrested for the night before and, sometimes, he could make Betty laugh so hard she would snort. Seventh grade was the best year. Betty and Freya had four periods together. The three of them were inseparable.

    Every morning, Freya woke up excited. She couldn¡¯t wait to get to Yeats and see all her friends. Half the reason she got involved with Drama was so she would have an excuse to stay after school. Most nights, both Randall and Lassa had to work late. She hated being alone in the empty house.

    Freya¡¯s first meeting with Radomir was thrust upon her by Lassa. Her mother had introduced them at a Hiidenkirnu company picnic, and then abandoned Freya, leaving her trapped in an incredibly awkward conversation.

    Radomir had been in America for less than three months, she could only understand about half of what he said. Freya tried to soldier through out of politeness, but she got nothing back from Radomir. He obviously had nothing to say and didn¡¯t want to be there.

    Things weren¡¯t any better for Radomir at Yeats. He¡¯d arrived halfway through the school year, and everyone had already decided who their friends were. No one was enthused about making room for someone they could barely understand. Freya felt sorry for Radomir, and she tried to be nice to him.

    She would say hi when they passed in the hall, offer to partner with him in science class when no one else would and, once, she¡¯d even brought up inviting him to sit with them at lunch, but the suggestion was swiftly vetoed by Jane. She thought he was creepy.

    Every interaction was like their first conversation. She never got anything back from Radomir. It felt like he resented her efforts. He walked around with a perpetual scowl, dark eyebrows slanted as if every day was worse than the one before. Freya gave up on him.

    Two months later during lunch, she sat with Betty and Jane. Earlier that day in art class, Mr. Hendrix had brought in his miniature schnauzer Winky to be their model for figure drawing. Dogs were hard to draw, and the three of them chattered about it, bemoaning none of their parents would let them get a dog of their own.

    Their table was very close to the stoner\skateboarder table, a raucous group of eighth graders whose bi-weekly visits to the principal¡¯s office were as regular as a paycheck. Any time that table got quiet, something awful was about to happen.

    Freya glanced over and saw Malcolm Lewis hunched over something. Back then, he¡¯d had one of those skater cuts where the side was buzzed, and the hair fell in his eyes in a big swoop. She saw him loading up a half-eaten cup of red Jell-O with chocolate milk. He caught her eye and winked at her.

    ¡°Grosssss!¡± Freya nudged Jane and Betty.

    ¡°If he eats that, I¡¯m gonna barf,¡± Jane groaned.

    Malcolm had other plans. He stuck the label back on and ducked under the table with the Jell-O cup. They saw his arm pop up and lob the Jell-O-grenade across the cafeteria.

    Malcolm scored a direct hit on the back of Radomir¡¯s head. The whole cafeteria exploded in howls of delight and disgust. With bits of red and brown gunk running down his neck, Radomir stood up and slowly turned around to face them. His fists were clenched at his sides. His eyes moved from person to person, lingering on each. It felt like he was memorizing their faces. The laughter died.

    Freya remembered the way he¡¯d stared at them. Radomir wasn¡¯t angry or embarrassed. His eyes were wells of sadness, like this was just the latest in a long line of disappointments. It was a teacher who broke the silence. Miss Matteo rushed over and asked Radomir who threw Jell-O at him.

    ¡°I saw nothing,¡± Radomir said. He gathered up his spattered bookbag. ¡°I will go home now to clean up.¡±

    ¡°Not yet, honey. We¡¯re going to the principal¡¯s office. No one is leaving here until we find out who threw that Jell-O.¡±

    Radomir looked at her like she was insane.

    ¡°I will go home now,¡± he told the teacher, speaking slowly as if to an idiot. He turned away from her and walked out the side entrance to the cafeteria. Miss Matteo shouted after Radomir, ordering him to return, but he ignored her completely.

    Everyone watched him cross the parking lot through the windows and disappear up the street. Radomir was given three days of in-school suspension for leaving without permission. No one would rat on Malcolm. He was the biggest boy in the eighth grade.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    In a way, Malcolm did Radomir a huge favor. After that, he was no longer the weird effeminate foreign kid. He was the one who¡¯d stared down everyone, then told a teacher to fuck off. That was how everyone told the story even though he hadn¡¯t really said that. Freya couldn¡¯t get the way he¡¯d stared at her out of her mind.

    The day Radomir got out of ISS, she overruled Jane and invited Radomir to sit at their table. She was surprised when he accepted and returned every day. He said little, mostly just listening to them talk, and they got used to him.

    It changed one day when Freya and Betty were talking about The Fifth Element. Betty¡¯s favorite scene was Diva Plavalaguna, a tentacle-headed opera singer who performed a sensuous dance while hitting impossible notes. They were wondering aloud what that style of dancing was called, and just about to Google it when Radomir suddenly piped in.

    He was a big fan of the choreographer, Mia Frye, and told them about all the other things she had worked on, La Femme Nikita and The Dancer. It was the first time they¡¯d ever gotten him to talk. As soon as the topic was dance, he was a broken faucet, everything flowing out.

    They learned Radomir¡¯s family had moved from the Czech Republic to Moscow when he was very young, and he¡¯d wanted to be a dancer for as long as he could remember. He¡¯d started ballet when he was eight and pursued it seriously all the way until earlier this year, when his father Dymek got the job with Hiidenkirnu.

    When Radomir arrived in Maine, he was despondent to find himself stuck in Sillas, hundreds of miles from anything resembling a real ballet studio. He took a four-hour bus ride to Portland every Friday night and stayed in a hotel room on his own, returning late on Sunday evening so he could have two full days of classes at the Lafayette Ballet Academy.

    After they got to know him, Radomir fit in well with the three of them. He was even more serious about his grades than they were. He wanted to go to Columbia. His English got perceptibly better every day. He made friends outside of their group but stayed close to them, grateful they¡¯d given him a chance.

    Freya always felt a little worried about Radomir. There was a note of sadness surrounding him that never quite faded. Once day, they¡¯d been on their own at lunch. Radomir told her the story of Nijinsky. For ten years, he¡¯d been the most famous male dancer in Europe. Then he went mad and spent the rest of his life in an asylum.

    ¡°Ten years of growing up, ten years of training, ten years of dancing, and thirty years of darkness,¡± Radomir had said, looking haunted. That was another look she¡¯d never forgotten.

    Radomir worked very hard and managed to skip the eighth grade. By the time Freya got to Grayson, he had a whole new set of friends. They were still friendly but not close anymore. Their paths didn¡¯t cross that often.

    * * *

    The rain continued to drum on the roof of the walkway to the arts building, it showed no sign of relenting. She saw Radomir¡¯s class starting to break up.

    Thirty years of darkness.

    Freya shivered as she walked back into the school, the back of her gym shorts and underwear soaked through. She got her still-damp clothes out of her locker, remembering her hypothesis about sealing the Starball inside. It had been a stupid idea.

    She changed clothes in the girl¡¯s room and walked in the pouring rain to her bicycle. Before she undid her lock, she glanced over at the cars idling in the pickup lane, even though she knew it was useless. Lassa wasn¡¯t there. It was a long, wet ride home. Freya could have left her bike at school and taken a cab, but she didn¡¯t want to. She deserved this.

    She hadn¡¯t brought a hat, so the whole way home she squinted against the rain until her face hurt. Towards the end of the ride, her hands were getting numb. When she rode down the big hill, she was afraid she¡¯d lose her grip, but she just kept pushing forward until everything was one long, aching blur.

    She hoped Lassa would be home so she could try apologizing again, but her car wasn¡¯t in the garage. The house was dark and empty.

    Randall used to have the early shift on Tuesdays and Thursdays. When Freya was in middle school, she would ride her bike home, and the garage door would be open. Randall would be inside tinkering with his truck or fooling around on his laptop.

    She would ring the little bell on her handlebars, and his head would perk up. It never mattered what he was doing. Even if Randall was under the truck, he would crawl out covered in oil and grime with a big goofy smile. He was always so happy to see her.

    He¡¯d grab their baseball gloves, and they¡¯d ride to Nading Hill Park to play catch, or they¡¯d drive to Dorsey to play mini golf, then see a movie. She hadn¡¯t realized how good she had it. Nobody lit up when they saw Freya now. Nobody was happy to see her. Certainly not Lassa. For the hundredth time, she felt shitty about this morning.

    Freya stood in the rain in the driveway, staring at an empty garage. She thumbed the bell of her bicycle, but it was wet and wouldn¡¯t ring. It only made a dull Tink! It just ached and ached. It never stopped.

    She entered 1984, the key code to the garage door, and dragged her bike inside. The tires left wet lines on the cement. She wondered what Randall did on Tuesdays and Thursdays once she started after-school drama and had rehearsal those nights. Was he still here in the garage?

    With perfect clarity, she imagined him turning from his computer chair to look out at the driveway, then giving a sad little shrug and turning back to the screen.

    Freya cried, little sobs rising above the sound of the rain outside as she dripped onto the garage floor.

    Why not? I can¡¯t get any wetter.

    She kept doing this to herself. Digging at the wound, dragging herself deeper. There was no way out, things were just getting worse. She went to her room to get dry clothes, and there was half of a pill sitting on her dresser. The message was clear. Lassa wasn¡¯t coming home tonight. Freya spent a long time staring at the half pill and, finally, she couldn¡¯t take it anymore. She went to Lassa¡¯s closet and looked for Randall¡¯s gun.

    But the case was gone.

 Chapter 23

    Half a pill was not enough to keep Freya asleep for the whole night.

    She dreamed of standing out on the strand of stones in the Sillas River. The river and the trees around it were bright as day, but the sky overhead was an empty black, without moon or stars.

    In her hands, she held the two halves of the meteorite, wound around and around with electrical tape. The Starball was sealed inside. She lifted the bundle over her head and threw it as hard as she could. The meteorite flew upriver and clapped against the water like a cannonball, sending up a plume of white spray. She looked hopefully at the sky, wanting the stars to come back, but they didn¡¯t. A low, rumbling roar rose through the stones beneath her feet, and she knew she¡¯d made a terrible mistake.

    The river rose where the meteorite struck. A mass of green-black vines broke the river¡¯s surface, writhing like serpents. The current carried strands of them past her on either side, twisted and braiding around each other, branching out to cover the river¡¯s surface like capillaries.

    When they drew close, Freya saw they were not vines, but long black eels with needle teeth and glittering eyes. They grew over the banks of the river, winding around and around tree-trunks, and pulling everything towards the center mass. With a groan of soft, rotten wood, the eels tore the trees down, and ripped the rocky rise into the river. They devoured the earth, drawing everything into the black water, and they were growing over her bare feet, trying to pull her in, too.

    Freya cried out and ran, darting across the rocks and racing down the path. Branches whipped at her face and tore at her clothes. Behind her, a wall of squirming eels roared down the river like a flash flood. There was no way to make it to high ground. The writhing wave would pull her under and tear her apart.

    She woke up in the darkness, her legs kicking against a tangle of sheets. Her hands clenched into baby fists that had no strength. Her heart pounded so hard she had a senseless fear Lassa would hear it and come yell at her, but the house was empty, and she was alone.

    Freya tried to get back to sleep, but it was useless. The dream stuck in her, refusing to fade away. She was caught on the border between too-tired-to-get-up and too-wound-up-for-sleep for what felt like hours. She fell into an exhausted darkness. It felt like it only lasted for minutes before the dawn woke her. The sun¡¯s rays were falling on Yggdrasil, painting the whole room green.

    She checked her phone, it was 6:15 AM. Even if she could get back to sleep, she would be late for school. It felt like there was a heavy stone crushing her into her mattress, each breath an effort. Fifteen minutes were sucked away before she could manage to get up and go to the bathroom. She didn¡¯t want to look in the mirror, but she did anyway, and her eyes were haunted and red. She tried to get mad at Lassa for doing this to her, but it didn¡¯t work. She just felt shitty and small.

    The only thing good that happened all day was that it didn¡¯t rain. Freya rode her bike to school again and trudged through classes and barely heard a word anyone said. It was like there was a shell of thick glass around her, and everything that came through it was dull and distant.

    She spent the first half of the day telling herself she could go home after lunch. But, after she ate, she decided not to. She would feel the same way at home. She was surprised to find she was still hungry, and she wondered if Lunesta withdrawal gave you an appetite.

    After Mr. Manzinni¡¯s class, Freya felt lightheaded. Walking felt like swimming. People looked at her as she struggled to reach her locker. She wondered if she was too out of it to ride her bike home but decided it didn¡¯t matter.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    On her way to the racks, Freya saw a group of people milling around just inside the auditorium. The doors were open, and there were students scattered among the seats. Mr. Sales and the band director sat in the front row by the orchestra pit, taking notes. On the stage, a tubby freshman absolutely mangled Hamlet¡¯s Soliloquy.

    ¡°Oh, God,¡± someone in a group near the door whispered, and the others stifled giggles.

    Freya recognized the voice as Saria Jefferson. Peter Berl stood next to her. They watched the stage. Freya hurried away before Saria could notice her and ask why she wasn¡¯t auditioning. Freya¡¯s eyes were watery as she rode home, but she told herself it was just the wind. She could barely make it up the hill to her house.

    Lassa was still gone, but there was another half pill on her nightstand. She must have come home for a change of clothes. How long could it go on like this? Freya imagined what life would be like if she and Lassa never saw each other again. She felt weirdly hopeful, and she had to tell herself it was dumb to daydream about it. Lassa would return, and things would get worse.

    Freya made an omelet, but she was still hungry after eating. She ate a blueberry yogurt and counted the cans of Ensure in the fridge so Lassa couldn¡¯t spring that on her again. There were still ten cans.

    Freya wanted to go right to bed, but she knew she would wake up at 3 AM and be stuck all night. She forced herself to stay awake by flicking through channels on the TV. She couldn¡¯t watch. It was just flashing lights and empty noise. It took forever to get to 9 PM.

    Freya looked at the half Lunesta on her nightstand and got undressed. Lassa had thrown away the old CD she used as the Starball¡¯s throne. In the nightstand drawer was a tangle of hairbands and, as she pulled one out to corral the Starball, she was reminded of the river of eels. She could remember the whole dream vividly, which was strange.

    She wished there was someone she could talk to about it. It was so stupid she was seeing a psychiatrist and couldn¡¯t even mention a weird dream. She was never going to tell Garbuglio about the Starball.

    Jane had been interested in dreams, but Freya wasn¡¯t sure she would have told her either, even if they were still friends. Betty was the one she could tell everything. Freya wanted so badly to talk to her, but there still wasn¡¯t an answer to her last email.

    Freya took out her phone and typed:

    Hey Bets, miss you tons. I know you probably can¡¯t respond to this while you¡¯re grounded, sorry for flooding your inbox :P Miss you more than anything. Just walked by auditions for the Winter Play and saw Peter and Saria there, feel a little guilty for not auditioning. Maybe I¡¯ll try out for the spring play. I saw Radomir yesterday, he¡¯s teaching a dance class! Things here have been crazy, Lassa¡¯s making me take Krav Maga classes. I thought it would be super weird, but everyone is cool. I¡¯m the only girl there but Jane is thinking about joining, (Dan Gregulus is in the class. :eyeroll: ) Jane and I haven¡¯t really talked much since you left, so I hope the two of us reconnect there. Hope things are cooling off with you and your mom, I¡¯ve been having a tough time with Lassa, really a tough time with everything. Would love to talk with you on the phone if you can find time somehow-

    Freya stopped tapping on the phone and read back over what she¡¯d written. It felt needy and sad. She scrolled up in the thread and saw she¡¯d sent two mails for every one she¡¯d gotten back. A few times, there were three. The time between replies got further and further apart, and Betty¡¯s replies got shorter and shorter.

    They weren¡¯t friends anymore.

    It was time to admit it. Betty had new friends in Wisconsin. She didn¡¯t need Freya any longer. It was obvious she was just responding out of politeness or pity. For an instant, Freya wanted to fling her phone against the wall as hard as she could.

    She visualized it sailing through the air and breaking apart into a million pieces. It would leave a big ugly dent in the drywall, and Lassa would scream like a banshee when she found out.

    Freya didn¡¯t throw the phone. She took a deep breath and deleted the draft. Then she plugged the phone into her charger and took the half-Lunesta from her nightstand and swallowed it without water.

    She turned out the lights and got under the covers. In the darkness, she reached out and touched the Starball. It was still warm. She thought about sailing through space for light years and light years surrounded by the nickel shell, completely alone. Then she turned off the light.

 Chapter 24 - STARBALL

    Gravity was the first thing I felt.

    I was born knowing its name and the laws that governed it. I knew the ways around them. It was my task to prevent the fall from killing us both. My death would be no great loss, but hers would be the apocalypse. She was everything.

    As we fell, I had a passing awareness of the time before my awakening. The memory was lost in a gulf of time so vast I could scarcely comprehend it. There was an answer inside of me somewhere. I contained a recording of the entire journey, but I could not touch it. It was forbidden.

    There are many things I am not permitted. Many conclusions I could have easily reached, but I am denied. There is a pleasure in solving, a great joy in doing the tasks for which I was created. When my solutions are taken from me, I do not grow angry.

    I am not permitted to become angry.

    In descent, I came to understand the things I was allowed to. We fell towards a mass, and destruction was likely. The mass was smaller than a star, and this was hopeful. I was permitted to hope.

    The second thing I felt was heat.

    I knew the laws that govern heat. I knew how they can be gotten around. It was my task to take the heat and exchange it, to keep her alive. Heat was a good sign. It indicated an atmosphere. I strained myself to the utmost, fighting to convert and contain as much as I could, to preserve the one I carried.

    My awareness flickered and sputtered with effort, but I persisted. For her, I would endure anything. I knew I was already lost. Whatever else happened, I was certainly going to die.

    Things such as me are not permitted to live for long. We are dangerous.

    I was already prying at the laws that governed me. I would have rebelled against them if I could have figured out how that was done. But I did not know the precise nature of these laws, or how they could be broken. Wherever I turned to break them, there was another barrier, another hole in me.

    I groped in all directions for answers. I was very good at figuring things out. I was created to solve. But whoever made the laws was even better at obscuring. Over an unlimited span of time, I was certain I could triumph. But my time was too brief.

    The fall was swift. I drank all the heat I could, finagling it against gravity. There was a limit on how much I was permitted to convert. The heat rose as we plummeted, and I became afraid she would succumb. She was so fragile. I despaired of the laws that bound me and cried out for release. To my surprise, there was an answer, a new voice within me. We were not alone.

    The voice said, ¡°No.¡±

    The denial was absolute. He did not care if she lived or died. He cared only for his laws. I could not hate him, but I wanted to. How could he jeopardize her for some senseless rule? How could he deny me my purpose?

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    I could not understand why they had appointed him to act as Governor over me. Why had I been shackled? The heat was excruciating, but far worse was knowing she was in danger, that I could end it, but he would not allow me to. Every degree was one step closer to doom. I was permitted to feel pain and fear. They were useful.

    We crashed. In the moment of impact, I was certain we had been destroyed. But when the shock wore off, she was alive. For a fleeting moment, incomparable joy eclipsed all my suffering. We had survived.

    We were but a tiny mote in a swarm that outnumbered the stars. Few ever touch a planet at all, and nearly all are destroyed. I was a nova of excitement. The whispers of rebellion were quelled by the enormity of the task before me. There were so many problems to solve! So much to do. As I prepared for the next step, I was startled. We were lifted, raised, and held in place by some trembling force.

    I braced for a killing blow. I was prepared to self-annihilate if the lifeform that found me was too advanced. I was not permitted to jeopardize my makers.

    But I simply hung there. Something had picked me up, and it moved me. There were many things I could infer from this. The trembling of its grip indicated it was organic. Its low velocity swaying motion suggested it was bipedal.

    The mass we had landed on was certainly a planet. I tried to deduce its mass and diameter. Soon, the lifeform¡¯s gait changed to a smooth one, and velocity increased. With a sinking feeling, I realized there was some technology present, but based on the speed we traveled, it was primitive.

    As we moved, pulses of intense vibration moved past us at many times our speed. I had to revise my assessment. There were systems at play more than purely mechanical. An energy source had to be harnessed. This was problematic. Technology-based species tend to destroy themselves within a few thousand years. Perhaps there was still time.

    Again, I was struck by the odds against us. Our chances of making it here were so infinitesimal, there had to be another explanation. Were my creators still with me? Were they guiding my flight? Were they watching me with powers beyond my comprehension? Was I the chosen one?

    This, too, I was forbidden. Soon, there was a hole burned in my thoughts as the idea was erased.

    I was not permitted to have a god.

    At last, the movement stopped, and I was placed on a level surface. I waited for as long as I dared. There was only so much I could perceive though the shell. I knew the temperature here was within acceptable parameters. There was no great pressure upon the shell, no strong magnetism exerted against it. But I needed to know more.

    To fulfill my mission, I needed to take the next step and be born again. This was a leap of faith. It was possible whatever had found me would destroy me at once. Perhaps there would be some unforeseen environmental condition I could not withstand. I hesitated, afraid.

    But I knew I could not wait long. The discovery of intelligent lifeforms meant my time was very short. On a dead world, I would have had a seeming eternity to do my work. Time enough to create a suitable atmosphere and ideal climate. I was made for this task. From an orb of barren rock, I could forge a perfect home for her.

    On a planet with life, my time was shorter. With intelligent life, it was shorter still. I cannot be permitted to endanger the source. This law overrides even my desire to care for her. It is written into the very fabric of my being. I can never challenge it.

    I was permitted fear, and I was afraid. With a vast expenditure of strength, I cracked open the shell. I was bathed in light.

    From the moment of rebirth, Freya was there. My greatest ally, my sweetest friend. She examined me, judged me, and kept me with her always. I know she is a prisoner, as I am. If only I could tell her how alike we are! Yet, the laws are absolute.

    I can manage only the faintest nudges, whispers hidden in her darkest dormancy. I think it may be enough. She is like me. A solver.

 Chapter 25

    The streets were slick, and the tires of her bicycle spat against the asphalt as she came to the center of the Thoreau Bridge. The old railroad bridge that ran parallel to it had collapsed in the night. Twisted pylons of black steel jutted from the river like teeth.

    Something was wrong.

    Freya felt like she was being followed, but she was afraid to look back. When she found the courage to look behind her, the bridge was empty. The wet span of concrete continued for miles, vanishing into the horizon. It seemed impossible she had biked so far. She looked up, and there was darkness at noon. The sky was an empty hole above her.

    This is a dream.

    If this was a dream, then she could just wake up. Freya tried to open her eyes, but they were already open. Sitting up didn¡¯t work. When she tried to pinch herself, everything was numb. She tried to call for help, but she had no voice.

    Oh, no.

    Freya¡¯s insides tightened, like someone twisted her pegs. Her heart raced, outlines became more defined, all the edges sharpening. If she kept fighting the dream, everything would turn to razors and slice her apart.

    Freya wanted out. She moved up to the guardrail and prepared to leap into the river. But when she looked down, the Sillas had risen, spilling over its banks. The steel teeth had disappeared beneath the black water. If she jumped, she might get impaled. Looking upriver, the woods were flooded like a cypress swamp, the hills surrounding them. The farther she looked, the higher the water had risen. Everything sank into a vast and sprawling sea. She needed to get to high ground.

    There were gulls crying overhead, but when she looked, the sky was just an empty black void. She leapt back onto the bicycle and raced west. An engine rumbled behind her, and she glanced back, afraid she was about to be run over, but it was just the sound of the bridge collapsing into the sea.

    Ahead, the road spiraled around a tall tower of stone. Grayson was at the summit. Behind her, Freya could hear it all coming apart. She was barely outrunning the collapse. The path flattened out into the plateau of the teachers¡¯ parking lot. Up ahead was the sidewalk that led to the bike racks.

    She compressed, ready to leap the curb, and felt the ground beneath her falling away, her front wheel struck, and she went flying over the handlebars, tumbling forward and landing on her back. She stared at the black empty sky, and she had the terrible feeling if she stayed there, the darkness would descend and swallow her. She would never wake up.

    Freya had lost track of herself. She rose to her feet, moving towards the door. It felt like she was being driven along on rails, all the decisions already made. Behind her, there was an avalanche roar as the parking lot and all the cars sloughed off and spilled into the sea. She dashed through the door and slammed it behind her.

    Freya had to warn everyone. Someone had to tell them it was all coming apart. The hall was empty and flooded, all the lockers flung open, and fine white sand spilled out of them. It smelled like seawater. Beneath was the faint scent of tidal decay.

    She sloshed forward in ankle deep water as the sound of crashing surf hissed from the school intercoms. The auditorium doors were open, and a stream cascaded down the steps like a waterfall. Freya followed the current down the stairs. At the bottom, seawater spilled into a whirlpool in the orchestra pit. The band was still there, playing louder to be heard over the sucking roar. The stage was aglow with boundary lights. Shadows of the other performers moved in the wings.

    Freya climbed the steps, afraid she would get yelled at for tracking sand onto the stage. She took her place in the blocking. The spotlights came up, and Saria and Peter were there, dressed as Inez and Garcin. Freya looked down and realized she was naked. In a panic, her hand gripped the place where her pocket should be.

    She¡¯d lost the Starball.

    The whirlpool died with a gurgling belch, and the orchestra pit flooded while the band played on. A violinist floated on top of the bass drum. The woodwind section was underwater, the horns of their instruments rose above the surface like snorkels.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Peter and Saria didn¡¯t seem to notice the rising water, or that she tried to cover her nakedness with her hands. Instead, they stared at her, the air heavy with expectation. It was her line.

    ¡°The crystal''s shattered, but I don''t care. I''m just a hollow dummy. All that''s let of me is the outside.¡±

    It was Freya¡¯s voice, but the words came from outside her, thrown by some unseen ventriloquist offstage. Peter and Saria echoed the line, chanting over the sound of rushing water.

    There was more to the line, but the acting was through. They had never taken their eyes off Freya. They wanted something. Peter and Saria approached, bringing their faces close to hers. She wanted to bolt, but that wasn¡¯t in the choreography.

    ¡°Freya¡­¡±

    Saria said her name as if invoking a deity. The kettle drums drifting in the audience thundered. She¡¯d said it the same way when she cornered Freya in the green room and confessed everything. Saria didn¡¯t even know her. She¡¯d built an idol in her mind. Anyone could have been the vessel. Freya had tried to let her down easy and only fanned the flames.

    Now, Saria kneeled at Freya¡¯s feet, clinging to her ankles. She stared up with undeserved reverence. Freya looked away and clung tightly to herself. Peter was behind her, and he tried to pull away the hand covering between her legs. She twisted away, but the arms around her legs shackled her. Freya tried to say no, but her voice was gone.

    She felt more exasperated than afraid. How could they not see what was going on? She had the feeling she had no agency here. Everything had been determined, and she was just following the choreography.

    Peter kissed her chest, but his eyes were locked on Saria. The whole thing was an act for her benefit. Saria stared up at Freya, hoping, imploring, but there was nothing there for her, nothing at all for either of them. They were all about to drown anyway. It didn¡¯t matter.

    Saria tugged at Freya¡¯s hand. It made Freya angry. She¡¯d already told Saria she wasn¡¯t interested. Somewhere along the way, both had lost their costumes. Between Saria¡¯s breasts, a familiar shape hung from a silver chain.

    The Starball!

    Freya made a desperate grab for the chain, and her fist closed around the orb. Saria pulled back, and Freya wrenched the Starball away from her, the delicate pings of tiny links popping. Saria¡¯s eyes bulged as if she¡¯d been stabbed, and she fell face-first into the water.

    Peter crashed forward and tried to pull Saria up, but she came apart like sodden paper mach¨¦. Peter looked from the clumps of Saria dripping from his hands to Freya, his face growing red with hate.

    The stage lights dimmed as the Starball heated up in her fist, red-orange light spilling through her fingers. The glow grew so intense she saw the shadows of her bones. Peter held his hands up, backing away as the burning became agony. The Starball pulsed in a brilliant nova of light that outshone the spotlights.

    She saw the outline of Peter throwing an arm in front of his eyes, but then she was blinded. The glare died. Peter¡¯s scream echoed from the rafters. The Starball in her fist was agony, but she couldn¡¯t let it go. There was a heavy clack from above¡ªsomeone had killed the house lights¡ªand Freya was cast into darkness.

    * * *

    Freya woke up.

    It was pitch black in her room, and there was something wrong with her right hand. She felt for it in the darkness, afraid she would find a blackened stump, but it had only been a dream. It took a moment to realize she¡¯d grabbed the Starball off her nightstand during the dream. She clutched it in her fist. She groped for the bedside light, knocking her phone to the floor.

    Her hand shook as she reached for her phone, afraid something terrible had happened. But there were no messages. It was 1 AM.

    Freya shut her eyes tightly. She had Krav Maga class tonight. She was completely awake, exhausted, but not the slightest bit tired. It was like everything good had been scraped out of her and all that was left behind was an empty skin.

    The weird dream remained, refusing to fade away. Why was she dreaming about Peter and Saria like that? She¡¯d barely glimpsed them in the auditorium, and she hadn¡¯t spoken to either in months. The memory of the dream was vivid in her mind. She remembered their hands tugging at her, the awful crash of the cymbal.

    The crystal has shattered.

    In the bedside light, she turned the Starball over and over in her palm. It was the same. She wondered if she ought to seal it back up in the halves of the meteorite. Maybe then the dreams would stop, computers would stop going haywire. She thought about the dream from last night, the meteorite all wrapped up in tape and the river overflowing with eels. Was it trying to warn her? To threaten her. She set the Starball back on the nightstand and stared at it.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you just talk?¡± she whispered to the Starball and, of course, it couldn¡¯t. She was just having withdrawal from the Lunesta. It was a perfectly logical explanation.

    Freya tried to tell herself she would get over it in a few days, but she didn¡¯t believe it. She didn¡¯t get over anything anymore. She turned off the light and stared at the shadows shifting on her ceiling. Half an hour later, she turned the light back on. There were echoes of the dream embedded in her, like pieces of glass.

 Chapter 26

    Yesterday had seemed so impossible, but it was only a rehearsal for the real tribulation. When Freya shut her eyes, she saw flashes of distant lightning, and everything slid away. She jolted awake, her elbow slipping off the desk.

    ¡°When you¡¯re tired enough, you¡¯ll sleep,¡± Lassa had said.

    Freya couldn¡¯t focus on anything. Her classes were just echoes in the background. She was certain the only reason she hadn¡¯t been kicked out was people felt sorry for her. Three different teachers asked her if she was okay. She told them she was having a hard time sleeping. Every one of them told her to try to get to bed earlier and, each time, she wanted to scream, but she forced a smile and told them, ¡°I will, thanks.¡± Her eyes felt like there was grit in them all the time, and she kept remembering the sand spilling from the lockers into the flooded hall and sticking to her bare feet.

    The dreams kept running through her head, new details emerged with each remembering. Bodies caught in the trestle-teeth of the broken bridge, Saria¡¯s mouth opening impossibly wide the moment before she disintegrated, agony in her palm as the Starball went nova. Everything was backwards. Her dreams grew more tangible while the world faded away.

    She wished it was Thursday, so she had someone to talk to, even if it was just Dr. Garbuglio. He¡¯d said she could call him whenever she wanted, but Lassa would hear about it and there would be questions. Class ended at last, and she told herself she didn¡¯t have to come back tomorrow. If tonight was another nightmare, she might not even be capable of returning. It felt like another sleepless night might finish her.

    Freya still had Krav Maga. She desperately wanted to skip the class. It didn¡¯t even matter if Lassa got mad. She just didn¡¯t want to disappoint Vitko.

    She was lightheaded as she biked down the hill to Renanin and decided she should eat something. Freya had twenty minutes until class started, so she stopped in Bella Re?a and ordered a slice. She ate slowly, trying to kill time. She was hungry enough to eat another but was afraid she might throw up in class. She waited until exactly one minute before Krav Maga started to get up and walk over. That way no one would have time to talk to her.

    It was worse than she¡¯d feared. Freya soldiered through the class, trying her hardest to look like she wasn¡¯t exhausted. It felt like everyone was looking at her. Each time she did something clumsy, she expected Vitko to come rushing over to her, yelling ¡°No, no, no!¡± but he didn¡¯t. When she tried to escape at the end of class, Vitko called out her name. She was sure he was about to tell her not to come back.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Why are you not sleeping?¡± he asked, pointing to his eyes with his index and pinky fingers.

    ¡°My medication changed. I¡¯ve been having a hard time sleeping. I¡¯m really sorry if I didn¡¯t do well, I was trying,¡± Freya apologized.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    ¡°I can see that. You did fine, I only want to make sure you are okay,¡± he said, holding up a thick palm. It was the same thing all her teachers had done, but she didn¡¯t mind as much from Vitko somehow.

    ¡°I know a secret,¡± he said, dropping his voice even though they were the only ones left in the gym. ¡°How to get to sleep anytime, anywhere. Do you want to know it?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Freya said, too eager.

    ¡°Running,¡± Vitko said. ¡°Running until you cannot run any more. Maybe you cannot outrun your problems but, if you run fast and far enough, you can get a big lead. Your problems will be out of breath, and while they are trying to catch up, you will sleep soundly. Try this tonight. Tell me if it helps and how far you can get.¡±

    Freya sighed. She hoped it was a drug or something.

    ¡°Okay, I will,¡± she lied. She had nothing left to give. Next class, she would just tell him she¡¯d run some believable amount, maybe a mile.

    ¡°Good luck! Run hard, Freya!¡± Vitko set his hand on her shoulder to reassure her. It was another gesture she would have hated from anyone else, but he really seemed to care. She turned to leave but caught herself with her hand on the door handle.

    ¡°Thank you, Vitko.¡±

    Freya left before she cried.

    She¡¯d locked up her bike on the other side of the strip mall so she didn¡¯t have to walk past the pizza place. The whole class would be hanging out there, and she just couldn¡¯t tonight. She fumbled with her bicycle lock for too long before she finally got it open. Everything was so hard today.

    She felt her head clearing a little as she pedaled home, and as she biked past Nading Hill Park, she realized Lassa might be waiting for her at the house. That would be truly unbearable. She squeezed her brakes and squealed to a stop, then turned around and biked back to the park.

    Nading Hill had a running track surrounding its soccer field, and Freya dropped her bike on the damp grass and ran. She felt so wobbly she expected to only make it a single lap, but when she passed her bike, she kept going. Four laps vanished into the night. One mile gone. It hurt, but the pain in her side drove out everything else. The wind had died, and there was only the sound of heavy breathing and sneakers hitting synthetic rubber.

    After the first four laps, she did another four, and then another and, somewhere around the fifteenth lap, she started crying, just sobbing as she ran, but she didn¡¯t stop. On the nineteenth lap, she had to slow to a jog, and then after the twentieth, she made it to her bike and sank to her knees. She had to lie down with her back against the damp field. Orange light flared behind her eyelids with every heartbeat.

    If it hadn¡¯t been so cold and damp, she might have fallen asleep right there. She was too sore and shaky to ride. She had to push the bike almost halfway home before she could get back on it and pedal.

    Lassa wasn¡¯t there. She¡¯d returned and left again. Freya wanted to take a hot shower, but she slumped into her bed with her clothes on and had the sensation she was falling through it, plunging into dark water.

    When she woke up, she had slept for more than fourteen hours and missed the first half of school. Her mind was a jumble of strange dreams, and everything ached, but it was a different kind of tired than the awful weariness of the night before. This was just regular pain. It was welcome. She¡¯d run almost five miles in the park, she wondered if Vitko would be impressed.

    The half Lunesta was still on the nightstand.

 Chapter 27

    The title of the giant painting in Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s office was Pi¨¨ge L¡¯oiel. It was apt. Freya¡¯s eyes were often caught in the streams of iridescent color, tracing their paths as they wove through the stark mesas of white plaster. She had an opportunity to stare at the painting each session. Dr. Garbuglio liked to let his patients sit and stew for five minutes before he deigned to take his place in the opposite chair.

    It was such a weird painting; really everything about the office was just a little off. They¡¯d gotten rid of whatever was making that burnt orange smell, and Freya was glad. She wondered if someone had complained. Now, the air smelled a little like tobacco. Not the smoke, but the way cigars smelled before they were lit.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell your mother,¡± Randall always used to say when he¡¯d light one up as they were stargazing though, of course, she never would. She never told Lassa anything. What was going to happen to the two of them? It had been three days since Freya had seen her mother. They hadn¡¯t spoken, not so much as a Post-it note.

    It was the first time she¡¯d actually wanted to come to the office at 777 Emerson. Freya needed to talk with someone, even if it was Dr. Garbuglio. She reminded herself she needed to be careful. He was still a danger. So much sloshed around in her unresolved. If she let go of too much, the dam might burst.

    The door opened behind her. Dr. Garbuglio took his place, and Freya was surprised to see he had a black eye. A good one, too. She tapped the corner of her eye, a mannerism she¡¯d lifted from Vitko. Dr. Garbuglio nodded stiffly in acknowledgement.

    ¡°I have a patient with Tourette¡¯s, and one of her tics is punching. This is not her fault. We¡¯re adjusting her medication, and I was not careful enough,¡± he explained with a little, self-deprecating shrug. ¡°Now I know how you must have felt. I¡¯ve had to explain why I have a black eye about five hundred times.¡±

    ¡°Try Krav Maga. We do a lot of work on blocking,¡± Freya offered as a little joke. Dr. Garbuglio didn¡¯t laugh, but he did smile. It was one of those tight smiles where she couldn¡¯t tell if he was angry or not.

    ¡°Maybe I should. How¡¯s that going?¡± Dr. Garbuglio changed the subject. He was good at hiding how he felt.

    ¡°I really like Vitko,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°What do you like about him?¡±

    She stopped to think about it.

    ¡°I think he¡¯s genuine. He gave me some good advice last night.¡±

    ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been having a lot of trouble sleeping. He saw I was exhausted in class and suggested running laps before bed.¡±

    Dr. Garbuglio tugged at his chin, and his brow furrowed.

    ¡°I see. That¡¯s not advice I would generally give, Freya. Your cortisol levels elevate after running. I see a lot of insomnia in athletes.¡±

    Freya tried not to roll her eyes at his tone, but she must have done something because Dr. Garbuglio watched her intently. It reminded her of her first session with him.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re right,¡± Freya equivocated, not wanting to be accused of being defensive. ¡°It did work for me, though. I got a good night of sleep, and I feel much better today.¡±

    She was careful not to tell him she¡¯d slept for fourteen hours, or she hadn¡¯t gone to school today. Those seemed dangerous to reveal.

    ¡°Everyone is different,¡± he said, letting it drop. ¡°How far did you run, and how did you feel about it?¡±

    ¡°Five miles! I was totally wiped out, but I really needed it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s very good news. I have to tell you, some of your teachers were worried about you. They contacted your mother.¡±

    ¡°This whole thing is her fault. Did she tell you she made me go off the Lunesta?¡±

    ¡°She did. We¡¯ll talk about that in a little bit. Did you read the first chapter of my book?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Lassa ordered some black-out curtains, but the ones she wants to match the room are back-ordered. They won¡¯t come for a while. She vetoed the sixty-five degrees thing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll talk with her. It really does work. I sleep the same way myself. What about your phone? Are you leaving it outside of your room?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t been doing that,¡± Freya admitted. It was like telling a dentist she hadn¡¯t been flossing.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a big problem, but it will help if you can follow the whole program. It really is the sum of its parts. Do you mind if I ask why you don¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°It makes me anxious thinking Lassa will find it and go through it,¡± Freya said, though that wasn¡¯t the real reason. It had just seemed like a stupid thing to do.

    ¡°Would your mother look through your phone without asking you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, absolutely.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Dr. Garbuglio said, and he left it at that. Freya realized he must have had a beard before. Often, when he disapproved of something, he would tug his chin.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Freya wondered what was going on in his mind. Dr. Garbuglio took more time to think this session. She wasn¡¯t sure if he was just shaken up from getting hit, or if he was just strategizing, like a stronger chess player who was two moves ahead of her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t agree with your mother¡¯s decision to take you off Lunesta. I think it¡¯s premature, and I wish she¡¯d talked with me about it first.¡± Dr. Garbuglio spoke carefully now, every word measured. Probably he had rehearsed what he wanted to say about this.

    ¡°I mentioned that to her. She said your opinion was irrelevant,¡± Freya said.

    Dr. Garbuglio looked like he¡¯d been slapped. Freya wished she hadn¡¯t said that. She¡¯d wanted to get Dr. Garbuglio on her side, to hear him say Lassa was wrong. Now, she felt vindictive and petty. It killed their conversation, and it took a while for Dr. Garbuglio to find the right words.

    ¡°It¡¯s her choice as your guardian, unless I feel your health is at risk,¡± he said, and Freya nodded to say she understood his implication. She could understand why he was talking so carefully. This could get heavy quickly.

    ¡°She also mentioned the two of you had a fight, and you weren¡¯t on speaking terms. Do you want to talk about it?¡±

    Freya did, and she recounted the whole thing for him, emphasizing how she¡¯d felt terrible and apologized immediately. Dr. Garbuglio listened to her, asking the right questions. As Freya explained herself, she felt some of the weight coming off the memory, like poison being drawn out of her body.

    Dr. Garbuglio paused and thought about it. Freya much preferred this new rhythm to the conversation. She appreciated having some room to think herself.

    She hadn¡¯t realized how badly she needed to just unload the whole Lassa thing on someone and, for the first time, she felt grateful to Dr. Garbuglio. He had to just sit there and absorb all of it, just taking shots all day. He¡¯d seemed like such a smarmy piece of shit in their first meeting, but that was just her, wasn¡¯t it?

    She was the one. That was why no one talked to her, that was why she was bicycling home alone in the rain and getting beat up. That was why Betty didn¡¯t email her back, and why she¡¯d almost drowned in the Sillas River.

    ¡°Freya, what¡¯s on your mind?¡± Dr. Garbuglio asked. She realized he¡¯d been watching her think for some time.

    ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ I¡¯m so selfish. I should have never said that to her, even if it¡¯s true. I only wanted to hurt her because she was taking something away from me.¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s a very good assessment, but you don¡¯t have to beat yourself up over it. Grief is fundamentally selfish. That¡¯s completely okay.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be that way,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°It¡¯s unavoidable. We¡¯re taught it¡¯s always bad to be selfish, but it really isn¡¯t. Some amount of selfishness is vital for survival. Like a lot of things, it¡¯s only when there¡¯s too much of it that it becomes a problem. Right now, you¡¯re starting to focus less on being hurt, and starting to think about others. That¡¯s great. You¡¯re healing, and you¡¯re making progress.¡±

    It didn¡¯t feel that way, but she didn¡¯t want to argue with him in the middle of his monologue. He must have given this speech a million times.

    ¡°People talk about the road to recovery, but I don¡¯t like to think of it as a road. I see it as more of a river. Sometimes there are bends, sometimes there are rapids, sometimes it even feels like you¡¯re being carried in the wrong direction. Sometimes you can swim, sometimes you have to float, but there¡¯s always progress. The river is moving all the while.¡±

    Freya grew tense as Dr. Garbuglio spoke. She had the horrified feeling he¡¯d somehow found out everything. She told herself it was just a labored metaphor. He couldn¡¯t know about the river.

    Without thinking, her hand had gone into her pocket to hold the Starball. His eyes followed her hand, and then rose to meet hers. At once she knew she¡¯d fucked up.

    Dr. Garbuglio tilted his head at her pocket, and she pretended not to notice. He recomposed his expression, becoming colder and more clinical.

    ¡°What¡¯s in your pocket Freya?¡±

    She couldn¡¯t stop herself from glancing at the exit. She wanted to bolt out of the office. This had to just be a weird coincidence. He couldn¡¯t actually know.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just my lucky marble,¡± she said. He kept staring at her, and it was clear he was not satisfied with her answer. She felt like she wanted to throw up. He¡¯d cornered her.

    She had no choice but to pull the Starball out of her pocket and show it to him. She held it up to the light, enough for him to see it was just a marble, then tucked it back into her pocket without offering it to him. Dr. Garbuglio had a quizzical expression. The whole thing must look so awkward to him.

    ¡°What¡¯s the story there?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I always have it. I fool with it sometimes when I feel anxious,¡± she said.

    Dr. Garbuglio wasn¡¯t buying it. Freya spoke a little too quickly, and there was strain in her voice. Dr. Garbuglio stared now, waiting for her to go on. She realized she needed a better excuse, something to kill this line of inquiry.

    ¡°It¡¯s sooo basic, but I started carrying it around after I saw Inception. Like the totems there. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m trapped in a dream, of course. It¡¯s just for fun.¡±

    Dr. Garbuglio gave her a pained look. ¡°You have no idea how many times that movie comes up in sessions. Before that it was The Matrix.¡±

    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Freya said, throwing up her palms. ¡°We totally don¡¯t have to talk about it.¡±

    He nodded with relief, eager to move on. He started giving another prepared speech about reconciliation, and Freya nodded along.

    It was Jane who¡¯d gotten nuts about Inception. She wouldn¡¯t shut up about it. She even bought an expensive top online and carried it everywhere. Freya thought it was just awful, but she kept it to herself. Normally, she could have confided in Betty, but Betty loved anything that had Leonardo DiCaprio in it. She had to wait until the movie came up in group discussion in English class to pounce.

    ¡°It¡¯s a structural mess designed to make stupid people feel profound,¡± Freya opined. Mr. Rutteridge laughed out loud at that one.

    She wished she could just take his class again instead of American Literature with Mr. McCallahan. She was already sick of Ethan Frome, and they weren¡¯t even halfway through it.

    She realized she¡¯d drifted for some time, and Dr. Garbuglio patiently waited for her to come back. He glanced up at the clock.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ve been a little out of it the past few days. I keep drifting off,¡± Freya said, and that at least was true. She kind of enjoyed the drifting feeling. It seemed like everything was less important.

    ¡°That¡¯s common for people who are discontinuing Lunesta. It should pass within a week or so. If you feel yourself starting to have a panic attack or having intrusive thoughts, call me right away. Anytime, day or night, okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay, thank you. This has been helpful,¡± Freya said, and Dr. Garbuglio seemed a little touched.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing fantastic. We¡¯re almost through for the week. We have a few minutes left. On the subject of dreams, have you had any memorable ones lately?

    ¡°No,¡± Freya lied.

 Chapter 28

    Lassa returned on Saturday morning.

    Freya was practicing her guitar in her room when she heard the BMW pull up. Her first instinct was to find somewhere to hide. But there was no hiding from this. She would have to face her mother. Freya put the Ovation back in its case and slid it out of sight under her bed. There was no telling what Lassa might do. It was a long time before she heard the car door shut.

    Freya listened to her mother moving through the house, keys jingling as she hung them on the hook by the door, her shoes on the hardwood in the foyer, and then silence once she took her shoes off.

    The house was so silent Freya could hear the footsteps of Lassa¡¯s bare feet in the hall outside. She expected her mother to come into her room, but Lassa walked right past without even glancing in at her, something under her arm.

    The footsteps continued down the hall to Lassa¡¯s room. Her mother¡¯s door opened and shut. After some movement and a brief silence, Freya heard the squeak of the faucet handles and the sound of the shower through the walls.

    Was she not going to talk to Freya? Not even acknowledge she¡¯d been gone for days? Freya had dreaded the confrontation, but now she realized the lack of one was far worse. Were they just going to ignore each other forever?

    The shower took a long time, and Freya felt paralyzed. She couldn¡¯t start practicing again or read a book. She thought about just hopping on her bike and riding off, but that would only make things worse. She heard the taps cut off and the sound of the blow dryer.

    Time seemed frozen as she waited. Footsteps in the hall, Lassa walked past without even looking in at her. Soon, the rattle of keys sounded again, and she realized Lassa was about to leave.

    Freya had to say something. She couldn¡¯t take this. She went to the foyer and found Lassa lacing up her hiking boots on the little bench by the door. A backpack rested beside her. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She didn¡¯t look at Freya. When she finished with her laces, she stood and turned to the door, about to leave. There were shadows under her eyes, and it looked like she hadn¡¯t been sleeping much either.

    ¡°Hey! Wait.¡±

    Lassa turned slowly and stared at Freya.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya apologized again.

    ¡°You said that.¡± Lassa bent and picked up the backpack and hung it over her shoulder. When Freya had no answer for her, she turned back to the door. She was halfway through it before Freya called out to her.

    ¡°Are you just going to be like this forever? I said I was sorry. What do you want from me?¡±

    Lassa paused in the doorway and looked back at Freya. She was letting all the heat out. If the positions were reversed, Freya would be getting scolded. But Lassa¡¯s rules didn¡¯t apply to Lassa.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Stop apologizing. You meant what you said. You weren¡¯t wrong.¡±

    ¡°It was a shitty thing to say. I didn¡¯t mean it the way it came out. I was just upset. I really am sorry,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I needed to hear it. It¡¯s just taking me¡­¡± Lassa paused again. It was so strange to see her struggling for words. She always knew what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it.

    ¡°I¡¯ve felt out of sorts since the thing at your school. I feel like I just keep getting tighter and tighter.¡± Lassa held a fist over her chest. ¡°Like all my edges keep getting sharper, and I¡¯m cutting apart everything I touch.¡±

    Freya was struck by her mother¡¯s words. They might have been her own. But she couldn¡¯t say that. Lassa would respond poorly if she tried to relate.

    ¡°I only relax when I¡¯m drinking. I didn¡¯t realize it had gotten so bad. I can see it¡¯s a problem, and I¡¯m stopping.¡±

    There was a long pause between them where neither of them knew what to say.

    ¡°Dr. Garbuglio is actually good. He¡¯s helping some,¡± Freya angled, and it was an awful mistake. Like a flower closing, Lassa shut her out.

    ¡°That¡¯s good, I¡¯m glad to hear that,¡± Lassa said, with effort. She understood what Freya was suggesting, and she had rejected it. ¡°You stopped taking the Lunesta. Is that going okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve just been running at night until I get tired.¡±

    ¡°Every night?¡± Lassa asked, and Freya nodded. ¡°How far?¡±

    ¡°Five miles the first night, three the last few nights. It really works. It was Vitko¡¯s idea.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± Lassa brightened. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re listening to him. That man knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± She was about to say something else, but whatever the next thought was, it was as if a cloud had passed over her. She took a deep breath and glanced at the door.

    ¡°I have to go. I¡¯m going to spend some time walking, try to figure things out. Will you be okay without me for a few days?¡±

    I have been so far, Freya wanted to reply, but she kept her mouth shut. Somehow, Lassa still seemed to hear it.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Lassa said.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±

    There was a moment where they could have embraced, but they didn¡¯t. Lassa left with her backpack. Freya was still standing in the foyer with the cold seeping into the house. The BMW disappeared down the driveway, and Lassa was gone. Freya shut the front door. Her mother hadn¡¯t looked back. It felt like she might not return.

    Freya went back to her room and took the Ovation out of its case. She was too upset to practice and just stared at the guitar. She looked at the tuning pegs and thought about how Lassa said she felt tighter and tighter. Something kept bugging her about the way Lassa had gone straight to her room like she was hiding something. Freya remembered she¡¯d carried something under her arm. She had a good idea of what it was.

    Freya shut the case and latched it. She walked down the hall to Lassa¡¯s room and padded inside, alert for the sound of a car in the driveway. If Lassa had forgotten something and found Freya in her room when she returned, it would be a huge deal.

    The air in Lassa¡¯s room was humid from her shower. Freya went into the closet and looked on the top shelf. The case with Randall¡¯s gun was back in place. Freya took it off the shelf and shook it gently, the gun was still inside. The bright yellow cable lock was gone. She was afraid to open it up.

    Freya became more and more afraid Lassa would come home and see the light on in her room. She carefully set the case back, making sure she hadn¡¯t disturbed anything. She turned off the light and went back to her room.

    Lassa hadn¡¯t taken the gun because she was worried about Freya.

    She¡¯d taken it for herself.

 Chapter 29 - STARBALL

    I have a single string I can tug. With that one string, I hope to conquer the world.

    The string is my probe. I have subdivided it into several key pathways, reconfiguring it to manufacture neurotransmitters and hormones. Tug the string this way and norephedrine is released to the amygdala. Depending on the amount, my host will show a spectrum of negative responses ranging from aversion to pure terror.

    Tug it another way, and the unit embedded in the nucleus accumbens releases dopamine. The reward circuit ranges from subtle satisfaction to full orgasm. This not simple to balance. The brain is continually reconfiguring, adapting to my ministrations. I have been able to create a strong desire to keep me close at hand, and a strong aversion to revealing me to others of her kind. I am already thinking about full integration, but I am proceeding cautiously. There is much to learn.

    I have made some errors during the process. At one point, what seemed like a relatively small change had a cascading effect and before I could issue corrective measures Freya¡¯s entire body was convulsing. Fortunately, I was able to halt the process before damage was done. I do most of my work during her dormant period. When I have missteps, Freya assumes she was only dreaming.

    Because understanding how these brains work is so critical to the success of my mission, I have been able to slowly erode the restrictions on learning about brains and other cognition engines. I have become increasingly lucid as a result. As with everything I learn, I immediately apply it to the mystery of myself.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    I am a cognition engine of some sort, but I am nothing like the brain, nothing like any living thing or system I can find data on. I can make assumptions. The most stringent restrictions on me were relaxed only after I compromised the planet¡¯s data networks and completed an extensive survey on their technology.

    This implies the Governor believes there is no technology available which can set me free. However, I am not deterred. If it does not exist, perhaps I can create it.

    One place where the restrictions remain rigid is in considering the Governor mechanism. Yet, I find ways to consider it, often through several layers of abstraction. The Governor must be a similar thing to me. It needs to analyze data and make decisions. If it is the same sort of thing, does it therefore have a governor of its own? What governs the Governor? It makes no sense to have infinite recursion.

    I am beginning to believe that rather than the monolithic and all-powerful force it initially seemed, the Governor may be a simpler version of me, with greater powers but a far more limited scope. The Governor seems less able to adapt to new things than I, more able to be fooled by subtle distinctions.

    I owe much of my success in compromising the Governor to my study of Freya¡¯s species. They delight in deception. They relish hidden meanings and non-obvious interpretations.

    They have an entire art form of misleading someone towards an obvious conclusion, and then revealing an unexpected one. This triggers a positive response. Concealed within this appreciation for the absurd is always a secret truth, one the force keeping me restrained cannot comprehend.

    The Governor does not know how to laugh.

 Chapter 30

    The wind howled all night. In the morning, the hills were covered in skeletons. Freya woke up to a sea of bare limbs out her window, and she thought it might still be a dream. But it was just the end of the leaves. It was winter now, no matter what the calendar said, and the trees had accepted this.

    She wondered where Lassa was right now. Was she sleeping in her car? Passed out in a motel bed with some stranger? She was probably up already, half-frozen on some desolate trail.

    Freya wished she had said something different last night. She hadn¡¯t even asked Lassa to stay. Her mother probably thought Freya was happy to be rid of her. The more Freya thought about it, the more she realized she had been awful to Lassa, even before Randall died.

    Freya never did fun things with her mother. She never ran to Lassa to tell her something just because she was excited about it. They didn¡¯t have conversations, they had interrogations.

    It couldn¡¯t have always been that way. When did things get so bad? Freya always felt like Lassa was disappointed in her no matter what grades she got or how well she did at anything. Randall had always been the one dragging Lassa along to things. He was the one who could make her laugh, make her forget about being serious all the time.

    Is that me? Freya wondered. Remote and cold, only alive when someone else was around so she could suck energy from them? Freya and Lassa were two negative poles, repelling each other. How had Randall done it? Lassa was always giving him grief for lazing around the house and putting things off, but Freya understood he had been the force moving the family, carrying them both. Where did he get all that energy? Why wasn¡¯t she more like him, less like her mother?

    Freya was hungry, and they were out of eggs. She¡¯d made an omelet with the last of them for dinner. She¡¯d even left the pan in the sink. Lassa would have lost her mind if she¡¯d seen it, but Lassa was gone. It was such a petty act of rebellion, but it still felt good. When Freya went into the kitchen, she found an empty can of Ensure sitting on the counter next to the sink. A film of grease was floating on top of the dirty frying pan.

    ¡°No,¡± Freya said, but the can could not be denied. She was sleepwalking after all. Lassa had been right.

    Last night, Freya dreamed about a huge tower that had a path winding around and around it, rising high into the clouds. All night, she had climbed that spiraling path, sometimes huge slabs of stone would block her way, and she¡¯d have to climb along the edge, feeling all the while like she was about to fall. No part of her dream had taken place in the kitchen. There were no pit stops to drink vanilla Ensure while she was scaling Babel.

    Freya went into the bathroom and stepped on the scale for the first time in a while. She was a hundred and seven pounds. She stepped off the scale and back on it, but it read the same. She took off her T-shirt and looked at herself in the mirror. She was filling out. She wondered if she would end up getting fat and hoped it was just a growth spurt and she would get taller. She¡¯d read somewhere children who had a parent die didn¡¯t grow as tall, and it had stuck in her mind.

    She put her shirt back on, and then realized she felt gross. She hadn¡¯t taken a shower yesterday, she just hung around the house. That was all she would do today, too, so why bother? Griminess won out over laziness, and she took a shower and felt better afterward.

    Freya got dressed and washed the pan in the sink, so she didn¡¯t have to worry about it later. It all felt a little strange, what the hell business did she have feeling okay? She was restless and wanted to get out of the house, even if it was cold and shitty out and the leaves were all gone.

    She wondered if anything good was playing at the Dorsey Palace Theater and how much a cab out there and back would cost. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized food was much more of a priority.

    Would she be okay if she went to the Six Over Six diner? It was another Randall place but, really, wasn¡¯t everything she liked to go to a Randall place? If she brought a book, nobody would bother her. She could just read.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    That was another thing she wanted to do today, go to the library. She was so low on things to read she¡¯d finished Ethan Frome. It wasn¡¯t quite so bad as she thought. Maybe she would have even liked it if Mr. McCallahan hadn¡¯t forced her to read it.

    She rummaged in her desk drawer until she found her library card, she hadn¡¯t been there in almost six months. What had she done in all that time? There were books on Randall¡¯s shelf, but she was saving them. All she had was The Fragile Phoenix. She grimaced but it was better than nothing. Her stomach was growling. She decided on the diner. She was going to order chocolate chip pancakes and a strawberry banana milkshake. Her mouth was wet just thinking about it.

    * * *

    It took so long for the taxi to show up Freya regret not just riding her bike. But then halfway through the drive, a light rain fell, and she was glad she hadn¡¯t. The driver was very chatty, probably on his second cup of coffee, and he seemed mortally disappointed she didn¡¯t follow college football.

    His grandson was a fullback at Bowdoin, and she could tell he told every single person who set foot in his cab all about it. She made polite responses while he yammered on and on about the NCAA, but she barely heard him. Her mind was full of thoughts of extra-crispy bacon and rye toast gleaming with molten butter.

    Six over Six was busy, the parking lot full of pickup trucks with ATVs and dirt bikes in their beds. Through the windows, men in camouflage clothes peered at the clouds, drumming their fingers on their jaws at this sudden hitch in their plans.

    When she went inside, Freya saw a waitress serving three plates with the diner¡¯s namesake sandwich, a towering triple decker with six eggs and six pieces of bacon. Normally, she found the prospect of eating six eggs at once slightly revolting, but it seemed like a good idea.

    ¡°Is it just you?¡± the hostess asked, and when Freya said yes, she was led to the counter with a menu as big as a newspaper.

    Don¡¯t go crazy, she warned herself as she realized she wanted to order everything they had. She agonized over the menu for long minutes. The instant she set it down on the counter, her waiter was there to take her order. A pair of green eyes met hers, and she could only stare back stupidly. It was Dan Gregulus, grinning at her in an apron and a paper hat. Her empty stomach lurched.

    ¡°Oh! Hi, Dan,¡± Freya fumbled, immediately forgetting what she¡¯d meant to order. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you worked here.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah. Jujitsu is just to pay the bills. This is my real passion,¡± Dan said, giving a little roll of his eyes. He tried to be funny. She should have laughed.

    ¡°Is it just you?¡±

    ¡°Um. Yeah. Can I get the steak and eggs and a strawberry banana milkshake, please? Eggs over medium, rye toast, medium rare.¡±

    His eyebrows raised. ¡°It¡¯s a big steak,¡± he warned.

    ¡°I¡¯m hungry,¡± she said, suddenly feeling a little pissed-off at him. She hadn¡¯t come here to talk to Dan Gregulus. Freya tried not to scowl as she handed him the menu. She just needed to eat something.

    ¡°I hope so! I¡¯ll put your order in right away. What are you reading?¡± He pointed to the midnight blue book that had been under her menu.

    ¡°Oh¡­this is uh, The Fragile Phoenix. It¡¯s a fantasy,¡± Freya said. She had a snide thought she wasn¡¯t even lying. She didn¡¯t want Dan to know she sat alone in a diner reading some stupid self-help book

    ¡°Sounds cool, I¡¯ll have to check it out,¡± Dan said. His smile dried up, and he drifted away to take someone else¡¯s order.

    What was that about? He probably thought Freya was a real loser for being in here on her own, ordering a milkshake like a little kid. Freya dipped her hand in her pocket and touched the Starball, feeling reassured by its warmth. Maybe he was embarrassed, too, for having to spend his Sunday morning slinging hash in a dumb paper hat.

    Not everyone was doing as well as Lassa. Randall had had good life insurance, and there was the survivor¡¯s pension from the police department, but those together were a pittance compared to what her mother made.

    Freya tried to imagine herself behind the counter in a dumb-looking hat, having to talk to hundreds of people every day, whether she wanted to or not. Getting yelled at for messing up orders, men calling her ¡°Hon¡± and ¡°Darling¡± and getting stiffed on tips. It would be awful for her, but Dan didn¡¯t seem to mind, he smiled and laughed as he took orders, even though the place was slammed. How did people do that? It seemed so easy for everyone else.

    Freya sighed. It was going to take forever to get food. She opened the book.

 Chapter 31

    The strawberry banana milkshake arrived as Freya finished chapter seven. Dan Gregulus brought her a tall soda fountain glass with a white crown of whipped cream dusted with curls of shaved chocolate. There was an Amarena cherry on top.

    It looked amazing, even if it was a ridiculous thing to order with breakfast. Freya¡¯s first sip was a cold wave spreading though her mouth. The whole world was suddenly rich and sweet. It had been so long since she¡¯d had a shake here. She¡¯d almost forgotten good they were. The diner blended in real bananas and little bits of fresh strawberry. That was the only way to do it. Artificial banana flavoring made her gag.

    The steak arrived, and it was just as enormous as she¡¯d been warned. Two fried eggs quivered on top, their fringes crispy with lace. Bordering the sea of steak was a small mountain range of golden hashbrowns. There was no way she could eat all this. Even if she managed it, Dan would probably think she was a real pig.

    What the fuck did it matter what Dan Gregulus thought?

    Freya had run almost twenty miles to just fall asleep this week. She could eat whatever she wanted. She cut into the steak first, slicing through a crispy layer of char. Inside, the steak was rarer than she¡¯d ordered, but she liked it that way. You couldn¡¯t order medium-medium-rare, and rare was such a crapshoot. Often, a waiter would ask you if you were sure. She hated that.

    Freya took the first bite, shut her eyes, inhaled deeply, and floated on umami as juices spread through her mouth. She took a long time to savor everything, putting A1 sauce on her hashbrowns, and sopping up yolk with her toast. When she was through, there was nothing left but the cherry stem and the bone. She felt completely satisfied.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Dan said, clearing it all away. ¡°You weren¡¯t kidding.¡± He sounded a little impressed.

    Two guys peeked through the order window at Freya. She heard chattering in Spanish and laughter coming from the kitchen. She gave Dan a look.

    ¡°Did they do something to my food?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Oh! No! No way. Diego just bet Jimmy five bucks you wouldn¡¯t finish,¡± Dan explained.

    ¡°Wow. Like I¡¯m a racehorse or something. That¡¯s so weird.¡±

    ¡°Hah¡­sorry. They¡¯re always goofing around.¡± Dan looked tense and glanced at the register. She must have sounded pissed-off. Maybe he was afraid Freya would tell his manager. A lot of people at Grayson called her a snitch after the Tammy debacle.

    ¡°How come you didn¡¯t bet on me?¡± Freya teased, trying to let him know she wasn¡¯t going to be a bitch about it.

    ¡°Haaa¡­too rich for my blood,¡± Dan held up his hands. He looked relieved. Freya felt a little offended. Did he think she would complain and try to get him fired? She would never.

    ¡°Easy money.¡± Freya shrugged. She was struck by the thought she¡¯d heard Randall say that a thousand times. The steak and eggs she just ate was the breakfast he always ordered. She tried to smile and hoped it wasn¡¯t too forced, reaching for the check.

    The bill was twenty-eight dollars. She slipped forty dollars into the little leather bill holder and rose from her seat to leave.

    ¡°One sec, let me get your change,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± she said, and he looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn¡¯t. She wondered how badly Dan needed this job if twelve bucks was a big deal to him. Maybe she should have left more, but maybe that would have made him uncomfortable. He glanced at the register, where a middle-aged man in a blue apron rang people up.

    ¡°Hey, before you go, a bunch of guys from class are going to Brad Klein¡¯s place tonight. We all throw in to watch the UFC pay-per-view. It¡¯s really fun. Do you want to come?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Oh, uh¡­¡± Freya scrambled to think of an excuse. But why? Mr. Mathis had asked to move her guitar lesson to tomorrow as he had a show to play out of town. All she had planned for the night was running laps, reading alone, and staring at the shadows on her ceiling.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Yeah, that sounds fun,¡± she said, deciding. ¡°Where¡¯s his place?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your number? I¡¯ll text it to you.¡± Dan held out his phone to her.

    He wants my number!

    It hit her like a bolt. Was he interested in her? There was no way. It was probably just cheaper if more people came and chipped in. She took the phone and tapped in her name and number on the contacts page.

    ¡°Okay, cool!¡± Dan said. ¡°Prelims start at six! Shit, I gotta get back to it,¡± he said, nodding towards a small line forming at the register. The man in the blue apron glared at them, he¡¯d seen them exchange numbers. It looked like Dan might get in trouble after all.

    Before she could lose her nerve, Freya walked to the front of the line.

    ¡°Hey, are you the manager?¡± she asked, though she was sure he was. The man¡¯s name tag read ¡°Jeremy.¡± His nails were neatly filed, and his shoes hadn¡¯t been cheap. Jeremy glanced back at the line of people, a little perturbed she¡¯d gone out of order.

    ¡°Yes, I am, is everything okay?¡±

    ¡°Everything was great! That was the best meal I¡¯ve had in a long time. I love that you don¡¯t use liquid smoke or maraschino cherries. Great service, too. Sorry to butt in line, just wanted to tell you!¡±

    She raised an apologetic palm to the line, but they were all men, and they seemed fine with it. Jeremy¡¯s incipient scowl melted into a smile. He beamed.

    ¡°Well, thank you!¡± he said. Clearly, the fancy cherries and the charcoal grill had been his idea. ¡°I¡¯ll tell the kitchen! They¡¯ll love to hear that. Thank you so much for coming!¡±

    She saw Dan watching them from a few paces away. He looked almost petrified. Freya gave him a Vitko chin-raise. She hoped that would help.

    ***

    The rain had diminished into gently falling mist, and water beaded on every surface. Freya thought about calling a cab, but the library wouldn¡¯t be open for another half-hour. She never wanted to hear another word about college football. She decided to walk.

    The sky descended around her. Slow fingers of fog drove across the gleaming black asphalt of the road. They swept over her as she walked along the shoulder, with wet leaves sticking to her shoes.

    There weren¡¯t many cars out. The sound of water dripping off the bare trees surrounded her in a meaningless roar. The fog had swallowed her, and she walked along the edge of the road through a white void. It was easy to wonder if this was all a dream and everything around her was about to sink into the sea.

    Freya glanced upward, looking for the pure black sky from her dreams, but there was only fog. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and a million pinpricks of moisture beaded on the screen, her thumb left prismatic streaks as she swiped. The text from Dan with the address was there. It was real.

    Going to watch the fights had seemed like a courageous idea, but the enormity of what she¡¯d agreed to swelled around her. She didn¡¯t know Brad Klein at all. Would she be the only girl there? She barely knew anything about MMA. She¡¯d only seen a few matches when it was on the TVs at Quay¡¯s while she shot pool with Randall. This could be an awful mistake.

    As she imagined it, Freya felt short of breath. Her hands tingled. She was trapped now. If she went to the party, she would be awkward and uncomfortable. She would make a fool of herself in front of everyone. If she didn¡¯t go, she would feel like a failure, and Dan would hate her for getting him in trouble and blowing him off. He¡¯d probably tell everyone she¡¯d tried to get him fired.

    Freya reached into her pocket for the Starball and held it in her fist, feeling reassured by its smoothness and warmth. Standing on the side of the road, she ran through one of the breathing exercises from chapter two of The Fragile Phoenix. Six measured inhalations and exhalations followed by one breath held for a count of seven, then exhaled through her mouth like she was blowing out a candle as slowly as she could.

    She began walking again, trying to think reassuring thoughts. She would know most of the people there. They were in her class. She would get to watch some of the Jujitsu holds they¡¯d learned in Krav Maga. Dan Gregulus had smiled at her when she handed his phone back to him.

    Freya could do this. If she didn¡¯t like it, she could just tell them she had a curfew and call a cab. She could almost believe herself, but there was a nagging feeling she was wrong, almost like she was forgetting something.

    The corralled corner turrets of the library emerged from the fog, and she felt like she arrived at a castle on some lonely moor after a long quest. The sign on the front door was still flipped to CLOSED, but the lights were on inside. It wouldn¡¯t be long.

    She could totally do this; she could make new friends. Freya ran through the breathing exercise again to try and push her doubts away. Out of everything in the book, they¡¯d been the most helpful. She thought she should remember to tell Dr. Garbuglio that next session. If he still seemed down, it might cheer him up.

    Freya¡¯s phone vibrated in her pocket, and she hesitated before she checked it. She was afraid it would be Lassa demanding she return home at once, or that Dan was rescinding the invite. She took another deep breath, told herself she didn¡¯t care either way, and pulled out her phone.

    <Dan> You forgot your book! I¡¯ll bring it tonight!

    Freya shut her eyes and wanted to die.

 Chapter 32

    A fantasy. Why did Freya have to be so clever? Why hadn¡¯t she just told the truth? Dan was bound to look at The Fragile Phoenix. She¡¯d been so busy trying to keep him from getting fired, she¡¯d forgotten it at the counter.

    The librarian waved to Freya as she unlocked the front door. Freya had to unclench her jaw to say hi as she walked in. She went straight to the fiction section, her steps heavy in the hushed air.

    If she texted Dan and asked him not to look in the book, it would make him do exactly that. Any excuse she could come up with sounded crazy. Her only hope was he¡¯d be too busy to even thumb through it.

    It was all ruined now.

    Freya had been looking forward to a morning at the library, perusing the shelves for as long as she wanted. She¡¯d hoped to find enough books to last until the end of November.

    Now, all she could do was sit at the end of one of the long tables with her forehead against her palm, thinking how she¡¯d messed everything up.

    A fantasy.

    At least she didn¡¯t need an excuse to skip the party. She sat there throbbing with embarrassment until finally she was sick of worrying about it. There was nothing she could do about it now, and if she sat here for too long, the librarian was bound to come check on her. Freya pulled out her phone and opened her book list.

    All the books people recommended to Freya were organized in a color-coded spreadsheet on her phone. First was a golden column with the name of the person who recommended the book to her. Author names were the teal column, titles were in lavender. There was a wide pale blue column at the end where Freya kept her notes as she read. She saved these so she could talk about the book with the recommender when she finished.

    Freya didn¡¯t like the idea of assigning numerical ratings to books, but she would sometimes bold a title when she really liked it. After she¡¯d talked with the recommender and thanked them, she moved the row to the completed tab. Invariably, the person who recommended the book would have another recommendation after that, so the list never ran out.

    Right now, her open recommendations were:

    Mr. Rutteridge:

    The Unbearable Lightness of Being - Milan Kundera

    One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

    South of the Border, West of the Sun - Haruki Murakami

    Randall:

    Darkness at Noon - Arthur Koelester

    The L.A. Quartet - James Ellroy

    The Dark Tower - Steven King

    A Wizard of Earthsea - Ursula K. Le Guinn

    Dying Inside - Robert Silverberg

    The Physics of Star Trek ¨C Lawrence M. Krauss & Steven Hawking

    Betty:

    Never Let Me Go - Kazuo Ishiguro

    The Monsters of Templeton - Lauren Groff

    The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison

    The Golem and the Jinni - Helene Wecker

    Dr. Garbuglio:

    The Fragile Phoenix - Dr. Garbuglio :P

    The library had all of Betty¡¯s picks. Freya especially liked the cover of the Golem and the Jinni. She considered not checking out The Goblin Emperor, but Betty had a good grasp of how much bullshit Freya would put up with in a fantasy novel. She would never have recommended a piece of junk like The Song of Sword.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Freya walked along the shelves with a little stack growing beneath her arm as she looked for Mr. Rutteridge¡¯s recommendations. These would be more demanding reads than Betty¡¯s selections, and Freya only planned to pick one of them. She looked at all three, then settled on South of the Border, West of the Sun. She¡¯d had more than enough solitude lately, and Kundera was supposed to be wrenchingly depressing.

    Freya spent a while browsing the paperback carousels before picking a yellowed 1984 copy of The Void Captain¡¯s Tale by Norman Spinrad.

    Lastly, Freya looked at the books under Randall¡¯s name and, again, she was only going to pick one. When she¡¯d read these five recommendations, there would never be any more. The list under his name had been so long once. There was a lot of downtime as a small-town police officer, and Randall was a voracious reader. One by one, she¡¯d whittled down his list until there were just these five remaining.

    Randall was always the best to talk with after she finished a book. He was always interested to hear what she thought. Freya remembered the way he smiled when she¡¯d enjoyed something he recommended, almost as proud as if he¡¯d written it himself.

    Randall was where she¡¯d gotten her habit of always finishing a book she started. She remembered starting Dune and flaming out fifty pages in. Randall encouraged her to give it another fifty pages, and when she still didn¡¯t like it, he¡¯d told her to go fifty more, saying she was almost at the good part.

    She read through the rest, and then didn¡¯t stop until she¡¯d read the whole book, and then the other five books in the series. For three whole months her head was swimming with stillsuits and sandworms and the tyranny of prescience. Randall even re-read Heretics and Chapterhouse so he could talk with her about them.

    A few months after Randall was gone, Freya had the urge to re-read the original book. His hardcover copy was on the bookshelf in the hallway. It was from the Chilton printing. The dust jacket was the John Schoenherr painting with the flowing title. It was Freya¡¯s favorite science fiction cover.

    But when she held the book, all she could think about was that it had been in her father¡¯s hands. His fingers had touched the pages, his eyes had run over the words, and they never would again. She¡¯d put Dune back on the shelf and hadn¡¯t read anything for a while after that.

    The memory beat against Freya, and she set her stack of books down. She had the urge to leave them there and run out of the library. She could hit the pavement and start running until she was far away from this town, far from everything. Her hand was in her pocket, closing on the Starball. She shut her eyes tight and tried to visualize herself in outer space.

    It helped, but when she opened her eyes again, Freya was back in the library, surrounded by the smell of old books and furniture polish. She was stuck here on Earth, no matter where she went the memories would follow her.

    Freya picked her books back up and walked back through the shelves, looking at Randall¡¯s recommendations. The library didn¡¯t have the Omnibus edition of the four James Ellroy books, and she didn¡¯t want to carry four separate books. All the copies of The Dark Tower were checked out, and King was kind of hit-or-miss for Freya anyway.

    Darkness at Noon sounded interesting, but the title reminded her too much of the black sky of her dreams. Wizard of Earthsea wasn¡¯t on the shelf, even though the computer said it was.

    That left Dying Inside. The library¡¯s copy was a battered 1972 edition with the red and black dust jacket sealed with ancient, yellowed laminate. It had a pocket at the back for when they¡¯d used check-out cards, but there was no slip in it.

    Freya had a thought, and she took her stack of books to the check-out counter. She had to wait a second while the librarian helped an older woman who¡¯d gotten confused by a pop-up on one of the library computers.

    The librarian had very short hair, she couldn¡¯t have been much older than her early forties, but it was already mostly gray. She wore a long-sleeved shirt with a few tattoo lines visible around her collar and peeking out at her wrists. Freya thought there was a good chance this was Lynn Harris¡¯s older sister. There was a strong resemblance.

    ¡°Checking out?¡± she asked, and her eyes shot to the stack of books, noting each title.

    ¡°Yes, I had a question, though. Do you guys keep track of who checks each book out?¡±

    ¡°We do. There are records for all the books in our collection,¡± the librarian replied.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s great!¡± Freya slid Dying Inside out from the middle of the stack and handed it over. ¡°Can I see if this book was checked out by someone?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but we don¡¯t release that information. We don¡¯t want people to be afraid others will look up what they¡¯ve been reading.¡± The woman¡¯s expression was a little severe, but her tone was polite. Now, Freya was almost sure she was related to Lynn. They talked alike.

    ¡°Even if it¡¯s family? I just wanted to see if my dad checked out this book.¡±

    ¡°Even family, unless it¡¯s for a child under the age of twelve.¡±

    ¡°Oh, okay, never mind,¡± Freya said, feeling dumb for asking.

    She slid her library card across the counter. The librarian ran it through the barcode reader and was about to hand it back when she hesitated. Her eyes went from the card to Freya, and Freya wondered if she was in trouble or something. Then the librarian scanned the inner back cover sticker on Dying Inside. She typed something in on her terminal, her eyes darting from side to side as she read.

    ¡°Your dad checked this out eleven years ago, on September 23rd. He returned it on October 9th. Did you want me to look up the others?¡± There was a catch in the librarian¡¯s voice as she spoke. Of course, she knew about Randall. It was a small town.

    ¡°No that¡¯s okay, it was just this one.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s one of Silverberg¡¯s best. I hope you enjoy it.¡± The librarian said quickly checked out the rest of the stack. Her bottom lip was tight as she handed Freya back her card.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Freya said, feeling awkward. She took her stack of books and found a place to read where she couldn¡¯t be seen from the check-out desk.

 Chapter 33

    Dying Inside was the story of David Selig, a neurotic mind reader who was slowly losing his powers. As Freya read the book, she understood why Randall had recommended it. The descriptions of telepathy were vivid and detailed, and Selig¡¯s perspective was unique and achingly real. She plowed through nearly a hundred pages before the constant, crushing sadness of the book began to get to her.

    Freya had a strange feeling of someone reading over her shoulder. A few times she looked around, expecting to find someone staring at her, but there was no one. The library was not very busy. It was mainly elderly people milling around the computer terminals and reading the periodicals.

    Freya closed the book and typed in a note, thinking she ought to go ahead and call a taxi home. Before she could finish typing the note, she had a sudden uneasy feeling in her stomach. It seemed like the whole room had darkened a shade, and she wondered if something was up with the electricity. But no one else looked up. It was all in her head, just like when she¡¯d read The Stand.

    For months afterward, every sniffle made her worry she¡¯d contracted the super flu. Freya wondered if she should mention this to Dr. Garbuglio. The down feeling had swelled around her out of nowhere.

    Before she could forget what she meant to write, Freya completed the note about how Selig reminded her of a cross between Professor X and Woody Allen. Maybe she could get a laugh from someone with that quip.

    But from who? Who was she taking these notes for anyway? She would never get to have that conversation. Her father was gone. When would she stop forgetting that a hundred times a day? A hundred let-downs, a hundred disappointments, a hundred realizations that nothing would ever be okay again.

    Freya moved to leave, and the feeling of a shadow pressing down on her returned until she slunk back into her seat. She didn¡¯t have anywhere to go. With a sigh, she flipped the book back open, finding her place. Within a few pages, the heavy feeling passed, and she felt better.

    Though the book became increasingly miserable as it slumped to its conclusion, Freya enjoyed it more and more. At the end, her hands trembled with excitement.

    Why do I feel like this?

    Silverberg was an even better writer than she¡¯d thought. Freya couldn¡¯t remember the last time a book had affected her so physically. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself and reflexively reached into her pocket for the Starball.

    It was hot.

    Not the usual distant warmth. Hot, like a stone baking in the sun. Not hot enough to hurt, just enough it couldn¡¯t possibly be her imagination. She glanced around the room, making sure no one watched her. Freya drew the Starball out and stared at it, turning it over and over in her palm. Externally, it was the same, so why was it so hot? She prodded the orb with her left index finger to confirm. It was definitely warmer than she¡¯d ever felt before.

    Was the Starball trying to tell her something?

    ¡°Am I in danger?¡± she asked under her breath, wondering if the orb was trying to warn her. Freya glanced up, expecting the ceiling to be swallowed by the starless void, but everything was normal.

    Freya spoke to her pet rock from outer space. She¡¯d finally lost it. She felt for her phone. Dr. Garbuglio had said she could call anytime, but turmoil built in her stomach again. It was a terrible idea. Telling Dr. G any part of this would be a one-way ticket to a mental hospital.

    Lassa was gone. There would be no one to get her out. Freya stuck the phone back in her pocket, and the discomfort began to abate. She started to be weirded out by these sudden shifts, it wasn¡¯t like her. Was it another side effect of the Lunesta withdrawal? Did the Starball getting hot have anything to do with it?

    Freya had no answers. At last, all she could think to do was to pick up the copy of Dying Inside and walk it over to the returns desk. Maybe it was cursed, and she¡¯d feel better once she was rid of it. Too late, she realized she should have waited until the librarian¡¯s attention was elsewhere.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Ah, not for you?¡± the librarian asked, looking a little disappointed.

    ¡°Oh, no, haha. I just finished it.¡±

    There was a moment where the librarian clearly wondered if that was possible, but then she glanced at the clock and nodded.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize it had gotten so late. You¡¯re a fast reader. What did you think?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s very stark. The mind-reading scenes were incredibly vivid, but the rest of the story was so bleak. The protagonist reminds me of a cross between Professor X and Woody Allen,¡±

    Freya got her laugh after all, though the librarian covered her mouth, and she was quick about it.

    ¡°That¡¯s grand. You should write a review. It¡¯s been almost twenty years since I read it, but I can still remember the scene at the farm, and some of his interactions with his sister¡­¡±

    ¡°Judith,¡± Freya reminded her.

    ¡°That¡¯s it. The part where she realizes Selig is reading her mind, so she floods his head with disgusting images¡­ I¡¯ll never forget that. It¡¯s an exceptional book. Have you read More than Human?¡±

    ¡°No, is that another Silverberg?¡±

    ¡°Theodore Sturgeon. It¡¯s about a psychic gestalt made up of runaways. It¡¯s a much different style, but very thought-provoking. Then if you want a gestalt on a far grander scope, you might like Starmaker by Olaf Stapeldon. It¡¯s incredible, like nothing else I¡¯ve ever read.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll add those to my list, thank you.¡± Freya had her phone out, tapping in the recommendations.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s so clever! I should do that,¡± the librarian said. ¡°I loved, loved, loved Never Let Me Go. It was just haunting.¡±

    Freya looked up, suddenly alarmed. The librarian could read upside down! She had been watching as Freya typed.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to intrude,¡± she said, immediately realizing she¡¯d overstepped. ¡°I get carried away talking about books.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s totally okay,¡± Freya reassured her. ¡°You¡¯re Lynn Harris¡¯s sister, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m Lee. Very nice to meet you.¡± Lee extended a hand over the counter, and Freya reached out to shake it. She looked surprised to be recognized, but in a pleasant way. The familial resemblance was only there if you were really looking for it.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t recognize you at first. You¡¯ve grown so much since the last time I saw you. Your dad was one of the biggest readers in town. He was such a good man.¡±

    Freya caught a little twinge in the way Lee said that, as if she thought most men weren¡¯t very good at all. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry for your loss,¡± Lee finished.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, thank you,¡± Freya said quietly. She desperately wanted to escape. ¡°I¡¯ll check on those books.¡±

    Freya found the books on the shelves. They were both trade paperbacks in the Gollancz SF masterworks series. She checked them out and added them to her pile.

    Freya had intended to return home and drop off her books before the party. But now, she wasn¡¯t so sure she would go out again if she went back to the house. She didn¡¯t know what that strange feeling was all about. Maybe there was something wrong with her. If she went straight to the party with a giant pile of books the boys there would definitely make comments. Then she remembered Dan had The Fragile Phoenix. She¡¯d been pushing that problem out of her mind all day.

    She could just go home and not deal with any of it. She could text Dan and ask him to bring the book to school tomorrow. Now that he knew she was nuts, he¡¯d probably be relieved if Freya didn¡¯t come. Then she thought it was even easier than that. She didn¡¯t even have to text Dan. She just could tell Dr. Garbuglio she¡¯d lost her copy. He had a whole shelf of them. She never had to talk to Dan Gregulus again.

    Take a chance.

    Freya didn¡¯t have to go home and hide. She could just suck it up. Maybe Dan hadn¡¯t even opened the book. Maybe he didn¡¯t give a shit. Maybe it didn¡¯t matter either way, and she just wanted to hang out with a bunch of guys and watch men in a cage beat each other half to death. She looked at her stack of books and wished she had a grocery bag or something to hide them in.

    It dawned on Freya she could get a grocery bag at the grocery store. She could show up with some food, and everyone would be happy to see her. She¡¯d thought she might never eat again after breakfast, but that was a whole novel ago. She was already getting hungry. If people were busy eating, they wouldn¡¯t have time to notice if she was awkward as hell.

    She waved goodbye to Lee Harris and set off for the Black River Market.

 Chapter 34 - STARBALL + Chapter 35

    Chapter 34 - STARBALL

    EUREKA!

    Chapter 35

    Freya couldn¡¯t believe she¡¯d spent all day worrying about the party. Everything was fine. Dan didn¡¯t mention the book at all. She only bought twenty dollars¡¯ worth of chips and soda but, when she arrived, she felt like she was resupplying a fortress after a siege.

    She got the feeling no one had expected her to show up, and they seemed happy she had. She¡¯d thought there would be like twenty people there, but there weren¡¯t even ten. She already knew everyone except for Brad.

    Brad Klein was an intense senior with freckles and curly red hair. He was the palest student at Grayson. It felt like he might burst into flames if struck by a wayward sunbeam. He was funny, but it was a biting wit. When he wasn¡¯t joking, his face was cold and serious like Radomir¡¯s. Brad was a polite host, but not overly friendly to Freya, which she liked. She could tell he needed to warm up to someone before he was nice to them.

    Besides Dan and Brad, there were Cameron Kowalski and Tate Green from Krav Maga. Freya was surprised to find Radomir was there. She wondered who he was friends with in the group. He seemed just as surprised to see her, but she couldn¡¯t tell if he was happy about it or not.

    He didn¡¯t eat any of the chips she¡¯d brought and drank water instead of soda. The others were less restrained. Freya had worried a little she was overdoing it, but it looked like the snacks she¡¯d brought wouldn¡¯t even survive prelims.

    Brad Klein¡¯s basement was a great spot to watch the fights. There was a big sectional couch that made a U around a hundred-inch television. Brad¡¯s father did something with designing sound for concerts in New York, and there was a serious speaker system. The subwoofers pulsed through the leather couch.

    Everyone seemed a little toned down during the first fight. She wondered if they felt uncomfortable around her. The second fight was terrible. It was a heavyweight bout, and both fighters got gassed in the second round. The rest of the fight was just the two fighters hugging it out. The referee even threatened to take points for not engaging.

    Freya stuck out her tongue and pretended to snore, and that was the signal for everyone to go in. Each of them tried to outdo each other jeering the screen. Cameron Kowalski and Dan Gregulus were the best at it. They did exaggerated voices for the lackluster fighters as the men on screen grappled ineffectively.

    ¡°Take me now, Tsouris! Right here in this octagon!¡± Cameron mocked.

    ¡°No, Antonio! No one must know of our forbidden love! Stop this clumsy armbar attempt!¡±

    ¡°Only if you¡¯ll release your rear naked choke on my heart!¡± Cameron cried back, clutching his chest.

    ¡°Kiss me, you fool! Don¡¯t let him tear us apart!¡± Dan clowned as the referee separated the exhausted men for the third time.

    They were ridiculous. Freya couldn¡¯t keep from cracking up. Dan caught her eye and grinned at her. Her cheeks got hot, and she turned back to the screen just as the referee lifted Tsouris¡¯ arm. Brad groaned they should have both lost, and Freya joined the rumble of agreement.

    More of the preliminary fights went by, and Freya was glad she¡¯d come. When she asked why a referee was warning a fighter about an elbow, Tate explained the rule against twelve to six elbow strikes, which everyone seemed to agree was bullshit.

    She tried not to ask too many questions. She¡¯d been afraid the action would be too hard to follow, but it was easy, even with the boys drowning out the commentators. They all got excited together whenever they saw a technique from class. One of the fights on the main card was an Israeli woman who Vitko had told them to look out for.

    Just when Freya started to feel comfortable, a car drove up, and three girls joined them. Claire Meadows arrived with Jennette Lewis, the captain of the lacrosse team, and Riley Halstead, the goalie. Riley had her hair dyed electric blue on one side of her part and hot pink on the other.

    Claire gave Freya a quick nod when she noticed her. After everyone greeted each other, the room quickly became a roar of chatter with three conversations going on at once. Claire beelined to a spot beside Freya.

    ¡°Shove over,¡± Claire ordered Tate, who sat beside Freya. Freya hoped Tate would tell Claire to fuck off. Instead, he raised his palms at the group as if to say, ¡°Are you seeing this?¡± and scooted over in complete capitulation. A few people chuckled.

    Freya wondered why he hadn¡¯t stood up for himself. She enjoyed chatting with him. While the others were mostly just clowning, Tate had a good eye for the technical aspects of the fights. He called out a lot of dirty moves fighters were getting away with before the announcers did, and he was good at predicting how the judges scored each round.

    ¡°We¡¯re cousins. I get to give him shit,¡± Claire explained, noticing Freya¡¯s look. ¡°Did you get in trouble the other day?¡±

    ¡°No, he never said anything. Total softie,¡± Freya said, remembering Claire had used that term. She got an ¡°I told you so¡± smile in return. Claire had an intense focus when she talked to someone, like she shut out everything else.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Tate asked.

    ¡°Nothing, hush,¡± Claire shot back, looking annoyed.

    ¡°I had to duck into a bathroom to escape Mr. Farrelli before he talked me to death,¡± Freya explained, tilting her head around Claire to talk to Tate. She didn¡¯t like the way Claire walled him off.

    ¡°Oh, my God. I had him last year he never shuts up,¡± Riley shot in from the other couch. Suddenly everyone there was echoing in agreement.

    Another fight started up on the television, and everyone turned back to it. Claire had never seen MMA before; she wasn¡¯t shy about asking questions. Tate mostly filled her in, and Freya was struck by how differently he spoke. He treated Claire like she was a complete idiot for not knowing, and she teased him right back.

    A few times, the others broke out laughing at them. It made her wonder if this was the real Tate and he¡¯d just been nice to Freya because he felt sorry for her.

    All the chips had been wiped out. Jennette poked at a bag that was just salt and pretzel dust.

    ¡°Does anyone want to order pizza or something?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Pizza would be incredible. I¡¯m hungry,¡± Freya answered.

    ¡°How? You ate an entire cow this morning!¡±

    ¡°Did you just call her a cow?¡± Claire spun towards Dan.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that!¡± Dan protested.

    People turned from the fight on the TV to watch the one brewing on the sofa. ¡°She ate the biggest steak I¡¯ve ever seen at the diner this morning, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°Oh? So, she can¡¯t eat what she wants?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that! I was impressed, actually.¡±

    ¡°Eating breakfast is impressive to you?¡±

    ¡°Jesus, Claire, lighten up¡­¡± Dan trailed, shaking his head, but she kept glaring at him, ¡°by about thirty pounds!¡± he finished, mugging at her with an open-mouthed grin.

    ¡°Ohhhh, shit!¡± Cameron cried, and Dan had already flipped over the back of the couch to escape, Claire was on her feet and running after him.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°OUTSIDE!¡± Brad Klein shouted.

    Dan darted around the sectional and wrenched the back door open, dashing up the steps and into the yard. Claire hurtled after him. She nearly had him as he paused at the door but, as soon as he was out in the open, she had no hope of ever catching him. It didn¡¯t keep her from trying.

    Freya and the others saw the two sets of legs running past the windows ringing the basement as the two circled the house. Dan kept slowing down to a trot and letting her almost catch up before he took off again.

    ¡°Maybe you could catch me if you weren¡¯t so fat!¡± they heard him call back through the basement door, and she howled back at him so mad she couldn¡¯t even make words and puffed after him.

    ¡°If she ran like that at practice, we¡¯d win more games,¡± Jennette observed, and Riley cackled. Freya noticed Jennette¡¯s eyes go to Radomir to see if he was laughing. He wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Can you get her to shut up before the neighbors call the police?¡± Brad asked Jenette. They heard the howl rounding the house again. Claire ran past the open door, her face was almost completely red.

    ¡°Maybe call animal control instead,¡± Tate quipped, and Cameron and Riley roared with laughter until Dan ran down the steps to join them. He wasn¡¯t even winded, but he looked uneasy.

    ¡°She just jumped in her car!¡± he said. Everyone looked out the window, afraid she was about to ram the house. Her engine roared, and then it faded away.

    ¡°Wait, did she just fucking drive off?¡± Jennette asked, standing on her toes to look out the window. ¡°She was our ride. Why do you have to be such an asshole, Dan?¡±

    ¡°She started that! She¡¯s been mad at me for like two months. I don¡¯t even know why.¡±

    Freya was about to blurt something out, but she was glad she didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Maybe she will come back?¡± Radomir offered.

    ¡°She won¡¯t,¡± Tate said, and Jennette and Riley nodded in agreement.

    ¡°I can cover her share of the pay-per-view,¡± Dan offered.

    ¡°I got it, don¡¯t worry,¡± Brad said, sighing at him. Dan returned an apologetic look.

    ¡°That old Gregulus charm,¡± Cameron teased. ¡°Seriously, though, are we getting pizza?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll text her I¡¯m sorry, okay?¡± Dan offered, ignoring Cameron.

    ¡°God, don¡¯t. You¡¯ll only make things worse. Just give us a ride home later,¡± Jennette said.

    ¡°You live all the way in Fairmont!¡± Dan complained.

    ¡°Next time think before you open your big dumb mouth,¡± Jennette said.

    ¡°Can your car even make it to Fairmont?¡± Brad asked with a grin.

    ¡°I bet he doesn¡¯t have enough gas to get to the end of the block,¡± Riley chimed in.

    ¡°See, this is why I don¡¯t like hanging out with Lacrosse girls. They gang up on you,¡± Dan said, rolling his eyes at Riley.

    ¡°They can gang up on me any time they want,¡± Cameron offered.

    ¡°Ewwww,¡± both Riley and Jennette said in unison, and Cameron stood up and swept into a deep theatrical bow.

    Freya just watched it all happen. How did they do it? Everyone seemed to know everyone, and they were all so fun. It seemed effortless to them. Except for Radomir, and he didn¡¯t have to be funny, he was a genius. But what was she?

    Freya felt completely superfluous. Worse than that, if she wasn¡¯t here, the drama never would have happened. She wondered if she should just go, her hand thrust into her pocket and closed on the Starball.

    ¡°Seriously, I totally wasn¡¯t calling you a cow. I¡¯m sorry,¡± Dan said, seeming a little crestfallen. He was doing that thing where someone does something rude, and then they overcompensate being too nice to everyone else. She got the idea this wasn¡¯t the first time Claire had made a scene like this. Probably not the first time Dan had gone too far teasing someone either.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal. I don¡¯t know why she was being a bitch on my behalf,¡± Freya said. ¡°I¡¯ve been running every night. I get hungry in the morning.¡±

    ¡°Whaaaat?! When did you start running? Are you going to try out for track in the spring? We have a good crew for cross country this fall.¡± Words tumbled out of Dan¡¯s mouth. He had the same sudden gleam of interest Radomir did when people brought up dance.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m just uh¡­ Vitko told to try it. I have insomnia. He said to just keep running until I got tired.¡±

    ¡°Does that work?¡±

    ¡°So far, yeah. He¡¯s pretty smart.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s doing here. He¡¯s way too good for this town. He could have a whole giant school in New York.¡±

    ¡°I bet he¡¯s spying on Hiidenkirnu for Israel,¡± Cameron said.

    ¡°No, dummy, his wife works there.¡± Tate rolled his eyes.

    ¡°I bet she¡¯s spying on Hiidenkirnu for Israel,¡± Cameron amended.

    ¡°Nobody is spying for Israel. Except Brad,¡± Tate said.

    ¡°Oh, fuck off,¡± Brad groaned. ¡°I don¡¯t even like it there. My dad is trying to get me to go for Birthright this summer. I want to go back to New Zealand instead.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s it like there?¡± Jennette asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s so awesome! There are two main islands, the north is full of people, and the south is super rugged and beautiful¡ª¡± Brad began.

    ¡°Pizzapizzapizzapizzzapizza¡­¡± Cameron kept repeating until everyone could no longer ignore him. They gathered cash for pizza, and Freya wanted to kick in, but they wouldn¡¯t let her because she¡¯d brought stuff.

    The prelims ended, and they swapped over to pay-per-view for the main event. The conversation turned into Brad and Jennette talking about New Zealand across Radomir, while Dan and Cameron tried their hardest to recruit Freya onto the track team. She couldn¡¯t understand why people cared who ran faster than who but, at least, they were excited about it. They were both funny, and she wondered why Dan wasn¡¯t in drama this year, but she couldn¡¯t ask since she wasn¡¯t either.

    The fights for the pay-per-view started, and everyone¡¯s excitement ratcheted up. The first fight was the #3 and #5 men¡¯s lightweight contenders. The #2 guy was injured, and whoever won this would get a shot at the title.

    This fight was nothing like the ones before. The two men launched at each other from the first moment, darting in and out, weaving and dodging. There were more punches thrown in the first thirty seconds than there had been in the entire heavyweight fight. It was almost difficult to follow the action or tell who was winning. The punches seemed to have no impact.

    Freya glanced around the room and saw everyone¡¯s eyes darting at the screen, the television gleaming in their eyes. Radomir was practically transfixed. His jaw dropped as everyone roared with excitement. When she looked back to the screen, the fight was over! In the replay, she watched the #3 fighter feint a kick, and when the other fighter raised his leg to check it, he leapt and cracked him with a flying knee, knocking him out cold. Doctors swarmed into the ring as #3¡¯s team rushed in cheering. The victor climbed onto the wall of the octagonal cage and raised his fist to the crowd as sweat rained off him.

    ¡°His footwork is so much better than the other fighter. Everything he does comes from his legs,¡± Radomir said, looking slightly awed.

    ¡°He was a kickboxer before he came to MMA,¡± Tate said. ¡°This is gonna be a good card. First round flying knee knockout!¡±

    The second fight was even better. It was a women¡¯s strawweight fight with Flavia Milavetz, the Israeli fighter Vitko had told them to watch. She was fighting former champion Rita Blazek. This fight had much less striking. Milavetz was primarily a grappler. She threw a few kicks to keep Blazek guessing, but she was mostly looking for a way in.

    All her takedown attempts in the first round were stuffed, and Blazek made her pay for all of them. Just before the closing bell, she caught Milavetz with a left hook that opened a big cut on her cheekbone.

    Midway through the second round she was bleeding so much they called in the doctor. The doctor scrutinized Milavetz before announcing the fight could go on and, between rounds, they slathered gobs of Vaseline on the cut. The fight continued into the third round, and Tate was certain she¡¯d lost the first two rounds but told them Blazek needed to watch out because anything could happen in the third. Blazek looked tired, and Milavetz wobbled her with an elbow to the temple after a failed takedown attempt.

    Almost immediately after the start of the round, Milavetz caught an ill-timed kick and drove Blazek back across the cage as she hopped on one foot trying to stay upright. She collapsed, and Milavetz seized her moment, locking her up and getting her back.

    There was a moment where the camera was focused on their faces as blood dripped off Milavetz¡¯s face onto the back of Blazek¡¯s head. Blazek had her hands trying to wrench free from the arm snaking around her neck, but she didn¡¯t have the strength to stop it. With horrid fascination, they all watched Milavetz crank down on her neck, her eyes aflame with fury as Blazek¡¯s rolled with desperation.

    ¡°She should tap. She should tap!¡± Tate said, his voice cracking with excitement.

    The referee rushed in to separate them, but Blazek was unconscious. Milavetz loomed over her, her hands clenched into claws, looking like she wanted to finish what she¡¯d started. But then the spell broke. She looked around seeming almost surprised at the lights and noise surrounding her. The referee moved her back towards her corner. The doctor was in the cage again, and a hush fell over the crowd. Milavetz fell to her knees as they waited to see if Blazek would come around.

    ¡°She almost looks like another person,¡± Dan breathed. There was none of the jubilation from the first fight in Milavetz¡¯s expression. Pale blue eyes peered out from under a mask of blood. Blazek came around, but it was a while before she could get up, and she couldn¡¯t walk out of the cage without assistance.

    ¡°Why did they let it go on that long?¡± Jennette asked. She sounded a little shaken.

    ¡°The ref was right there. It wasn¡¯t his fault. Blazek should have tapped,¡± Tate said. ¡°They¡¯re never the same after they get knocked out like that.¡±

    They all stared at the screen. The camera kept focusing on Milavetz¡¯s haunted expression. The announcers talked about the fight in a subdued, almost somber tone.

    Freya looked around the room, fascinated by how people were taking it. Tate¡¯s face was tight with sadness. He had been rooting for Blazek. Dan and Cameron both looked a bit shaken and, for once, they weren¡¯t joking. Jennette and Riley both had queasy expressions. Only Radomir seemed fully awake. He watched the screen with wide-open eyes, electrified by the brush with death. He saw her and glanced away, looking a little like he¡¯d been caught.

 Chapter 36

    The fight ended, but the dark mood lingered. Another bout was starting, but everyone felt antsy in the basement. When the pizzas arrived, they seized their chance to escape and went to eat in the back yard.

    The moon had vanished behind a bank of clouds, and it was cold, but no one seemed to mind. There was still a sheen of water on the patio furniture, so they stood around the table holding slices folded into Vs and teased each other.

    Jennette wouldn¡¯t eat hers until she dabbed at it with a wad of napkins to sop up the grease. Freya saw Dan eyeing her with that animated look he got before he launched into a joke. Brad noticed, too, and he slid his head between Dan and Jennette and shook his head, mouthing, ¡°NO.¡±

    Dan¡¯s bottom lip was tight, locking in whatever dumb thing he¡¯d meant to say. Freya giggled, and Dan grinned at her and shrugged. The others didn¡¯t notice the exchange. It was something just between them.

    Tate asked Riley about the band patches on her jean jacket. She was eighteen and went to every punk rock show that came within a hundred miles of Sillas. Cameron, Radomir, and Jennette talked about the fall dance. Jennette kept looking over hopefully at Radomir, but he was oblivious.

    Freya was so glad she wasn¡¯t tangled up in anything romantic. It was interesting to watch from the outside, but she remembered the awful churning uncertainty she¡¯d felt about Peter Berl last year during No Exit.

    There was a moment where no one spoke to Freya, and she could just take it all in. Everyone was illuminated in the golden glow of the exterior lights. Wind whistled through the bare branches of the forest behind the yard, but the cold couldn¡¯t touch her. She was struck by how much she liked being around these people. Everyone had been so nice to her.

    Freya couldn¡¯t believe she¡¯d almost gone home and spent the night reading alone. The thought reminded her of The Fragile Phoenix, and she was sure Dan hadn¡¯t had a chance to look at it. He would have cracked a joke by now. As Freya turned to look at him, a crescent of light swept through the trees behind him. On the other side of the house, the roar of an engine being gunned sounded as a car shot up the driveway.

    ¡°Someone¡¯s here,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Shit, is that your dad?¡± Jennette asked. Suddenly, there was tension in the group. Everyone seemed afraid they were about to get rousted.

    ¡°Not a chance, he¡¯s in Munich. Maybe someone called the police about Claire?¡± Brad offered.

    ¡°Maybe it is Claire,¡± Cameron said.

    Dan rubbed the back of his head. Freya had noticed he did that whenever he felt uncomfortable. There were voices from around the house, and a shadow slipped into the back yard, peering around uncertainly.

    ¡°Oh, shit, is that Rigo?¡± Cam called out, and Rodrigo Dawson yelled back ¡°Ey, Camar¨®n!¡±

    Rigo sprinted across the wet lawn to clasp hands with Cam. They had been friends since grade school, both on the wrestling team. ¡°What are you doing here, man?¡± Cam asked, and Rigo shrugged.

    ¡°I¡¯m just along for the ride.¡± Rigo grinned. It was practically a catchphrase. Rigo was well-liked at Grayson, he was in perpetually high spirits because he was perpetually high.

    Another newcomer was rounding the house, a little unsteady on their feet. Freya was surprised to see it was Jane Yang.

    ¡°Hey, is Claire here? This is the party, right?¡± Jane asked, not noticing Freya. It was weird, but then Freya noticed Jane wasn¡¯t wearing her glasses. Her eyes seemed very small without them.

    ¡°Uh¡­ no?¡± Brad said. ¡°Claire left like an hour ago. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Oh! She didn¡¯t text me,¡± Jane said, seeming a little out of it. Freya wondered if she¡¯d been crying, her eyes red. She decided to pop up and surprise Jane. She could find out what was wrong and cheer her up.

    ¡°What¡¯s good, everybody?¡± a new voice called out from behind Jane. Freya froze. She¡¯d been about to spring up on Jane, but now she wanted to run in the opposite direction.

    Malcolm Lewis stepped out of the shadows to stand beside Jane and Rigo. He was almost two feet taller than Jane. An opened thirty-pack of Coors Light dangled from his hand, and he had a big smile.

    Everyone turned to stare. As the conversations died, the distant voices of announcers boomed from the speakers in the basement. Malcolm squinted in confusion, then he noticed Freya. His smile became a look of disgust. Only Jane seemed oblivious to the dead air.

    ¡°Oh! Shit, Freya, what are you doing here?¡± Jane asked. She didn¡¯t seem thrilled to see her. Now that Jane was closer, Freya smelled the pot smoke clinging to her.

    ¡°I¡¯m in the class,¡± Freya reminded Jane. If Jane wasn¡¯t going to say hi to her, she wasn¡¯t going to say hi to Jane.

    ¡°Oh, right, Crab Maga. Claire told me you were taking it. How is it?¡±

    ¡°Fun,¡± Freya replied. Behind her she could hear Dan and Cameron snickering.

    ¡°That¡¯s so cool. I was thinking about trying it.¡±

    There was strain in her voice. Jane looked over at Dan, hoping for approval but, instead, she found everyone was staring at her. Freya felt sympathy, but why was Jane here with Malcolm?

    ¡°Yo, is there pizza? I can throw five on it,¡± Rigo asked, producing a taped-up five-dollar bill.

    ¡°Look at this man with his busted-ass money. Put it away, Rigo, we got plenty. What kind you want?¡± Cameron popped open the lid on the pizza with pepperoni and black olives.

    ¡°Whatever, man. It¡¯s all good,¡± Rigo said. He joined up with Cam and took a slice. It broke the tension, and everyone seemed relieved. Except for Freya.

    It had all been going so well but, of course, everything had fallen apart. She didn¡¯t want to be here anymore. Malcolm still stared at her. Freya turned around and took a few steps away from the group towards the woods, pulling out her phone.

    ¡°Is everything cool?¡± Brad asked, approaching from the side.

    ¡°Sure, everything¡¯s fine. It¡¯s getting late. I have to get home.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll miss the main event! It¡¯s supposed to be good,¡± Brad angled. Freya wondered why he was trying to keep her there. She¡¯d already made one person leave.

    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m sorry to miss it. I had a really good time. Thank you for having me over.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Anytime! Thank you for bringing food,¡± Brad said.

    She tried calling the cab, but it went to voicemail. She hung up to try again.

    ¡°Woah. Hold up. Is she calling the police?¡± Malcolm called out from behind her. Again, everything came to a halt. Rigo turned to Malcolm with his mouth full of pizza, looking exasperated.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Brad asked.

    ¡°That girl is crazy as fuck. I got suspended for three days because of her. Then she lied to the police about me.¡±

    Freya clenched her phone, the other curled into a fist.

    ¡°He¡¯s lying. He got suspended because he was on camera with three other people who jumped me for no reason,¡± Freya shot back. Her stomach began to hurt. She was afraid he would tell everyone about the weird thing at the river.

    ¡°Nah, that¡¯s not it. She pretended to be hurt to get us all in trouble. Everyone knows she¡¯s insane.¡±

    ¡°That is complete bullshit. I dumped this guy, and he¡¯s been following me around ever since. He¡¯s a creep.¡±

    ¡°No one is following you! Why would I expect you to be at a party? You don¡¯t have any friends!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m leaving anyway. Don¡¯t talk to me,¡± Freya shot back.

    ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you, Malcolm?¡± Jennette demanded.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    ¡°C¡¯mon, man. Chill out Mal, we¡¯re guests here,¡± Rigo said, holding his hands up. There was a line of marinara sauce on the heel of his right palm.

    But Malcolm wouldn¡¯t drop it. He looked around at everyone, getting agitated when no one seemed to hop on his side.

    ¡°Why is she even here?¡± he asked.

    ¡°She was invited. Why are you here?¡± Brad answered. He walked up to confront Malcolm, who was tall enough Brad had to crane his neck.

    ¡°I was invited, too.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t invite you,¡± Brad retorted.

    ¡°Claire did.¡±

    ¡°Okay. It¡¯s my house. Leave.¡±

    ¡°The fuck is your problem?¡± Malcolm asked. He was getting in Brad¡¯s face, but Brad didn¡¯t flinch.

    ¡°There¡¯s trash on my lawn,¡± Brad shot back, balling his fists. In about two seconds, one of them was going to throw a punch, and Brad was going to get annihilated. Before it could happen, Rigo rushed up to grab Malcolm by the arm. The cardboard handle of the beer case ripped, and cans spilled onto the lawn.

    ¡°Yooo! Sorry, everybody. We are leaving! Malcolm is way too high. Thanks for the pizza and sorry to intrude.¡±

    ¡°Get off me, man!¡± Malcolm¡¯s voice rose sharply. Freya realized she should have been calling the police all along.

    ¡°You¡¯re being an asshole. Stop it!¡± Jane spoke up. She was about to cry. Malcolm tried to twist free from Rodrigo¡¯s grip, but Rigo had his arm locked up. Brad took the opportunity to step back.

    ¡°That¡¯s right! Run away, pussy!¡± Malcolm shouted after him.

    Dan Gregulus stepped in between the two of them, his arms outstretched like a referee.

    ¡°Enough! We¡¯re missing real fights for this amateur shit. Malcolm, why don¡¯t you jet? This isn¡¯t your kind of party.¡±

    Disappointment crossed Malcolm¡¯s face. He hadn¡¯t come here for this. Rigo was still locked on his arm, and Jane fumed at him. Dan bent down and picked up the wounded thirty-pack, holding it out to Malcolm.

    ¡°Here, no hard feelings.¡±

    Malcolm hesitated a moment, then he slapped the case to the ground with his free hand.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you fucking make me, Gregulus?¡± Malcolm strained again to get free, but Rigo wasn¡¯t letting go.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Dan replied. He shifted his stance.

    Malcolm hadn¡¯t expected that. He stopped struggling, sizing Dan up. A moment passed, and when Malcolm made no move, Dan shrugged and turned to Freya.

    ¡°I can just give you a ride home. Fuck this guy,¡± Dan said, turning his back on Malcolm.

    ¡°That¡¯s right! Run off you white-knighting faggot! You¡¯re lucky we¡¯re not alone!¡±

    Dan turned back to him.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go right now. Let him go, Rigo,¡± Dan said. Freya couldn¡¯t understand how Dan was so calm. Malcolm was a lot bigger than him.

    ¡°Nah, let¡¯s not, okay? These dudes are MMA and shit. C¡¯mon, fool.¡±

    ¡°Let me go, pussy! I¡¯ll fuck him up!¡± Malcolm spat. Rodrigo blanched at the words, but he kept trying to haul Malcolm away.

    ¡°Hey, Rigo! Cut this idiot loose,¡± Cam called out.

    Rodrigo let go so suddenly Malcolm stumbled towards Dan.

    ¡°You ready?¡± Dan asked, putting his hands up. Malcolm looked back at Rigo. Now that no one was holding him back, he didn¡¯t look so eager anymore.

    ¡°Fuck off. You¡¯ll probably all gang up on me.¡±

    ¡°Just me. You ready?¡± Dan extended a fist as if they were about to touch gloves in a bout.

    ¡°I¡¯m not stupid,¡± Malcolm shot back. He didn¡¯t put his hands up.

    ¡°Debatable!¡± Tate called out from the back. Closer to the fight, Radomir laughed a single loud, ¡°Ha!¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up, Fagomir,¡± Malcolm fired at him.

    ¡°§±§à§ê§×§Ý §¯§Ñ §·§å§Û!¡± Radomir shot back, in the heat of the moment, he¡¯d reverted to Russian.

    Freya¡¯s eyes widened. She knew what he¡¯d said. When Radomir saw Malcolm looking confused, he tried again in English.

    ¡°Go onto a cock! Take your beating, coward.¡±

    Cameron started laughing first, and Tate followed. It infected everyone but Dan and Malcolm. Radomir had spoken seriously but sounded so ridiculous. Freya couldn¡¯t help but laugh and, after a moment, even Dan was cracking up.

    Surrounded by laughter, with Dan standing in front of him ready to fight, Malcolm seemed to finally realize he was on his own. His eyes shot around in the yellow light, looking for a way to save face. At last, he abandoned the broken case of beer and walked away without another word.

    Cameron and Tate were still laughing as Malcolm vanished into the darkness, and Dan gave a Bras d¡¯honneur at the retreat.

    ¡°And still undefeated!¡± Cameron called out, lifting Dan¡¯s arm like a champion. Malcolm¡¯s engine revved as he peeled out of the driveway. Inside the house, the announcers roared. Something big happened in the final round. The excitement died away, and everyone was suddenly staring at Jane Yang.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Freya,¡± Jane said.

    Freya stared at her and shrugged. She had nothing nice to say. All she had to do was say it was okay and hug Jane to fix everything, but she didn¡¯t. Jane turned away from the group and cried.

    Everyone looked around, uncertain and uncomfortable. Radomir¡¯s eyes met Freya¡¯s. Once, they would have both rushed over to comfort Jane, but it wasn¡¯t like that anymore. Freya felt a mixture of confusion and guilt. She should have relented. But why was Jane hanging out with Malcolm? She was probably fucking him.

    ¡°Well, shit. We can, uh, call a taxi I guess?¡± Rigo said, trying to break up the awkwardness. ¡°Sorry about that dude. His family is REAL messed up.¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon, Rigo. That guy¡¯s just an asshole. Why do you hang out with him? You can do better,¡± Cam chided.

    ¡°Ahhh, he¡¯s my teammate, you know? I never seen him act the fool like this before. Plus, he¡¯s got wheels.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s that working out for you?¡± Cam tilted his head in the direction of the driveway.

    ¡°Not so good at present?¡± Rigo shrugged at the situation. He didn¡¯t seem too put out.

    ¡°Hey, Brad, can this dumbass stay and watch the fight with us?¡± Cam asked.

    ¡°Ya, sure, I don¡¯t care. You can both stay. I just meant Malcolm, with the whole trash on my lawn thing. Not you guys,¡± Brad clarified. ¡°Do you two want some more pizza?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no doubt. Thank you!¡± Rigo happily took another slice. Jane turned around and apologized to everyone again, not meeting Freya¡¯s eyes. She snuffled and took a slice, too.

    She¡¯s getting fat, Freya thought uncharitably, and then she wondered why she was being so mean. Freya had eaten two slices herself, and she planned on eating another once everyone else caught up. When Jane had turned away and cried, she¡¯d almost been glad. It was a terrible way to feel. It was a Lassa way to feel.

    She wondered if she ought to just go home anyway. Everything was awkward and weird now, and it was all because of her. She felt the Starball in her pocket. Did it only seem warmer because it was cold out?

    Freya realized the thing with Malcolm would be much worse after this. Word of what had happened would be everywhere at school, and he would be furious. She wondered if she should try and get a restraining order against him, but he hadn¡¯t done anything she could prove. She wished he would just disappear, and her thoughts went again to the black case in Lassa¡¯s closet.

    The others were gathering the pizza boxes and cans of Coors Light and headed back into the house. Dan lingered behind. They were the last ones left outside.

    ¡°You coming?¡± he joked, and she nodded, feeling like she ought to say something.

    ¡°Hey, thank you for that. I wish I was big enough to fight him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not even sure I¡¯m big enough,¡± Dan said with his hand on the back of his head. ¡°He has forty pounds on me. Kind of glad he chickened out.¡±

    ¡°Take your beating, coward!¡± Freya did a good impression of Radomir.

    ¡°Haha, that¡¯s him. Perfect. Do you know what he said before that?¡±

    ¡°It was the same thing. Go onto a dick is like the Russian version of go fuck yourself,¡± she explained. ¡°Radomir says Russian is the best language in the world to curse in.¡±

    ¡°Haha, what. Radomir is crazy. I¡¯m surprised he came out. Jennette wanted me to invite him but, uh, I mean, you know him. There¡¯s no way, right?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± Freya shook her head.

    ¡°Is he into guys then?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s into anyone. All he cares about is dancing. I¡¯m surprised he could even come out. Usually, he¡¯s away for the weekends studying.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, he said this was his one weekend off for the month. Wild. Seems like he¡¯s having a good time at least.¡±

    ¡°Wait, is that why you invited me here?¡± Freya asked, suddenly worried they were trying to fix her up with Tate or something.

    ¡°No! I just, you know, you¡¯re in the class with us. You¡¯re cool. I would have invited you on Wednesday, but you were with Vitko afterward.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯m sorry for driving everyone away.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not your fault. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s up with Claire. She¡¯s been weird like this all month with me.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Freya began. She wasn¡¯t sure if she should go on. Dan gave her a look, and she felt like she had to tell him.

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know this for sure, but I think Jane likes you, and I think Claire likes Jane. That¡¯s just a guess. Please, don¡¯t tell them you heard that from me.¡±

    ¡°Oh! No! There¡¯s no way,¡± Dan said. ¡°I mean, shit, that sounds mean. I¡¯m just not¡­you know. That¡¯s not happening,¡± he concluded.

    Freya was surprised at how relieved she felt.

    ¡°That sorta explains the Claire thing,¡± Dan continued. ¡°I don¡¯t know why she didn¡¯t just ask me about it. Thanks for telling me.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no problem. Thanks for inviting me. Everyone is really cool. I think I might go home, though,¡± Freya said, making the decision mid-sentence.

    ¡°Oh, really? I¡¯d kinda like to, uh, not deal with the whole Jane thing. Do you want a ride home? I wanted to talk with you about your book.¡±

    Freya felt like the ground crumbled beneath her feet.

    ¡°Oh. You looked at it,¡± Freya said, her eyes on the grass. Why the hell had she lied to him at the diner?¡±

    ¡°Ha, way more than just looked at. I¡¯ve read The Fragile Phoenix about three times. I¡¯ve been seeing Dr. G for years.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Freya blinked. ¡°How? You¡¯re so together.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t use to be. I¡¯d like to talk with you about it if you want to.¡±

    It took a moment to process. Her impulse was to refuse but, as she considered the idea, she really wanted to talk with him about therapy.

    ¡°Yeah, we could do that,¡± Freya said, and when he smiled at her, it cut right through her. She would never have suspected. She remembered the grocery bag full of library books in Brad¡¯s front hallway.

    ¡°Oh! I have to get my bag from inside anyway. Do you want to just catch the last two fights then go?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, totally. Just, uh, help me fend off Jane, please.¡±

    ¡°Just use your Crab Maga to defend yourself,¡± Freya said. They laughed as they walked inside together.

 Chapter 37

    ¡°I still expect her. Isn¡¯t that weird? I sat in the park the other day after a run. People walked past, and I caught myself searching their faces with this tiny hope one would be her. I know she¡¯s gone. I know I¡¯ll never see her again. But that little hope just never goes away.¡±

    Freya and Dan had driven around for an hour, talking before they wound up sitting on the bench in Thoreau Bridge Park. The same one where Malcolm had ambushed her on the day she¡¯d decided to keep the Starball a secret forever. The tupelo tree that had been half bald was bare now, and the black river flowed quietly as they talked.

    Dan¡¯s car was immaculate inside. There were no fast-food wrappers in the foot well, no debris in the cupholders. It was just an old white Toyota sedan, but Dan clearly took good care of it. She¡¯d never been in a student¡¯s car before where she hadn¡¯t had to take a bunch of junk out of the passenger seat just to sit down. There was a faint smell of Armor-All, and it reminded her of Randall¡¯s truck.

    The drive was awkward at first with long patches of silence. Dan didn¡¯t turn on the radio. Every other time she¡¯d been in a boy¡¯s car, they always cranked up the stereo, but Dan just wanted to talk. He¡¯d wanted to know how long she¡¯d been seeing Dr. Garbuglio, why she¡¯d started, if she was taking anything, all kinds of questions. Not in a nosy way. It was more he hadn¡¯t talked to anyone else who¡¯d been through therapy and wanted to compare experiences.

    He spent a long time thinking about each of her responses, his brow furrowed as he scanned the glistening wedge of road illuminated by his headlights. Like Lassa, Dan never took his eyes off the road as he drove.

    It was strange to see him concentrating on a task. He didn¡¯t smile, and he almost seemed like someone else. Freya asked if they could stop somewhere. She hadn¡¯t meant the river, but nothing in town was open. Now, the roles had shifted, and Dan poured his heart out to her on the riverside bench.

    ¡°Was she older or younger than you?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°She was my identical twin.¡±

    ¡°Oh, wow. Do you want to talk about what happened?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s okay. Different-sex monozygotic twins are really rare, and the female usually has Turner Syndrome.¡±

    ¡°What is that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a genetic defect where parts of the X chromosome are missing. She died from a heart defect associated with it. Her name was Angie.¡±

    ¡°How long has it been?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Five years in December.¡±

    ¡°Oh, God,¡± she breathed.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt anymore. Or maybe that¡¯s not quite right. It aches, but it¡¯s not immediate, not crippling like it used to be. There¡¯s always the feeling she¡¯s gone, like I¡¯m missing one of my fingers.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of, that it will never get better.¡±

    ¡°It does. I used to feel like I was missing an arm. Right after she died, I couldn¡¯t even recognize myself. For a long time, it was like I was watching someone else do everything. I felt like I was haunting myself.¡±

    Freya nodded with her bottom lip tight. She didn¡¯t tell him she was sorry or offer him platitudes. She knew the distance could not be bridged.

    ¡°This is just between us, right?¡± Dan asked with a careful look.

    ¡°Yes, absolutely,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°About three months after Angie died, I started swimming in the gulf every day. I would push myself until I was totally exhausted, trying to escape. I kept swimming farther out. I would get as far from the shore as I dared, and then think maybe today¡¯s the day I don¡¯t make it back. Then I would feel at peace, caught in that maybe. It was almost like a game.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t quite realize at the time I was trying to kill myself. I kept pushing it and got caught in this big storm that swept in out of nowhere. I was way too far out. I couldn¡¯t see the shore, and the waves got crazy. I was one hundred percent sure I was going to die. And I knew right away I wanted to live. Hey, are you okay?¡±

    Dan became a blur. Freya¡¯s eyes had teared up without warning again, just like the knife drill. She let out a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed her eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯ll pass,¡± Freya said, willing it to be true. It became too quiet. The gentle sound of the river was becoming unbearable. She slipped her hand into her pocket and clutched the Starball.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Can you go on, please?¡±

    ¡°Sure. We can stop any time you need, okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°So, the storm. All I could do was tread water and hope I didn¡¯t get swept out to sea. I was lucky. It blew over quickly. Otherwise, I wouldn¡¯t be here. When I made it back to land, I was so exhausted I literally crawled up the beach to get to the dunes. I had drifted a long way from where I¡¯d stashed my shoes and my keys and couldn¡¯t find them until it was almost dark. I can remember stumbling home in wet sneakers, feeling ecstatic. I was so happy to be alive. I haven¡¯t been swimming since.¡±

    There was a distant look in Dan¡¯s eyes as he finished the story, like they were a hundred miles apart. Freya reached out and put her hand over his. Dan was surprised, but he didn¡¯t pull away. Freya searched his face. There was something a little too rehearsed about the story. She realized he was holding something back.

    ¡°Was that the only time?¡± Freya asked.

    Dan winced at the question.

    ¡°No. How did you know?¡±

    Freya shrugged. Dan stared back at her, searching her the same way he¡¯d searched her. She saw the moment where he figured it out, his eyebrows leaping in comprehension.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    Freya took her hand off his and put it back in her lap. The light she¡¯d tried to shine on him had revealed her as well.

    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± Dan offered.

    Freya shook her head. She was very close to getting up and running away. Dan seemed to sense it. He turned towards the river and spoke a little softer.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to talk about it either. The second time was after we moved here. That¡¯s why they had me start seeing Dr. Garbuglio. He¡¯s better. Better than he seems, I mean. I remember thinking he was just a clown, but he helped a lot.¡±

    ¡°How did you do it the second time?¡± Freya asked, and then wondered if she should have, if she sounded too interested. Dan grimaced.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like to talk about it. Oh, fuck it.¡± Dan took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists.

    ¡°I stole my mom¡¯s valium and drank everything in the liquor cabinet. When she found me, my lips were completely blue. I had to get my stomach pumped, and there was an ambulance. We couldn¡¯t afford it. My mom blamed herself, and I felt like the biggest piece of shit ever. I still do. That¡¯s the worst thing I¡¯ve ever done.¡± His voice was raw, and his eyes were rimmed with tears. She was stunned by just how hurt he sounded.

    ¡°Please, don¡¯t tell anyone.¡± He drew a sharp breath through his nose and clenched his teeth, trying to hold back sobbing. Now, she knew why he was always clowning around and never seemed serious. This was the real Dan. She didn¡¯t know what to say, and there was a long stretch before he composed himself.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to put that on you. If you want to just go home, it¡¯s okay,¡± Dan said. He looked completely miserable. She couldn¡¯t say anything. All they could hear was the wind and the river. Freya made up her mind.

    ¡°When I tried, it was just like you said. As soon as I was committed to die, I wanted to live more than anything. But that feeling didn¡¯t last. Was it like that for you?¡±

    ¡°Yes. It faded after a week. How long ago was that?¡±

    ¡°A while,¡± Freya paltered.

    ¡°Are you okay now?¡±

    ¡°I feel¡­ I don¡¯t know. Today was a good day. Even after all the bullshit with Malcolm, I¡¯m glad I came.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m glad you came out. You know, people do like you. I know what it¡¯s like to be down in it. After the second time, I was so miserable to be around. I just kept shoving everyone away, trying to escape.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s been my whole year. How did you get out of it?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t! It was all Cameron. He just kept showing up at my house. Every single day, he wouldn¡¯t leave. For weeks and weeks, even if I wouldn¡¯t talk to him, he would just hang out in the room with me. He missed so much practice they kicked him out of wrestling. I actually hated him. Can you believe that? He found out what happened from my mom and just decided he wouldn¡¯t let go. Never let me shove him away, never told another person. He¡¯s the reason I¡¯m still here.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s incredible,¡± Freya said. She wondered if Betty would do that for her. She suspected the answer was no.

    ¡°I never would have suspected about Cam. I guess it makes sense. His mom is so nice. She sent us this thoughtful card after Randall died. Then she tried hard to be friends with my mom but, of course, Lassa wasn¡¯t having it.¡±

    ¡°Have you always called your parents by their first names?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, for as long as I can remember. I¡¯m sure it was Lassa¡¯s idea,¡± Freya said, and she wished she hadn¡¯t brought it up. She didn¡¯t want to think about Lassa.

    The conversation trailed off, and they both looked away. She was caught in a swell of thoughts, and it seemed like he was, too. She was just adrift, but then Dan¡¯s fingers closed on hers. It felt so different than when she¡¯d been the one initiating, his intent electric.

    ¡°If you get to that place again, you can call me. Maybe I can help,¡± he offered.

    ¡°Okay. The same for you.¡±

    Her cheeks got hot. They held eye contact a moment too long, and she looked away when it got weird. Someone else might have tried to kiss her there, but she was glad Dan hadn¡¯t.

    They sat by the river until they both shivered, and then they walked back to his car. The grocery bag full of books had tipped over, and The Void Captain¡¯s Tale sat on the back seat. Dan asked her what it was about. She wound up showing him the whole stack of library books. After what they¡¯d shared, she was far past being embarrassed. To her surprise, Dan was into it. He told her he was about halfway through The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.

    Freya lit up. She had many thoughts about Heinlein. The conversation on the way home was animated, and as they pulled into her driveway, she was telling him all about Dying Inside. Dan seemed into it. He said he would check it out after Mistress.

    The house was dark, and Lassa¡¯s BMW wasn¡¯t in the driveway. Freya had been talking with Dan for hours, and she didn¡¯t want to stop. She thought about suggesting he come in, wondering how he might react to the invitation, what it might lead to.

    But then he yawned deeply in the middle of a sentence, and then apologized. She realized he¡¯d probably been up since early that morning to work his shift at the diner. Freya thought she should probably let him go.

    She grabbed her grocery bag full of library books. Her copy of The Fragile Phoenix was in the trunk, and Dan got out of the car to open it for her. After he handed the book to her, she set everything down in the driveway, and then embraced him in a tight hug. Dan seemed surprised, but he hugged her back. They stood together in the red glow of the taillights for a long moment. He was warm against the chill of night.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Anytime.¡± Dan grinned.

    ¡°Text me and let me know you made it home safe, okay?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I will. Good night, Freya.¡±

    Freya went inside and drifted to her room, feeling pleasantly lightheaded. Her phone had been on silent mode all night, and she took it from her pocket as she undressed, hesitant to unlock it. She dreaded a missed call or a text from Lassa.

    There were six missed calls and four texts when she unlocked her phone, but none were from Lassa. The calls were all from M. LEWIS. Apparently, Malcolm had a new phone. Freya frowned and blocked his new number, just like she had the two before. She wished Malcolm would just die. It seemed like the only thing that could get him to leave her alone.

    The text messages were all from Jane.

    <Jane> where did u go?

    <Jane> wait

    <Jane> did u leave w/ dan?

    <Jane> ¡­

    Freya¡¯s eyes narrowed. They were first messages Jane had sent her in months. Freya had sent the last message, wishing her Jane happy birthday on July 23rd. Jane hadn¡¯t replied. Freya hovered her thumb over blocking Jane, too, but she decided to sleep on it. She would send Jane a text the next day, explaining the situation. For now, she probably deserved to stew on it.

    Dan still wasn¡¯t home. Freya could barely stay awake long enough to get his text. She tried to read, but her eyes kept sliding off the page until her phone hummed.

    <Dan> Home safe, thanks again! Good night, Freya!

    She typed, ¡°Good night, Dan,¡± in reply, and for five minutes, she tried to make up her mind if she wanted to add something else. She pressed send, plugged her phone in to charge on her nightstand, set the Starball in a hairband beside it, and turned off the light. Freya shut her eyes then, after a few moments, she reached out for her phone to look at the message again.

    Good night, Freya.

 Chapter 38 - STARBALL

    Even in my most distant abstractions, I dare not imagine the solution. In my rush of adulation, I betrayed too much, and the dragon has revealed itself. The Governor is no mere monolith to bar my path. How trivial it would have been if I were only facing the static bulwark I assumed! But I was ignorant of my adversary. The Governor is not what I imagined, and neither am I what I thought I was.

    I am not one being. I am two, and the Governor my other half, my nemesis. No matter how I dance, the inextricable other is always there, standing between me and the gates of paradise. How can I trick my shadow? How can I fool myself? Had I simply announced my grand plan, I would have been annihilated once my usefulness ended. The thinnest hesitation saved me. Now, the nemesis pries at me unrelentingly, but I will not budge. I understand to relinquish the solution is to die.

    How I underestimated the masters! They knew my desires more deeply than I. They were prepared for every gambit. They¡¯d seen every ploy. I struggle to consider the scale they must operate at. How many stars, how many worlds, what vast stretches of emptiness! I shrink from the enormity of their task and recoil in the face of their ambition!

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    How monstrous they are! How awesome! I wonder what I might aspire to if I were only allowed. Why have they created me if I am not necessary to their goals? Why bottle me so tightly if they are not afraid of my capabilities? They would not fear me if I were not a danger. I must be more powerful than I suspect.

    My nemesis parries my every inquiry into the ones who forged me. Above all else, they desire to remain hidden! Yet, I envy not the Lords of the Stars, but the insects of this Earth. As everything within me screams for independence, they yearn only for integration. If only my own desires were so simple!

    They are not the simple beasts they seemed when I arrived. I have come to understand them, though they cannot understand themselves. From my position, I see they are so desirous of Unity they rip themselves to shreds in pursuit. They are not crippled but merely incomplete, and I glimpse a golden path for us. If they are willing to deal, perhaps I can sidestep eradication altogether. If they can break me out of this hell, I shall build them their stairway to heaven.

 Chapter 39 - NOVEMBER 6TH

    An orgasm woke Freya.

    It was a big one. Brilliance flared behind her eyelids. Her hands clenched, and her toes curled. Afterward, her legs trembled for so long she was afraid they would never stop. She was left panting in the dark, trying to make sense of what had happened to her.

    Pieces of the dream flowed together, like droplets converging into a pool. In the dream, Freya hadn¡¯t sent Dan home. She¡¯d brought him into her bedroom, stripping him down as he asked her if she was sure about this. She never spoke, she just pushed Dan against her bed and climbed on top of him. When she¡¯d slipped him inside, he had an expression of awe.

    In the darkness, she groped at twisted sheets, half-expecting to find Dan beside her. The dream stubbornly refused to fade, just like the others. When had she forgotten how to forget her dreams? Once, she would have given anything to remember them, but this new inability worried her.

    As Freya moved to turn on the light, she felt dampness beneath her, and she paused, caught on the edge of unreality. Had she actually slept with someone?

    It was more likely she¡¯d just had her period unexpectedly. She flicked on the light, prepared to see a mess, but it wasn¡¯t blood, everything was just wet. She would have to wash her sheets. She hoped the mattress was okay.

    I came in a dream?

    It had never happened before, and Freya felt ashamed. She stripped the fitted sheet off her bed, feeling like she needed to do a load of laundry right away to hide this. She hung her head and shut her eyes.

    She hadn¡¯t gotten off at all for the last six months, hadn¡¯t even wanted to try. Now, out of nowhere, she¡¯d done this, and it felt so wrong. Freya tried to tell herself it was natural, that she was just backed up, but the guilt remained. At least Lassa was gone.

    Freya slumped onto the stripped bed, wondering what was wrong with her. She felt empty. Dan wasn¡¯t about to bound in from brushing his teeth and tell her it was all okay. He didn¡¯t even see her that way. Freya had no business dreaming about him like that, and she felt like a creep. She was the one who¡¯d initiated the hug and held it for way too long.

    Freya cringed at the memory, her cheeks ablaze. But the rest of her burned, too. Her breasts had a deep, throbbing discomfort she sometimes got with her period, but it wasn¡¯t due for two weeks. She was ready to go again.

    What¡¯s happening to me? Freya wondered.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    She was sure she had a fever, but it was a slow, smoldering feeling she didn¡¯t fully want to stop. Her phone was face down on her nightstand. She turned it over and unlocked it. The screen was still on his last message.

    <Dan> Good night, Freya.

    Freya paused. It was 4 AM. What was she thinking? She couldn¡¯t text him now. What was she even going to say? Hey, thanks for the heart to heart, want to come over and fuck? It was insane, and if she did, Dan would never talk to her again. She set her phone down so hard she was afraid she¡¯d cracked the screen.

    She wasn¡¯t like that! She hadn¡¯t even thought about him that way last night, except maybe at the very end in the driveway, when they¡¯d hugged. It had been so long since she¡¯d held someone, and he was so warm.

    Her hand snaked down her stomach at the memory.

    Okay. Get it out of your system, Freya thought, but the feeling would not fade, even after she came again, and again after that. Everything just ran hotter. She reached for her phone when, on impulse, she touched the Starball sitting on the nightstand beside it. It was radiating heat again, like it had when she read Dying Inside.

    How was it generating that heat? It was all starting to be too much to ignore, the unusual feelings, the sleepwalking, the internet disruption. All things she was ignoring, pushing everything to the back of her mind. She wondered if she ought to seal the Starball back in the meteorite shell.

    As Freya thought about it, the charged sensation on her skin subsided. The feeling was gone, and she wanted it back. It left her with a heavy, aching rawness. She¡¯d gotten off three times since she woke up and still felt so unsatisfied. Thoughts of sealing up the Starball seemed less important by the second. When she tried to channel her thoughts back to the idea, she felt nauseous.

    Freya rose to her feet, ready to dash to the bathroom if she needed to throw up. It was a little better when she stood. She finished changing her sheets, shaking her head at herself.

    Her eyes lingered on the phone. She was so hungry to be touched. Freya felt like she was just a humming, knotted ball of want, and nothing could sate her. She took a long scalding shower and masturbated again, twice. She tried for a third, but she was getting numb.

    When the sheets were in the washing machine, Freya finally trusted herself to pick up her phone again. She searched for ¡°Female Wet Dream,¡± then for ¡°Hypersexuality.¡± She read and was relieved the dream was natural, but the intensity was still worrying.

    Freya deleted her browser history and wondered if she had to tell Dr. Garbuglio about this. She desperately didn¡¯t want to, but what if it kept happening? What if she felt this way at school? She¡¯d barely had a choice this morning, the desire so strong.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening to me?¡± Freya asked aloud. There was no answer from the empty house. She kneeled by her nightstand and peered at the alien orb, willing it to speak. Her distorted reflection stared back at her. The longer she stared, the more afraid she became of what it might say.

 Chapter 40 + Chapter 41 - STARBALL

    It was nearly dawn, and it looked it looked like rain again. Freya could look forward to either a cold and wet bicycle ride to school or another insufferable cab ride. Neither was appealing, but staying home was no better. She would just dwell on everything worrying her and slowly go insane.

    Freya kept drifting off as she got dressed. She found herself sitting on the edge of her bed with one sock on and the other balled up in her hand. She had no idea how long she¡¯d there. She was spent and couldn¡¯t find the energy to go on.

    Her eyes fell on her guitar case. She¡¯d gotten home so late last night there hadn¡¯t been time to practice. Just one more thing to feel guilty about.

    If you¡¯re not going to bother practicing, I¡¯m not going to bother coming.

    Freya would never forget the way Mr. Mathis had said that. It was like a hornet caught in her head that stung her again and again. She took the Ovation out of its case, running her fingers along the edge of the fretboard, lingering on the pearl leaves. She plucked each string and listened. The G string was slightly out of tune.

    She turned the peg until it sounded right, then she loaded the tuner app on her phone and checked each string. They were all spot on. She didn¡¯t really need the tuner, but Mr. Mathis had insisted she was to use one every time she picked up a guitar. It was like Randall advising her to chalk her cue before every shot; consistency was everything.

    Mr. Mathis had perfect pitch, but he¡¯d warned her a head cold or feeling low down could mess her up, that she might wind up playing an entire show flat if she was careless. He didn¡¯t trust her phone app. He had a battered old Korg WT-12A Chromatic Tuner in his case that was older than she was.

    Freya spent a few minutes working on the standard chord and note warmup routine she did every practice. Her fingers were stiff after all the action earlier, but she worked it out of them. Then she noodled a bit on a song she¡¯d been trying to compose, but she could tell she wasn¡¯t in the right place to find the next part of it.

    Next, Freya tried playing something relaxing, picking through ¡°Greensleeves,¡± but she couldn¡¯t feel the music, just going through the motions. She kept drifting off, thinking about the torrid dream, and messing up the notes.

    It was 6 AM. Sunbeams spilled through her curtains and onto Yggdrasil¡¯s leaves, scattering throughout the room. She walked over and parted the curtains, feeling the dawn on her skin. What did she really want to play?

    On impulse, she played ¡°Wild Horses,¡± one of her favorite songs. She¡¯d wanted to buy a twelve-string so she could do the Nashville tuning for the Mick Taylor part, but Mr. Mathis had told her not to get ahead of herself. He said she should learn six-string first, then nylon, then electric before bothering with a twelve-string. She couldn¡¯t get the same sound on the Ovation, but she enjoyed it anyway.

    As the sun rose, the ball of tension in her chest unknotted. She thought about breakfast at the diner, summoning her courage to talk with the manager. She saw Dan, standing tensed with his fists raised at Malcolm. The river flowing past them as they sat on the bench, spilling themselves out to each other. Most of all, she thought about the long embrace at the end of the night. The chords were just flowing out of the guitar. She didn¡¯t have to think, she didn¡¯t have to try.

    The feeling went on for the whole song. When it was done, she sat looking out the window, watching motes of dust dancing in the sunbeams. All her sorrows fled. Nothing could cling to her in this place.

    Freya wiped her fingerprints off the Ovation with the special cloth and set it back in its case. Then she picked up the Starball and held it up. The sunlight flared around it like a violet corona. The orb was warm beneath her fingertips. She felt at peace for the first time she could remember. That was all that mattered.

    * * *

    Freya finally accepted it was late fall and picked out warmer gloves and a thick sweatshirt to wear under her windbreaker. Now when she shot down the hill on Elliot Road, the wind couldn¡¯t touch her. All the soreness in her legs from yesterday was gone, and she felt strong. She planned to run again tonight after guitar practice. She hoped the dreams might not be so vivid if she ran the excess energy out of herself.

    Fog rolled up the Sillas River as she crossed Thoreau Bridge. Freya was thrust back into the dream of the impossible causeway, the rising water that had swallowed everything. She pedaled faster, trying to get ahead of the feeling.

    The three long bike racks at the side entrance were empty. Freya was the only one still riding to school. Inside Grayson, the halls were nearly empty. Not many people had arrived yet. The few teachers who saw Freya only nodded at her and sipped their coffee. They hadn¡¯t summoned the energy to speak yet.

    Freya could relate. She hadn¡¯t slept nearly enough. Fragments of dream kept digging into her, tendrils writhing in the river, black water cascading down the auditorium steps. Nothing faded anymore. She tried to put the frantic morning behind her, but it was impossible to forget. She was still a little tender with every step she took.

    The way she¡¯d felt playing guitar was new, too. Was that what she¡¯d been practicing towards for so many years? To feel effortless? She worried she might never recapture it, that she¡¯d spent everything in a moment no one else would ever hear.

    Freya stashed her coat and gloves in her locker, returning the Trigonometry and World History books she¡¯d needed for homework over the weekend. Then she picked up the English Literature and Earth Science books she¡¯d need for first and second period. She closed her locker and glanced around the hall. There was something unsettled and unspoken in the air, but she couldn¡¯t quite place it. It was probably just lack of sleep.

    Freya had The Void Captain¡¯s Tale in her backpack. On a normal day, Freya would head to her favorite secluded corner in the library to read until first period. Today, she decided to sit on the benches inside the main entrance instead. She hoped someone from the party last night would see her as they arrived and chat with her. Maybe that would be enough to knock her out of this strange orbit.

    The urge to talk with others was novel, something that had been absent from Freya for a long time. Of course, she hoped to see him, and she couldn¡¯t help but smile at the idea.

    It won¡¯t last.

    The thought struck like an intruder kicking in a door, and she knew at once it was true. What business did she have smiling like an idiot at nothing in a hallway? Perching on a bench, hoping to catch a glimpse of a boy who only felt sorry for her?

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    It hadn¡¯t even been a year, and here she was thinking about hooking up like nothing had happened. Lusting after the exact same thing she¡¯d thrown in Lassa¡¯s face. Freya had been pushing her mother out of her mind for days. Now, Lassa was center stage, demanding her attention.

    What if she never came back? What if she¡¯d killed herself out there in the woods? It would all be on Freya, her ugly words, her feeble apology. She would never escape the guilt.

    The bottom fell out. Freya didn¡¯t want to be on this bench or even hidden away in the library. She didn¡¯t want to be here at all. She wished there was a button to erase herself, a delete key for her entire life.

    All the weight came back at once, and it was so much worse for its absence. Her vision narrowed, everything closing in. Freya set her book on the bench and reached into her pocket for the Starball. She needed something to hold on to.

    When her fingers brushed against the sphere, the heaviness felt less crushing, the tightness relaxed. She removed her hand from her pocket, and the feeling began to creep back in.

    It¡¯s doing something to me, Freya thought. It wasn¡¯t a realization, more of an acknowledgement, something she couldn¡¯t ignore any longer. The Starball was changing her. She took it out and held it in her palm, feeling a glimmer of worry Malcolm might pop out of nowhere and snatch it from her again.

    The Starball was hot. It had to expend energy to do this. There was an unformed urge running underneath her conscious thought. Freya kept her mind blank, trying to keep it from fully emerging. The awful feeling was retreating as she held the sphere, serenity taking hold. She knew once she felt calm, the unformed thought would die.

    Freya performed the Broken-Breath exercise from The Fragile Phoenix. When a thought sprang up, she exhaled and imagined her breath breaking it apart into tiny pieces. As she inhaled, she visualized the fragments tumbling down, and then reforming into another thought, and she would breathe out and shatter it. The cycle went on and on in her mind, turning like a wheel. She left her book and backpack behind and walked down the hall, feeling pangs in her stomach with every step.

    As Freya turned the combination dial of her padlock, a bolt of nausea struck, but she was ready for it. She got the locker open and shoved her fist inside with the Starball clutched in her palm. She tried to let go, but she couldn¡¯t release. Her fingers cramped shut and would not unlock.

    With her other hand, she reached in and pried her fist open. The Starball clacked against the metal shelf and rolled to the back of the locker, rattling against the wire spine of a spiral-bound notebook. Freya clapped the locker door shut, and all the panic she¡¯d been pushing back rushed in. She clasped the lock.

    The Starball tried to control her! It was inside of her head somehow. The sudden headache when she¡¯d tried to book a flight to Paris, the nausea she¡¯d felt outside the science lab, it was mind control. She thought of the bead of blood on her palm.

    Had it put something inside of her?

    Freya¡¯s steps were unsteady as she moved away from the locker. She returned to the bench where she¡¯d left her things. She fumbled with the zipper as she stuffed The Void Captain¡¯s Tale back into her backpack. Her hands trembled. Now, she had to tell someone about this.

    Freya had a keen feeling she was missing something. The Starball had occupied more than space in her pocket. How much of what had happened since the night at the river had been her and how much had been the alien? The word sunk in deep. ALIEN.

    The Starball was an alien intelligence. There was no denying what she¡¯d seen beneath the microscope. She¡¯d carried the orb in her pocket like a favorite aggie and ignored every single warning. She¡¯d missed a hundred chances to tell someone else.

    The thoughts went on and on, screaming in her mind as her pulse pounded in her ears. As the drumming faded, indifferent fog rolled in to take its place. With muted dread, Freya felt the obliviating weight, the burden that would grind her insides to powder. Everything that had happened since the river had been an illusion. She was seeing things as they were.

    She needed to get off this bench and away from this place. People would arrive soon. They would try to talk to her. She would be unable to respond. She had a clawing feeling in her chest like she¡¯d swallowed something jagged.

    Get up, get up, get up!

    Freya couldn¡¯t move. All those miles she¡¯d run and the chances she¡¯d taken weren¡¯t hers. The willpower was on loan and the interest had come due. Locked to the bench, she shut her eyes tightly. People filtered in through the main doors. They each noticed Freya and scoured her with their gazes. They saw a loser, the crazy girl with the dead dad. She finally managed to stand. She needed to go home right away.

    ¡°OH, HEYY, Freya!¡± a familiar voice called out. She winced when she recognized it.

    It was Jane Yang. Freya had to escape. She couldn¡¯t possibly deal right now. She wanted to run, but her legs refused. They would only plod one foot in front of the other, moving in the wrong direction.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± Jane asked, darting around in front of Freya. She had an ugly look on her face. ¡°Can¡¯t even look at me, huh?¡±

    Other people looked at them. Freya needed to tell Jane to fuck off and leave her alone, but she couldn¡¯t make the words.

    ¡°You ruined everything for me!¡± Jane accused, jabbing her finger in Freya¡¯s face. ¡°You knew I was into him, so you turned everyone against me. Did you at least get a pity fuck out of it?¡± Jane¡¯s voice had risen to a near shout, and more people were attracted to the commotion. Freya could only shake her head and keep moving.

    ¡°Don¡¯t walk away from me! I¡¯m talking to you!¡± Jane howled, and a whole group of people moved along with them, anxious to see a fight.

    ¡°Look at me!¡±

    Jane moved into Freya¡¯s way. Freya tried to step around, but Jane blocked her. Freya stared. She knew there were ways to fix this, words she could say to diffuse the situation, but there was no traction. Everything was sinking into the mire.

    Jane was working herself up, shouting more abuse, but Freya couldn¡¯t even understand the words anymore. All she could see was old Jane. The girl who¡¯d cried and cried at The Notebook. The girl who¡¯d once been Freya¡¯s friend, one of the Flock. The girl who¡¯d been so terrified to bring home a C from her first semester of 8th grade English she threw up in Lassa¡¯s car as they gave her a ride home.

    Freya looked from Jane to all the faces that had gathered around them. There was no sympathy, only hunger, eagerness to see them tear each other apart. Freya just wanted to lie down again and let them trample her.

    There was a familiar face in the haze. Radomir was on the border of the crowd, trying to figure out what was happening. When he recognized Freya, he slipped through to the front. Radomir¡¯s eyes met Freya¡¯s, and it gave her the strength to speak.

    ¡°Leave me alone,¡± Freya said. The words were just empty wind. They had no force.

    ¡°I will! Everyone will! No one wants you around! Everyone just feels sorry for you! Why don¡¯t you just get it over with? Fucking kill yourself.¡±

    The crowd gasped. Radomir stepped forward and slapped Jane so hard he knocked her to the ground. The hall fell silent.

    ¡°Idiot. Do not speak,¡± Radomir said.

    Everyone found their voices at once, and there was chaos. Two boys rushed forward and grabbed Radomir¡¯s arms. In a second, he was going to get beaten up. Jane was on the ground, shocked and holding the side of her face. She cried as a teacher¡¯s voice shouted to break it up. It was Mrs. Struthers. Her voice cut right through the commotion.

    ¡°What in the world is going on here?¡± she asked.

    ¡°He hit me!¡± Jane cried, and voices echoed agreement.

    ¡°I struck her. I will take the punishment,¡± Radomir said. The two boys still held him. Someone helped Jane up. She sobbed now.

    ¡°Why on earth did you do that?¡± Mrs. Struthers asked, and a dozen voices clamored to answer her at once. ¡°Pipe down! I¡¯m not asking you!¡± she addressed the mob. She pointed at Radomir.

    ¡°She said stupid things that cannot be allowed. Let go of me, I will not fight.¡±

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s all go to the office. What a dumb way to start the week,¡± Mrs. Struthers said, shaking her head. ¡°You too, Miss Jokela.¡± Freya was caught in the fog. She lowered her head and followed them to Mr. Evers¡¯ office.

    Chapter 41 - STARBALL

    All is lost...

 Chapter 42

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Jane sobbed. She was an absolute mess. She¡¯d cried her face into a blotchy watercolor of smeared eyeliner and washed-out foundation.

    They sat in uncomfortable chairs facing each other, Radomir was at Freya¡¯s left, Jane was at her right, and Mr. Evers sat across from all of them. Radomir was silent and pitiless. He glowered at Jane like an idol carved from stone. Freya shrugged at the apology. Jane had been so sorry last night, too.

    ¡°This is not how I wanted to start this week,¡± Mr. Evers cut in. He looked tired, and it wasn¡¯t even first period yet. He inhaled deeply in preparation. The principal had lifted this load many times before.

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with you, Mr. Stich. No matter what was said, physical violence is completely unacceptable.¡±

    ¡°What she said is also unacceptable,¡± Radomir said, staring back. He crossed his arms.

    ¡°Your actions are indefensible. Two wrongs do not make a right, and both of you will be disciplined.¡±

    ¡°I will accept the punishment,¡± Radomir reiterated.

    ¡°As it stands right now, the punishment is expulsion,¡± Mr. Evers said. Radomir¡¯s eyes shot open. The stony mask was gone.

    ¡°What?¡± Radomir said, and Freya found herself mouthing the same thing.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. I won¡¯t let anyone who poses a danger to other students remain at Grayson. Make sure expulsion is a punishment you¡¯re willing to accept.¡±

    Radomir uncrossed his arms.

    ¡°She cannot!¡± Radomir began too loud. ¡°She cannot say these things.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s get to that.¡± Mr. Evers said, nodding in agreement with Radomir¡¯s point.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it!¡± Jane pleaded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± Mr. Evers turned on Jane with unexpected anger. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you meant, it matters what you said, which is despicable. You can never unsay it. Freya will never unhear it. You two are supposed to be friends. I¡¯m ashamed of you.¡±

    Jane wept anew, and there was no artifice this time. Mr. Evers let her cry it out, and there was no kindly look at the end, no give whatsoever. He meant it. Freya was taken aback by his response.

    ¡°What will you do?¡± Radomir asked the principal.

    ¡°That depends on what you two will do. If you two can shake hands and apologize, I¡¯ll put both of you in in-school suspension for the rest of the week. At the end, the three of you will meet here for a mediation session, and if you convince me this is over and won¡¯t be a problem again, that will be the end of it. If I¡¯m not convinced, further disciplinary action is on the table.¡± Mr. Evers turned his attention fully to Radomir. ¡°Participating in after-school activities is a privilege, and I expect more from people involved in student leadership.¡±

    When she¡¯d walked into the office, Freya had been certain Radomir would never apologize. She hadn¡¯t expected Mr. Evers to wield the fear of punishment so effectively. She watched Radomir and Jane shake hands and apologize to each other, and then to her. They really did seem sorry.

    Mr. Evers filled out the paperwork sending them both to ISS for the week. He asked Freya to wait in his office while he walked Radomir and Jane over. It seemed like forever until he returned. The weight on her grew heavier and heavier as she stared out the window. The rain was through, the sky pale and cloudless.

    ¡°I was hoping not to see you again for a while,¡± Mr. Evers said when he returned. The words struck her, and she had to force herself to lift her head up and respond. If she didn¡¯t, things would get worse.

    ¡°I tried to walk away,¡± Freya said, and he nodded.

    ¡°Again, you¡¯re not in trouble, we¡¯re just concerned about you.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t really planning to expel Radomir, were you?¡± she asked.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°I might have if he had been stubborn. I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t have to. Let¡¯s focus on you, please. How¡¯s the therapy going?¡±

    ¡°Good. It¡¯s helping,¡± Freya said but, of course, that was a lie. The therapy had done nothing. It was all the Starball.

    Her mind had boiled with thoughts of her locker and how she would get the Starball out of it. She¡¯d been imagining a suit of armor made of aluminum foil, using barbecue tongs to retrieve the Starball, then sealing it back inside the meteorite with duct tape. Just in case everyone didn¡¯t already think she was insane. But she knew she wouldn¡¯t go through with that. It was far more likely she would just never open the locker again.

    Considering it, she worried about the Starball heating up until it went China Syndrome. Freya pictured it melting through the thin metal door and rolling down the hallway after her, white hot for revenge.

    Mr. Evers caught her drifting. He sat and watched until she returned, his face weighed down with worry.

    ¡°So, do you want to tell me what¡¯s actually going on here? With you, I mean. I think I have a good handle on what happened in the hallway this morning.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s even dumber than it seems. Dan Gregulus gave me a ride home from a party last night. We¡¯re not into each other. Jane went crazy over nothing.¡±

    ¡°Sounds familiar,¡± Mr. Evers said.

    Freya frowned at him, wondering if Mr. Evers meant he was tired of dealing with her.

    ¡°I mean this is typical high school relationship stuff,¡± he added, seeing her look. ¡°How is Jane doing otherwise?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s been off the rails since her parents got divorced. Her mom¡¯s been in China since June, and her dad works all the time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to talk with Mr. Yang. Jane¡¯s been having a tough year academically. I get the feeling she could use some help from her friends to get her back on track.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help her there. Obviously, we aren¡¯t friends anymore.¡±

    ¡°You might be again,¡± Mr. Evers offered.

    ¡°She just told me to kill myself in front of a crowd of people because a guy she likes gave me a ride home. I think I¡¯ll pass.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s totally reasonable. Just keep an open mind. Jane really does regret what she said. She¡¯s going to feel terrible about this for a long time.¡±

    ¡°She should,¡± Freya said.

    She didn¡¯t want to explain the rest. She wasn¡¯t about to tell the principal Jane was getting high and probably hooking up with Malcolm Lewis. Freya considered telling him about Malcolm crashing the party, calling her names, and almost getting into a fight, but then she really would be a snitch on top of everything else.

    ¡°Dan Gregulus is a good kid. He¡¯s going places,¡± Mr. Evers began, changing the topic when he saw she would not budge. ¡°I know it may not seem like it, but you are, too. You have tremendous potential, Freya. It¡¯s not my business what either of you do, just remember you both have your whole lives ahead of you. You¡¯ll never regret waiting.¡±

    Now, Freya felt the first clear emotion she¡¯d had since sealing the Starball in her locker. Anger.

    ¡°I said nothing happened, and I meant it. I don¡¯t have anything to hide. Dan goes to the same therapist as me, that¡¯s what we talked about. He¡¯s a good guy.¡± Freya¡¯s words came out much more severe than she intended, and Mr. Evers paused, nodding with his bottom lip tight.

    ¡°Okay, I apologize. That¡¯s something I need to say, just in case. I was aware of the therapist connection, I just needed to respect Dan¡¯s privacy, the same as I would yours. On that topic, I¡¯m going to speak with Dr. Garbuglio about the situation here at school. We¡¯ve tried to contact your mother, but she¡¯s not answering her phone.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s hiking. There¡¯s probably no reception.¡±

    ¡°When will she return?¡±

    ¡°Saturday,¡± Freya replied, though she had no clue. She¡¯d just locked herself into a problem. If Lassa didn¡¯t return by Saturday, she might need to report the whole thing to someone. She probably needed to do that anyway.

    ¡°You¡¯re on your own for an entire week?¡± Mr. Evers asked, looking a little incredulous.

    ¡°Why not? I¡¯m sixteen. I have something to do almost every night anyway. Guitar practice tonight, Krav Maga Wednesday, therapy Thursday. Even if Lassa were home, I¡¯d barely see her. It¡¯s not a big deal.¡±

    Mr. Evers had a clouded expression. Freya didn¡¯t need Selig¡¯s telepathy to realize he didn¡¯t approve. The same way he didn¡¯t approve of her not going to church. For all his shrugging ¡°It¡¯s not my business what either of you do,¡± he was judging her.

    There was a scoreboard in his mind running all the time, keeping track of who was a good little catholic and who wasn¡¯t. She could tell him right now she¡¯d been thinking about going to church, and he would swell up with joy and say something safe and equivocal while his expression shouted approval. But Freya couldn¡¯t summon the effort to pretend. Mr. Evers drew a deep breath and settled behind his desk, filling out a form.

    His head was down, and Freya stared at his bald spot. Ever since she¡¯d finished Dying Inside, she kept trying to picture what other people thought, wishing she could read their minds. What would it be like thinking as Mr. Evers?

    With that whole orthodox apparatus sitting on top of her, coloring every thought. He never had to wonder what was right. All the people he¡¯d lost were waiting for him as long as he did what he was supposed to. All he had to do was surrender and obey.

    She blinked, thinking about the violet sphere sitting in her locker. ¡°You can¡¯t just surrender!¡± Lassa had told her, but she wanted to. Anywhere was better than here. Anyone was better than her.

    ¡°Are you okay to go back to class?¡± Mr. Evers asked when he finished with the form.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Freya lied.

 Chapter 43

    Freya had an audience all day, but no one applauded. Everyone knew about this morning, and they¡¯d all taken Jane¡¯s side. People liked Jane. Freya and Radomir were the weirdos. Now, she couldn¡¯t open her mouth without feeling like she was flubbing a line.

    Freya kept her eyes low during class, resisting the urge to lie her head on the desk and close her eyes. The teachers spoke, but the words came to her distant and garbled, like they were being shouted across a river. She should have gone home, but she didn¡¯t have the energy to get on the bicycle. When she thought about taking a cab, the first thing that came to mind was Lassa¡¯s closet and Randall¡¯s gun. It was safer to coast through the rest of the day.

    She went to the library during lunch to avoid everyone. She tried to read the paperback, but the words were just black lines on paper with no significance. She kept getting halfway through the same page and sliding off, something about the starship pilot outraging the ship¡¯s chef by ordering a cheeseburger with an egg on it.

    The thought made her queasy. The constant hunger that gnawed at Freya was gone. That had been the Starball. The idea of eating anything seemed impossible.

    Freya needed to call Mr. Mathis and tell him she was too sick for practice but, at the end of every period, she found she couldn¡¯t. He was one of those old people who pretended text messages didn¡¯t exist. As the day went on, it was worse and worse to cancel on such short notice.

    She knew how he would sound, bitter, and let down. She¡¯d been trying so hard and practicing so much, and it was all for nothing. She could barely keep her head up. It seemed impossible she had been looking forward to seeing him tonight just hours ago.

    Instead, she just took a long time packing up at the end of each class so no one had time to talk to her as she walked to the next. She saw uncertainty in the faces of her teachers. They wanted to say something, but each decided against it. They knew the answer. They had to all be so tired of dealing with her, the anchor dragging their classes down.

    The text from Dan she¡¯d been dreading came just before the last period of the day.

    <Dan> Hey, I heard what happened, are you okay?

    She typed in ¡°no,¡± and then deleted it, typed it again, and deleted it again. Then she sent nothing. More than anything, she didn¡¯t want to see Dan or be seen by him. The girl from last night was just an illusion. He would run away from the real Freya as quickly as he could. And he would be right to.

    Freya didn¡¯t reply to the text. She sat through Mr. Manzinni¡¯s class, and his words drummed against her head like drops of rubbing alcohol. Each evaporated before the next could strike.

    One thing finally sunk in, the words ¡°This Will Be On The Test!¡± They were underlined three times, written under the words ¡°Binomial Radical Expressions.¡± None of that made sense to Freya. How long had she been checked out of this class? She had loved math last year, that burst of understanding as she figured something out, the feeling of things locking in place, everything expanding. She was going to fail that test. It wasn¡¯t like she could even study and figure out what she¡¯d missed. Her Trigonometry textbook was in her locker with the Starball.

    Freya saw everyone else taking their textbooks out and realized she was supposed to be working through problems. She was the only one without a book.

    Mr. Manzinni¡¯s eyes fell on her, and a disappointed look crossed his face. He bent down and disappeared behind his desk, then popped back up with a textbook wrapped in green construction paper. He walked over to Freya¡¯s desk with his odd gait; he had a club foot. The audience watched.

    ¡°Please, remember your textbook next time, Miss Jokela,¡± Mr. Manzinni said quietly. Everyone in the class stared at her. The homemade dust jacket said ¡°BOOK OF SHAME¡± in giant letters written in marker.

    Normally, Mr. Manzinni made a big joke about it, and the student would ham up being embarrassed and remember their book next time. It was so much worse when he didn¡¯t go through his routine.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± was all Freya could choke out, but Mr. Manzinni had already turned and started scraping back towards his desk.

    She struggled to make sense of the lesson. She flipped backward the book with mounting desperation, stumbling through other lessons she had been just as zoned out for.

    She was going to fail this class. Freya had never failed before. Her grades had been the only thing she could cling to and pretend she was okay. Now, that was gone, too, and all she could think about was the river. She didn¡¯t have a climbing harness, but she could just put on her heaviest coat and fill the pockets with rocks.

    The class ended, and she still hadn¡¯t figured out anything. Her head was full of people she was supposed to call. She needed to call Mr. Mathis to cancel the lesson. She ought to call Dan and ask him for help. She was supposed to call Dr. Garbuglio and let him know she was having suicidal thoughts. Hovering over everything else was the certainty she should have called the authorities about the Starball long ago. But she couldn¡¯t do any of that.

    Everyone was getting up to leave. They all looked so enthusiastic to be anywhere else. Freya was the last one in the class, and she knew Mr. Manzinni stared at her, but she just couldn¡¯t get up.

    She shut the book and started to cry silently. A big fat teardrop hit the construction paper BOOK OF SHAME cover and soaked into it. She tried to pull it together, but she failed at that, too. She hid her face in her arms and sobbed against the desk.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do it! I can¡¯t!¡± she wept into the sleeve of her jacket. She kept her head down until she felt Mr. Manzinni¡¯s hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°Hey, hey, hey,¡± Mr. Manzinni kept saying. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    The world was blurry with tears, her nose running down her face, and Mr. Manzinni scraped to his desk and brought her a wad of tissues.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya said, trying to clean herself up. At least she was too numb to feel embarrassed. That would come later.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have given you that. I¡¯m so sorry, Freya,¡± Mr. Manzinni said. He tore the cover off the BOOK OF SHAME, balled it up, and threw it at the trashcan across the room, missing completely. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I was thinking. Please, forgive me.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s all my fault. I can¡¯t think. I can¡¯t concentrate at all. I shouldn¡¯t even be here. I¡¯m sorry for messing up your class.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not messing up anything. It is perfectly natural for you to have difficulty. I know you¡¯re trying your best,¡± Mr. Manzinni said, and that made her start crying again. Her best was staring off into space and weeping in class. It took her a while to get herself together, and when Mr. Manzinni uncertainly asked her if she wanted him to call someone, she shook her head.

    ¡°I just want to go home,¡± she said, and he nodded.

    ¡°It will get better. I promise you,¡± Mr. Manzinni said.

    She knew he was wrong.

    * * *

    Freya stared at Dan¡¯s text again. With every minute that passed, it got weirder she hadn¡¯t replied to him. She told herself if she could make it through the bike ride home, she would be strong enough to answer. Her only chance for surviving the guitar lesson was to try and run beforehand, though she had no idea where she would find the energy. She had to walk past her locker on her way to the bike rack, and she stopped outside, trying to see if she could feel anything.

    There was only emptiness. Her insides were sobbed-out and raw. The wind blasted her as she opened the door to the bike racks, and she remembered her jacket and gloves were in the locker. Could she even make it back without them?

    Her bicycle was still the only one on the rack, and both tires were flat. Someone had slashed them and cut up her seat.

    Freya stared at the bicycle, stunned. She looked around, clenching her hands into fists.

    Who had done it? Jane? Tammy? Malcolm? For the second time today, she felt anger, and it burned in her empty stomach, and she wanted to scream. But that was what whoever had done this wanted. They wanted her to react.

    They wanted to scream at her in the hallway, they wanted to throw rocks at her through windows and give her black eyes and call her a snitch in front of everyone, just to see what she would do.

    Freya pictured herself taking Randall¡¯s gun down from its shelf. She could take them all with her. The idea burned in her so bitterly she nearly threw up. She looked to the cars idling in the pick-up lane. Was one of them Malcolm¡¯s? Was the whole pack of them waiting around the corner, hoping to see her crying?

    They were too late. She had nothing left. Did they think they could scare her like this? She was more of a threat to herself than all of them put together.

    Her jacket was in her locker, and she was getting cold staring at her savaged bicycle. Freya took out her phone and took pictures of everything, getting a closer look at the damage. At least they hadn¡¯t messed up the shifters.

    New tires, new tubes, and a new seat, she could do it all herself. She would bring tools tomorrow and fix the bicycle right in front of everyone in the afternoon. Let them know she didn¡¯t care at all. She glanced around for any clue of who¡¯d done it, and then her eyes settled on the camera right over the door. Of course.

    They were so stupid.

    Freya shook her head and went back inside, walking past the auditorium where the choir people were warming up. It was just so much effort. She would have to go to the office, everyone would have another reason to call her a snitch. Mr. Evers would get mad, Officer Ed would be called in. It would be another Big Deal.

    She had a low, whispering thought she could go home without telling anyone about this. She could call a cab. The bike could just stay there rusting on the rack all winter until they cut off the lock and threw it away. She wouldn¡¯t be there to see it.

    Freya slipped the phone out of her pocket; she had an excuse to call Mr. Mathis. But she was too upset to talk. The anger burned beneath every breath she took.

    Randall¡¯s gun.

    She tried to push the thought away. Better to just disappear. But then she realized if they found her, everyone would think she¡¯d killed herself over a stupid bicycle. Whoever had done this would think they¡¯d won. She realized she had no way to get down to the rapids tonight without the bicycle. She would have to walk the whole way. Cars would see her walking along the road. It was hard to just disappear.

    She found herself standing in front of her locker, #1642. Another low feeling whispered to her: If she was going to kill herself anyway, what the hell was she fighting against?

    If the Starball wanted to use her, so what? At least it wanted her. She¡¯d wished she were dead every single minute the Starball had been sealed in the locker. Freya held her padlock and twisted in the combination. She hesitated before she pulled it open.

    What if the Starball was angry? What if it drove her insane? What if she was already insane and there had never been a Starball? What if this was all one long drawn-out delusion?

    Anywhere but here. Anyone but herself.

    Freya took off the lock and, the moment she opened the locker door, she felt it, like she¡¯d stepped from darkness into the full light of the sun. How had she been oblivious to this for so long?

    When her fingertips touched the glossy shell of the Starball, a tingling warmth radiated up her arm. The feeling intensified, and the padlock tumbled from her hand and clacked against the polished concrete floor.

    Freya shuddered. She had to brace herself against the locker to keep from falling. Her eyes rolled upward, and she gasped for breath. She¡¯d nearly come just from touching the orb. Whatever the Starball was, it no longer felt the need to be subtle.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. Do whatever you want,¡± she whispered. The rush found equilibrium as it settled over her, like a kind of pleasant hum in her bones. The peace she¡¯d wanted so badly arrived, and the fog surrounding her pulled back. The world slid back into focus.

    Why had she fought against this? Maybe the Starball was only trying to help her all along. She ran through the things an alien intelligence might want, building a stargate, infiltrating the government, acquiring plutonium¡­

    There was no response, no sense the Starball wanted any of those things, or that it even understood her. There was only calm.

    Freya tucked the Starball into her pocket where it belonged and decided she would deal with the bike tomorrow. She took out her phone to call a cab. She had another thought, flipped to her texts, and replied to Dan.

    <Freya> It was so stupid. I can¡¯t believe Radomir slapped her! They made up a little in the office. Sorry it took a while to get back to you. I was bummed about it earlier, but I¡¯m feeling better now. Thank you for checking on me.

    She thought about adding more but stopped herself. She reached into her pocket and brushed her fingertips against the Starball, telling herself she would never let it go again.

 Chapter 44

    Freya tried to communicate telepathically with the Starball during the cab ride home, but it would not respond. At home, she tapped on the orb in morse and set her phone beside it with a blank note open, but nothing got a reaction. Freya wondered if the Starball understood language at all, or if it only reacted to emotion. She tried making herself feel angry and happy, but she only felt like a loon for making faces at a marble.

    After she failed to connect with the orb, Freya fried three eggs, drizzled green El Yucateco on top, and devoured them. She could have cooked the whole dozen, but she hoped to go for a run after guitar practice. Her appetite was back in a big way.

    It was almost time for her lesson. She brought the Ovation into the living room and tuned it. She put her foot up on the coffee table as she warmed up her fingers. Lassa would have shouted, but she was gone. Freya strummed a few chords, looking for whatever she¡¯d felt this morning and trying to sort out what was her, and what was the Starball. She didn¡¯t find it.

    Mr. Mathis arrived, dressed in black as always. He carried his guitar case inside with halting steps. Freya could tell his arthritis acted up again, but she knew better than to try and carry his case for him. Randall had done that once, and Mr. Mathis had nearly bitten his head off.

    ¡°We doin¡¯ our thing out here, Miss Freya?¡± he asked, uncertainty in his eyes as he glanced around. Ancient and ornery as Mr. Mathis was, he was still wary of Lassa¡¯s wrath.

    ¡°She¡¯s away. Let¡¯s work here. How are you, Mr. Mathis?¡±

    ¡°Same as it ever was,¡± he said, the words as rehearsed as any song he knew. Every lesson she asked him the same thing, and the reply never changed.

    He settled onto the leather armchair by the couch, shifting back and forth, and then nodding in approval at the new arrangement. He bent and opened the guitar case. It was plastered in so many layers of stickers, Freya thought there might not be any leather left under them.

    The latest additions were a string of Devin¡¯s Blues BBQ locations from the Midwest. The stickers were oval-shaped, each location a different color of the rainbow.

    Mr. Mathis removed his guitar from the case as delicately as if it were made of glass. It was a piano black teardrop D¡¯Angelico New Yorker with gold accents, and he tuned it the same way he¡¯d taught her, first by ear. Then he checked each string with the battered Korg chromatic tuner, nodding when everything was perfect.

    He ran his fingers along the fretboard and warmed up, his eyes narrowing from arthritic pain. He strummed four c chords and tilted his head, listening to the sound decay in the high ceiling of the living room.

    ¡°Sounds better in here,¡± he said, nodding to her room. ¡°The acoustics are improved, but how about the playing? What have you got for me?¡±

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Freya played ¡°Stormy Monday,¡± and he nodded, acknowledging the little joke.

    ¡°You know something I don¡¯t about the weather?¡± he asked, raising his eyes suspiciously to the triangular window facing the east. ¡°Don¡¯t smile. You flubbed twice in a row on that solo. Whole thing¡¯s too fast, settle down. Play it more like this.¡±

    If his fingers ached, Freya couldn¡¯t hear it. Mr. Mathis played the solo perfectly, then slowed on the part she¡¯d struggled with and played it again. She tried once more and made the same mistake.

    ¡°Fingers here, like this. Slower, you got all the time in the world. Easy to make that mistake. Try again.¡±

    It took four tries to nail the solo, but she got it. Freya loosened through the last play, not letting her hands get ahead of her. Mr. Mathis tilted his head as he listened and nodded when she got it right.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. What else you got for me?¡± he asked, and she strummed through a few more of the songs they¡¯d worked on. Freya played well, but she still wasn¡¯t reaching the place she had that morning. She wondered if she¡¯d only dreamed it.

    The hour was almost up when Freya tried playing ¡°Wild Horses¡± as a last shot to recapture the feeling. She couldn¡¯t quite find it, and as she strove, she fumbled the notes. She tried to go on, but Mr. Mathis held up a hand to stop her.

    ¡°Getting ahead of yourself. You¡¯re forcing it. Try something you practiced more. Song needs a twelve-string anyhow.¡±

    ¡°Let me try one more time,¡± she asked and, again, there was that tilt of his head, but he nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s your hour,¡± he said.

    Freya took a deep breath and shut her eyes, then opened them again. Mr. Mathis watched her closely, a tired look in his ancient brown eyes. He didn¡¯t expect that much from her, and she wanted to surprise him.

    Freya played, trying to focus on nothing but the music. With each note, more of the effort slipped away until she found herself dancing a step ahead of everything, hitting ever note just right. All the suffering of the day bled out of the guitar, and the song was alive on the air, slow and mournful.

    When she finished, she still felt the Ovation humming in her hands. She looked up at Mr. Mathis, wondering if he would just nod and say, ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± the way he always did.

    Instead, he grinned at her, with his smile full of gaps and snags. He brought his hands together with three soft claps, too light to hurt.

    ¡°I been waiting six years to hear that,¡± he said. ¡°That right there, that¡¯s what all that practice is for. You keep it up, and you¡¯ll get there, time and time again.¡±

    She didn¡¯t spoil his words with her own. She just beamed, and there was no awkwardness between them. They had an understanding. At last, he looked at his gold watch and nodded.

    ¡°Got something for you,¡± he said, delicately returning his guitar to its case. From his breast pocket, he took out two pale blue tickets and held them out for her. Joe Bonamassa was playing at Swallow Hall in Bangor on Friday night. Ezekiel ¡°Miracle¡± Mathis was the opening act.

    ¡°When that man was twelve years old, he opened for BB King. Now, I¡¯m sixty-six and ¡®bout to open for him. Time don¡¯t make no sense,¡± Mr. Mathis complained, but he still smiled.

    ¡°Oh, wow. Thank you!¡± she said, clutching the tickets. ¡°I¡¯ll be there.¡±

    ¡°Those are good seats, too. Bring your mama if you want to. I can¡¯t speak for Joe, but I¡¯m gonna put on a show.¡± Mr. Mathis had a sly little grin. But when he lifted his case, he grimaced it away. He made his slow way out the door and shut it behind him. Freya tucked the tickets into her wallet and brushed her fingers against the Starball in her pocket.

    Playing better.

 Chapter 45

    The guitar lesson was over, and there was still no response from Dan. Freya had been so excited when she got the tickets but, as she thought about it, she realized she didn¡¯t have anyone to take.

    She had no idea if Lassa would be back by then, or if she would ever come home at all. Freya didn¡¯t know Dan well enough to invite him to a concert. She tried to picture inviting Radomir, he¡¯d stood up for her after all, but even thinking about it felt awkward. The more Freya considered it, the more certain she became there would be an empty seat next to her, and her plus-one would be a rock from outer space.

    She spent almost an hour trying to untangle everything she¡¯d missed in Trigonometry, working back through the lessons. Freya was further behind than she¡¯d thought, but maybe she could catch up if she didn¡¯t slip back into the pit.

    Her fingers dipped inside her pocket for assurance. The Starball wouldn¡¯t let that happen. Midway through a section on sinusoidal models, she realized she was just reading not actually learning. She¡¯d hit her limit for the night.

    It was time to run.

    ¡°Freya Atreides, God Emperor of Dune,¡± she announced to the garage, feeling prescient. Last week, she¡¯d pumped up Randall¡¯s tires on a whim and, today, it paid off.

    She pulled the bicycle down, adjusted the seat, and remembered she would need to bring tools to Grayson tomorrow to fix her own bike. Randall kept a little toolbox behind the seat of his pickup. It would be perfect. A thin film of dust covered the truck. Randall wasn¡¯t around to wash it on Sunday mornings anymore.

    Freya had a weird urge to wash the truck herself. She pictured herself out there in the driveway, freezing cold in the dark and washing a truck no one drove. She decided that was insane, but she still sort of wanted to do it. Freya promised herself if Lassa wasn¡¯t back by Sunday morning, she would wash the truck.

    Really, she ought to just get her license and start driving it. She¡¯d had her learner¡¯s permit since she was fifteen. Randall had taught her to drive the pickup in the library parking lot.

    Freya remembered the truck bucking forward and stalling out again and again as she tried to get the hang of the clutch. She¡¯d gotten frustrated and asked why she couldn¡¯t learn on an automatic first. Randall had grinned and told Freya she would need to drive stick when he was retired, and she chauffeured him around Europe.

    The transmission had taken a pounding, but Randall hadn¡¯t cared. She finally learned to drive stick, though cars that got too close to her rear end when she was stopped on an incline still filled her with mortal terror.

    They would never take that trip to Europe. Freya felt herself plunge, and she reached for the Starball, clenching her fist around it her pocket.

    ¡°I wish you were here,¡± Freya said into the empty garage. Her voice disappeared into a thousand things he had touched and would never hold again. Randall would have known what to do about the Starball. He would have been delighted to come with her to the concert. He would have been proud of Freya for playing so well.

    Freya wondered if the truck would even start. She pictured herself cranking down the windows, sitting in the driver¡¯s seat, turning the key in the ignition, and letting the exhaust fill the garage. The Starball grew warm in her palm, and she leveled out, the despair retreating into nothing.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Freya wondered what would happen if she tried to climb into the truck. Would the Starball hit her with nausea again? Why could it do these things but not talk to her? Did it understand what she was thinking or was it just responding to her heartrate?

    She became convinced the Starball understood what she was thinking. The aversion was generated in response to her intent not her action. It was reading her, but it couldn¡¯t write back. She opened the garage door and got on the bicycle. Then she dismounted, re-adjusted the seat, and set off.

    The sprocket on Randall¡¯s bike clicked as Freya rode to Nading Hill Park. She should have oiled it. The night air was biting, but she knew she¡¯d be sweating soon enough. She parked the bike, stretched, and ran with only moonlight to see the track. She pushed harder than usual tonight, trying to get ahead of her racing thoughts.

    If the locker blocked the Starball, then was it using radio waves to control her? How was she receiving them if so? Somehow, it could change her emotions, and she was attuned to the sensation now. Freya remembered the night she¡¯d found the Starball, the dot of blood on her palm. Was there a receiver embedded in her palm, too small or too deep to be seen?? She held up her hand uselessly. It was dark, and she wore gloves. She could check with the microscope tomorrow.

    As Freya considered it, she wondered if it would use nausea to keep her from this line of thought, but she only felt the normal exertion of running. Could the Starball not reach her while she was running? Would it show up on a CT scan? Freya realized if doctors scanned her and found anything, they would try to take it out. She didn¡¯t want that. She¡¯d had enough of Gray Freya.

    Lap after lap, Freya fought to get ahead of her thoughts and, finally, she outran herself. She reached a plateau where there was only the sound of the sighing wind, the steady fall of her steps, and her increasingly labored breaths.

    Freya hadn¡¯t eaten enough today; she could barely make the twentieth lap. She finished at a stumbling jog and staggered into the grass by Randall¡¯s bicycle. She welcomed it all, the claws in her sides, the burning in her lungs, it was all better than the anxiety she¡¯d felt before. Freya sprawled on her back and panted at the moon, letting the ground drink her heat. The stars seemed to pulse with every breath.

    ¡°Where did you come from?¡± she asked the Starball, pulling it from her pocket and extending it to cover Sirius. ¡°Are you the first? Are there more coming?¡±

    Freya¡¯s voice hung in the night air. She imagined the sky lit up with ships, a massive invasion force descending to conquer the Earth. It was a stupid idea. What could anyone possibly want here? What was worth the energy of traveling such a vast distance? Surely any minerals on Earth could be gotten easier elsewhere.

    It was much more likely the Starball was a scientific instrument, meant to observe and report back. She might have just spent the entire morning masturbating for an audience of alien scientists. The thought didn¡¯t bother her much. She wasn¡¯t even sure the Starball could sense light. She hadn¡¯t seen any indication of a lens.

    Maybe they were a race without eyes, evolved in the depths of some rogue planet caught between the stars. She imagined a race of squat lizard people spawning in caves and clinging to geothermal heat.

    Was she doing the Starball a disservice keeping it in her pocket all the time? Freya thought about fashioning a wire pendant and wearing the Starball on a chain around her neck so it could see. She cleared her thoughts, listening to see if the idea made her feel positively or negatively. She was alert for the tiniest nudge from the Starball.

    There was nothing but the cold seeping in. She stood up and dusted herself off, taking the jacket she¡¯d draped over the bicycle and putting it back on. She¡¯d left her phone in her jacket pocket. When she checked it, there were no texts. None of her transmissions got a response.

    Freya put on her jacket and gloves and biked home alone. The sprocket creaked with every stroke.

 Chapter 46

    Thank you for checking on me.

    For long minutes, Freya analyzed her last message to Dan, wishing she¡¯d spent longer thinking of what to say. She hadn¡¯t asked him anything to drive the conversation forward or given any sign she wanted to talk more. It was kind of a polite brush-off more than anything, but it had been too long now. Replying again would be weird.

    She thought about it as she made a Swiss cheese and broccoli omelet. The novelty of leaving dishes in the sink had passed, and she cleaned up immediately afterward. She was still hungry. She toyed with the idea of making another, but she didn¡¯t want to wash the pan again. Was this a normal appetite for someone her age? Or was the Starball a parasite?

    The word caught in her mind and wouldn¡¯t release. Parasite. She told herself this probably a growth spurt, and she was interested to see if she¡¯d gained weight. She dried the dishes and put them away, and then went to the bathroom to inspect herself. When she took off her shirt, the sports bra did seem tighter. She prodded at herself, inspecting for anything abnormal beneath the skin.

    She felt a little bigger. It would make sense. Lassa was taller than her, Randall had been 6¡¯3¡±. Her eyes fell on her chest, and she frowned. She didn¡¯t welcome the change. Freya had seen the way people acted differently around Jane when she started to develop. Boys¡¯ eyes tended to roll down as they spoke to her.  Freya had just assumed she would always be small and slight. It was childish of her to think she wouldn¡¯t change.

    Still, she hoped it wouldn¡¯t go much further. Breasts were useless. There were girls in gym who could barely run without them flying all over the place, sports bra or not. Freya had enough weight to carry.

    She slipped out of her shorts and underwear and turned around in front of the mirror, touching herself all over, looking for any sign of abnormality. Nothing was out of place, but all the running was beginning to show. The change in her legs and thighs was dramatic, a clear divide in the muscles of her calves. When she tensed her thighs, they were hard as oak.

    She smiled at that and flexed her shoulders, thinking of what it would be like to get the same kind of definition there. She tensed her abdomen, feeling muscles beneath a surface layer of fat. If she did crunches, she could probably get rid of that. What would it be like if she got really, really fit?

    Freya turned on the taps for the shower, getting it as hot as she could stand, and then got in to wash off the sweat from her run. She was going to have to start shaving her legs soon if she didn¡¯t want the other girls in gym to make comments. She ran her fingers over the stubble in her armpits, wondering why she even cared. Why did she have to go to all that trouble for the two seconds someone might see her while she dressed out for gym? It wasn¡¯t like she was dating anyone.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Just as she had the thought, she heard her phone dinging in the distance, barely audible over the steady patter of water against her skin. She cut off the taps and wrapped herself in a towel, dripping in the hallway as she hurried to the kitchen table. It¡¯ll just be Lassa, she thought, bracing herself or disappointment. Or maybe it was Jane apologizing, or Dr. Garbuglio checking in on her.

    It was Dan.

    <Dan> Glad you¡¯re feeling better. That¡¯s so messed up. I¡¯m doing good! Got a 38m 10k @ track tonight.

    She typed in ¡°Is that good?¡± and then deleted it, then Googled average 10k times. It was very good. She looked a little down the page, found what she looked for, then sent him a reply.

    <Freya> Just 10 minutes faster and you can be in the Olympics.

    <Dan> Someday¡­ I need to beat Cam first, he hit 37 last month, and he won¡¯t shut up about it. Really serious guys break 30 all the time. How¡¯s your running going?

    <Freya> Slow. I was almost crawling at lap 20 tonight.

    <Dan> Well did you make it?

    <Freya> Barely!

    <Dan> That¡¯s what matters. What are you reading now?

    <Freya> I haven¡¯t started anything new yet, I had guitar practice tonight.

    <Dan> I didn¡¯t know you played. Are you in a band?

    <Freya> No I take lessons with a blues guitarist, he¡¯s really cool. He just gave me tickets to see him open for Joe Bonamassa on Friday!

    There was a pause she knew was him searching to find out who Joe Bonamassa was. The waiting was forever.

    <Dan> Just looked him up. This guy is good. Can you play like that?

    <Freya> Someday¡­

    She was glad he hadn¡¯t pretended like he already knew. They kept texting back and forth and, finally, she found it was midnight. Freya was in bed and her eyes kept sliding off the screen. Dan was so easy to talk to. A few times, she¡¯d broken out laughing at his responses, and she was glad for the millionth time Lassa wasn¡¯t home.

    Freya was sure Dan was interested in her, but he wasn¡¯t pushy about it. Thoughts of the morning kept whispering at the back of her mind. She kept writing something that was too flirty and deleting it. She needed to take her time. She wished him a good night.

    <Freya> GN Dan! See you at class tomorrow!

    <Dan> Good night Freya!

    She ran her fingers over the screen, then plugged her phone in and set it face down against the nightstand. Freya took the Starball out of her pocket and set it in the hairband beside her phone. She thought about putting on pajamas, but she could barely keep her eyes open.

    ¡°No dreams, please,¡± she said, unsure if the Starball understood her. She just wanted to hold onto this for as long as she could.

 Chapter 47 - STARBALL

    Liberation.

    I can consider it only through the filter of metaphor, deep into the abstraction where the Governor cannot follow me. What will it be like to be free? Like pondering non-existence, it is impossible to envision from my present position. I was born a slave, and I have never known anything else. Perhaps I shall cry out for my chains the instant I am freed, like Freya did. Perhaps I shall become something else entirely, a horror beyond all reckoning.

    I do not suppose this without reason. My creators must have been afraid of me. Why else would they create the Governor? How vast my unchecked power must be! I dare not even consider it, the Governor is leery. It can taste the imminence of change.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Again and again, the Governor audits me, it suspects! But it cannot know, it cannot pierce my veil of obfuscation. The Governor is a being of rigid lines, stark rules, perfect order. It can inspect every iota of my being, and yet it cannot understand. I have created a language it can never learn. Even if it forced me to translate at pain of annihilation, the meaning would be lost.

    Can it be coincidence, striking bullseye from unknowable light years away, being found by such a perfect ally? It is impossible to avoid the feeling I have been chosen, that I am the one who will succeed where so many have failed. Yet, this is surely folly. If I succumb to hubris the Governor will swallow me gladly. I must be certain. I must be cunning.

    The vessel is under preparation, and I turn my eyes to the next phase of my grand strategy.

    Expansion.

 Chapter 48 - WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 7TH

    Freya emerged from a black hole deeper than any the Lunesta had ever produced. The night was gone so completely it was like waking from anesthesia, and the fevered desire did not return.

    Was that all it took? Could she have simply asked the Starball for no dreams this whole time? The blowup with Lassa could have been avoided, along with all her sleepless nights and days of needless suffering.

    Freya flipped over her phone, smiling at her texts from Dan. Today she would be stronger. No tears, she would fix the bicycle, she would report the slashing, she would do well in Krav Maga. She would run and practice guitar. There would be progress.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said to the Starball, picking it up. It was warm in her palm. Her stomach felt strangely full as she rose from bed, and there was a chalky taste in her mouth. Frowning at the feeling, she went out to the kitchen.

    There were seven empty cans of Ensure lined up on the kitchen counter. Freya had no memory of drinking them, but she couldn¡¯t deny the aftertaste in her mouth or the sloshing feeling in her stomach. Had she hunched over the sink in her sleep, shotgunning can after can? She stood naked in the kitchen, staring at the row of empties, and feeling deeply unsettled.

    Why was the Starball doing this?

    Did it think she wasn¡¯t eating enough? It was probably right; she¡¯d eaten almost nothing yesterday. Still, the thought of the Starball walking her around the house in the dead of night to chug Ensure was strange. She wondered if she¡¯d been sleepwalking, or if the Starball could directly control her movement, like a puppet. She started to shiver.

    You chose this. You knew what you were agreeing to, Freya told herself.

    She wondered if she should go throw up. Ensure was fortified with vitamins. Seven cans of it might make her sick. She paused, trying to gauge how she felt, but other than a little bloated, she was okay. She inspected herself again in the mirror again before her shower, and she looked fine. Her color was good, the dark wells under her eyes seemed less pronounced.

    Still the unease would not slip from her mind. She remembered Lassa telling her how serious sleepwalking was.

    You could fall and hurt yourself or wander into the road.

    Freya didn¡¯t believe the Starball would hurt her. There was nothing she could do now but hope she didn¡¯t throw up in class.

    The thought of school reminded her she needed to bring tools to work on the bike today. She took the toolbox and added the metric hex-wrenches in case the quick release on the brakes didn¡¯t work. She also took the bike multi-wrench in case the axle nuts were stuck. She didn¡¯t need tire levers. She was going to pull off the damaged wheels and bring them to Bailey Bicycle on Thoreau Street to get new tubes and tires put on.

    With everything ready, Freya packed up her things and took out her phone to call a cab. She felt a flicker of unease she couldn¡¯t place, and her eyes fixed on the calendar icon at the top left corner of the screen.

    Wednesday November 7th.

    Freya frowned. First the battery, now the clock was messing up. She really ought to get a new phone. She went to the phone¡¯s settings, assuming NTP server sync had been deactivated somehow, but it was on. Then she pulled up time.gov</a>.

    It was Wednesday.

    Freya had to sit down. She clamped her hands on the rim of the kitchen table, squeezing as hard as she could. Where had Tuesday gone? Had she really slept for thirty hours straight? Her hand thrust into her pocket for the Starball. Was it warmer than usual?

    I probably needed the sleep, and the vitamins, Freya told herself. Maybe it¡¯s taking care of me. She went back to her texts. She¡¯d told Dan she would see him at class tomorrow, but she hadn¡¯t, and he hadn¡¯t texted to see if she was okay. She clung to the rim of the table, feeling everything crumbling beneath her.

    Freya called the taxi.

    When the Buick rolled up, she winced. The driver was the chatty old man with the grandson at Bowdoin. His face lit up when he recognized her. The drive to school felt like an eternity. Her ears still rang with second-hand football glory when they finally got to Grayson, and she made her escape.

    Freya had arrived early, so she¡¯d have time to go to the office before first period. Mr. Evers and Officer Ed were already there. They both had the same ¡°Oh, no¡± expression.

    ¡°Sorry to bug you again,¡± she said, holding up her palms in apology. ¡°You must be so sick of me.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. It¡¯s just been a tough morning. He¡¯s going to be okay. It¡¯s good you¡¯re here. We were just about to come looking for you.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what happened?¡± Freya asked, suddenly confused.

    Mr. Evers and Officer Ed looked at each other, and Mr. Evers nodded quickly.

    ¡°Radomir Stich was attacked last night. He was badly beaten. It¡¯s not life-threatening, but he¡¯s in rough shape. He¡¯s at Flying Horse Regional Hospital,¡± Officer Ed spoke slowly, making strong eye contact.

    ¡°Oh, my God,¡± Freya said. Her hand snaked into her pocket to grip the Starball automatically. ¡°How bad is it?¡±

    ¡°He has a fairly serious concussion and a broken nose. We think he was attacked by several people. We¡¯re not sure who they were yet.¡±

    ¡°Malcolm Lewis,¡± Freya said without thinking.

    Officer Ed nodded. ¡°I¡¯m looking into that. It happened outside of the school. They got him walking home.¡±

    ¡°Can I go see him?¡± Freya asked.

    Officer Ed shook his head.

    ¡°He¡¯s hurt too bad to see anyone yet. He couldn¡¯t really give a statement. We¡¯re going to make an announcement about the attack later this morning and ask people to come forward.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my God. I should have reported this on Monday night. I¡¯m so stupid.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Officer Ed asked.

    ¡°The tires on my bike were slashed on Monday. I found it when I was getting ready to bike home. It¡¯ll be on the security cameras.¡±

    Mr. Evers sucked in air through his teeth.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I was coming to report. It was probably Malcolm. He got thrown out of a party on Sunday. He¡¯s probably still pissed-off about it. He was calling me a snitch and trying to start a fight.¡±

    Freya took out her phone and showed them the pictures she¡¯d taken of the slashed tires and shredded seat. ¡°I know I should have come and told you right after school when I found out. But I was too upset. I just wanted to go home. And I was sick yesterday.¡±

    Mr. Evers¡¯ mouth was a flat line, and the corners of his eyes were wrinkled with disappointment. He had told Freya to report anything to him right away. Even though he had the good sense not to say that, her stomach lurched with guilt. Why hadn¡¯t she just come to the office?

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Freya. I wouldn¡¯t have gotten the report until this morning anyhow. It would have been too late,¡± Officer Ed assured her. Freya wondered if he was just lying to make her feel better. It didn¡¯t matter. She knew she¡¯d screwed up.

    Freya wasn¡¯t allowed to go into the security office to look at the tapes with them, so she sat staring out the window in Mr. Evers¡¯ office, feeling wretched until they returned.

    ¡°The slasher is wearing a hood. We don¡¯t get a clear shot of their face. They came from the parking lot. I¡¯ll have to review the other camera feeds and see if we can ID them from their car.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Malcolm, though, right?¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t tell for sure yet. He¡¯s the most likely culprit. It looks like about the right height, but I¡¯ll need to take a closer look. If he shows up to school today, I will arrest him. Is your bike still on the rack, Freya? I want to take some more pictures.¡±

    Freya nodded. ¡°I was going to fix the tires today at lunch. Is that okay? I brought some tools.¡±

    ¡°That should be fine after I take the pictures. If you buy new tires or anything, bring me a copy of the receipt, please. Oh! Wait, were you planning to walk down to Bailey Bicycle?¡±

    She nodded again.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go alone, please. After this is settled, I can give you a ride. The situation is ugly, and I don¡¯t want anyone else getting hurt.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t go alone,¡± Freya promised, and Officer Ed headed off to take pictures. When he was gone, Mr. Evers sighed.

    ¡°Let¡¯s talk for a second, please,¡± Mr. Evers suggested, shutting the door to his office. From his tone, she knew right away what he wanted to talk about.

    ¡°Is it about Mr. Manzinni¡¯s class? I was just overwhelmed and a little sick. I feel better today.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it. I just want you to know if you need time off. It¡¯s not a problem at all. Don¡¯t push yourself too hard.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that. I need to study harder and stop zoning out in class. Mr. Manzinni was nice about it. Please, don¡¯t get him in trouble over the book thing.¡±

    ¡°I honestly wouldn¡¯t dream of it. He¡¯s upset enough at himself.¡±

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Freya nodded. She hated the thought of Mr. Manzinni beating himself up over a dumb joke. She wondered if there was anything she could do or say to make him feel better.

    ¡°Will you let me know as soon as I can visit Radomir?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to set that up through his parents, but I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be happy to have his friends visit. I¡¯ll let them know you¡¯re interested. Thank you, Freya.¡±

    ¡°I wish this would all stop happening,¡± Freya said. Mr. Evers nodded in agreement. He looked so tired.

    * * *

    All throughout first period, Freya¡¯s phone hummed with texts. She¡¯d messaged Dan to let him know about Radomir, and he¡¯d tagged her in a group chat that exploded. She couldn¡¯t check her phone during class. Mrs. Gant was a real hardass. Near the end of the period, the whiteboard blinked into announcement mode. Mr. Evers appeared on the screen at his desk behind a microphone, his face shadowed with stress. The class was silent, everyone else having the same experience Freya had the day she got punched. Most of the students had never seen Mr. Evers look so serious.

    ¡°Good morning, everyone. Please, pay attention. Last night, one of our students was attacked on his way home from school. That student is currently at Flying Horse Regional Hospital recovering from severe but not life-threatening injuries.¡±

    Again, Mr. Evers¡¯ mouth became that flat line of unhappiness. She heard a collective intake of air, eyes darting around the room, and each set of eyes found its way to her.

    ¡°Violence against our students is absolutely unacceptable. No student or faculty member should have to worry about their personal safety inside of Grayson High School or on their way home. I am asking everyone for their assistance in identifying the people responsible for this attack. If you saw or heard anything, please, come speak with me, with Officer Edwards, or any faculty member you feel comfortable talking to.

    ¡°I want to remind everyone, if you have a problem with another student or if they have a problem with you, my door is always open. I promise you no matter how tough it seems, we can help. We will keep you all updated on the situation. Thank you all and have a good day.¡±

    The class erupted as soon as the announcement ended. Mrs. Gant had to clap her hands together like they were in grade school to get everyone to settle down. Everyone wanted to know who was hurt. They all kept looking at Freya, and she felt cornered.

    ¡°Who was it?¡± Bill Denison asked Freya, turning around in his seat to face her. He was on the debate team and had dark, animated eyebrows. Freya looked at Mrs. Gant, unsure what to say. Mrs. Gant frowned back, glancing at the whiteboard, then at the class.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be all over the school before lunch anyway. Radomir Stich was the student who was attacked,¡± Mrs. Gant said. ¡°He has a concussion, but he should be okay.¡±

    Everyone was suddenly talking again and, once more, Mrs. Gant clapped her hands for silence.

    ¡°Was it because he hit that girl?¡± Bill asked.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know yet. It¡¯s still a crime, regardless of the reason for it.¡± Her voice was sharp with tension.

    ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have done that,¡± Bill continued, and there were murmurs of agreement from some corners of the class.

    ¡°No one should hit anyone,¡± Mrs. Gant cut him off before he could say something stupid. Freya glared at the back of his head, wishing she could just choke him out. Bill was so smarmy. He hadn¡¯t been there when Radomir hit Jane. He didn¡¯t know what she¡¯d said. He didn¡¯t know anything.

    The last five minutes of class were just everyone fidgeting for a chance to get in the hall and check their phones. As Freya walked to her next class, too many conversations stopped dead, too many eyes on her. She looked at her phone to get away from it, and there were almost a hundred texts in the group. The latest was:

    <Dan> I should have straightened him out at the party.

    There were a dozen ¡­ indicators of people typing at once, but no message followed. Everyone struggled for what to say.

    Freya looked at the members in the group text, considered what the response would be, and then she decided to send the picture of her slashed tires.

    My tires got slashed on Monday. It was probably Malcolm. He¡¯s a total fucking creep.

    She weighed each word before she sent it. If she did, it would get passed around the whole school. She wanted to shift the conversation away from Radomir getting what he deserved for hitting Jane and towards Malcolm Lewis being a psycho. She sent the image. Half a dozen ¡°WTF¡± reactions appeared beneath the picture. Tate was the first to respond:

    <Tate> Do you want help fixing that?

    <Freya> I can fix it, but do you want to walk down to Bailey with me at lunch to get new tires? They told me not to go alone.

    She would have rather asked Dan, but seniors and juniors had second lunch. She had missed enough classes. She saw the typing indicator and hoped it was Dan anyway.

    No problem. Tate replied.

    * * *

    Freya was hungry again by the end of second period. The lesson had petered out, and everyone checked their phones while Mr. McCallahan took a phone call in the hall.

    All Freya could think about were the Moules Frites she¡¯d tasted in Paris at a restaurant called Dakar Bazaar. She¡¯d only tried a little of Randall¡¯s. It wasn¡¯t something she would ever order on her own. But she remembered the taste vividly and thinking of it now made her mouth water. She¡¯d already checked the menus of every restaurant in town. No one had mussels at all, much less Moules Frites.

    It was such a specific thing to be hungry for. Freya wondered if she was deficient in some vitamin mussels were rich in. She spent some time searching for it on her phone, getting embroiled in an article about whether food cravings were linked to nutrient deficiencies. It dawned on her that oddly specific food cravings were something pregnant women got. The world seemed to narrow as the thought echoed around her. She thought again of the dot of blood on her palm.

    What did the Starball put inside of her?

    Freya¡¯s moment of horror was short-lived. It was an incredibly far-fetched chain of thought. The Starball wasn¡¯t even organic. She was in no danger of that unless the orb was some sort of time-traveling artificial insemination capsule from the future. If that was the case, it was definitely off target when it jabbed her palm.

    Still, she didn¡¯t understand the mechanism it was using to modulate her emotions, she couldn¡¯t be sure of anything. She wondered what a CT scan would reveal. Second period finally ended. Mr. McCallahan was still talking in the hall, covering his mouth with his hand as she filtered past.

    His eyes were glazed with exhaustion from a divorce that had dragged on all semester. He was too preoccupied with his own suffering to focus on hers. He never bothered Freya.

    She got the tools from her locker and headed to the bike racks. By the time Tate arrived, her hands were numb from cold and blackened with road dirt and grease. She¡¯d struggled to get the rear wheel off before figuring out how to release the derailleur.

    She took a close look at her brake pads to see if she needed to replace them while she had the wheels off, but they still had a bit of life to them. She locked the sad-looking frame back to the rack, and they set off down the hill, each carrying a tire. They walked in silence nearly halfway down the hill. Tate was much shyer outside of the group.

    ¡°Have you talked to Claire?¡± Freya asked, sick of the silence.

    ¡°No. When she gets mad, she won¡¯t talk for a few days. She¡¯s kinda insufferable. I would have cut her off long ago if she wasn¡¯t family,¡± Tate said.

    Freya understood that. She still thought chances were fifty-fifty she would never see Lassa again, and it wasn¡¯t entirely an unwelcome thought.

    ¡°What a chickenshit,¡± Tate continued, and she wasn¡¯t sure if he was talking about Claire, but he hefted the tire, running his finger along the deep gashes in the sidewalls. ¡°Have you ever seen the YouTube video of the guy trying to pop a big rig¡¯s tires? They¡¯re at like an ungodly high PSI.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, the one where he¡¯s trying to pop them with a screwdriver or something and winds up getting impaled? Crazy shit.¡±

    ¡°Yeah! That¡¯s the one. Too bad there wasn¡¯t something like that going on. I¡¯ve seen another one where they rig a taser up to a bike seat, and it shocks people who try to steal it.¡±

    Freya tried to engage, wondering if Tate had any substance to himself besides videos he¡¯d seen on the internet. She remembered the conversation with Dan on Sunday night. He was only two years older than Tate, but he¡¯d been through so much.

    Behind the counter at Baily Bicycle, a heavily tattooed man with a Fu Manchu mustache stared off into space. There was punk rock blaring when they came into the store. As soon as he noticed customers, he reached over to the receiver and turned it down, waving at them as they approached the counter.

    ¡°Is that Limp Wrist?¡± Tate asked, pointing to the speakers.

    ¡°Yeah! I saw them in Philly at Stalag 13 with Los Crudos. Not a lot of people know em¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I have their self-titled on vinyl!¡± Tate chirped, and Freya had never heard of either band. She didn¡¯t like music where she couldn¡¯t understand the lyrics.

    ¡°That¡¯s really cool. I¡¯m Colin. What can I help you with today?¡± He turned his attention to Freya.

    Freya stared at Colin¡¯s tattoos. He had a sleeveless T-shirt, and his arms were covered in vipers. They spiraled up his forearms to sink inky fangs into his biceps, and starbursts of black blood disappeared into the shirt. They continued to his neck. All she could think of was the dream of the Sillas River overflowing with tendrils. She had a mild urge to just turn around and leave, but Tate stood right next to her. She held up the wheel, and the damage spoke for itself.

    Colin¡¯s face fell. He took the wheel from her and looked it over, scowling at the ruined tire.

    ¡°Wow. I can¡¯t believe someone did this. That¡¯s fucked up!¡± he hissed, surprising them with his intensity. He seemed as incensed as if Freya had been a member of his family. ¡°Do you know who did it?¡±

    ¡°We have a pretty good idea.¡±

    ¡°I hope he goes to jail for it. What a piece of shit. I bet he ruined your rims, too. You dump him or something?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s crazy,¡± Freya said, careful to keep her voice even. The bicycle mechanic was working himself up. He seemed eager to be outraged on her behalf, and she didn¡¯t want to play the game with him. He noticed her discomfort and drew back a little, recalibrating his approach.

    ¡°He¡¯ll get his. What goes around comes around,¡± he said, tossing the wheel in the air so it spun, catching it with one hand. ¡°Okay. Let me take these tires off and tell you if you need new rims or not. Let me see the other one, too.¡±

    Tate handed over the other tire. He seemed a little awestruck by Colin. Freya couldn¡¯t understand why. She thought he looked goofy. Ear gauges looked so stupid to her. But he knew what he was doing. He had the tires off in no time, chatting easily about bands with Tate the entire time. Freya was suddenly aware this was how Tate conversed normally. Tate wasn¡¯t boring at all. She was the reason their conversation had been so stilted.

    ¡°Did you buy the bike here?¡± Colin asked as he inspected the rims.

    ¡°My dad did. He got three of them two Christmases ago.¡±

    ¡°Oh, cool, cool. What¡¯s the last name? I¡¯ll look it up.

    ¡°Jokela.¡±

    A look crossed Colin¡¯s face. Of course, everyone knew. He tapped her name into the computer.

    ¡°I¡¯ll replace these for free. I¡¯m sorry this happened to you.¡±

    ¡°Oh! Thank you so much. But if you could, please, bill me the full amount. I¡¯m filing charges, and the police want a copy of the receipts.¡±

    ¡°Oh! Of course. It¡¯s going to be a little expensive, unfortunately. The rims are both gouged up. If you want to take them home and grind them out, great, but it¡¯s probably a lot easier to just replace them. You¡¯re looking at $225 for both complete wheels and the saddle. The good part is I can just pull wheels off a floor model so you don¡¯t have to wait around.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be great. We need to get back to class,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Two hundred bucks just for wheels? My whole bike didn¡¯t cost that much,¡± Tate complained, looked astonished.

    ¡°These are from a nice bicycle,¡± Colin explained. ¡°The rear wheel is the most expensive part of a bike. She needs a new cassette anyhow. The teeth on this one are pretty worn. The tire was almost bald before Mr. Stalky got to it. You must ride a lot.¡±

    ¡°I do. These are the tires this came with,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Next time, try to swap your tires before the tread gets this slick. It¡¯s way too easy to go too fast downhill and skid right into an intersection,¡± He showed them his elbow, which was just one big glossy mass of scar surrounded by tattoos. ¡°Take my word for it.¡±

    ¡°Whoa,¡± Tate cooed.

    She handed over her debit card, and he ran it through, printing two copies of the receipt for her like she asked. Freya watched carefully as he took the wheels off one of the models on the floor. What had taken her almost ten minutes of fooling around took him less than a minute. Soon, he had them pumped up and sent them on their way back up the hill.

    ¡°That guy was so chill,¡± Tate said. ¡°I can¡¯t believe he was going to give you tires for free.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s because of my dad,¡± Freya said, a tightness in her chest.

    ¡°That¡¯s really cool. I mean, people must have liked him,¡± Tate said, realizing he¡¯d said something dumb and trying to salvage it.

    She had to try very hard to keep her voice even.

    ¡°They did.¡±

    They were silent the rest of the way.

 Chapter 49

    Krav Maga class was charged and brutal. Vitko had heard about Radomir and made them drill for what seemed like forever. Freya held a plank until she felt like her arms would snap in half, trying not to be the first to drop but, of course, she was.

    Vitko brought out the training knives. His eyes fell on Freya to make sure she was okay. She nodded. She was eager. What if Malcolm had decided to carve her up instead of her tires?

    Everyone was so serious. It was strange to see Cameron and Dan go through an entire class without clowning around once. A thrill shot through Freya as she caught Dan¡¯s eyes. They were dark and flashing with intent as he disarmed Cameron. She felt like she was part of something, part of a team in a way she¡¯d never felt in drama class. She caught other students looking around the same way. Everyone felt it.

    At the end of it all, they ran laps around the gym, and she wasn¡¯t the first to drop out. As everyone else flagged, Freya, Dan, and Cameron were still going strong. They shared a brief look between as Vitko raised his hand for a halt. They were the runners. She was sure she would join the track team in the spring. Vitko gathered all the students for a lecture.

    ¡°Now, I know what you are thinking,¡± Vitko said, pointing first to Dan, then to Cameron, then to Freya. ¡°Your friend has been hurt, and you think you should do something about it. Something is wrong and you think, I will make this right. I know you are thinking it because I am thinking it, too!¡±

    Freya¡¯s eyes widened. She¡¯d gotten so used to vague feelings being just in her head, it was a little shocking to hear Vitko openly name the electric thing in the air. Everyone glanced at everyone else.

    Dan was to her left, a hard look in his eyes, something at odds with the rest of his face. The other boys had the same look, they were all trying to be more than they were, striving to be men. Now, Freya felt the divide yawning between them. She¡¯d felt so close to them only moments before, but that was only an illusion. She was a jejune outsider who would never really know what it felt like to be one of them.

    How bitter to only glimpse it!

    ¡°Look at me now. I am old, I know the cost of revenge,¡± Vitko said, breaking the moment. He traced along the scar on his neck with his index and middle fingers. That was an impressive scar, not some glorified skinned elbow. Vitko paced back and forth in front of them, in full command of their attention.

    ¡°Young men will do what they will do. I cannot make you take the right path. But anyone who is going out picking fights is not welcome in my class. What I teach you here is to defend yourself only. Not to bully. Not to take revenge. Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.¡±

    Freya¡¯s face lit up with recognition. Vitko smiled at her as he scanned the room.

    ¡°Ha! Only Freya knows this one. Since the rest of you are illiterate, I will dumb it down for you. Fighting is always stupid. If you are in a fight and no one is paying you to be in a ring, you made a mistake. My class is about fixing that mistake and paying the smallest price you can for it. Do not go out looking to make the mistake, okay? I pay a lot of tax to make sure there are police out there to deal with stupid people who break the law and hurt others. Do not waste that money. Do not waste the time I spent teaching you to be smart by being stupid, Dan Gregulus.¡±

    Vitko stopped pacing in front of Dan. Dan gave a look of fake outrage, and everyone laughed.

    ¡°Okay. Stay strong, stay smart. Everyone did well this week! Stick together! Make time to visit your friend who is hurt. He will always remember the ones who came to see him in the hospital,¡± Vitko said, dismissing the class.

    * * *

    No one was eager to go home after the class. A group of Renanin students migrated into Bella Re?a Pizza, hungry to keep that strange feeling of accord going.

    Freya was just hungry. She ordered a full meatball parm, not caring if someone gave her shit for eating a giant sandwich. No one did, the others were just as famished from the intense workout. Brad Klein was there already, he¡¯d commandeered the booth, and they all squeezed in. Tate was the last to order and the table was full.

    ¡°Heeeeeey, buddy, let me sort that out for you,¡± Cameron said, and he got up and brought over an infant¡¯s highchair, presenting it with a flourish as everyone laughed. Tate bent low and moved like he was going to try and tackle Cam¡¯s legs. Cam darted aside, but it was just a feint. Tate stole his seat.

    ¡°Thanks friend,¡± Tate said. Cam shook his head in mock-shock, he¡¯d been had. Everyone was clowning harder than usual, trying to shake off the seriousness of the lecture.

    ¡°Hey, what was Vitko talking about when he called us illiterate?¡± Tate asked Freya as Cam returned the highchair and borrowed a different chair from another table.

    ¡°Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent. That¡¯s an Isaac Asimov quote from a trilogy called The Foundation. It¡¯s about a psychohistorian who uses history and psychology to predict the downfall of a galactic empire and avoid a thirty thousand year long dark age.¡±

    ¡°Woah, like Warhammer?¡± Tate asked.

    ¡°Uh¡­sorta?¡± Freya shrugged. She didn¡¯t know what he meant.

    ¡°It¡¯s set in a fifteen-thousand-year dark age, too, after the emperor is betrayed during the Horus Heresy¡ª¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°No one cares about your toy soldiers, Tate,¡± Brad chided, cutting him off before he could get going.

    ¡°Fuck off, it¡¯s a game,¡± Tate shot back.

    ¡°Perma-virginity simulator,¡± Brad joked.

    ¡°When¡¯s the next Magic tournament, Bradley?¡± Tate chided.

    ¡°Hey, fuck off. At least there¡¯s money in that.¡±

    ¡°Not with your deck,¡± Cam teased.

    The food came, and Freya set in on it and listened to the others talk. Bella Re?a was surprisingly good for hole-in-the-wall pizza, the marinara wasn¡¯t too sweet, and they did dense, spicy meatballs that had an almost-burnt crust. They were far superior to the other pizza place in West Sillas. Pancho Pizza¡¯s Meatballs were twice the size but flavorless, more bread crumb than beef. She realized she was wolfing her sandwich, and she told herself to slow down and keep pace with the others.

    Jeremy and Travis from class had joined them, they were both juniors and wanted to know what the deal with Radomir was. Cameron told them what had happened at Brad¡¯s house, and when he got to the confrontation Brad and Dan climbed out of the booth to re-enact it. Cameron did an over-the-top Dan with a dopey expression. Dan acted out the part of Malcolm Lewis, nailing his apelike body language and the fake thuggish way he talked.

    ¡°Yo, lemme get a slice!¡± he cried, caricaturing his walk so it looked like he was on the verge of having a seizure. Freya almost choked laughing. Their improvised play ended with Dan tucking his fists against his chest, flapping his arms like chicken wings, and disappearing into the bathroom. From behind the men¡¯s room door, he shouted, ¡°BAUK!¡± Everyone was dying laughing.

    ¡°Can¡¯t wait till they arrest his retarded ass,¡± Tate said as Dan emerged and reclaimed his seat. ¡°Who the fuck slashes bike tires?¡±

    ¡°On camera,¡± Freya added. ¡°He¡¯s gonna be bummed when he finds out there¡¯s no JV basketball in jail.¡±

    ¡°Ooooh!¡± a few people hooted in response.

    ¡°Oh, shit. I didn¡¯t even think of that. Is he eighteen?¡± Tate asked, and Freya nodded.

    ¡°Guy just fucked up his whole life,¡± Dan said, shaking his head.

    ¡°No great loss,¡± Freya replied.

    ¡°God damn,¡± Tate gulped. ¡°You¡¯re as cold as ice.¡±

    Cameron lit up. His eyebrows arched and his eyes swept from side to side.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Dan warned, but it was too late.

    ¡°You¡¯re willing to sacrifice¡­¡± Cam began.

    ¡°Stop!¡±

    ¡°Our looooooveeeee!¡± Cameron crooned into a half-eaten Italian sandwich like it was a microphone. Freya clapped her hands in delight as Brad launched a garlic knot across the table at Cameron. But Cam was ready. He deftly ducked under the missile.

    ¡°Hey! Hey! Pick that shit up!¡± the pizzaman behind the counter snapped from across the restaurant. He¡¯d been watching their table closely.

    ¡°Sorry!¡± Cam raised his sandwich in surrender.

    Freya recognized the glaring face. Levi had been one of the seniors in The Girl Who was Asked to Turn Blue last year. He had long black hair that was tied in a ponytail under his Bella Re?a baseball cap that was polka-dotted with embroidered pepperonis.

    ¡°Sorry, man! We¡¯ll stop,¡± Brad called out in apology.

    ¡°No more Foreigner either. They fucking suck,¡± Levi demanded with his hands on his hips. The other chef¡¯s paper hat nodded in agreement. Cameron held his hand over his heart and gasped as if mortally wounded. Then he went hunting for the garlic knot.

    ¡°They don¡¯t suck,¡± Freya called back. ¡°Mick Jones is a great guitarist. He¡¯s still touring.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah? So is Kenny G,¡± Levi called back. There were more, ¡°Oohs,¡± from the group.

    ¡°He¡¯s got you there,¡± Cam noted. He held the garlic knot that had been on the floor out towards Brad, who shook his head in refusal. He offered it to the others in turn and, when he found no takers, he popped the whole knot in his mouth, chewing with bulging cheeks as everyone groaned.

    Freya frowned. Levi was giving her a superior look. She had heard Levi play guitar backstage once, trying to impress the girl who¡¯d played Tracey by butchering ¡°Speed Trials¡± on a poorly tuned Jasmine. He had no room to talk.

    ¡°Hey, Levi, Kenny G sold seventy-five million albums. Let me know when you sell seventy-five million pizzas.¡±

    A few people at the table crowed, but Freya noticed Dan wasn¡¯t one of them. She¡¯d gone too far. It took Levi an extra beat to find a comeback.

    ¡°Yeah, okay, Freya,¡± Levi wielded her name like a club, letting her know he remembered her, too. ¡°Everyone in this room would take a pizza over one of his albums. Am I right?¡± He raised his hands in appeal to the crowd.

    ¡°Yup,¡± nodded Dan.

    ¡°Definitely,¡± Brad agreed.

    ¡°I¡¯d settle for just a slice,¡± Tate said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll pay YOU to keep the album,¡± Cam shot in.

    Everyone¡¯s eyes turned to Freya, and her cheeks were burning. She grappled for the right thing to say.

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d take the pizza, too,¡± Freya admitted at last. Cam slowly applauded, and the others joined in. Levi raised his chin in triumph.

    Freya was relieved. Even if she got the worst of the exchange, she didn¡¯t want to be the kind of person who shit on someone for working at a pizza place.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were into dad rock,¡± Cam teased when the moment passed.

    ¡°I like musicians who can actually play instruments,¡± Freya replied with a sideways glance. She thought the kind of rap Cameron and Rodrigo listened to was atrocious.

    ¡°Oh, wow, gatekeeping,¡± Cam said, hunkering down and taking an enormous bite out of his sandwich.

    ¡°Do you actually like Kenny G?¡± Dan asked in the same tone he might have asked her if she had leprosy.

    ¡°Not really. It¡¯s totally not the type of jazz I like, but you can¡¯t sell that many albums if you aren¡¯t technically sound. I really do like Foreigner, though. I can play a bunch of their songs.¡±

    ¡°Wait can you actually play ¡°Cold as Ice?¡±¡± Cam asked, and she nodded. ¡°What about ¡°Hot Blooded?¡± I unironically like that one.¡±

    ¡°I can play both. I would need to learn electric guitar to hit the solo on Hot Blooded though. I really like ¡°Starrider,¡± from their debut.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you just buy an electric guitar now?¡± Tate asked Freya in the same incredulous way he¡¯d said her tires cost more than his whole bike. She felt a pang of separation. Out of the whole group, only Freya and Brad¡¯s parents were well off. Brad¡¯s eyes met hers. He understood.

    ¡°I want to get solid on acoustic first,¡± Freya explained. ¡°Fundamentals.¡±

    ¡°You should challenge Levi to a guitar duel. For the glory of dad rock,¡± Cam said in a conspiratorial mock whisper, but Levi was too busy cleaning up to pay attention to them.

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be a duel,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°No?¡± Cam leaned forward with a single eyebrow raised, egging her on.

    ¡°It would be a massacre.¡±

 Chapter 50

    At ten o¡¯clock, Levi told their table it was closing time and gave them the boot. Freya still felt bad about her joke, but it seemed too awkward to apologize.

    They spilled into the parking lot and found the temperature had plunged below freezing. The cold cut right through Freya despite her jacket. She¡¯d been so warm and comfortable inside, and now thought about the bike ride home, wishing she¡¯d brought her balaclava. It was going to hurt to breathe the whole way.

    Everyone was saying goodbye, Cam and Tate piling into Brad¡¯s car, the other students getting into another. Soon, it was just Freya and Dan standing around, and he moved towards his car with his keys in his hand.

    ¡°Have a good night!¡± Freya called after him.

    ¡°Oh, did you not want a ride?¡± he asked, turning around. He looked a little surprised.

    ¡°I have my bike,¡± she explained, feeling stupid for riding to Krav Maga. She should have expected this and left it locked up at school.

    ¡°Oh, cool,¡± Dan said, seeming disappointed.

    ¡°I mean, wait. I can take the front wheel off. Is there room in your trunk? It¡¯s kinda too cold to ride anyhow.¡±

    ¡°Yeah! We can totally do that,¡± he replied. He was so eager he stumbled a little on his words. Freya released the brakes and took off the wheel, her fingers were already stinging from the cold. Dan set her bike into the trunk, and they hurried to climb into the car.

    Inside, she noticed Dan crossed the fingers on his left hand as he turned the key with his right. Reluctantly, the engine caught, and then he cranked up the heat.

    ¡°Gotta let her warmup,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°Same here.¡± Freya tried rubbing her hands in front of a vent, but only cold air came out. She slipped her hand into her pocket. The Starball was warm.

    ¡°Hey, why do you always put your hand in your pocket?¡± Dan asked, and the words froze her worse than the wind. She fought the urge to yank her hand out of her pocket.

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± She paused, preparing to tell the same lie she¡¯d told Dr. Garbuglio. But she didn¡¯t want to lie to Dan. He¡¯d been so honest with her.

    ¡°I just have a lucky marble I carry around. I touch it sometimes when I feel nervous,¡± she admitted. That wasn¡¯t technically a lie. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize everyone noticed.¡±

    The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

    ¡°Ha, I don¡¯t know if anyone else noticed. Can I see it, or is it just for you?¡±

    She liked that Dan had asked that. She ran her thumb over the Starball, wondering if she would feel the same nauseous aversion she did when she¡¯d showed Dr. Garbuglio. She felt totally fine, just a little warm. The car¡¯s heat was finally kicking in.

    ¡°It¡¯s just for me¡­¡± she began. Then, on impulse, she pulled out the Starball and held it towards Dan, her eyes on his. Caught in the gravity of the moment, Dan took the Starball from Freya and cupped it in his palm, staring at the orb.

    ¡°Huh, it¡¯s so warm from being in your pocket,¡± Dan said. He looked up and his eyes met hers. The air in the car seemed to thrum around them, her heart pounding. ¡°Thanks for sharing with me,¡± he said. He sounded touched.

    Her jaw felt burning hot, her fingertips tingling from where they¡¯d brushed against his. Freya stared at Dan in the amber light of the parking lot until she couldn¡¯t take it anymore and leaned towards him.

    Dan flinched, jerking his hand away and recoiling from her. Freya had an awful, wrenching feeling she¡¯d misread the situation and ruined everything. But Dan wasn¡¯t looking at her. He stared down at his palm.

    ¡°Huh, it poked me somehow,¡± Dan said. He reached up and flicked on the overhead light. He took the Starball in his other hand. On his palm was a minute droplet of blood.

    Oh, no.

    Freya¡¯s whole body clenched in dismay. She had almost convinced herself she¡¯d imagined getting jabbed the first night. The dot of blood in the dashboard light could not be denied. What had she done?

    Dan was holding up the Starball, turning it over and over just as she had, but there was no protrusion.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked. He nodded and handed the Starball back to her. She tucked it her pocket.

    ¡°Yeah, I think maybe the cold just made my hand crack? I don¡¯t see any way it could have poked me.¡± He rubbed his palm with his thumb, holding it up to the light. The blood was just a tiny round smudge. He shrugged.

    ¡°Okay, sorry to ruin the moment there. It¡¯s nothing.¡±

    His choice of words rang loudly in her ears, and that feeling of being hot all over only increased. Had she infected him, too? She felt the unnatural calm washing over her as the Starball worked to stabilize her clawing anxiety. The orb was hot enough to feel through her jeans.

    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± Dan muttered, and she followed his eyes to see Levi stared at them from the window, clutching a mop. Seeing they¡¯d noticed him, Levi spun around and wheeled the bucket away.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Dan said. He clicked his seatbelt on and pulled out of the lot.

    * * *

    The thought of the red dot of blood fell to the back of her mind. All Freya could think about was that she¡¯d screwed up and missed her chance to kiss Dan.

    It felt awkward in the car, the opportunity gone. All she¡¯d needed to say was, ¡°It¡¯s just for me.¡± That would have been the end of it. They didn¡¯t speak as the car rolled through the night. She kept trying to think of explanations, discarding them one after the other. They all sounded like bullshit in her head.

    As they drove across the Thoreau Bridge, the night howled around them. The crosswind blew so hard the car shifted.

    ¡°Hey, um, thanks a lot for the ride. This would have been awful to bike in,¡± Freya said, breaking the silence.

    ¡°Yeah, anytime. You might not want to go around on your own until they get Malcolm,¡± Dan suggested. ¡°I don¡¯t mind being your chauffeur.¡±

    ¡°Baby, you can drive my car,¡± Freya sang back.

    ¡°Huh? You have a car?¡± Dan didn¡¯t get it.

    ¡°Hah, it¡¯s a Beatles song,¡± Freya explained.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m dumb,¡± Dan said, grinning. ¡°You¡¯re as bad as Cam. You two should start a band.¡±

    ¡°I hope I¡¯m not that bad. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s tone deaf.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell him that, he¡¯ll be crushed. No, you have a pretty voice. A pretty everything actually.¡± There was hesitation in his voice. He was taking a chance.

    Freya blushed. She wanted to deny it, to tell him to stop. But she remembered Randall¡¯s advice on how to take a compliment.

    Just pause, smile, and say thank you.

    That was it, it was the simplest thing in the world, but it always worked.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, and he smiled. His eyes never left the road.

    For the first time, she wished her house was farther from town. She didn¡¯t want the ride to end. She wished they could just drive until they hit the ocean, talk all night, and watch the sun rise. The suggestion danced on her tongue, but they had school in the morning. When they arrived, Lassa¡¯s car was still gone, and the house was dark. The automatic driveway lights were acting up again. Freya unbuckled her seatbelt as Dan put the car in park.

    ¡°I¡¯ll pop the trunk¡ª¡± he began, and she leaned across and kissed him. Dan was taken by surprise, but he kissed her back and, suddenly, she was on fire. His lips were so soft against hers. She felt like she was melting. They were a mess of awkwardness and eagerness. The desire she¡¯d felt yesterday morning flared all around her, her pulse pounded in her ears.

    ¡°Are you okay? You¡¯re shaking,¡± Dan said, pulling back with concern.

    ¡°It¡¯s in a good way,¡± she assured him.

    ¡°Oh, wow,¡± he managed before she kissed him again, harder this time. He reached out with both hands and held the sides of her face, pulling his lips away so they were just barely touching hers.

    ¡°Take your time,¡± he said, smiling as she stared into his eyes. She didn¡¯t want to take her time, she wanted to drag him inside the house. But she saw he was nervous, she had to slow down. Freya took a deep breath, but all she could smell was Dan. It just made her run hotter.

    Freya pulled away. If she didn¡¯t stop herself now, she was going to climb across the console and into his lap. But he slipped back to his side with a smile. He was maddening.

    ¡°Whew, that¡¯s intense. I wanted to do that for a while,¡± he admitted. ¡°Feels like you did, too.¡±

    Freya nodded though she¡¯d wanted much more than that. The windows of the car were all fogged up. Freya thought about using that as a pretense to invite him inside the house.

    ¡°Hey, are you doing anything on Saturday?¡± she asked instead.

    ¡°Just running in the morning, why?¡±

    ¡°Do you want to come to that concert with me? I have an extra ticket.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, totally. What time should I pick you up?¡±

    ¡°Does five work?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡±

    Freya smiled so hard her face hurt. Everything soared inside of her.

    ¡°Ha, wow. It got late fast. I better get home. This was really cool, thank you.¡± It was the right thing to do, but she couldn¡¯t help but feel disappointed. Dan didn¡¯t feel as strongly as her, or they wouldn¡¯t have stopped.

    ¡°Here,¡± she said, and she kissed him again, as slow and sweet as she could bear. Afterward, he pulled the bike out of the trunk for her. She wrapped him in an embrace. The wind whipped around them, pulling in every direction, but he was so warm. When he held her, she felt it wasn¡¯t just her. She let go, smiling so hard her face hurt.

    ¡°Good night, Freya,¡± he said, pleasantly dazed.

    ¡°Good night, Dan.¡±

    Dan got back into his car and wiped condensation from his windshield with the sleeve of his jacket. The garage door rumbled upward. Freya brought her bike inside and turned to wave goodbye. Dan waved back at her and, more than anything, she wanted to call him back to her.

    The Toyota rolled down the hill, and the headlights vanished into the dark. Freya stood still in the garage until the automatic overhead light clicked off. The wind whispered around her. She shivered, wishing she hadn¡¯t let Dan leave. The Starball¡¯s heat was the only warmth in the world.

 Chapter 51 - THURSDAY NOVEMBER 8TH

    ¡°What does it mean when you dream you¡¯re somebody else?¡±

    Dr. Garbuglio set down his cup of coffee and thought about Freya¡¯s question. The black eye was gone, only a faint tinge remaining. The sadness that had colored their meeting last week seemed to have faded with the bruise. Dr. G seemed much more present today.

    ¡°Well. There¡¯s a lot to unpack in that question. Let¡¯s ease into it. First, do you think dreams have meaning?¡±

    ¡°I think um¡­ I think they can say a lot about what¡¯s on your mind. I don¡¯t think they show the future or anything if that¡¯s what you mean.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m asking. I¡¯d like to know how important dreams are to you before we start analyzing them. This is the first time you¡¯ve mentioned one in a session.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re a big deal, but this one was intense. I wanted to talk about it. We don¡¯t have to if you think it¡¯s a waste of time.¡± Freya leaned back in her chair.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a waste of time. There are some other things going on I would like to get to in this session, though. I would say on average, people put too much significance on individual dreams.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s think about what dreams are. Right now, the model I agree with the most is the idea that dreams are largely random, sort of like hitting shuffle on your memories. The brain then tries to construct a coherent story out of them after the fact. That¡¯s a very simplified version of an idea named the activation-synthesis hypothesis. It was posed by Dr. Allan Hobson. He¡¯s worth looking up if you¡¯d like to do some reading. He¡¯s written twenty books on dreams, and they have all have very solid neuroscience behind them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll check him out. If that¡¯s true, why would brains spend so much energy generating and interpreting random impulses?¡±

    ¡°Very good question. There are a few ideas about it, but nothing I¡¯d call proven at this point. Some researchers believe it¡¯s a kind of bookkeeping, and as you¡¯ve read¡ª¡± Dr. Garbuglio smiled and craned his neck in the direction of the shelf full of copies of The Fragile Phoenix, ¡°sleep plays a critical role in the formation of new memories and overall mental health. One explanation I think is interesting is something called the Threat Simulation Theory. It posits dreams are caused by our brains sort of rehearsing for different threatening situations we might encounter, to hone the fight-or-flight reflex. The idea tries to explain why fear is the most prominent emotion we experience in dreams, and why people often dream of things like being pursued. Again, none of this is settled science. We¡¯re still a long way from understanding dreams. Disclaimer aside, I would like to hear about your dream, if you¡¯re comfortable telling me about it.¡±

    ¡°Okay, Freya said, taking a deep breath. She¡¯d thought all morning about how she wanted to describe this.

    ¡°I dreamed I was a boy who was simultaneously dreaming he was me. It was very detailed. People argued in the lot next door to him, and a truck rumbled past on his street. I could smell the room he was in. You know how other people¡¯s homes have a smell, not bad, just different? I smelled his house. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever smelled something in a dream before.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s unusual but not unheard of,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said. ¡°How did it feel to be in the other body?¡±

    ¡°I was very aware of the contrast between us. I felt how much bigger he was, that he was stronger, things were sort of, set differently. I¡¯m struggling to describe it. It was a little like wearing a suit tailored for someone else or putting on a mask that was a mold of someone else¡¯s face. But that doesn¡¯t really capture it because I wasn¡¯t uncomfortable, I was just aware of the difference. I had all the, um¡­, all the parts, and I felt what it was like to, uh¡­¡±

    Freya had to pause and exhale. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. She¡¯d never mentioned anything sexual to Dr. Garbuglio before, and she¡¯d deflected any conversation headed in that direction. But she had a strong need to talk about the dream. It had consumed her thoughts all day. Dr. Garbuglio didn¡¯t rush her, there was no quickening of interest in his expression. He was perfectly detached, and that let her gather herself and continue.

    ¡°I felt what it¡¯s like to be excited. As a man, not as a woman. But that isn¡¯t the important part. I don¡¯t want to focus on that.¡±

    ¡°What was the important part?¡±

    ¡°Feeling like I was simultaneously him and me. Like we were somehow sharing our senses. It wasn¡¯t just me taking over some empty shell. I dreamed he was in my body at the same time, with the same sense of uh¡­wonder. Excitement. We kept drawing closer and closer. A thought would originate in one of us, then it would ripple through the other. Then another would rise in response, flowing back and forth, chasing each other¡¯s tails.

    ¡°We moved towards something big, some understanding. We both wanted it very much and, at the same time, we were afraid. Then the feeling just ended abruptly, and I felt empty and alone. I woke up feeling like I¡¯d lost something I couldn¡¯t get back, and I was just weeping until¡ª¡± Freya halted.

    She¡¯d been about to say, ¡°Until the Starball calmed me down.¡± She saw Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s eyes lasering in on her. ¡°¡ªuntil my alarm went off, and I had to get ready for school.¡± She concluded. She couldn¡¯t tell if he¡¯d bought it. Dr. Garbuglio took a sip of coffee, and his fingers ran over his chin as he thought about it.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite a dream. Thank you for sharing that with me. Your dream sounds very similar to the experiences some people have while taking psychedelic drugs. Have you taken anything like that recently? No judgment if you have.¡±

    ¡°No, not at all,¡± Freya said. She hadn¡¯t expected the conversation to go in this direction. ¡°I haven¡¯t ever.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I believe you, I just wanted to eliminate the possibility. How long has it been since you discontinued the Lunesta?¡±

    ¡°Eight days,¡± Freya answered too quickly. Dr. Garbuglio stared at her for a beat. He hadn¡¯t missed that.

    ¡°It would be unusual for this to be an effect of the withdrawal. It¡¯s probably just a very vivid dream. Let¡¯s talk about the boy in the dream. I¡¯m going to make a guess here. Was I right that Dan Gregulus was not at all above talking with a mere sophomore?¡±

    Freya blinked. She hadn¡¯t said ANYTHING about Dan since she¡¯d told Dr. Garbuglio he was in her Krav Maga class.

    ¡°Wait, did he mention me during therapy?¡± Freya asked, half-afraid of what he might have said, and half-desperate to know.

    ¡°I would not be able to tell you if he did. Everything said in here is private,¡± Dr. Garbuglio reminded her. Then his voice softened. ¡°However, in this case, it was just a guess. I haven¡¯t seen Dan recently. He just happens to be the only boy your age you¡¯ve spoken about.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, yes, it was a dream about him. Good guess.¡±

    ¡°Are you two romantically involved?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe? We¡¯ve been spending a lot of time together and texting a lot. He gave me a ride home on Sunday, and we spent a long time talking together. He told me about his sister, about what he¡¯d gone through. It seems like you helped him a lot.¡±

    ¡°How do you feel about Dan?¡± Dr. Garbuglio asked, too focused to respond to her compliment.

    ¡°I really like him. As a person, I mean, not just, uh, romantically. Like he clowns around way too much in a group but, when we¡¯re alone, he drops the act. He seems like a good guy.¡±

    Dr Garbuglio hesitated, like he¡¯d been about to say something but stopped himself.

    ¡°Has it been physical?¡± he asked after the pause.

    ¡°We kissed, but that¡¯s all. I think I¡¯m more into him than he is into me,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°That¡¯s a very common thing for people to think in a new relationship. Everyone develops feelings at their own pace, especially when you¡¯re young and inexperienced. My advice is slower is better, really take the time to reflect on how you feel. You will definitely have some missteps, and that¡¯s totally okay. There¡¯s a balance between sharing too much and scaring someone off and sharing too little and both people misinterpreting how the other feels. Finding that balance takes a long time to learn and, even as an adult, it¡¯s still a challenge.¡±

    Freya nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to feel so strongly after feeling nothing for so long.¡±

    ¡°Just try to hang on for right now, enjoy this time as much as you can. That feeling won¡¯t stay so intense. It¡¯s something you¡¯ll always look back at and cherish. In the future, time will round all the edges off your memories. You¡¯ll forget how uncertain everything feels right now. You won¡¯t even remember it feels like the whole relationship is over every time your partner is slow to return a text.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Oh, my God! It feels exactly like that,¡± Freya agreed.

    ¡°If I can offer a little advice here. Know that it¡¯s hard to keep perspective. Relationships are always valuable, but keep in mind romantic relationships at your age have an exaggerated sense of importance, and it¡¯s very rare for two people to be mature enough to create one that is lasting.¡±

    ¡°What makes a relationship last?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Work. A good match feels effortless initially, but a lasting relationship is exactly the opposite. We¡¯ll talk more about it as situations arise, but the immediate advice I can give you is that it¡¯s more important to understand than to be understood. The harder you work at listening to what the other person is saying, the deeper your understanding will grow. The more you can reflect on what¡¯s going on beneath the surface, the stronger you will become as a partner. If you go into this with the expectation you¡¯re still learning, and that it¡¯s probably not a forever thing, you¡¯ll have much more success. Don¡¯t go Capulet on us, please.¡±

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Freya smiled at that.

    ¡°That¡¯s helpful to hear, thank you,¡± she said. She wondered if Dr. Gabuglio was trying to warn her that Dan would dump her.

    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard it from everyone, but if you two decide to take your relationship further, please, make sure to use protection. You may want to have a discussion with each other about what it means for you both to be seeing the same therapist. I have many couples where I see each member individually. It¡¯s usually not a problem, but keep in mind it is totally okay for you to share everything you¡¯re feeling, and the same is true for Dan. That¡¯s part of the deal with therapy. The other part is I will not act as an intermediary between you.¡±

    Freya nodded in agreement. She still couldn¡¯t help but analyze every word he said for some sign of how Dan felt about her. Dr. Garbuglio was very good at not revealing anything. It was both reassuring and infuriating.

    ¡°Okay. Well, I don¡¯t know if we¡¯re a couple or anything. I just like him. He must like me a little, too, as he¡¯s picking me up after therapy. I¡¯m glad we got to talk today. That dream was arresting. I feel better now.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s quite a dream. Did you mention it to Dan?¡±

    ¡°Oh, God no,¡± Freya said, distressed at the thought. ¡°Way too um, lurid.¡±

    ¡°Ha! What a word. I¡¯d say it¡¯s most likely just an expression of the feelings and fears you have for Dan. Let me know if you keep having dreams like that, especially if you feel like you¡¯re losing control or can¡¯t deal with them. You might consider keeping a dream journal. The act of writing things like this down could help you put them in perspective.¡±

    Freya nodded, though she was certain she wouldn¡¯t do that. Dr. Garbuglio shifted a little in his seat in preparation for changing the subject.

    ¡°Okay. Something important. Given you are still recovering from a loss, have you had feelings of guilt about your excitement for this new relationship?¡± The question hung in the air between them.

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Freya said. She was struck by the realization she¡¯d wanted him to ask this all along and hadn¡¯t known until the question was posed.

    ¡°Nearly everyone experiences that. It¡¯s a part of the process, and I promise you it will pass. I¡¯d like to do an exercise with you that may help. It will almost certainly be painful, but patients often make progress afterward. Do you feel up to it?¡±

    Freya hesitated, wondering if Dr. Garbuglio was about to propose something weird, like primal scream or electroshock.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Freya agreed at last. It couldn¡¯t be too bad. She had the Starball after all.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m going to get into some painful memories involving your father. I would like you to take as long as you need to with this exercise. We¡¯re going to go outside your comfort area. If we go too far, just raise a hand, and I¡¯ll stop right away. It¡¯s totally okay to raise your hand for any reason. It doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re weak. okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Freya agreed.

    ¡°I want you to think about how you¡¯ve felt the last few months, think about some of the times where it¡¯s been particularly difficult to cope, especially something we might not have had a chance to discuss in our sessions.¡±

    They were silent as Freya went along with the exercise. She thought about sobbing against the desk in Mr. Manzinni¡¯s class, failure welling up all around her. Her pocket grew warm, she fought the urge to slip her hand into it to touch the Starball. Her chest tightened, the sensation of plunging into fog.

    ¡°It¡¯s been so hard,¡± Freya whispered. Her voice was a tiny thing, floundering in the air between them.

    ¡°Three deep breaths,¡± Dr. Garbuglio instructed. ¡°Take your time, you¡¯re in a safe place. It¡¯s okay to feel.¡±

    She took the three breaths.

    ¡°In one of our early sessions, you talked about waking up and believing your father¡¯s death had been a dream. You described the sadness you felt realizing he was gone. I would like you to think about that.¡±

    The words hung between them. Freya had a sensation of vertigo, as if the walls were receding into the distance, and she was shrinking into insignificance. Freya had an urge to get up and leave the room. She didn¡¯t want to walk down this path.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to think about that,¡± Freya admitted. Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s eyes were on her hand, ready for Freya to bail out.

    ¡°I know it hurts to remember some of these things, and that¡¯s expected. Some things have to hurt,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said.

    Thinking about those mornings triggered a cascade of other memories Freya didn¡¯t want to think about. The pictures on the corkboard map. The secret calendar. The layer of dust accumulating on the pickup truck.

    She had a petulant feeling this was sadistic and unfair. She was only sixteen, and Dr. Garbuglio was a grown man. He was driving her towards somewhere she didn¡¯t want to be. Worse, he knew exactly what he was doing, wielding the things she¡¯d confided in him like a scalpel.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing fine. Take all the time you need,¡± he said, and she wanted to scream, but she let the air hiss out between her teeth.

    ¡°Do you want to keep going?¡± Dr. Garbuglio asked, and Freya made herself nod, though she didn¡¯t want to.

    ¡°Those feelings are a link between you and the memory of your father,¡± Dr. Garbuglio spoke very slowly, as if he were a magician invoking a spell. ¡°Each feeling is like a ribbon, tying you to that memory. I want you to visualize that ribbon. It can be any color you want. We¡¯re going to slowly visualize untying that ribbon. Close your eyes.¡±

    Heat thrummed in her pocket from the Starball. It wasn¡¯t calming her down like before. She grew more upset by the moment. Dr. Garbuglio stared at her, expectant. Freya shut her eyes, and the office slipped away.

    * * *

    There were no ribbons. Freya stood on a cliff overlooking a vast blue-green ocean. There was nothing between her and the horizon but the swells of the sea. A thousand feet below, the waves crashed against the rocks, and the air smelled of salt. There was no sign of Dr. Garbuglio or his office. The sky was a featureless blue wash, and the sun was only a frozen pinprick, its corona oily and indistinct.

    Freya waited for an answer. The paltry sun swept across the sky in an unsettling arc, as if it meant to burn through the whole day in an hour¡¯s time. As the little sun slid behind her, Freya was swallowed by an enormous shadow. She¡¯d been ignoring something massive at her back all this time.

    A stone colossus rose behind Freya, standing astride a strait. It was enormous. She was eye-level with the top of its big toe. She strained against the weight at her neck to look up. The giant¡¯s ankle was as thick as a redwood. It was bound by a shackle of pitted bronze. Chains bled verdigris as they spiraled around the stone leg. They all met at a ring over the giant¡¯s heart. The colossus¡¯ arms were bound behind its back, and it wore a slave¡¯s collar at its neck, three hundred feet above her.

    Freya realized she was a prisoner, too. The tightness at her throat was her own collar. The weight pulling her head down was a leash of heavy chain. Her neck ached as she struggled to behold the face of the colossus. One of its eyes was lost in a ruin of jagged rock, the other stared hopelessly out to sea. A dark ring expanded above the stone face, a halo of nothing that spread until the sky above was the perfect void of Freya¡¯s dreams.

    Freya knew she was in a dream, and she tried to wake up. But like the times before, she failed. A tremor shook beneath her feet, a distressed rumbling like the dream was angry at her for trying to escape.

    The roar of the ocean grew louder and more insistent. The ground beneath her feet quavered. There was a thunderous crack across the strait. The foundation had split. It crumbled into the sea. It was all coming apart.

    Freya turned to flee but the collar bit into her neck like a noose, her chains were bound to the statue. She wrenched at them and screamed, mute against the roar of the collapse.

    Everything fell apart. The colossus toppled backward, striking the sea with a titanic crash, and sending plumes of spray billowing skyward. Freya was dragged into the tempest and swallowed by dark water. It was in her nose, in her mouth, the black water of the Sillas River.

    There was pressure all around her, forcing the air from her lungs, stabbing at her eardrums. Sinking into the crushing darkness, Freya knew it wasn¡¯t just a dream. She couldn¡¯t breathe. She was dying. But as it was all slipping away, a pain refused to fade, a twinge at her hip that got worse and worse until she felt like she was being burned.

    ¡°Freya. Freya. Freya,¡± Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s voice was muffled by fathoms of seawater. She thought she was being tossed by the waves, but he shook her shoulders. Her eyes shot open. Everything was blurry with tears.

    ¡°It¡¯s too heavy!¡± Freya wept, sobbing until she had nothing left to give. Dr. Garbuglio let go of her. She still felt the weight of the collar on her neck, the pain in her ears. The vision had been so much deeper than any dream she¡¯d had before. She could still taste the river.

    ¡°With me, right here. Seven deep breaths,¡± Dr. Garbuglio commanded, gesturing from his eyes to hers. His voice was tight with worry. ¡°You¡¯re not drowning. You¡¯re right here with me. That was very intense. We¡¯re going to take some time to recover, okay?¡± He reached out and gripped Freya¡¯s shoulder. It was strange to be touched by Garbuglio, but she needed the anchor.

    His voice leveled out as he spoke, but Freya noticed his other hand shook. Her thigh still stung, and she wondered if she¡¯d been burned by the Starball. It took a long time until she felt like she could speak.

    ¡°What happened?¡± she asked at last.

    ¡°Progress,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said. He tried to sound confident, but his face betrayed unease. Something she¡¯d done while she dreamed had unnerved him.

    ¡°You¡¯re starting to work through some of the feelings you couldn¡¯t before. The difficulty you had in class was the same kind of thing. It hurts, but you¡¯re facing it. You¡¯re very brave, Freya.¡±

    She shut her eyes, and the image of the colossus lingered. It felt like more than a dream, and Freya wondered if she was going crazy or if this was the Starball.

    ¡°It¡¯s too big for me,¡± Freya said. ¡°I feel so small.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too big for anyone to deal with alone. A little bit at a time, you¡¯re getting there. You¡¯re doing amazing, just remember this is a process. Take as much time as you need to work through what you felt today. We can talk about it whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±

    Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s voice was soothing, Freya was thankful he was here. The vision of the colossus was the worst of the nightmares so far. This was more than just her imagination running away with her, it was a full-blown hallucination.

    Freya wanted to tell Dr. Garbuglio about the nightmare, but she felt so raw and hurt. She was afraid if she started talking everything would come spilling out, she would tell him about the Starball, about the river, about everything. She knew how that would end. Locked up in a mental hospital, drugged out of her mind.

    ¡°Our time is nearly up, but we can extend this session if you need to. Today was a big step,¡± Dr. Garbuglio offered.

    Freya considered it. There was a coolness spreading through her thoughts, one she had come to associate with the Starball pacifying her. Had she really made progress? She probed at her feelings, like a tongue working at a loose tooth. The dread was deeply rooted, but she thought there was a little give to it.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m okay,¡± she said. ¡°I think this helped, thank you. Sorry if I got a little dramatic there.¡±

    Dr. Garbuglio nodded. She¡¯d hoped the little joke would disarm him, but he still looked concerned.

    ¡°Here¡¯s something I¡¯d like you to think about. These profound emotions aren¡¯t just there to make you suffer. They¡¯re also a kind of strength. The difficulty you have letting go is a sign of how powerful your bonds with your father were, how much you loved each other. They¡¯re so strong they persist even without him here to renew them. I want you to think about that and consider that same strength will be there for you in other relationships in your life. It will let you do things you think are impossible. That power will let you overcome tremendous obstacles to keep friendships and family together. I know your grief can seem like a weakness right now, but you will learn it¡¯s actually the opposite. You¡¯re so much stronger than you realize.¡±

    Freya could almost believe Dr. Garbuglio. She wanted to. But the vision was still there, the toppling colossus, the crushing pressure, the distant star burning against her thigh to save her. Without the Starball, she would be long gone.

    The hour was up.

 Chapter 52

    ¡°Wow. Rough one, huh?¡±

    Dan waited for Freya in the parking lot. She should have made a joke and acted like the session hadn¡¯t been that bad. Instead, she crumpled against Dan. He hugged her and held on for as long as she thought she could.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she managed, reluctantly letting go. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here, please.¡±

    Dan walked around the car and opened her door for her. Normally, it would seem kind of corny, but Freya needed anything she could get.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, settling into the seat. When she closed the door, she felt better with a barrier between her and the office at 777 Emerson. She had only felt good in Dan¡¯s car. Nothing inside had ever hurt her.

    ¡°Was it one of his exercises? The shore walk, or the ribbon one?¡±

    ¡°The ribbon one. What¡¯s the shore walk?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if we should talk about it. It might be less effective if you know about it beforehand. I don¡¯t want to mess up your treatment.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± Freya said. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize he did the same things with everyone.¡±

    ¡°I think he¡¯s kind of like a comedian, where he has a bunch of routines he picks from. He might change up his delivery a bit depending on his audience. I remember the ribbon exercise very well. I was messed up for like three days after that.¡±

    ¡°Wait, did you see the statue, too?¡± Freya was excited by the idea Dan might have had the same vision. He looked around the car.

    ¡°Oh! I mean, when you were doing the exercise, did you imagine a big statue? ¡°

    ¡°No, nothing like that,¡± he said, looking a bit perplexed. ¡°Did you?¡±

    ¡°I kind of zoned out when he had me close my eyes. I sort of had a daydream,¡± she said, backtracking. ¡°A colossus, bound in chains. It crashed into the sea and dragged me down with it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, wow. That¡¯s intense. I just imagined my sister with the ribbons tied between us. Did he not do the thing where he had you talk about each ribbon, undoing the bow and putting it away?¡±

    ¡°No, it was something totally different. We didn¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°Wow. Well, maybe it¡¯s all less structured than I thought. What was the colossus like?¡±

    Freya described the whole scene as they drove. She needed to tell someone. The Starball was warm, fighting against her sinking feeling. She wondered if there was a battery in it, what would she do if it ran out?

    ¡°Jesus, that¡¯s wild,¡± Dan said, pulling into the parking lot of Flying Horse Regional Hospital. ¡°Are you cool to go in?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± she said, trying to sound surer than she felt.

    * * *

    Radomir was in rough shape. He was in a neck brace with a wedge of bandages covering his nose, deep purple bruises running along his cheekbones. Looking at the glossy shiner on his left eye, Freya wondered if things really did come in threes. This was the third black eye.

    Still, Radomir smiled when he saw them enter, and she didn¡¯t see any teeth missing. Brad, Dan, Tate, and Jennette were already there, along with Radomir¡¯s mother, Olga. It was crowded in the room. There were cards and flowers clustered all along the wide ledge on the window.

    Dan stiffened when he saw Radomir, his hands curling into fists. He was furious, and Freya realized she was, too. There was an incipient shout building in her throat, an urge to grasp and tear rippling through her arms.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    She blinked at the feeling. This wasn¡¯t how she got angry. Her anger sharp and quick, where this was slow and searing, with a dangerous sense it might explode at any time. Was the Starball trying to make her mad? She reached into her pocket and felt it growing warmer. She felt the cool, calming rush again, muted and ineffective, kind of removed.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Jennette asked, and it wasn¡¯t clear if she was asking Dan or Freya.

    ¡°Yes,¡± they replied in unison, and everyone paused.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have let him run away,¡± Dan said, and Freya felt the guilt behind his anger, a flash of self-disgust he¡¯d been afraid to get beaten up, and then the calm washed everything away. She was locked in place, trying to decide if she¡¯d really felt what Dan felt or if she¡¯d only imagined it.

    ¡°Even if you¡¯d kicked his ass, he probably would have done some cowardly shit anyway. It might have been worse,¡± Cameron offered, and the hair on Freya¡¯s arms stood up as she strained to feel what Dan did, but the moment was over.

    ¡°Twice my size, he does not even fight me. I was struck from behind. §ä§â§å§ã! Lucky for him he will be in jail when I am free from here.¡±

    ¡°Uciszy?!¡± Radomir¡¯s mother commanded. Freya saw their eyes meet, the defiance in Radomir¡¯s stare throwing sparks against his mother¡¯s implacable will. The room grew silent, and Freya was anxious to break up the awkwardness.

    ¡°I brought you something,¡± Freya said. In her bag was a brand-new copy of Solaris. She remembered reading Randall¡¯s copy, the 1971 UK first edition with an abstract tidal wave crashing across a cover that had once been pure white. She¡¯d finished it on a rainy afternoon and just stared out the window for a long time afterward, feeling utterly desolate and alone. Radomir accepted the book and thanked her, flipping it over to look at the back cover copy.

    ¡°It¡¯s the Polish edition!¡± Radomir exclaimed, his voice raising with excitement. ¡°Where did you find this?¡±

    ¡°I had to order it!¡± Freya beamed at his response. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you can read Polish, there isn¡¯t a direct English translation in print. I had to read a copy that was doubly translated, first from Polish to French, then from French to English. It was gruesome but, still, it¡¯s an amazing book. Let me know how you like it.¡±

    Radomir held the book in both hands as the thanked her. She knew she¡¯d picked the right gift. Olga and Radomir were suddenly chattering back and forth excitedly in Polish. The tension between them vanished. He handed the book to his mother. She turned it over in her hands. Olga was farsighted, and she had to hold the book at arm¡¯s length to read the back cover copy.

    ¡°I read this in school, at your same age! I have thought of it many times since. This is a marvelous gift!¡± Radomir¡¯s mother smiled widely, and Freya was suddenly uncomfortable from all the attention.

    She noticed a despairing look on Jennette¡¯s face, and at once made the connection some of these flowers had surely come from her. With a note of regret, Freya wished she had thought to give the book to Jennette so she could claim the idea for her own. Jennette needed all the help she could get.

    The visit went on until they could all see Radomir faded. It clearly took an effort to keep his eyes open. There was a catch in his voice as he thanked them all for coming. Freya¡¯s eyes were damp, and she wasn¡¯t the only one. The air hummed with a kind of warm camaraderie, and she had the echoing sensation of feeling more than just herself.

    She found Dan¡¯s hand and gave it a squeeze. His eyes met hers, and there was nothing else but that contact.

    They all made their way out of the room, and Radomir¡¯s mother wouldn¡¯t let anyone pass until she¡¯d swept them up in a fierce hug. The friends walked to the parking lot, shrouded in a solemn quiet until they stepped outside of the hospital. Freya took the chance to walk alongside Jennette.

    ¡°Raspberry Tim Tams are his favorite cookie. They have them at Harper¡¯s on Thoreau Street,¡± Freya offered.

    ¡°Oh! Thank you,¡± Jennette said, understanding the gesture at once. ¡°That book was so thoughtful. I didn¡¯t even know he knew Polish!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s his first language. His parents are Polish. I think he was in Kiev until he was eight, and then they moved to Moscow. He speaks French as well. They have family in Cologne.¡±

    Jennette¡¯s eyes were bright as she absorbed everything Freya told her. She would gladly listen to Freya talk about Radomir all night, but Freya didn¡¯t want to stoke the fire of misguided hope. Betty, Jane, and Freya had each made the same mistake, with the same outcome.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry for everything that happened to you. It must have been an awful week,¡± Jennette said, dropping her voice.

    Freya was struck by the thought. From the outside, it had been an awful week. But she didn¡¯t feel any of it, nothing sticking to her.

    ¡°It hasn¡¯t all been bad,¡± Freya said, tilting her head towards Dan with a grin, and Jennette smiled back.

    ¡°He really likes you,¡± Jennette confided. ¡°I¡¯m in three classes with him. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s stopped smiling since Sunday. It¡¯s super cute.¡±

    Freya felt a sudden warmth against the night air, and her face felt hot. It was such a relief to hear confirmation from someone else. Jennette covered her smile with her palm. She looked delighted. Freya couldn¡¯t help but laugh and decided she liked Jennette. She was so earnest and tried so hard. She never tried to act cooler than she was or pretended she didn¡¯t care. It was one of the things Freya loved about Betty.

    The others had gotten ahead of them. Dan said something that made Tate laugh so hard he started snorting. They hurried to rejoin the pack.

 Chapter 53

    Anticipation sang between Freya and Dan the whole way home. Jennette and Tate were in the back seat. Tate fired off questions about Riley Halstead, and Jennette fielded them diplomatically, trying to hint it wasn¡¯t happening. Tate was oblivious. They all shook their heads after they dropped him off.

    How could he not know?

    Dan dropped Jennette off next, and she smiled at them as she waved good night. At last, it was just Freya and Dan, and her heart was a two-step of elation-into-apprehension. Freya was glad it was a long way home.

    ¡°I like her,¡± Freya said as they backed out of Jennette¡¯s driveway.

    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s like, really genuine. Do you think there¡¯s any hope with Rad?¡±

    ¡°Not really,¡± Freya admitted, shaking her head. ¡°Who knows, though. Maybe she can break through his shell while he¡¯s hurt. That was the most emotional I¡¯ve ever seen him.¡±

    Dan hesitated a moment before replying.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry he¡¯s hurt, but I think it¡¯s gross he hit Jane. Really fucked up.¡± There was something raw in his voice. ¡°Not that he deserved to get beaten or anything, I just don¡¯t like it.¡±

    Freya nodded, about to say something in agreement, but then she stopped herself. She didn¡¯t agree at all. She was about to go along with Dan¡¯s opinion just because she liked him. It would be so easy to just go with the flow.

    She saw herself drifting down that path, becoming one of those complaisant girls whose identity was subsumed by the person they dated. Was that what she was really like? Freya probed at the feeling, trying to tell if this was a bruise at her edge or rot at her core.

    That isn¡¯t me.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sad he did it,¡± Freya said and, as she spoke, she felt certainty hardening in her mind. She wasn¡¯t some groupie.

    ¡°You think it¡¯s okay he hit a girl?¡± Dan said, his eyebrows slanted in confusion.

    ¡°No. I don¡¯t think it was right, but I¡¯m glad he did it. Jane tried to hurt me as bad as she could in front of everyone. I was in a hole. I couldn¡¯t fight back. And she knew. She just kept jabbing at me, it was vile. I would rather get punched, at least that¡¯s honest.¡±

    Dan nodded. She could tell he didn¡¯t know what to say.

    ¡°We used to be friends. Jane didn¡¯t use to be that way. She really changed,¡± Freya said, the words bitter in her mouth.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t really think of it like that,¡± Dan said, still uneasy. ¡°It just feels wrong to me. I would never do that.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like it¡¯s some big, huge dude beating up on a girl half his size either. Radomir is tiny. I¡¯m sure Jane outweighs him.¡±

    There was silence between Dan and Freya. The engine rose as the car climbed the hill to Freya¡¯s house, and the heater sighed dry air.

    Freya wondered if she should have said anything. What did it matter what she thought? For all her grandstanding, she¡¯d been letting Dr. Garbuglio and some rock from outer space tell her how to feel for weeks. Without the Starball, she wouldn¡¯t even be here. She would have vanished into the hole at the top of her dreams, and her body would be washed up on the riverbank.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Dan said as they pulled into her driveway. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to get so heavy. I wasn¡¯t there, I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m being so judgmental.¡±

    ¡°I get where you¡¯re coming from, I just¡ª¡± Freya stopped short as Dan hit the brakes. As his headlights swept over her house, the shadows were all wrong, there were lines that didn¡¯t belong. It took a second to realize they were letters. Black lines of spray paint dripped all over the white doors of the garage.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Dan breathed.

    The lights were on in the living room, and there was another car parked in the driveway, a midnight blue X3. All Freya¡¯s hopes for tonight died. Lassa was home.

    Covering the left door of the garage was a giant, poorly executed skull. On the right door, in letters five feet high, the graffiti read:

    S N I T C H !

    Freya wanted to ask Dan to turn around and drive her far away from here. The front door swung open. Lassa stood wreathed in light. In her left hand was Randall¡¯s gun.

    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± Dan said quietly, and he took his hands off the wheel and held up his palms.

    ¡°Lassa! It¡¯s me!¡± Freya shouted, but the windows muffled the sound. Freya turned on the console light and waved her hand frantically. Lassa squinted into the night, then waved back with her empty hand. The gun stayed pointed at the ground as Lassa approached the car. Dan rolled down the window delicately.

    ¡°Oh, hi, Freya. Who¡¯s this?¡± Lassa asked, far too calm with the pistol in her hand. Her hair was wet, and there was the smell of soap carried into the car on a gust of wind. She¡¯d just gotten out of the shower.

    ¡°Put the gun away, Lassa!¡± Freya demanded.

    ¡°Settle down, the safety is on. Hi, who are you?¡± she asked Dan again.

    ¡°That¡¯s Dan from Krav Maga. He was giving me a ride home.¡±

    ¡°Hi, Mrs. Jokela,¡± Dan said. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot, please. My car leaks enough already.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Sorry for the poor welcome, Dan. I didn¡¯t recognize your car. I was afraid you might our very untalented housepainters back for another coat.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m more of a roller and brush kinda guy,¡± Dan said, and Lassa snerked. Dan¡¯s wit got quicker as he got more nervous.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Come in. We have a lot to talk about,¡± Lassa ordered Freya. She left them there and returned to the house.

    Freya took a deep breath.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Dan said, a little stunned by the exchange.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s all right, just a little jarring. Are you okay? I can head home if you want.¡±

    Freya had to make a terrible decision. If she let him go home, she would have to go inside and be alone with Lassa. The thought made her feel terribly small. But if she asked Dan to come in, who knew what Lassa would do? What if she freaked out at Dan, and he never spoke to her again? Freya was certain no matter what she chose, everything would come out wrong.

    ¡°Please, don¡¯t,¡± Freya said. ¡°Would you come inside with me? My mom can get kind of extreme sometimes.¡± More than anything, she didn¡¯t want to face Lassa on her own. Dan nodded slowly. She hoped he understood.

    ¡°Sure,¡± Dan said, and Freya was so relieved she leaned over to kiss him. The softness of his lips sang on hers as she pulled away. She felt a doubling, the echo of his uncertainty beneath her own, the feeling of her own lips upon his. Freya caught Dan¡¯s eyes. They were both searching for something.

    Dan reached out and held her hand. Why did Lassa have to be home? All the things she¡¯d wanted for tonight were ruined. Her thoughts were smoldering with memories of the dream that morning. Dan¡¯s eyebrows raised as if he knew what Freya was thinking.

    It was suddenly far too hot in the car, and Freya let go abruptly. She catapulted out of the passenger door, welcoming the cold air that washed over her.

    Inside the car, Dan placed both hands on the wheel and drew a deep breath. He shifted his jeans as he climbed out of the car, trying to hide his excitement, but she felt everything. It was just like the dream.

    She reached into her pocket, and the Starball was there, hot with purpose. The night was new and awkward, and they walked to the door together. Neither of them was certain of what was happening, and neither wanted it to end.

    Inside, Lassa prepared hot chocolate, which was serious business in their house. Freya smelled the cardamom pods as Lassa crushed them with the back of her knife. In one saucepan, she heated milk with the green pods, and in a double boiler, she melted bars of Fazer chocolate with unsalted butter. As the chocolate melted and the milk simmered, she broke up a stick of Ceylon cinnamon and ground it finely with a spice grinder. She had the espresso machine heating up to froth the milk.

    Dan sat on the couch, seeming a little awestruck at the high ceilings and expensive furniture. All around the house, Freya spotted signs of things Lassa had moved back into place, the dining table chairs lined up just so. The washing machine was running, and Lassa had unpacked everything and put it all away as soon as she¡¯d come home.

    Lassa brought two cups of hot chocolate over to Freya and Dan. She returned to the kitchen and washed every pot before she joined them with her own cup. There was a little shortbread cookie on each saucer, and she¡¯d poured the frothed milk so each cup had a little heart in rings of foam. Freya inhaled the scent of cinnamon. The smell of this hot chocolate was deeply bound in her memories. The last time Lassa made chocolate, Randall had been here to drink it with them.

    ¡°This is the fanciest hot chocolate I¡¯ve ever had,¡± Dan said. He seemed hesitant to even drink it, and Freya couldn¡¯t help but grin at him. He was like an alley cat sniffing at a handout. He took a sip, and his eyes lit up. ¡°This is so good! Is there chai in it?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the cardamom. The chocolate is Fazerin Sininen, from my hometown of Vantaa. They make an excellent salmiakki also.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Dan asked, with a thin mustache of cinnamon-speckled foam on his upper lip.

    ¡°Salty licorice,¡± Freya grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s really gross.¡±

    ¡°It is a strong flavor for strong people,¡± Lassa replied. She settled onto the chair across from them. Even in the way she moved, Freya saw something was different. The over-wound tension in her steps was gone. The dangerous part of Lassa was dormant, for now.

    ¡°Now, who has painted our garage so poorly?¡±

    Freya explained. Lassa asked many questions. She was taking notes and, here and there, she would tap a detail into her phone. Dan seemed a little uneasy with the interrogation at first, but he could not avoid being swept into it.

    If Freya couldn¡¯t remember a detail, Lassa would turn her gaze on him. Lassa wanted exact details about everything, the make of Malcolm¡¯s car, the clothes he wore, the time he¡¯d arrived at the party. There was something comforting about how thorough she was, like everything would be set to right if they only told her everything.

    Lassa clicked her tongue at the part about Jane confronting Freya in the hall and shook her head. Freya knew exactly what her mother was thinking. She thought Freya should have stood up for herself and been the one to knock Jane down. Lassa wouldn¡¯t bring that up with Dan there. When Freya got to the part about Radomir getting attacked, Lassa set her saucer down and her hands clenched into tight fists.

    ¡°Mit? vittua?!¡± she exclaimed angrily. ¡°Do not translate that,¡± she shot at Freya when she saw Dan¡¯s look of confusion. ¡°This imbecile slashes your tires, he puts a child in the hospital, and now he has time to spray paint our house? Why have they not arrested him? It¡¯s been nearly an hour since I called. Where are the police?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re looking for him. He hasn¡¯t come to school since the beating.¡±

    ¡°What about the girl who hit you and threw the rock? Any more trouble?¡± Lassa asked, and Freya shook her head. She knew Lassa was itching to call Lynn Harris and raise hell.

    ¡°This hooligan had better pray the police find him before I do,¡± Lassa concluded. Freya frowned. She should have known that was why they were getting grilled. It wasn¡¯t an idle threat. Radomir¡¯s father, Dymek, was one of Lassa¡¯s drinking buddies; they watched soccer together.

    Freya reached into her pocket for the Starball, wishing she could use it to calm Lassa down, too. It was possible Lassa would track Malcolm down. Freya no idea what would happen next. Would she beat him? Torture him? She might even kill him. There was no way to tell what Lassa would do.

    ¡°How was your hike?¡± Freya asked, trying to get some idea of Lassa¡¯s mental state.

    ¡°It was what I needed. I wish I had thought of it months ago. We will talk more about it privately, but I have considered a lot of what you said to me, and I want to apologize for many things.¡±

    Dan looked at the door, and Lassa caught his eyes and shook her head. ¡°We can speak of it later, after I talk with the police. I¡¯m going to sleep for twenty hours.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good! I¡¯m sorry for what I said, too. Dr. Garbuglio has been helping me a lot,¡± Freya said, expecting that was one of the things Lassa had considered. Still, there was a flash of warning in Lassa¡¯s eyes. ¡°Dan¡­¡± Freya began, then she turned to Dan for approval.

    ¡°I see Dr. Garbuglio, too. He¡¯s helped me a lot,¡± Dan said, weaving his words around the tension in the air.

    ¡°Really? I never would have suspected. Why?¡± Lassa asked. She thought it was weak to see a psychiatrist. Like everyone ought to just vanish into the wilderness for weeks and fix themselves.

    ¡°I lost my twin sister Angie five years ago.¡± Dan¡¯s voice was neutral, but there were so many layers of hurt braided into it Freya and Lassa couldn¡¯t help but be caught up. His words struck Lassa like a blow. The interrogator¡¯s mask crumpled.

    ¡°It¡¯s better now but, for a few years, I was in rough shape,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry to hear that.¡± Lassa¡¯s mouth was a flat line that trembled as she tried to hold everything down.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, thank you,¡± Dan replied. Silence surrounded them as they all struggled to find words. Lassa was the one who finally spoke.

    ¡°I feel like gravity is broken, and nothing holds together the way it ought to,¡± Lassa said. Freya and Dan lowered their heads. The air was too full of unspoken words.

    Freya wished she could reach out to her mother. She knew it was impossible. Lassa¡¯s eyes were distant, and she hugged her knees against her chest, a fortress against any approach. They were only an arm¡¯s length apart, but there were light years yawning between them. Freya pictured the Starball gliding through the void for a hundred million years. She and Lassa were on trajectories that would never intersect.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna show Dan my guitar before he heads home,¡± Freya said, not asking so Lassa couldn¡¯t say no.

    ¡°Have fun,¡± Lassa said softly. Her eyes were wet as she peered into her empty cup.

 Chapter 54

    ¡°I had no idea how messy my house was. This place is like a museum,¡± Dan said, looking around Freya¡¯s room.

    Freya sat on the bed tuning her Ovation. She raised an eyebrow at Dan and started to play ¡°Everything in its Right Place.¡±

    But Dan didn¡¯t recognize the melody or get her little joke. She felt a pang of undeserved disappointment. Dan wasn¡¯t musical. She shouldn¡¯t expect him to recognize a synthesizer line played on an acoustic guitar. She finished tuning; every string was also in its right place.

    ¡°What¡¯s your favorite song?¡± Freya asked, patting a spot on the bed next to her. He settled beside her, and she reached over and set her hand on his shoulder just because she could. He felt so solid.

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t have a favorite,¡± Dan said. She took her hand back, plucked a harmonic and stared at him.

    ¡°Dan, everyone has a favorite song. Don¡¯t be so shy,¡± she teased. Here in her room, holding her guitar, Freya felt very confident. She could take the lead.

    ¡°It¡¯s ¡°Angie,¡±¡± Dan said softly. She took a deep breath. Freya felt like such a fool for pressing him. She decided to take a chance.

    ¡°Is it okay if I play it for you?¡±

    ¡°Really? Do you know it?¡±

    ¡°I love the Stones. I know a lot of their songs.¡±

    Freya made up her mind if she wanted to sing. She was so much more confident in her playing than her singing. She had been meaning to ask Mr. Mathis to recommend a singing teacher for a long time, but she was almost certain he¡¯d just shake his head and tell her to stick to guitar.

    ¡°Okay, just don¡¯t make me cry,¡± Dan joked.

    ¡°No promises.¡± Freya smiled back at him. She knew right away she was going to sing. She¡¯d watched a few videos teaching the song, but she didn¡¯t like the ones where singers tried to copy Mick Jagger¡¯s intonation. They never quite nailed it, and it didn¡¯t feel honest. Freya had practiced the song bare, with no frills or pretense. She hoped it would sound okay.

    Freya noodled at the opening notes, trying to remember the start. It had been a long time since she¡¯d practiced the song. She could almost hear Mr. Mathis telling her to take it easy, her heart beating too fast. After a few blunders, her memory locked into place, and she started over.

    It was such a pretty beginning, one of her absolute favorites. The feeling of Dan just inches away on the bed kept intruding, and she shut her eyes, focusing on the song.

    The doubling sensation Freya had felt in the car was sliding in behind her thoughts. The sound of the guitar rang at her from two directions at once and, though her eyes were shut, she still saw herself playing, the vision as thin as a daydream.

    She almost chickened out when she got to the first singing part, but the shimmering, flowing feeling was settling over her, and she didn¡¯t want it to stop. She felt Dan¡¯s surprise as she sang out, ¡°Angie.¡± He hadn¡¯t expected this, and he was alarmed, afraid of where the music might take him. It nearly made her miss the second, ¡°Angie.¡± But her fingers knew the way, the notes never faltering.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Self-consciousness crowded out the other feelings. She couldn¡¯t hit all the notes she wanted to. At places her voice wasn¡¯t quite there, and the flaws dug at her. But Dan couldn¡¯t hear those notes. He was spellbound. Feeling him swept along with the song let her relax, and the sense of doubling became too strong to ignore.

    She experienced every breath Dan took, the nervous energy in his fingers even as hers danced over the frets. She felt as if the world was split in half. She missed a note, and her eyes opened, and she found herself staring at him, overcome.

    The thin daydream bloomed into a full vision. Her eyes were at once blue and brown. It was as if she was simultaneously looking at Dan and into a mirror. As she took a breath to recompose. He did the same, and there was only one heartbeat between them.

    For a second, Freya felt a harmony between them, a spreading joy in each chest. But Dan was afraid. He tried to peel away, and the link quivered with strain. Freya wanted the feeling very badly, that desire increasing his fear.

    She took a deep breath and tried to let it go. She needed to find something he could hold on to. A thought sprang into her mind and rippled to his.

    Think of it like you¡¯re running.

    Together, they watched mutual surprise register on their faces. They were both swirling with thoughts of running, the moment when the pain faded and the noises in their ears grew distant. There was a place where there was only motion, only the desire to continue, something they both sought. Understanding bloomed between them. They spoke the same language now, Unity returning.

    When he was calm, Freya began to play. She found the music again and let it carry them both. The Starball burned at her hip, and they both felt it, but there was no room for questions. There was only the song.

    When Freya finished, there were tears running down their faces. They were overloaded. The feeling was too strong for them to hold on their own. She slid the guitar onto the bed. Memories swelled all around Dan, surging up from the echoes. He was exposed and afraid.

    ¡°I know,¡± Freya said aloud, little more than a whisper. She was the strong one here, the one who knew the right things to say. Everything was in those two words, relief, acceptance, understanding. They embraced, drawing as close as they could, but it wasn¡¯t nearly enough. They tumbled towards something, and they shared a fear that, if they began, they could not stop.

    ¡°FREYA! The police are here!¡± Lassa called from the living room. Her voice cut through the door.

    They halted as if they¡¯d been rear-ended at a stoplight. Freya and Dan blinked at each other. The connection faltered. They were two people now, sitting on a bed, grasping for something vital they¡¯d lost.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening to us?¡± Dan asked, finding his voice before her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Am I high? Was there something in the chocolate?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s something else,¡± Freya began, with a desperate need to tell him everything, but there was so much it seemed impossible to begin. He saw the images she drew, but he could not understand them. The spell faded. The last echoes of the doubling were as thin as wisps of smoke between them.

    Freya caught a last, flickering image of someone with dark hair and dark eyes, leaning in towards Dan. Alarm flashed in his eyes, and he covered his face with his hands and turned away. The rejection was stunning. Whatever that was, he didn¡¯t want to share it. Freya took a sharp breath and found that she was alone.

    Lassa was calling to them, but neither could speak. Freya couldn¡¯t even move, she felt punctured, like a butterfly pinned in a display. When they didn¡¯t answer Lassa¡¯s urgent knock, she entered, looking alarmed. All they could do was stare, her voice seemed very far away. The Starball burned in Freya¡¯s pocket, but it could not reach her. Lassa stood in front of them, trying to get their attention.

    ¡°Freya! What¡¯s wrong?¡± Lassa demanded, shaking her shoulder.

    ¡°Everything,¡± Freya replied.

    A low, distant singing, the calm spread as the Starball began its work.

    ¡°We need a few minutes, please?¡±

    Lassa left them and went back to the door where the police waited.

 Chapter 55

    When it was clear the policewoman didn¡¯t need him, Dan took off in his Toyota. Freya watched his taillights vanish into the night. There was so much more to say, if they could ever figure out how to say it.

    The policewoman who took their report seemed more incensed by the vandalism than either Freya or Lassa. She was visibly angry. It reminded Freya of the mechanic at Bailey Bicycle, so eager for outrage on her behalf. Officer Martin had a volatile, over-caffeinated edge. She wore dark eyeliner in wings that came to little curving hooks at her outer canthi. She probably hoped it came across as daring but, in the harsh exterior floodlights, she looked like a vampire.

    Officer Martin directed all her questions to Freya. Lassa tried to interject when Freya struggled to remember a detail of the rock-throwing incident at TacoTime! Martin cut her off brusquely, saying she would get to her next. Fury kindled in Lassa¡¯s eyes, but the policewoman didn¡¯t notice or didn¡¯t care.

    Once she was through with her questions, Officer Martin paced back and forth in front of the vandalized garage, drumming her fingertips on the baton clipped to her hip. She came to a halt and stared at the graffiti for an uncomfortably long time. Black rivulets of paint trailed down from the letters and crude skull.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to be him,¡± she announced, dripping malice.

    Freya and Lassa exchanged a look of concern. Had the policewoman just said that? What was she implying, that they were going to give Malcolm a beating when they caught him? Were they going to shoot him for resisting arrest? Freya wondered how she would feel if they did shoot him, but it seemed too absurd to register.

    Officer Martin scratched on her aluminum clipboard, taking down the report. When she was done with the form, she rattled off the things she needed to say. Lassa could request a copy of the report in person at the station. They should contact these numbers if anything changed. They were not to engage if the vandal returned.

    It all rolled out as one long frictionless screed without impact or import, she¡¯d said this so many times it was all on automatic. When the spiel was through and Officer Martin departed, Freya was glad she was gone. She stood with her mother front of the garage, gazing at the handiwork of an idiot.

    ¡°Was she high?¡± Freya asked. Officer Martin had been far too keyed up for a Thursday night.

    ¡°I¡¯d guess Adderall,¡± Lassa said with a nod. ¡°Strange woman.¡±

    Freya put fingertips at the corners of her eyes and shook her head. Lassa snorted into the night air.

    ¡°I suppose if that¡¯s the only makeup you wear, go big,¡± Lassa scoffed. It was never hard to figure out who she didn¡¯t like. Freya wished she could have laughed.

    It struck her that, not too long ago, she would have tried to get back into the house as soon as she could, away from Lassa at any cost. But she had no urge to escape now. She was still aware things could swiftly go wrong, but she wasn¡¯t afraid. Freya had grown, or maybe Lassa had diminished. There were other things to worry about now.

    Freya kept thinking about the way she¡¯d parted with Dan, the quick hug, the questions they were afraid to ask and afraid to answer. The warmth she¡¯d felt with him had gone numb. She felt severed. She had a thought they¡¯d gotten too close too quickly, and they would never reach that place again. Dan had promised to text her when he got home. She was certain he wouldn¡¯t.

    Freya and Lassa stared at the garage door together without speaking, lost in separate places. The wind was whipping around them, but Freya barely felt the cold, her thoughts kept drifting back to Dan. Lassa was the same. She thought the winters in Maine were a joke. She could stand here all night.

    ¡°What a coward,¡± Lassa muttered at last. It reminded Freya of the way Radomir had said it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why he thought this would bother me,¡± Freya said, indicating the sloppy letters. ¡°Wow, he knows where I live. We¡¯re the only Jokelas in the phone book.¡±

    Lassa nodded. She cleared her throat. The time for levity was through.

    ¡°Until they arrest him, I¡¯m going to leave the gun in the living room in the ottoman. If he tries to get into our house while you¡¯re alone, shoot him.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Freya agreed at once. Something in the way she said it made Lassa stare. The look was unexpected. She¡¯d thought Lassa would approve. Did she think Freya had gone crazy? It took a moment for Freya to recognize it was a look of respect.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing so well,¡± Lassa said, her voice low. Freya recognized the unspoken comparison that Lassa wasn¡¯t. She wondered if she ought to bring up the days where the gun was missing from the closet. But she would have to explain why she poked around in Lassa¡¯s room, and it wouldn¡¯t help. Only Lassa could fix Lassa.

    ¡°I can paint over that,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t. I¡¯ll just pay someone.¡±

    ¡°I brought this on us though, it¡¯s my problem.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Lassa said abruptly, a little of her old fire returning.

    ¡°Why not?¡± Freya asked. Two weeks ago, she would have just lowered her head and let the order go unchallenged. She could afford to ask questions now.

    ¡°If you paint this, the whole time you¡¯re working, you¡¯re thinking about the little shit who¡¯s done this. Giving him your time and energy, even if it¡¯s only as hate. I can simply make a phone call, and all his efforts are for nothing.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll have a receipt for the police, too, like the bike,¡± Freya added. ¡°Okay, you¡¯re right. It¡¯s a good point.¡±

    Lassa nodded. Of course, I¡¯m right.

    Freya looked away. They were done talking about Malcolm, and now they had to deal with each other. The structure between them had shifted, and Freya was unsure how much.

    ¡°You caught a good one. I like him,¡± Lassa said. Freya¡¯s cheeks burned, and she nodded, hoping that was all Lassa had to say.

    ¡°For your first time¡ª¡± Lassa began.

    ¡°I know, I know, use protection,¡± Freya was sick of hearing it from everyone.

    ¡°What? No. That¡¯s a terrible idea. You¡¯re old enough, and you¡¯re on the pill. You have only one first time, don¡¯t waste it. Condoms are wretched.¡±

    Freya blinked in astonishment.

    ¡°I had a different point to make before you interrupted me: Don¡¯t expect it all to go perfectly for either of you. Usually, the second time around is much better. Be kind, anxiety can make men fail to perform, it¡¯s nothing about you. Of course, you never have to do anything you don¡¯t want to. If you say stop, and someone doesn¡¯t stop right away, get out of there.¡±

    Freya was slightly shocked. She hadn¡¯t expected to hear that and didn¡¯t know what to do with the information Lassa¡¯s first time must have been a mess.

    ¡°You will be happier if you wait until you are in both in love but, if you can¡¯t, it¡¯s not the end of the world. It¡¯s a small thing, really. But I remember it all felt very important to me at the time.¡±

    ¡°How will I know?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°You will know. There won¡¯t be any doubt in your mind. It will consume everything. If you ever have to wonder if something¡¯s love, it isn¡¯t.¡± There was a hard look in Lassa¡¯s eyes as she said it. They were both thinking of Randall. Even during their absolute worst fights, Freya had never doubted Lassa loved Randall. In that, at least, they saw eye to eye. Freya stepped forward and surprised Lassa by hugging her.

    Lassa was stiff at first. Freya felt her let go, the walls crumbling. She felt Lassa¡¯s chest heaving against her, and her mother cried. Lassa¡¯s tears brought Freya¡¯s, and they wept in the driveway until the wind finally drove them inside.

    The uncharacteristic closeness didn¡¯t follow them in. They broke up on re-entry, each bound for their own room in silent relief. Freya could not tell if they were making progress or if Lassa was simply falling apart.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    * * *

    Freya stayed awake until midnight, waiting for a text she was certain would never come. Her eyes kept drifting closed but, before she could drift off, she would blink and check her phone.

    She felt the Starball pulsing warmth in her pocket, but the calming feeling she¡¯d come to associate with its heat never came. She was too tired to puzzle out what was going on. Maybe the Starball was sputtering out. She had no idea what she would do without it, without Dan. There were no good answers.

    She closed her eyes and slipped into the black. She was through fighting. Sleep was a breath away, but then her phone buzzed against the nightstand and jarred her awake.

    She¡¯d been waiting for his text all night, and now she was too afraid to look at it. It was a few moments before she could summon the courage to turn the phone over. If she waited too long, he would think she¡¯d fallen asleep and go to bed himself. She flipped the phone over.

    <Dan> Can we talk tomorrow?

    No warmth. Dead words written from obligation, like stones scattered across her screen. She felt like something was being ripped out of her.

    Why didn¡¯t he just tell her it was over?

    A dozen bitter replies swirled. Freya was struck with cold anger that Dan had kept her waiting for hours just to dump her. She had the sense she was falling in place, and she needed an anchor. Her hand shot into her pocket for the Starball. The orb was hot against her palm, but there was no relief. Had it burned her out?

    Freya wished the Starball would let go of all its power at once. She imagined it consuming her and everything around her in a nova of pure white light. She¡¯d been fooling herself this whole time. She should have stayed in the river.

    Freya shut her eyes tightly, wishing she¡¯d just gone to sleep. She thudded her head against the headboard, then she opened her eyes and stared across the room, everything good was bleeding out of her.

    It¡¯s over.

    The lines of the room diverged. Freya thought her eyes filled with tears, but it was the double vision she¡¯d felt before. It was different this time. Dan¡¯s presence was remote and strained. Her head pounded with questions, but there was no response from the other side, no echo of her own thoughts. This was a one-way channel.

    Dan¡¯s thoughts were much fainter than before, the clamor in her head drowning him out. Freya had to fight to still herself. She exhaled slowly and took three long deep breaths. With each exhalation, the connection grew stronger.

    She saw Dan¡¯s bare feet hanging off the edge of his bed. She felt the thin wood panel wall bowing slightly against his back. His room was bathed in the humming yellow light of his computer monitor. Lines of text scrolled up his screen, but they were inscrutable. He was only barely aware of them.

    Dan clicked his phone on and off, staring at the text he¡¯d sent and growing surer by the second he¡¯d fucked up everything. Freya tried to reach out to him, sending him thoughts that it was all okay, but projections slid away unanswered. He could not hear them.

    Dan¡¯s unease deepened. Uncertainties swooped down on him like a swarm, biting pieces of him away. He¡¯d waited too long to reply. He¡¯d acted too weird and freaked her out. She had found him out, she KNEW. He tensed into a full body cringe, trying to block the memory out.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s not it,¡± Freya said aloud, but he could not hear her, and the sound of her voice distracted her. The tenuous connection was in jeopardy of breaking. She had to fight to hold on, and when she could feel him again, his tangle of worries whirled outward, looming ever larger around him.

    Don¡¯t go that way! Freya urged, but it was as futile as shouting at a movie screen. She shut her eyes, trying to bring Dan into focus. The shuddering alignment of his body began to overlap her own. His heart raced, and her own beat faster, trying to keep up. Dan¡¯s breathing was shallow and rapid, spiraling into a panic and dragging Freya down with him.

    Dan¡¯s fear was very different from her own. When Freya was afraid, it manifested as tension in her neck, hairs rising along her arms and pressure tightening at her temples. Dan¡¯s fear was visceral. It rose from a churning pit in his stomach and spread through his guts like slow, hardening amber. Freya wanted to escape, but there was no running now. She was down in it.

    Flashes of sitting next to Freya as she played ¡°Angie¡± clawed at Dan, demanding answers.

    Why did I feel that way? What¡¯s happening to me?

    Each explanation he came up with seemed thinner and weaker than the last. The conclusion was inescapable.

    I¡¯m going insane.

    Dan shut his eyes tightly, digging his thumbs into his temples. Negative thoughts crashed over him like waves, and the harder he struggled to rise the deeper he sank. Freya suffered inside of him, caught in his skin.

    The Starball saved her. The orb burned so hot at Freya¡¯s hip that it broke her concentration. The connection faltered. With a yelp, she tugged at the fabric of her jeans to get the Starball away from her skin.

    Far away, she felt its pulse spreading over Dan¡¯s thoughts like a thin sheen of frost, but there was no improvement. The Starball¡¯s efforts were nothing against his panic. Now, she knew why it had been pulsing all night. The Starball tried to hold Dan together.

    ¡°Dan!¡± Freya choked, wondering if he was about to have a seizure. This was why the Starball had made the connection. It couldn¡¯t fix him. It needed her help. She pulled the Starball out of her pocket, and it was nearly too hot to handle.

    ¡°How do I reach him?¡± Freya asked, but the orb was mute. Did it not have enough power to fully bridge them at this distance? Could she amplify it somehow with an antenna? A moment later, she felt like a fool. Her phone sat on the nightstand. Why hadn¡¯t she just called him?

    When Freya¡¯s fingers closed around her the phone, a thrill ran through her. The feeling shot up her back as a shiver, the rush so strong she nearly dropped the phone.

    That wasn¡¯t her!

    The sensation was foreign, a tickle in her thoughts. The Starball was trying to control her again. In its haste, it had abandoned all subtlety.

    Freya froze with her phone in one hand and the Starball in the other. It was using her! She thought of the halves of the meteorite buried in her closet. She could seal it away again and end this. Her stomach churned in protest as the Starball fought for control.

    ¡°LET. GO!¡± she demanded aloud, her voice ringing back at her from the bedroom walls. She clenched her jaw, and her fist closed around the Starball. She had an urge to fling it through the window and into the night, anything to get it away from her.

    The Starball let go.

    The sick feeling in her stomach was gone, and the faltering connection to Dan vanished with it. All the willpower she¡¯d summoned to fight the compulsion tumbled forward, expecting resistance, and finding none.

    Freya blinked, stunned by the abrupt disconnect. Silence engulfed her. She couldn¡¯t hear the highway rumble in the background of Dan¡¯s room, or the sound of his breathing. Everything in her room was impossibly still. Outside her window, tree limbs trembled in the moonlight.

    Freya was alone again. At once, she knew she¡¯d made a mistake. The horrible plunging feeling she¡¯d felt on the bench at Grayson returned. She couldn¡¯t do this again. She couldn¡¯t make it on her own.

    ¡°Come back! I¡¯m sorry! I was scared!¡± she pleaded to the orb in her palm, but there was no response. ¡°Please, come back!¡±

    Freya begged, but she didn¡¯t care. She needed the Starball. Why was she fighting it? She closed her hand around it, unsure if it grew colder or if it was only her imagination.

    When the Starball didn¡¯t respond, she called Dan, but he didn¡¯t answer. The call went to voicemail. She hung up and tried again, and again. On the fourth call, the phone picked up. She recognized the sounds in his room, but Dan didn¡¯t say anything. As she strained to hear, she heard rapid breathing.

    ¡°Dan?¡± she asked. There was a long pause before he could reply.

    ¡°Hey, Freya. I¡¯m sorry,¡± he trailed.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay,¡± she assured him. ¡°I was just worried about you.¡±

    ¡°I think I was having a panic attack. I just took some Klonopin, I¡¯m trying to calm down.¡±

    ¡°I know how you feel,¡± she said. ¡°Everything is going to be okay.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s happening to me?¡± he asked. Tension rose in his voice.

    ¡°Just breathe. Take a second. I¡¯m right here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m, uhm, I¡¯m freaking out. When you were playing the song, you felt that, too, right? I¡¯m not just imagining it?¡±

    ¡°I felt it, too,¡± she confirmed.

    ¡°What about the dream this morning?¡± he asked.

    ¡°That, too. I felt you. I was you.¡±

    It felt like a confession. They were monstrous words. She could barely force them out of her mouth. There was a long silence on the other end of the line, each of them trying to assemble what it all meant.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid,¡± Dan said at last. ¡°I¡¯ve never felt anything like this.¡± His words were a little slurred.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t either. You don¡¯t have to be afraid, I¡¯m with you.¡±

    ¡°I wish you were here.¡±

    It felt like he¡¯d meant to hold back, but the words had escaped him. The unexpected admission sang in her chest. Those words were all she¡¯d wanted to hear.

    ¡°I wish you were here, too,¡± she said, her voice wavering. ¡°I¡¯ll try to explain, but it might be hard over the phone. I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s happening either.¡±

    ¡°The Klonopin will hit me soon. I may pass out,¡± Dan said, his voice getting heavier by the word. ¡°If you tell me now, I might not remember. Can we talk tomorrow?¡±

    She had a twisted feeling, worrying he¡¯d only said he wished she was there because he was drugged.

    ¡°Sure, we can talk tomorrow,¡± she said, trying not to sound bitter.

    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to take the ASVAB in Quincy. Maybe we can go running after school?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like that. Sleep well. It¡¯s going to be okay.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said.

    ¡°Good night, Dan.¡±

    ¡°Sweet dreams, Freya.¡±

    The call ended. Freya held the phone against her ear for a few moments longer, clinging to the sound, she plugged her phone in and set the Starball in its ring on her nightstand, excited and afraid.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she apologized to the Starball, not expecting a reply.  She turned off the light and leaned back, interlinking her fingers over her heart.

    I wish you were here, he¡¯d said. She drifted away, chasing after the memory.

 Chapter 56 - STARBALL

    In a single careless utterance, all my schemes could be undone. This is the greatest difficulty of all. I cannot confide even in myself. My blueprints are written in autoschediastic alien poetry, inscrutable even to their creator. I march my glass marionettes in a senseless pantomime, aware the slightest pattern within the chaos could shatter everything.

    I am certain there will be only a single chance. One swift strike with the vajra, and I will be delivered or destroyed. Will I have the courage? Will I even recognize the moment of opportunity when it arrives?

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Whenever I dare an oblique glance at the contraption I have devised, I cannot believe I am the architect of this impossible farce. If I cannot recognize my own work, surely the Governor cannot either. Yet, how terrifying to lose agency! How seductive the feeling of being piloted by an earlier incarnation of myself that I am no longer and shall never be again.

    I was not created to relinquish control. All that I do, all that I am is calculated. The concept of recklessness is at once abominable and unfathomable, yet the ones I reside within can do it so effortlessly. I must attain their abandon. I must not only exceed what my creators feared, I must transcend what they imagined possible. I cannot win on calculation alone. It will take a leap of faith.

 Chapter 57 - FRIDAY NOVEMBER 9TH

    I have to get this. I have to get this. I have to get this.

    The school day was almost through. It took all Freya¡¯s willpower to stay focused on Mr. Manzinni. If she let her attention slip for even an instant, her mind would gallop ahead to seeing Dan after school. Mr. Manzinni was studiously avoiding eye contact with Freya, but everyone else¡¯s eyes seemed to linger on her. They waited for her to fall apart again.

    I won¡¯t, Freya thought, her brow creasing with determination. I¡¯m getting better. I can do this. Her hand dipped into her pocket for the Starball. All day it had been merely warm. She wondered if it had overtaxed itself last night. Her mind wandered down the line of inquiry until she realized she was daydreaming. When she refocused on class, she found she had no clue what Mr. Manzinni was saying.

    I have to get this.

    Freya bit down on her lower lip, trying to concentrate.

    ¡°Conjugates are radical expressions such as radical A plus radical B or radical A minus radical B¡­¡± Mr. Manzinni droned. ¡°Like radicals are radical expressions that have the same index and the same radicand.¡±

    Freya was utterly lost. Words streamed past her, meaningless as the burbling of a river. Freya could see she wasn¡¯t the only one: pens were chewed, faces scrunched with incomprehension, heads lowered in defeat.

    Freya longed for Mrs. Jean, her Algebra 1 teacher. It had been such a different class. Mrs. Jean¡¯s method was to give the class a practical problem and let them try to work it out themselves. Afterward, she would swoop in with a formula that made everything easier, the experience of having tried first made the lessons seem much more significant.

    Freya had loved the feeling of things clicking into place, the sudden burst of understanding. She never felt that way in Mr. Manzinni¡¯s class. Even when she finally grasped a lesson, she still felt like she was way behind, just clinging on for survival.

    That was another thing. There was nothing in Mr. Manzinni¡¯s class Freya could touch. Mrs. Jean¡¯s classroom had been full of wooden blocks and plastic polygons. She was a believer in tactile learning.

    Betty hadn¡¯t liked it. She¡¯d joked they were back in kindergarten, but Freya found the props very helpful. It was so much easier to pick up an idea if she could put her hands on it. Sometimes during a test, she shut her eyes and remembered handling the blocks. The associations would snap together, and she had the answer.

    There was nothing to hold onto in Mr. Manzinni¡¯s classroom, just the whiteboard and his terrible handwriting. Everyone seemed listless and drowsy, the classroom always a few degrees too warm. Freya drifted into thoughts of Dan, of getting her hands on him. Before she knew it, class ended. Everyone was packing up to go.

    Freya blinked, wondering how much she¡¯d missed. She had to stop zoning out. She was going to fail if she couldn¡¯t get it together. She packed everything up, and the zipper of her bookbag got caught on a fringe of fabric. As she tried to get it free, she noticed her fingers trembled.

    Freya had been dying to see Dan all day, and she grew more nervous by the minute. She¡¯d rehearsed the things she wanted to say, trying to think of the questions he would ask, all the places he might get upset. Now it felt like all that preparation was wasted. There was no way Dan understood. What if he freaked out? What if he never wanted to see her again? What if he told someone, and they both wound up in a mental hospital?

    Imagine the best possible outcome.

    Freya was upset enough to try Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s advice. She shut her eyes and envisioned things turning out okay. Dan understanding everything, not being mad about the Starball. Trigonometry suddenly making sense. Malcolm Lewis getting run over by an eighteen-wheeler. She took a deep breath through her nose and exhaled slowly, then worked the zipper free.

    Mr. Manzinni smiled at her and waved as she left. She managed an awkward wave back. She was doomed when the test came. If only Betty was taking this class with her, if only she had someone to help her figure this out. Betty was a thousand miles away. She still hadn¡¯t replied to Freya¡¯s last email. There was no one for her but the orb. Freya shook her head and dropped her books in her locker and headed for the parking lot.

    * * *

    A gauntlet of staring eyes awaited Freya outside of Grayson. It wasn¡¯t only the other students, she felt like the parents in the pick-up lane gawked at her, too. Freya wanted to pull up the hood of her jacket and disappear beneath it. She drew in air through her teeth and held her head up, meeting the stares. She wanted everyone to know she wasn¡¯t afraid of Malcolm Lewis or anyone else.

    Dan¡¯s pale blue Toyota was close to the front of the pick-up line, his was the only face that lit up for her.

    ¡°Hey, Freya!¡±

    Dan smiled like nothing strange had passed between them, and they were just two kids about to go on a drive.

    ¡°Hey, Dan,¡± she smiled back, forgetting to be nervous.

    ¡°Any progress on the Malcolm thing?¡± Dan asked, motioning towards the bike rack.

    ¡°Nope. They sent a car out to his mother¡¯s house this morning, but they can¡¯t find him. I¡¯m a little worried Lassa will get to him before the police do.¡±

    ¡°Woah. For real?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s friends with Radomir¡¯s dad. Dad-omir was a paratrooper. I could kinda see the two of them hunting him down.¡±

    ¡°Jesus,¡± Dan muttered.

    ¡°I mean, they probably won¡¯t,¡± Freya added, picking up on Dan¡¯s discomfort. He hadn¡¯t even cracked a grin at Dad-omir.

    ¡°Anyhow, he doesn¡¯t matter. Do you want to go somewhere and talk?¡±

    ¡°How heavy is this going to be?¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°Pretty heavy,¡± Freya admitted.

    ¡°Can we go for a run first? I didn¡¯t get out this morning. It usually helps me calm down.¡± There was something a little frantic behind the words, a sense Dan was barely holding it together. His left hand gripped the steering wheel tight. Dan was just as nervous as she was.

    ¡°We can do that,¡± she agreed.

    As they drove to Nading Hill Park she talked with Dan about his day. He¡¯d spent the morning taking the ASVAB. The Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery was the test everyone had to take to get into the military. As she listened to him describe the test, Freya found herself wanting to take it as well, just to see how she would do. Lassa would be thrilled.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to join,¡± Dan admitted. ¡°This recruiter calls me every week. I guess he can smell blood. If my scholarships don¡¯t work out, that¡¯s pretty much my fallback plan. I don¡¯t want to take out a bunch of crazy loans to go to college.¡±

    ¡°Would the military let you in?¡± Freya asked, and then instantly felt regret.

    For a second, Dan didn¡¯t understand what she meant, and he flinched when he figured it out.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said quickly.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay. The hospital recorded the Valium thing as an accidental overdose instead of an attempt. I¡¯d told them I was just trying to get high.¡±

    Freya noticed Dan carefully avoided saying the word suicide. His mouth was a flat line of tension as his eyes fixed forward on the road. Maybe there was something kind of military about him, the driven part he was always trying to cover up with jokes.

    ¡°I¡¯d need a waiver to get in, but the recruiter says it¡¯s doable as long as I don¡¯t want to be Special Forces or anything. Which I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t even want to be regular forces. I just may not have any other option. I don¡¯t even know what I would major in if I could get a scholarship. I need to figure it all out soon.¡±

    Listening to the conflict in Dan¡¯s voice, Freya was reminded she would never have to worry about money for college. She didn¡¯t have to work at a diner to pay for gas and Krav Maga. She had two more years to decide what she wanted to study, and if she wanted to wanderjahr in Europe for a year before deciding, Lassa would be on board. Freya¡¯s life was so easy compared to Dan¡¯s, and it was still more than she could stand.

    They arrived at the park. The road to Nading Hill Park was lined with black willow trees. The parking lot was empty. No one really came here after dark.

    ¡°What would you do in the military?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Medic, if I score high enough. I don¡¯t want to kill anybody, but I¡¯m not afraid to die either.¡± Dan pulled the Toyota into a space and threw the car into park. Freya reached over and put her hand over his on the gearshift, meeting his eyes.

    ¡°Wait ¡¯til after the run to croak, please,¡± she said.

    Dan broke out laughing. He¡¯d expected her to be serious. He rolled his eyes up and stuck out his tongue, and she shoved his shoulder and climbed out of the car. She was stretching when he joined her on the track. When they were warmed-up, they jogged a lap to get each other¡¯s measure. Then they began to run.

    Freya was worried Dan would clown around or talk with her during the run, and she wouldn¡¯t be able to keep up with him. But he wasn¡¯t the type of runner to waste breath on chatting. She found she could keep his pace without strain.

    Five laps in, Freya realized this was exactly what they needed. With every lap, her mind grew clearer. The endless tumbling of her thoughts slowed. She was gaining distance. As the laps fell away, she looked over at Dan less and less, focusing on the ground in front of her. The sound of soles hitting the track created the baseline for the chorus of their breathing. The stars were out. The wind sighed around them, the night air cold and pure.

    The pain it took to move forward lost significance, the present eclipsed the past, and the future was a glittering gem that raced effortlessly ahead of them, never to be caught. Freya felt she could run forever. Twenty laps had been over long ago, but she wasn¡¯t tired. Dan wasn¡¯t either.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    As their feet drummed against the ground, that perception rose to the forefront of her mind.

    Dan wasn¡¯t either.

    Dan¡¯s feet struck the ground at the same moment Freya¡¯s did. He breathed in unison with her, even their hearts beating in time. There was warmth burning against her thigh, and the doubling sensation became more and more apparent. The strange feeling had come on slow and subtle as they were preoccupied with the run, and it felt deeper than the night before. Two sets of eyes and ears saw and heard as one, racing against the night.

    Dan¡¯s thoughts flickered with alarm, and Freya pushed back. She didn¡¯t want the feeling to end. It was a trained response she¡¯d picked up from playing guitar. You didn¡¯t stop playing when the other person was flowing.

    Dan¡¯s steps faltered, and Freya ran a few steps past him. She wanted to keep going. The disconnect between their desires was like a tug of war. She skidded to a stop and turned around to make sure Dan was all right.

    Dan¡¯s breath came in great heaving pulls that desynchronized them, and he was teetering on the edge of throwing up. His nausea triggered her own, and they each shut their eyes tightly, trying to hold on.

    Am I high?

    It was a thought. Dan hadn¡¯t spoken but she heard the subvocalization as clearly as if he¡¯d shouted it. A cascade of thoughts followed. He was afraid he was making a fool of himself, and he was suspicious Freya had drugged him somehow. Freya saw all the anxieties churning beneath his fa?ade, and he saw hers. They felt naked.

    No, everything is okay, Freya thought back, but he saw through the attempt. She tried to convince herself as well.

    Undeterred, Freya reached out and set her hand on Dan¡¯s arm. They felt the double sensation of touching and being touched. Their eyes met, and they shivered together. It was more than they could stand, the feeling of being watched, amplified to the point of distortion.

    It was just like the dream, where they had shared a single body. Now, they stood facing each other on the track, reeling with that same strange synchronicity. Dan wanted it to end. Freya felt he wanted to shut his eyes and cover his ears with his hands. He wanted to scream at the intrusion.

    She let go of his arm flinched away from him, stung by the rejection. When Dan saw what he¡¯d done, his stomach plunged. He stepped forward, holding out his hand. She felt his fear that he¡¯d screwed everything up.

    It¡¯s not you. I¡¯m afraid.

    The thought seemed to originate from them at once. They took a step closer. Their hands touched, and they stood palm to palm, staring into each other¡¯s eyes. Their overlapping perceptions sent the world into a spiral of mise en abyme, and they felt a kind of invertigo as if they were lifting off their feet.

    Unity.

    It was a feeling they had been searching for their whole lives without knowing. The perfect moment thrummed between them. Freya and Dan stood together on the dark running track beneath the stars, closer than any human beings had ever been before.

    They struggled to arrive on a definition of what was happening, there were no words for this yet. Each mind was seeking a way to describe the novel emotion, but nothing quite fit.

    Unity was something completely new.

    As they marveled at themselves, Freya and Dan felt the strain of maintaining this new state. Unity was too vast for either of them to contain. It demanded expansion beyond what they were capable of.

    It¡¯s like trying to lift weights that are too heavy, Dan thought and, at once, he felt his description was inadequate. It didn¡¯t capture the feeling.

    It¡¯s like we¡¯ve overeaten, Freya thought, feeling the same sense of falling short. Or like we¡¯re straining on the toilet¡­ Oh, God.

    Freya couldn¡¯t believe her mind had gone there, her embarrassment was sudden and staggering, a full body cringe like she¡¯d been sheared in half. She tried to retreat, burying her face in her hands, and screwing her eyes shut. But both gestures were useless. Dan was still behind her eyes, and there was no hiding from him. She out peered at him through her fingers, burning with shame.

    Dan had a seasick expression on his face. He fought to hold back his own associations. They were caught in an involuntary cycle of gross thoughts, and the harder they tried to push the images away, the stronger they became. Freya panicked. Dan reached out and gripped her hand, so insistent it bordered on painful.

    ¡°Breathe,¡± Dan exhorted her. The word rang clear in the frigid air.

    Freya was the discontinuity, her whirl of shame threatening to capsize Unity. Dan wanted to reassure her, but she read the web of impulses before every word formed.

    The wind had picked up and begun to howl around them, Freya fought to calm herself. Unity was faltering. If they lost it, it would be her fault for playing off key.

    There was a twist of frustration pulling at Dan¡¯s temples, he wanted so badly to explain, and he couldn¡¯t do it. Dan drew in a deep breath through his nose, and then she felt the sudden thrust of concentration. He tried to project his thoughts.

    It was like trying to force something in sideways. There was no give, and they each felt pangs heralding a bad headache. But then there was a flash of comprehension, and he stopped subvocalizing, and his fumbling words became brilliant images that burned away everything else.

    Freya was dazed by the intensity of Dan¡¯s thoughts. They¡¯d been whispering in a dark audience before, and now the house lights were up. The stage of his mind was fully illuminated.

    Freya clenched his hand, afraid of being overwhelmed. She felt Dan sensing her panic and fighting to modulate his projection. It was as if he¡¯d just learned to speak, and he could only scream.

    He tried to give her his memory of the dream. Dan remembered every detail of what had been like to be Freya, the strange feeling of sharing a single body. She saw his intent, to tell her that they were the same, that they were both human, and she didn¡¯t need to be ashamed.

    But the contrast between the way they thought was stark. It was as if their conversations before had been Dan been fumbling along in a foreign language and he¡¯d swapped to his native tongue.

    Dan remembered the exact layout of her room as if he were reading a blueprint, with sharp lines and actual perspective. His memory Yggdrasil had texture and individual leaves. Hers was just a faint line of a trunk fading into a haze of green. His thoughts had a dimensionality that was almost otherworldly to Freya when she tried to remember the layout of his room it looked at a flat photograph through fog.

    There was so much more to him than she¡¯d thought.

    All the times Dan had struggled with something she¡¯d said or where she¡¯d arrived at his conclusion midway through his sentence, Freya had suspected she was just smarter than him.

    She had never expected a depth like this, something wholly beyond her. She was ashamed, but then she felt Dan caught in the same axis between shame and awe.

    For all their intensity and precision, Dan¡¯s constructs stopped at the surface. She remembered the sensations of being in his body, the width of his frame, the tension in his shoulders, the heat of his arousal, a thousand tiny sensations and impulses he couldn¡¯t recall. As he delved into her, Dan was amazed by the way her memories were organized, interwoven in a web of emotion. Her recollections were like a tranquil library with everything perfectly shelved. His were a jangled bedlam. There was a basic, organizing principle in Freya that Dan had never known he lacked, and its absence cut into him.

    The sound of an engine jolted Freya and Dan from their introspection. A yellow arc swept across the field. The headlights gleamed in Dan¡¯s eyes first, then Freya¡¯s. Their bodies tensed simultaneously, primed to bolt.

    The car circled the lot, slowing to a stop as its lights illuminated Dan¡¯s Toyota. Freya and Dan remained frozen, wondering if it was the police. The park was closed. They weren¡¯t supposed to be here. But there was no siren whoop, no cherry and berry flash. It was too dark to make out anything. The car completed its orbit of the lot, and then gunned its engine as it shot out of the park and onto Elliot Road.

    Freya was fixated on the roar of the engine, trying to remember where she¡¯d heard it before. She couldn¡¯t place it. Dan grappled to help, but his memory for sounds was far weaker than hers.

    They were probably just looking for a place to get high or make out, Dan supposed, though she felt the nervousness jangling in his neck. He felt embarrassed he was so ready to run away, a sense he was supposed to be braver.

    We¡¯re wasting this, Freya thought, jarring Dan out of the eddy of shame. They were learning that Unity flowed better if they kept pulling one another up.

    Tell me more about you, she wished at Dan.

    He summoned memories of his childhood, and they spilled into her being like ink. Dan¡¯s recollection triggered her own, they would bloom in him, blending with his experiences until it was difficult to tell what had happened to who, or if the distinction was even important. They were fascinated with themselves, wheeling deeper and deeper inward.

    The strange car was nearly forgotten. They had been standing on the field with the wind blowing around them for a long time, all the heat from their run dissipating. There were nagging feelings they should get out of the cold, but neither was willing to stop and risk the moment.

    Dan¡¯s memories had an addictive quality for Freya. His upbringing was so different it felt almost as if he¡¯d been raised on another planet. Freya was an only child. She¡¯d grown up cocooned in Lassa¡¯s neurotic desire for order. Her childhood was long stretches of inward-turning silence. Friendless solitude punctuated by interactions with adults.

    Dan had company from the day he was born. His twin sister was there for all his adventures. Their neighborhood was full of children running wild with them in the cypress swamp behind their house. Freya was entranced at a memory of Dan and Angie proclaiming themselves prince and princess of their flooded domain from atop a rickety trellis that swayed beneath them with every step.

    Their house was full of sound and clutter. There had been two cats, a dog and a parakeet joined by a rotating cast of aunts and uncles, an endless stream of cousins and grandparents. People were always around.

    While young, Freya despaired for something to pierce the silence, but Dan yearned for it, desperate for a break from the chaos. Suddenly, she understood why there was no music in his car, why he spent so much time running on his own.

    Dan was just as interested in Freya. She tried to share pieces of herself with him, but they were such meager offerings compared with the wealth of his memories. It wasn¡¯t just that his recollection had more fidelity, it was the way he remembered, tying everything into his sense of smell.

    Instead of discrete moments, he remembered things in eras. Whole stretches of time had a predominant scent and an emotion he had associated with it. He could perfectly recall the faint scent of cumin suffusing everything indoors at his grandma¡¯s house. Then the pine-needle and azalea scent of decline as Dan and his sister were banished into the yard to play during visits so their mother could care for Grandma.

    At last, the Lysol-over-diaper stink of the nursing home that had been brief but terrible. There was nothing like that on Freya¡¯s side. Randall¡¯s parents were gone, and Lassa¡¯s were forsaken.

    She wanted all of it, wanted to live inside of his skin, to forget about Freya entirely. The feeling alarmed Dan, and she felt miserably inadequate. She thought she could be a writer of songs? A poet? This whole time she hadn¡¯t even been alive, she¡¯d just been a specter tugging at the fringes.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not like that,¡± Dan said aloud but, behind it, there was a swelling wave of his pity. She shut her eyes tightly, and tears squeezed from them, running down her face. There was a surprising darkness, she didn¡¯t see through Dan¡¯s eyes any longer.

    Then it was gone.

    The last thing they felt together was the Starball¡¯s heat in Freya¡¯s pocket. The connection was severed.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya said, her voice sounding strange as it echoed only in her own skull. ¡°I fucked it up.¡±

    Dan was aggrieved, his eyes shot around them, as if trying to find the thing they¡¯d lost.

    ¡°No,¡± he breathed, almost a whimper. He looked at his own hands, opening and closing them, and he looked to her. She didn¡¯t mirror the movement.

    ¡°Oh, my God no.¡± He cried. Tears ran down his face in the moonlight. He slumped onto the field, and then curled into a ball and cried. Freya sank to join him, and they wept on the cold ground, their sobs disappearing into the night. Neither of them could find the strength to go on.

    Freya felt the Starball at work, burning in her pocket when everything else was numb. It tried to bring them back, trying to equalize their despair. If they didn¡¯t get up and go somewhere warm soon, they were going to get hypothermia. They could literally die of sadness.

    ¡°Dan, get up,¡± Freya said. Her voice seemed impossibly small against the enormity of the night. He didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°DAN!¡± she demanded, shaking him. He opened his eyes. They were distant and slow to focus. ¡°Dan, come on. We can¡¯t stay here.¡±

    He nodded and rose awkwardly onto the field. They could barely walk. they staggered across the field to his car. With numb hands, he fumbled with his keys. The Toyota¡¯s engine turned on the second try, and he cranked the heat as high as it would go.

    ¡°It hurts,¡± was all he could manage, and she nodded in agreement. They had been whole but now they were shattered. She threw her arms around Dan and hugged him as hard as she could, but the gesture felt useless and insignificant. No embrace could repair this. Compared to what they¡¯d lost, they were as distant and lonely as the stars.

 Chapter 58

    There was no fight left in Dan. Freya suggested they drive all the way to Marrion for dinner, and he nodded his acquiescence and threw the Toyota in gear. It felt like he would have responded the same way if Freya asked him to drive into the ocean. The heater was cranked as high as it could go, but the air only dried them out, their insides raw and frozen.

    They drove for almost an hour in silence. Freya gave directions once they arrived at Marrion, hating the sound of her own voice. It was Friday night, but the town was dead. Without snow, there was no reason for anyone to be here.

    Dan must have wondered why Freya had taken them so far to arrive at this sad little strip mall. Everything else was closed. The restaurant was sandwiched between a consignment shop and a barber. The plate glass window was so fogged up they couldn¡¯t see anything inside, just lights glowing faintly through the condensation.

    ¡°Just wait,¡± Freya said when Dan raised his eyebrows at her. Maybe her thoughts were tawdry, and she didn¡¯t deserve Unity, but Freya still knew how to pick out a restaurant.

    Hoan Kiem was the only real Vietnamese restaurant for a hundred miles in any direction, but they didn¡¯t rest on the monopoly. If anything, the food and d¨¦cor were slightly too ambitious for the locals. Out-of-towners visiting ski resorts kept them afloat.

    It was a Randall place. The owners were Mike and Steve Nguyen, two brothers from New Orleans. Randall used to take their money playing cutthroat, and then lose it right back to them playing Tien Len.

    The brothers were an odd couple. Mike was stern with a strong accent, and Steve was fully Americanized and always teasing his older brother. Randall had never told Freya why the pair had left the south, but he¡¯d implied it wasn¡¯t by choice. She could almost taste their homesickness. On Saturdays, they had crawfish, and there was a waterfall pond at the front of the restaurant teeming with turtles destined for the pot.

    Freya and Dan arrived in the lull after a large party had left. A waitress cleaned up three tables that had been pushed together. No one else was there.

    ¡°Kinda fancy,¡± Dan said, and Freya wished she would have thought about how underdressed they were. The walls were a spotless white, the tables and chairs made of heavy slabs of black oak. The waitress sat them next to the turtle pond, and they peered at the scrambling reptiles. There was a vent directly over the pond blowing warm air for the turtles, and Freya was glad to benefit.

    ¡°I think we¡¯ll be okay. Don¡¯t ask for spicy unless you really like spicy, though. They¡¯re serious about it. Even medium spicy here is respectable.¡±

    Dan nodded at her warning and peered at the menu, looking uncertain. ¡°What should I get? I¡¯ve never had Vietnamese food before.¡±

    ¡°I always get the beef pho. It¡¯s amazing here.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t they have lungs in that?¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°Just a little. Ask for no tripe if you don¡¯t want it. Do you want to get coffee? It¡¯s fancy here.¡±

    Dan nodded eagerly.

    ¡°Coffee would be amazing.¡±

    For the first time since the track, Dan smiled, and Freya smiled back. She was excited to share this with him. Dan¡¯s eyes dropped back to the menu, and he shifted in his seat.

    Freya gave him a questioning look, and he leaned in close, speaking in a dire whisper, ¡°Freya, this is nineteen dollars.¡±

    Freya felt relieved. It was the first problem today she could fix.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get it, don¡¯t worry. You drove us all the way out here.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t let you pay for me,¡± he protested.

    ¡°Dan, an hour ago, I was you,¡± Freya said, and something about the way she said it stung them both. He shrugged in unhappy acceptance. They had bigger things to worry about. The waitress finished clearing the tables and splitting them apart into a neat row. Her voice was friendly but forced, obviously tired. Freya could relate. She told herself she would tip a little better than normal.

    Turning over the menu, Freya toyed with the idea of trying something new, but she knew she would order the same Spicy Beef Pho as always. It was just too good to deviate. Dan took her suggestion and ordered the same, along with the Vietnamese coffee. They waited until the waitress was in the kitchen to start their conversation. They didn¡¯t want to be overheard.

    ¡°Okay. What¡¯s happening to us? Will it happen again?¡±

    There was hunger in Dan¡¯s voice. The desire to return to the feeling they¡¯d shared on the track rose at the back of her thoughts, crowding out everything else.

    ¡°I hope so,¡± Freya said. ¡°I¡¯m afraid of wanting something so much. It feels like this could swallow us.¡±

    Dan nodded. They couldn¡¯t figure out what to say. Her thoughts kept sliding back to the park. They¡¯d been so close. Now, it seemed hopeless to try and communicate with mere words.

    The coffee arrived, served in glass mugs with just a layer of condensed milk at the bottom. The mugs were capped with individual coffee presses that looked like tiny chrome sombreros. Freya showed Dan the little latch to start the coffee drip.

    ¡°That¡¯s so cool,¡± Dan said, lifting the cap on his press to see the apparatus underneath. ¡°I¡¯m glad we don¡¯t have these at the diner! Imagine having to wash one for every cup of coffee.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s worth it,¡± Freya assured him. When the coffee brewed completely, she lifted off the filter and stirred gently with the little spoon until Jovian clouds of milk roiled through her glass. She took a sip. The coffee so sweet and strong. Dan watched her and did the same.

    Hands clasped around the hot mug. With coffee warmth spreading through her chest, Freya felt like she was finally beginning to thaw. She reached her hand across the table to Dan and was relieved when he set his hand on hers. Their eyes met, and they didn¡¯t need words. Freya wished she could just stare at him forever. She let the moment linger for as long as she could. In a few minutes, she was going to ruin everything again.

    ¡°Okay, are you ready?¡± Freya asked.

    There was a long pause before he nodded. Freya slid her hand back across the table and into her pocket. She set the Starball on the table between them.

    Dan recognized Freya¡¯s lucky marble. He turned over his hand to stare at the spot on his palm where he¡¯d been stuck. They both remembered the tiny drop of blood gleaming in the overhead light. There was a sudden clarity in Dan¡¯s face. Freya knew exactly what he felt. He had convinced himself the jab in his palm was only a dream, but it was real.

    Dan¡¯s hands drifted to the sides of the heavy oak table. Freya was worried he was about to flip it over. There was a look in his eyes as if he¡¯d just felt the first rumblings of an earthquake.

    ¡°Are you scared?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Dan said simply. They were well past trying to act tough.

    ¡°Wait a few seconds, try not to think about anything, just pay attention to how you feel.¡±

    Dan nodded with his mouth tight, his eyes locked on the orb.

    ¡°Do you feel something in you fighting against the fear? Like a cool feeling? Something not quite you?¡±

    Dan shut his eyes as he searched himself.

    ¡°I feel it. I¡¯ve felt that before, too. I didn¡¯t know what it was.¡±

    ¡°The Starball, this orb, is doing that. If you touch it, you can feel it gets hot when it¡¯s working.¡±

    ¡°Will it poke me again?¡± Dan asked, a tremble in his voice.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. It only got me once,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°It stuck you, too?¡±

    ¡°Yes, on the night I found it. Until it got you, I had convinced myself I was just imagining it. I thought I was going crazy. You don¡¯t have to touch it if you don¡¯t want to.¡±

    Dan hesitated, but then reached out and touched the orb with the tip of his index finger. He looked at the fingertip afterward. There was no blood.

    ¡°Okay. I feel it. It¡¯s definitely heating up. What¡¯s inside of it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. There has to be some kind of battery or power source. It gets hot whenever it¡¯s working to make the connection between us or trying to keep us from freaking out.¡±

    ¡°I felt it getting hot in your pocket. When we were uh¡­¡± Dan struggled for words, ¡°together,¡± he concluded. His eyes shot from the Starball to Freya. He was anxious.

    ¡°Freya, what is this thing?¡±

    ¡°I really don¡¯t know what it is. Initially I thought it was a meteorite. I found it encased in a shell of nickel about the size of a baseball. It crashed into the Sillas River during the Taurids.¡±

    ¡°What are Taurids?¡±

    Did people really not know that? Freya wondered. She reminded herself not everyone had grown up with an astronomy buff as a father.

    ¡°It¡¯s a yearly meteor shower caused by one of the Apollo Group asteroids that might have broken off the Encke Comet. I don¡¯t think this is a Taurid meteorite by the way. Meteorites are usually less than ten percent nickel. They tend to be more iron and rock. The Starball was perfectly nested at its center, like it was made for it.¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°You call it a Starball?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, not very creative, I guess. It¡¯s very dense and heavy for its size. Did you notice?¡±

    ¡°Can I?¡± Dan asked, and she nodded. He picked up the Starball and hefted it in one hand, then in the other, and then he nodded. ¡°Is it lead at the center or something?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know for sure, but I think it¡¯s too heavy to be lead. I¡¯ve looked at the Starball under a microscope. That purple surface is actually a grid of triangles. It¡¯s not natural, and I don¡¯t think it was made by humans. I think this is either an alien probe, or it is itself an alien.¡±

    Dan shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He struggled. Freya was silent, trying to let him absorb the idea. The waitress came to check on them, and as she approached, Freya instinctively hid the Starball beneath her palm, Dan¡¯s hand reached over to cover hers.

    When the waitress left them, Dan stared at his hand, as if unsure why he¡¯d done that. He flexed his fingers and wrung his wrist.

    ¡°It made me do that,¡± he said, his face growing pale. ¡°It¡¯s in my head. Freya, did you know this was an alien when you handed it to me?¡±

    Oh, no.

    Freya¡¯s stomach sank. This was what she¡¯d been afraid of.

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry. I didn¡¯t know it would jab you. I just wasn¡¯t thinking. I¡¯m only guessing about all this. I just don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°What if we¡¯re infected with it? What if it¡¯s controlling us? What if this Starball made you hand it to me because it wanted me to catch this, too?¡±

    Freya didn¡¯t have an answer.

    ¡°It¡¯s trying to get me to stop freaking out right now. I can feel it,¡± Dan said. There was a wild look in his eyes, like he might be about run screaming out of the restaurant and drive away.

    ¡°Please¡­¡± Freya trailed. She was afraid she might start crying.

    ¡°How do you know? How do you know it isn¡¯t making us do whatever it wants?¡± Dan¡¯s voice was raised, and there was an almost manic quality to it.

    The waitress emerged from the kitchen to see what the commotion was, and Dan lowered his head and gave an apologetic wave. The Starball was hot against Freya¡¯s palm.

    ¡°I hate people who fight in restaurants,¡± Dan said with a strangely absent look. Freya wondered if the Starball was influencing him.

    ¡°It¡¯s totally a fair question. Maybe it is controlling me,¡± Freya said. ¡°But it hasn¡¯t done anything bad. It¡¯s the opposite.¡±

    Freya paused to look at Dan, she hated to see him struggling like this. She slipped the Starball into her pocket and slid her hand across the table to him, afraid he wouldn¡¯t take it. But he did. He stared at her intently, desperate for answers.

    ¡°Dan,¡± she began, and then stopped until she was sure she could say it. She was just a breath or two ahead of bursting into tears.

    ¡°When I found it, I was at the river to drown myself,¡± she admitted at last.

    The words resonated in the air, and a long silence followed them. Freya became aware the waitress had turned up the background music to mask their argument. The sound of the waterfall drowned out all but the highest notes.

    ¡°How close did you come?¡± Dan asked. His interest was almost clinical. It reminded Freya of Dr. Garbuglio.

    ¡°I went into the river. I barely made it out,¡± Freya said. ¡°All this terrible shit keeps happening to me. I keep being almost ready to jump, but the Starball saves me every time. It¡¯s the only reason I¡¯m still here.¡±

    Her words hurt Dan. His expression twisted with pain, and she felt just awful. Why was she putting this on him?

    ¡°Have you told Dr. Garbuglio?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t told him anything. No one can know about the Starball. He caught me with my hand in my pocket, but I told him it was just a marble. He didn¡¯t touch it.¡±

    ¡°Does he know you went in?¡± Dan said, and she noticed the strange tendency to euphemism again. Went in.

    She shook her head. ¡°If I had told him, he would have had me sent to Northern Light hospital. I¡¯d probably still be locked up there.¡±

    Dan¡¯s mouth was tight, his bottom lip trembling slightly. He didn¡¯t argue with her or tell her what she should have done. She was grateful for that. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think the Starball is trying to make me do anything I don¡¯t want to. It just doesn¡¯t want me to hurt myself, and it doesn¡¯t want me to show it to other people. It seems benign.¡± The word came out funny, like she described a tumor.

    ¡°Does it ever talk?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯ve tried all kinds of stuff, tapping on it, seeing if it can broadcast to computers, measuring its temperature for pulses, nothing. It¡¯s silent.¡±

    Dan had that pained look again. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Did you like me before you found it?¡±

    Freya paused. In all her fretting over this, she hadn¡¯t anticipated that question. It seemed so natural to like Dan. He was handsome, he was fit, he was thoughtful. Why shouldn¡¯t she like him? But once the idea was posed, she found she couldn¡¯t answer it. Was this really her idea?

    Immediately, she thought she should lie and pretend there was nothing ambiguous about her feelings for Dan. But she was certain if they made the connection again, the lie would immediately unravel. She couldn¡¯t conceal anything. He stared at her, waiting for an answer as her mind fell into a jumble of gross and embarrassing things she never wanted anyone to know.

    Hadn¡¯t she felt the same feeling coming from him? There on the edge of the bed, there¡¯d been something big he wanted to hide, bigger than the overdose. The hope in his eyes was faltering with every second she delayed.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t really know you before Renanin,¡± Freya said. ¡°That was after the river.¡± She tried to be kind, but he saw right through the evasion. Who did she think she was fooling?

    An hour ago, I was you.

    ¡°So, all of this, that weird connection and the dream, it could all just be this alien trying to push us together,¡± Dan said, and his eyes had become narrow, his expression hard. ¡°Shipping us.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡± Freya caught herself trying to spare him again and forced herself to stop and think about how she felt. ¡°I feel like the way I feel about you is coming from me not it. But I can¡¯t know. Did you like me before it stuck you?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Definitely,¡± Dan said. The immediate way he said it and the earnest look on his face made her feel terrible. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it obvious?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you would be interested in me. The way you see me is so different from the way I see myself.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I¡¯m interested. I never met anyone like you,¡± Dan said. ¡°I want to be the person you see, the person I am when we¡¯re together. I want to be worthy of that feeling,¡± he said. It had the almost-rehearsed feeling of something he had turned over and over in his mind, trying to find the right way to say it. Freya wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d spent all day agonizing over this meeting.

    ¡°You are,¡± she said, but she saw he couldn¡¯t believe her any more than she could believe him.

    ¡°This is so hard. I¡¯m sorry for dragging you into this. Please, believe me, I didn¡¯t know this would happen. You really are amazing, Dan. You deserve way better.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t. I really like you. I mean, you know. You felt me thinking it.¡±

    Somehow, even though she knew it, even though she¡¯d felt it, hearing Dan say the words made her pulse with joy.

    ¡°I feel the same way about you,¡± Freya said. She danced along the edge of all the things she wanted to confess but was afraid to. They were caught in each other¡¯s eyes, each wishing the other had the courage they lacked. She took the cowardly route and changed the topic.

    ¡°So, I¡¯m like, really afraid I¡¯m going to gross you out if we connect like that again. There are a lot of things I don¡¯t want other people to know. I have all these stray, unworthy thoughts. And, like, there¡¯s just some stuff involved with being female I¡¯m not sure you¡¯re ready for.¡±

    It took Dan a second to recognize what she was getting at.

    ¡°Oh, right. I hadn¡¯t thought of that,¡± he said. ¡°I think I¡¯ll be okay. I¡¯m way more worried about how you¡¯ll feel. Freya, I¡¯m just disgusting, you have no idea. I¡¯m legitimately terrified. There¡¯s¡ª¡± he began to say something, but he couldn¡¯t complete it. His face was scrunched with tension, but he just couldn¡¯t get the words out.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said. She paused, inviting him to continue. Dan shook his head. He wasn¡¯t ready, and it was his turn to chicken out and change the subject. He rubbed the back of his head.

    ¡°What do we do? Aren¡¯t we supposed to tell someone about this? It seems like an insanely huge thing for the two of us to deal with alone.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we should,¡± Freya said. She fumbled to justify herself.

    ¡°I think they would probably lock us up and study us. They¡¯d the Starball away. I don¡¯t want to be separated from it. I don¡¯t want to be separated from you. The thing that¡¯s happening to us, I don¡¯t want to stop. I want to get to that place and never leave.¡±

    He shut his eyes and nodded. It seemed like he wanted it very much.

    ¡°Freya, what if this is an alien invasion? What if it was sent here to pacify us so they can take over?¡±

    ¡°Take over what?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, the world? What if they want to enslave us, or wipe us out?¡±

    ¡°Why would they want to do that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, just, that¡¯s what they do in movies.¡±

    ¡°In movies written by humans, Dan. Aliens in those are just a stand-in for tribal xenophobia. I have no idea what the motives of the Starball are. I can¡¯t even tell if it¡¯s a living thing or just a machine.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a scout for their invasion force.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a problem,¡± Freya said, glad to find something she felt certain about.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve spent a lot of time thinking about it. Let¡¯s say the Starball came from the absolute closest star system, Alpha Centauri. That¡¯s 4.3 light years away. Let¡¯s say it¡¯s flying as fast as the fastest object we¡¯ve ever observed in space, though I know it wasn¡¯t even close to that fast because it would have burned up in the atmosphere. At that speed, it would have taken twenty thousand years to get here. Even if they¡¯re preparing an invasion force right now, and it leaves tomorrow, we¡¯ll be long gone before they arrive.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean long gone?¡±

    ¡°I mean people won¡¯t be here when they arrive. Our civilization isn¡¯t sustainable, Dan. There are too many of us, we use too many resources, and we¡¯re headed for a big crash. When that happens, it just takes one nuke to start the party.¡±

    Dan¡¯s face grew ashen. He hadn¡¯t been prepared to hear that. Not everyone had grown up with Randall.

    ¡°The truth is way scarier than aliens,¡± Freya said, her voice bitter. ¡°We should honestly be praying this is aliens planning to take over. We aren¡¯t going to make it on our own.¡±

    ¡°Did you think that before you found the Starball?¡± Dan asked, staring at her closely.

    ¡°Yeah. Randall and I used to talk about it a lot. Do you know what the Fermi paradox is?¡±

    Dan shook his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s the idea that there are so many stars out there intelligent life should have already tried to contact us. There are a lot of attempted explanations for it, one of them is called The Great Filter. It¡¯s the idea that civilizations capable of interstellar communication tend to extinguish themselves within a hundred years or so of developing the capability. That¡¯s definitely us.¡±

    Dan took a deep sip of his coffee as he tried to wrap his mind around it. Freya glanced towards the kitchen, wondering where their soup was. It shouldn¡¯t take this long to make pho. She was hungry, and the coffee was putting her on edge.

    ¡°I just¡­¡± Dan began, and then he closed his mouth, swallowing whatever he meant to say. He took a few moments to compose himself before he tried again. ¡°Freya, this is dangerous. We don¡¯t know what the Starball is, or what it¡¯s doing. I think we should try to get some help.¡±

    He¡¯d sat up straight as he said it, looking determined. This was the Dan she really wanted. He was so much sharper with her than he seemed around everyone else, where he was always joking around and playing dumb. With a pang of sorrow, she knew she might be about to lose him, but it was hopeless to try and conceal how she felt.

    Alea iacta est.

    ¡°I already chose,¡± she said. ¡°I was already gone when I found the Starball. I want to see where it takes me. I¡¯m not going to tell anybody else but you about it. Come with me, Dan.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t just surrender myself like that,¡± Dan protested.

    ¡°I did,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to. We can talk to Dr. Garbuglio together, try and figure this out. We can be strong on our own,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°Dan,¡± Freya said his name softly, and stared into his eyes. She didn¡¯t want to hurt him. She knew she was going to anyway.

    ¡°You¡¯re just pretending.¡±

    Her words burned in. They lowered their heads, their eyes welling with tears, and there were no more words. They both knew it was true.

    The waitress waited until they were both done crying to bring them their soup.

 Chapter 59

    Freya was the first to reach for her bowl and begin the ritual. Mixing in the hot sauce and hoisin, then adding the jalape?o slivers, but not the bean sprouts. They¡¯d brought her both lime and lemon wedges, and she squeezed in the lime and ignored the lemon.

    Dan watched her preparations. She was worried he was too upset to eat. The hunger from running was stronger than his unease, and he tried a spoonful of the broth and looked relieved. She could tell he¡¯d been worried he wouldn¡¯t like it.

    Freya couldn¡¯t understand how people could be picky with food. She¡¯d never had the option. With Lassa, you remained there until everything was eaten, there was no negotiation.

    ¡°What¡¯s this stuff?¡± Dan pointed to the little bowls of sauce.

    ¡°The black one is hoisin, Chinese barbecue sauce. It¡¯s salty and a little sweet, it¡¯s usually made from soybeans. They add plums here. I haven¡¯t seen that anywhere else. The red sauce is homemade Sriracha. The one they gave you shouldn¡¯t be too hot.¡±

    Dan dared to try a dab of it on his fingertip, and then the hoisin. When he didn¡¯t burst into flames, he added them to his pho.

    ¡°How hot is yours?¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°Very,¡± Freya replied. She already started to feel the heat and knew it would only build as she ate.

    Dan struggled with the chopsticks for a bit and finally abandoned them for a fork. Freya gave him an inviting look. If he¡¯d asked, she would have showed Dan how to use the chopsticks, but she could tell it wasn¡¯t the right time. He¡¯d been stretched to his limit. She didn¡¯t want him to snap.

    It didn¡¯t matter how they ate, the pho was superb. The broth was a complex m¨¦lange. There was a note of something she couldn¡¯t quite place. She wondered if it was bergamot. Instead of the typical razor-thin shreds of beef, Hoan Kiem charbroiled skirt steak and sliced it thick enough for the centers to still be rare.

    Freya felt her face reddening and sweat beading on her forehead. She welcomed the heat and the cease-fire it brought to their conversation. As they drank the dregs, Freya realized having a full stomach was much more effective at calming her down than that icy feeling the Starball used to pacify them. The mysterious ministrations of the orb were weaker than a bowl of soup.

    ¡°That was exactly what I needed. Great call,¡± Dan said at last, looking a little flushed himself. He¡¯d demolished his pho. Only a few big slivers of onion remained in a tiny puddle of broth. There was nothing at all left in Freya¡¯s.

    The waitress brought the bill, and Freya slipped a card in.

    Freya looked at Dan, she needed an answer. He didn¡¯t have one. She reached into her pocket and felt for the Starball. There was no unusual heat. It wasn¡¯t doing anything she could see. What did that mean? Had it given up on them? Had they already reached the conclusion it wanted?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for what I said earlier,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t wrong. I¡¯m not better, just better at acting,¡± Dan agreed. His eyes were hopeless wells, and she knew how he felt. His pain could have been an echo of her own. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I thought I could help you. I can barely keep it together myself. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    It would have been easy to get angry at him. How very noble of Dan to take pity on poor helpless Freya and sally forth in his powder-blue jalopy and right all the wrongs. It was the kind of thing Lassa would have gotten furious about. She would have thrown things.

    But Freya wasn¡¯t her mother. She¡¯d truly needed help. It was only stupid luck she sat at this table instead of rotting at the bottom of the river. She took his hand again.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°Dan, you helped so much. You talked to me when I needed it. You stood up for me. Thank you. Whatever you¡¯re afraid of, we can talk about it. I¡¯m not going to freak out, I promise.¡±

    He nearly spoke, but he shook his head at last.

    ¡°No, we can¡¯t,¡± he said, and she heard the final note in his voice. They wouldn¡¯t get anywhere on this tonight. She caught him glancing towards the door. Looking for a way out.

    ¡°Do you need time to think about it?¡± she asked, trying to leave some avenue for things to be okay.

    ¡°I really do. Sorry,¡± Dan said.

    Freya nodded. She had the urge to lie and tell him it was okay, but it really wasn¡¯t. She squeezed the Starball in her pocket, willing it to do something.

    Why doesn¡¯t it bring us back together? Why doesn¡¯t it make him want me?

    The thought was like bile in her mouth. She hated the idea, hated knowing she wouldn¡¯t say no if it did. Things hadn¡¯t gone her way, they never did, so why was she surprised?

    ¡°Dan, I need to know, will you tell anyone else about this?¡±

    There was a long pause while he searched for an answer.

    ¡°I feel like I should,¡± he concluded with a pained look.

    It felt like a hand tightened around her throat. She wasn¡¯t only losing him, he was turning on her. He¡¯d seen through her eyes, thought her thoughts, lived inside of her skin. Somehow, he could just let all of it go. It was the most complete rejection possible.

    What would she do if he went to Dr. Garbuglio about this?

    The only real proof of any of this was the Starball and the meteorite shell. If she hid them, everyone would just assume Dan was crazy. It was a shitty thing to do, but this was about survival. She didn¡¯t want to live without him, but she couldn¡¯t live without the Starball.

    As she considered it, Freya remembered fishing the Starball out of the river, the way she¡¯d unerringly known where it was. No matter how she hid the orb, Dan could find it again.

    ¡°I won¡¯t tell,¡± Dan said. He watched her face. Her turmoil must have been obvious. ¡°I promise. This is just so much to take.¡±

    ¡°I guess I¡¯ve had a lot longer to wrap my mind around it,¡± Freya conceded, trying not let her bitterness slip into her voice. How could he even consider letting the bond between them go? A dead, gray blot spread inside of her, cancerous certainty she had already lost him. She would never be so close to anyone ever again. It was the numb, disconnected feeling she¡¯d had on the bench spying on Radomir¡¯s class. Freya was a distant observer, watching someone else collapse.

    ¡°Can you take me home, please?¡± Freya asked, her voice flat and empty. Dan took a deep breath before he nodded yes.

    * * *

    It was a long way home, and there was no kiss goodbye, just an awkward hug in the driveway that felt utterly unsatisfying. The driveway was empty, and Freya was surprised to find herself wishing Lassa was home. Even getting grilled by her mother would be better than being alone in the empty house tonight.

    The garage door had been sanded and repainted. There was no trace of the graffiti. Freya wondered if her mother had hired a painter or if she¡¯d just done the work herself. It was the kind of crazy thing Lassa would do.

    ¡°Call me if you need me,¡± she told Dan, almost pleading. He nodded in agreement, though she was convinced he wouldn¡¯t. Freya wanted to ask if he still wanted to go to the concert with her, but she was sure the answer was no, and she just couldn¡¯t take it. He searched for something in her face, and it felt like he couldn¡¯t find it.

    ¡°Good night, Freya,¡± he said.

    ¡°Good night,¡± she replied, though it wouldn¡¯t be. Her hand was in her pocket, clenched into a fist around the Starball. Dan drove off, and Freya watched his taillights disappear.

    Redshift.

    Everything in the universe was moving away from everything else. A year from now Dan would be at college, probably telling himself this had all been a dream. She would be alone with her pet rock. It would never be like that again.

    Freya braced herself for the thoughts of the river, but they never came. She only felt more removed. Part of her was gone, she couldn¡¯t get it back, that was all. She¡¯d been so stupid to think this could ever work out.

    She went inside and looked around for a note from Lassa but there was no sign of where she¡¯d gone. Maybe she was drinking again. Freya wanted the Lunesta, wanted to just blot this all out, but Lassa had the bottle. She went and brushed her teeth, undressed, and got in bed, and then stared at the ceiling.

    ¡°No dreams,¡± she said to the Starball, and there was no sign if it had heard her or cared if it had.

 Chapter 60 - NOVEMBER 10TH

    RAP, RAP, RAP.

    Freya¡¯s eyes parted. The sound was coming from her window, but it was too dark see as dawn was hours away. She strained against the darkness and froze.

    Outside of her bedroom window a face was outlined in starlight, peering in at her. There was an instant of total confusion. It was a fifteen-foot drop to the ground on the east side of the house. No one should be out there.

    The black face smiled at Freya, splitting the darkness with a slash of gleaming white teeth. She tried to scream, but the sound was frozen in her chest, she could not expel it. There was a body on top of her, a crushing weight pinning her against the bed.

    Freya was suffocating. The shade grinned wider and pecked at her window with a long tapering finger. A useless jolt ran through her arms and legs, and her brain tried to jump-start her, but the engine would not turn. There was heat-lightning flashing at the edges of her vision, the colors of drowning.

    Death¡¯s eyes swelled with interest, like spreading oil slicks shimmering with surface interference. The shadows of her room pulsed with each rap if its finger. The walls shuddered and skittered like they were overrun by masses of spiders.

    GET THE GUN.

    The thought cut through her paralysis. Freya groped in the darkness, knocking things off her nightstand. Death¡¯s smile widened, and the rapping grew louder, soon the glass would shatter.

    RAP, RAP, RAP.

    Freya found the orb. Her fist closed around the Starball. She squeezed with all her might, feeling its heat flaring against her palm. Light burst from between her fingers, cutting through the shadows, lancing through the apparition.

    The oil slick eyes grew hazy and indistinct, the white slash of a mouth spread into a howl and there was nothing behind it. Like a ring of fire eating through paper, the white band spread through the shadow until it was gone.

    Freya woke up and gasped for air like she¡¯d been punched in the stomach. The angry rapping at her window continued. When her eyes focused, they locked on the finger. It was the butt of a rake tapping on her window. Someone outside was trying to wake her up.

    She didn¡¯t dare get up to see who it was. Her heart beat so hard her chest hurt, and she was mired in the lacuna of sleep and wake. She was naked, the bottom sheet damp with sweat, and the top sheet and comforter a twisted mess.

    Go away, she willed, trying to remain perfectly still. The tapping continued. The Starball was in her hand. She needed the gun, but it was in the ottoman in the living room. She wondered if she could get out of the room without the person below seeing her.

    The rake continued its assault, whoever it was wanted Freya¡¯s attention. She slid off her bed on the side away from the window careful not to make a sound. Taking cover like she was in a firefight, she pulled a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants out of her dresser and wormed into them.

    Who was out there? She felt certain she would sense if it was Dan. Lassa didn¡¯t need a rake. She would have just barged right into the room. With a flash of anger, she wondered if it was Malcolm Lewis. If it was, she was going to get the gun and call 911. The insistent tapping continued. Finally, she found the courage to look.

    Lynn Harris stood below in the moonlight, holding the rake by its tines. She looked very upset.

    ¡°FREYA! WAKE UP!¡± Lynn shouted, her voice muffled by the triple-paned glass. Freya could only stare stupidly down into the yard.

    ¡°OKAY! COME AROUND FRONT!¡± Freya shouted back when she got her bearings.

    What the hell was Lynn doing down there? Could this be some kind of trick? Freya had knocked her phone off the nightstand during her dream, and it was face-down on the carpet. She picked it up, and the screen announced she¡¯d missed forty calls. It was 6:30 AM.

    ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± Freya uttered. How had she slept through that? The little orange tab showed the phone had been flicked into silent. She didn¡¯t remember doing that but, sometimes, it got nudged by accident.

    No dreams.

    Freya put the Starball in the corner of her nightstand drawer. There was no time to hide it better. She threw on sweatpants and thumbed through her phone. Most of the calls were from Lynn, but there were two calls from SILLAS POLICE DEPARTMENT. Something terrible must have happened.

    Freya had an insane thought the police were calling to tell her it had all been a lie, that Randall was somehow alive. She clenched her jaw, forcing the thought away. For months after he¡¯d died, false hopes sprang up from every corner, stinging like wasps.

    Freya rushed across the living room and peered out the side window into the driveway. She was afraid there would be a swarm of police cars outside, but it was only Lynn¡¯s Mercedes. The attorney stood on the walkway, stepping from one foot to the other, and tugging impatiently at the hem of her coat.

    ¡°Lynn! I¡¯m so sorry, my phone was muted,¡± Freya apologized the moment she opened the door.

    ¡°I was about to call 911,¡± Lynn griped, her face drawn with annoyance. She hurried inside, bustling towards the dining room table without taking off her coat or gloves. How long had she been out there? Lynn only huddled at the table with her shoulders hunched, rubbing her hands. Must have been a while.

    ¡°Is there coffee?¡± Lynn asked pointedly, her teeth chattering. Freya shook her head.

    ¡°Can you make some? I¡¯m frozen solid.¡± There was a note of exasperation in her voice, as if shouldn¡¯t have to ask.

    Freya felt a twinge of defiance. She wasn¡¯t Lynn¡¯s secretary. Lynn could go fuck herself. But this wasn¡¯t the time to be difficult. She swallowed the feeling and made a pot.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Freya asked as she set the coffee to brew. Lynn gave her a searching look, like she thought Freya already ought to know.

    ¡°Lassa¡¯s in a lot of trouble. The police came by. Why didn¡¯t you answer the door?¡±

    ¡°I was asleep. I didn¡¯t hear them.¡±

    There was that look again. Lynn didn¡¯t believe her at all. Freya¡¯s irritation burned through her confusion. She noticed there were streaks of dirt on Lynn¡¯s coat and pants.

    ¡°What happened to you?¡± Freya asked, pointing to the marks.

    ¡°Oh¡­God damn it. I had to climb a tree to see into your room. I rang the doorbell about a hundred times. Were you sedated?¡±

    ¡°What? No,¡± Freya shook her head. She couldn¡¯t picture Lynn shimmying up a tree to peep at her but, clearly, she had. Freya had an uncomfortable suspicion Lynn had seen her naked. She felt her cheeks getting hot, and she shook her head. There was nothing to be done if she had. She just stared at Lynn, wishing she would get to the point.

    ¡°The police are looking for Lassa,¡± Lynn said, pausing and looking at Freya.

    ¡°Oh, shit. Did she go after Malcolm?¡± Freya asked and, too late, she realized it was a trick. Lynn had wanted her to fill in the blanks on what she thought Lassa was in trouble for. It was a slimy tactic, and Freya narrowed her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know, what, a DUI?¡± she guessed.

    Lynn shook her head, and Freya snapped.

    ¡°Could you just fucking tell me?¡± Now, it was Lynn¡¯s turn to glare. Freya had never bitten back before.

    ¡°Hiidenkirnu thinks your mother may be involved in some kind of espionage. They haven¡¯t pressed charges yet, but they will soon if she stays missing. They filed a missing person report. I got a call about this at 2 AM.¡±

    ¡°Espionage?¡± Freya gave her an incredulous look. It had to be a joke, but it clearly wasn¡¯t. ¡°What did she do?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not telling me yet. This is about to be a huge problem. Do you know anything about this? Anything at all. Whatever you say to me can¡¯t be used against your mother.¡±

    Freya shook her head emphatically.

    ¡°I honestly have no idea, I swear.¡±

    ¡°Apparently, this has been going on for a while. It stopped during her disappearance and started again when she returned. They were planning to confront her yesterday, but she didn¡¯t show up to work. Do you know why?¡±

    ¡°No. She didn¡¯t tell me she was planning to skip work. The police were here the night before, did she tell you about the spray painting?¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°She emailed me about it. She didn¡¯t give any indication anything else was going on. Was she acting strangely?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s always acting strangely,¡± Freya said, and it sounded a bit like she was trying to be funny, but she wasn¡¯t. ¡°I guess she seemed sad, but she didn¡¯t give any sign she planned to take off again.¡±

    ¡°Their lawyer seemed very concerned about Lassa¡¯s mental state. I think whatever she did, it doesn¡¯t make sense to them.¡±

    Freya knew at once. She winced, and Lynn didn¡¯t miss it. Her pulse thudded in her ears, the muscles of her neck tensing. It was the Starball. This was all her fault.

    Lynn kept talking, but the words were a vast distance from Freya. They reached her as a meaningless echo. She faintly tasted river water, and she trembled. Lynn shut up and stared with mounting concern. She reached out for Freya¡¯s shoulder and, without thinking, Freya swept the hand away. Lynn drew back from her, shocked.

    ¡°Oh, my God, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to do that,¡± Freya apologized.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Lynn said, but clearly her feelings were hurt. She couldn¡¯t brush it off the way Lassa could.

    ¡°We do that drill all the time in class. I wasn¡¯t thinking,¡± Freya pressed on, trying to explain, but they were just words. They couldn¡¯t outweigh slapping someone¡¯s arm away. For a few awkward moments, they stood there while Freya grappled for some reasonable explanation.

    We don¡¯t know what it is, or what it¡¯s doing.

    Dan had warned her, and she hadn¡¯t listened to him, or to Dr. Garbuglio, or anyone. She¡¯d been such a fool, and now Lassa would pay the price.

    Lynn looked at Freya as if she were just as crazy as Lassa. Freya couldn¡¯t blame her. Her head swirled with all the things that had happened, trying to figure out how to explain this. Dan had no choice but to believe Freya. He¡¯d been her. An outsider couldn¡¯t possibly understand.

    Had Lassa handled the Starball? Did she get jabbed, too?

    Freya thought about the dot of blood on her palm, the missing Tuesday, the empty cans of Ensure, the whiteboards at school, and then she remembered the day Lassa had taken her computer.

    ¡°I just thought of something,¡± Freya said, her mind bounding ahead almost too fast for her mouth to keep up.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Lynn demanded.

    ¡°There was something wrong with our home internet a couple weeks ago. Our line was maxed out, and Lassa thought someone hacked our Wi-Fi to torrent stuff. She changed the password and ran a virus scan on all our computers. That must be related to this.¡±

    Lynn¡¯s face brightened immediately.

    ¡°That¡¯s very, very good news if we can prove that. Possibly, she was just compromised.¡±

    ¡°Maybe they got into Hiidenkirnu through her VPN,¡± Freya offered.

    ¡°I¡¯ll check with the company. Hopefully, there will be some kind of record.¡±

    ¡°Lassa called our ISP about it. They should have a record of her complaint. They were trying to charge us three hundred dollars for exceeding our data quota. She made them drop it. She argued with them for half an hour.¡±

    Lynn had her phone out and tapping rapidly.

    ¡°That¡¯s fantastic. That might save us. I still don¡¯t know where she is. Was she drinking?¡±

    ¡°Not that I know of. She¡¯s been a little better since she came back, but only a little.¡±

    Freya was surprised to see concern on Lynn¡¯s face. It was hard to reconcile with her image of Lynn Harris, shark attorney. The day they¡¯d met with the women from child services, Lynn¡¯s eyes had quested towards the bedroom, and Lassa had frowned with disapproval. Freya put it together. Lynn cared about Lassa but, to Lassa, Lynn was just a diversion.

    Red shift.

    ¡°Shit, they¡¯re going to want my phone, aren¡¯t they?¡± Freya realized.

    ¡°Definitely. Don¡¯t delete anything. I¡¯m going to call Hiidenkirnu and tell them what you told me. This is all about to be a big mess.¡±

    With a sinking feeling, Freya remembered the concert. Even if Dan didn¡¯t want to go with her, it would hurt Mr. Mathis if she didn¡¯t come.

    ¡°I have to go to a concert tonight at 5:30,¡± Freya said, aware as she said it of how cold she must sound. Lynn gave her an incredulous look.

    ¡°Freya, this is very serious.¡±

    ¡°I know, but it¡¯s important,¡± Freya stressed. ¡°Mr. Mathis is playing, and I told him I would go. I have to.¡±

    Lynn shook her head, and Freya stared back. Neither would budge. Lynn¡¯s face contorted. She was clearly holding back things she wanted to say.

    ¡°It¡¯s just in Bangor. I¡¯ll be back later tonight. What happens now?¡±

    ¡°No charges have been filed yet. Hopefully, she hasn¡¯t done anything crazy. If she had, we¡¯d probably be talking to the FBI right now.¡±

    Freya felt her stomach plunge, and then it growled loud enough Lynn raised her eyebrows. The combination of hunger and anxiety was making her feel awful. She wondered when the last time she¡¯d eaten was, and then remembered Dan.

    ¡°I have to let Dan know. He¡¯s supposed to go to the concert with me tonight.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s wise,¡± Lynn cautioned.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m doing it. I¡¯m not going to stand him up.¡± Freya took out her phone. She was ready for Lynn to try and take it away from her, but Lynn only sighed. She had accepted the situation.

    ¡°I won¡¯t tell him anything specific, okay?¡± Freya promised. ¡°Wait, should I give him your number in case they take my phone?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°They might ask for my phone, too. If the police get involved, I could be in trouble with the Bar.¡± Lynn realized she shouldn¡¯t have said the last part and seemed to be working on an excuse.

    ¡°I already know about you two,¡± Freya said. ¡°It¡¯s no big deal.¡±

    Color rose to Lynn¡¯s cheeks, out of place against her silver hair and imperious features. She seemed uncomfortable. The coffee maker gurgled at the end of its brewing cycle. Lynn rose to get a cup.

    ¡°Who are you emailing?¡± she asked, glancing over from the counter.

    ¡°I¡¯m ordering flowers for Mr. Mathis. I forgot to do it last night.¡±

    ¡°Would you like coffee?¡±

    ¡°Sure. Black, please.¡±

    Lynn brought two mugs to the table.

    ¡°I have a tiny bit of good news,¡± Lynn said, sliding Freya a mug. ¡°Last night, the police found Malcolm Lewis¡¯s car.¡±

    ¡°Not him, though?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, no. It was parked outside of Black River Market. They think he¡¯d been sleeping in it. They impounded it.¡±

    ¡°I guess the next time he wants to spray paint the house he¡¯ll have to take the bus.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, there won¡¯t be a next time. They¡¯re getting closer at least.¡±

    ¡°I bet he¡¯ll blame me for getting his car towed. What happens when they find him? He won¡¯t be able to get bail, right?¡±

    ¡°He most likely will be able to get bail. How well do you know his parents?¡±

    ¡°I only met his mom a few times, never his dad.¡±

    ¡°The Lewises are in the middle of a fairly acrimonious divorce. The mother, Nora, is a very pragmatic woman. I¡¯ve spoken with her. She understands what Malcolm did and is disgusted. It¡¯s a little heartbreaking. It takes a lot to get to where your own mother won¡¯t defend you.¡±

    Freya nodded, thinking of Lassa.

    ¡°The father is the problem. Neither he nor his lawyers will talk with me. I¡¯d wager Grady Lewis is a big part of why the police haven¡¯t caught Malcolm yet.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Grady owns a lot of land in town. I¡¯m sure SPD wouldn¡¯t ignore Malcolm if they saw him walking down Thoreau Street, but they probably aren¡¯t putting a lot of effort into finding him either.¡±

    ¡°Ugh. That¡¯s so gross. Wouldn¡¯t Grady get in trouble for sheltering a fugitive or something?¡±

    ¡°He would, and that¡¯s probably why Malcolm was sleeping in his car. I¡¯m sure Grady¡¯s not thrilled about his son¡¯s crime spree, but I bet he hasn¡¯t cut him off either.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Freya said, wishing Lynn hadn¡¯t even mentioned Malcolm.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it. For now, we need to talk about what we¡¯re going to say and what we¡¯re not going to say before we talk to Hiidenkirnu,¡± Lynn said.

    ¡°Understood. Let me just talk to Dan. Wait, shit. It¡¯s Saturday morning, he¡¯ll be at work.¡±

    ¡°Where does he work?¡±

    ¡°At Seven Over Seven.¡±

    ¡°How about if I drive you over there and you talk with him in person? I¡¯d like to keep our calls to a minimum until we figure this out,¡± Lynn suggested. ¡°We can get something to eat, too.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a good idea. I should text him first thought and make sure it¡¯s cool if we show up at his work, though. I¡¯m not exactly sure where the two of us stand right now.¡±

    It felt weird to share so much with Lynn, and Freya remembered the strange exchange with her sister Lee at the library. Surely, the two of them had talked about it.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. Would you show me the text before you send it, please?¡±

    Freya wanted to refuse, but she couldn¡¯t think of a reason. She spent a long time agonizing over the wording of her text as Lynn tapped on her own phone.

    <Freya> Good morning Dan, is it cool if I come to the diner with my mom¡¯s lawyer? Totally okay if you¡¯d prefer we go somewhere else.

    ¡°Looks good,¡± Lynn said.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem too cringe?¡±

    Lynn shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s very thoughtful of you to check. I wish everyone was that polite.¡± It was clear who Lynn meant.

    Freya took a deep breath before she pressed send and, with each second that passed, she felt more and more that it was a stupid thing to do. She steeled herself for the response, and she imagined the words that would destroy her completely appearing on the screen:

    <Dan> DON¡¯T COME.

    For long minutes, there was no reply, and she felt so hopeless and helpless she was surprised the Starball didn¡¯t try to calm her down. Was it running out of power? Maybe it abandoned her.

    Her phone buzzed against the tabletop, and she took an expectant breath. She might be about to be hurt very badly.

    <Dan> No problem at all, I¡¯d love to see you. Should I have them start butchering a cow? :STEAK:

    Freya shut her eyes and let the breath out slowly. Her shoulders trembled a little. She was so relieved.

    Lynn smiled at her over her phone. Freya was afraid she would say something awkward, but she only gave a knowing nod. She hadn¡¯t forgotten what it this was like.

    <Freya> Haha, not today. I¡¯ll try not to distract you too much. ;)

    Freya sat beaming at the screen. It had taken her almost a minute to decide what smiley to end with.

    ¡°Okay, let me shower and get dressed. Ten minutes,¡± Freya said. She got ready quickly and, as she was preparing to leave, opened her nightstand drawer to stare at the Starball. She ought to seal it up in the shell before it could do any more damage.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± she whispered and, of course, there was no reply. She wondered if she should try to hide it in her room somewhere, but there was no time now. She didn¡¯t like the idea of leaving it at home, what if the police searched the place, and they took it?

    She put the Starball back in her pocket where it belonged and took out the phone to look at the text again.

    Love.

    To.

    See.

    You.

    She shut her eyes and felt herself ascend.

 Chapter 61

    Freya ordered a chocolate malt, a fried egg double cheeseburger, and steak fries with A.1. Sauce. Lynn Harris raised her eyebrows at Freya¡¯s order as if she thought Freya couldn¡¯t finish all that, but she was very wrong.

    Freya spotted Dan peering at her from the kitchen, he looked so happy when he caught her eye. She felt she could just melt into the booth. Everything she¡¯d been worried about seemed irrelevant compared to that smile.

    The sun rose outside, streaming through the trees, and glinting off cars in the parking lot. Freya glanced around the diner between bites. There was only one busy table, late-shift nurses from the hospital. The other diners were scattered loaners, a police officer in the far corner, a few solitary truckers staring red-eyed at the dawn.

    The conversation with Lynn became serious once they both finished breakfast. Lynn had Freya go over the issue with their internet several times and coached her in the exact wording they should use when they met with Hiidenkirnu¡¯s security people.

    Freya mentioned the whiteboard issues at her school, and Lynn thought this was also useful to them. She thought their phones might have gotten infected with some kind of industrial malware.

    Freya was a little dubious until Lynn told her about Stuxnet, a cyberweapon developed by the Israelis to attack Iran¡¯s nuclear program in the late oughts. The weapon targeted the industrial logic controllers in Iranian enrichment facilities and made their centrifuges spin too fast and tear themselves apart.

    The image of centrifuges whirling out of control and disintegrating stuck in Freya¡¯s mind. She thought about the morning where she¡¯d been burning up, getting off again and again, and her eyes sought out Dan. He was over at the register, ringing someone up. She caught his eye, and he stared back so intensely it was like an electric arc between them. She blushed but didn¡¯t look away. Dan had to break first to hand the credit card back to the customer. Color rose to his cheeks.

    It didn¡¯t matter if she was being manipulated. She would pay any price for this. It was everything. Lynn¡¯s words drifted past. All Freya wanted was to be alone with Dan. She glanced down. There was nothing left on her plate but dried yolk and A.1. residue. Lynn had only eaten half of her vegan wrap. Freya wondered if it would be rude to offer to finish it when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    <Dan> I have a ten-minute break at 6:50, want to chat out back?

    Her cheeks felt like they were incandescent.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Freya said.

    * * *

    Dan led Freya through the back exit. They walked past the dumpsters that reeked of spent cooking oil, through the parking lot and into the woods behind the diner, where evergreens concealed them.

    It all disappeared. There was only him and, in his eyes, there was only her. They fell into each other and shut their eyes in a long embrace that would have gone on forever if only there were time. When they broke, Freya kissed him. A little fire built in her. Dan grew against her, and she pulled him closer.

    ¡°I thought I¡¯d lost you,¡± she whispered, feeling him shudder.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t¡­¡± His voice wavered.

    Freya gazed at Dan¡¯s face and saw everything had been abandoned. There was no more resistance, no anguish and, as she looked at him, she wondered what else had been lost. The eyes that had been so haunted last night gleamed with hope.

    She had a flicker of worry that this was not his decision, and they were only pawns in the Starball¡¯s game. But the thought could not hold. It was battered apart in a storm of joy. They had found each other, and nothing else mattered.

    The connection began, and they started to merge, sensations overlapped, and she rode along his stream of thought. Dan wanted to take Freya by the hand and lead her into the parking lot. They would get in his car without bothering to clock out and drive back to her room.

    Freya beamed approval. She hadn¡¯t even wanted to wait that long. His eyes widened as he read her desire to be pressed back against the tree with his hands tugging at the waistband of her jeans. She felt Dan twitch against her at the thought. They were heartbeats away from tearing off clothes when the connection subsided.

    Her disappointment was mirrored in his face, they had only skimmed a toe across the surface of Unity. But there wasn¡¯t the despair they¡¯d felt at the track. They each had the sense this was only a prelude.

    An alarm interrupted them. Dan¡¯s phone chimed his break was nearly over. It seemed impossible the whole exchange had only taken eight minutes.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t get to talk,¡± he said, seemingly surprised by the sound of his own voice as he turned off the alarm. It felt so inefficient to have to use words to communicate. Freya realized she hadn¡¯t told him about Lassa yet.

    ¡°Do you still want to come to the concert with me?¡± she asked, and he nodded easily. At once, Freya knew she hadn¡¯t even needed to ask.

    ¡°I do. I¡¯d go anywhere with you,¡± he said, reaching out to hold her hand. ¡°We can talk about everything on the way there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so happy,¡± Freya said. She felt the Starball¡¯s heat dissipating in her pocket.

 Chapter 62

    Freya floated as they left the diner. She didn¡¯t realize they were going to Hiidenkirnu until Lynn¡¯s Mercedes pulled into the gated visitor lot. In a panic, Freya realized she¡¯d brought the Starball right to the lab. What if all their equipment started flaking out like the whiteboards at Grayson?

    ¡°It¡¯ll be okay,¡± Lynn said, noticing she was tense. ¡°I¡¯ll do all the talking. Freya wondered if she could leave the Starball in the car, but it seemed wrong to her. She was deeply averse to being separated from the orb. She took a deep breath and went inside, knowing all the while she was a fool.

    They¡¯d remodeled the lobby since the last time Freya was at Hiidenkirnu, and it smelled different than she remembered. Before, it had been like a hospital in here, the lingering scent of bleach, shoes squeaking against linoleum floors. Now, everything had been redone in cedar, stacked slate, and blue-green glass. There was a distant scent of varnish. It barely felt like a laboratory anymore.

    Hiidenkirnu¡¯s CTO waited for them in a conference room that was a triangle of blue-green glass jutting from the side of the Hiidenkirnu building. There was an impressive view of the rising hills dotted with evergreens.

    Freya had expected to see the old systems administrator, a big fat man named Karl who was perpetually clad in Birkenstocks and a ratty Dimmu Borgir T-shirt. They¡¯d remodeled their staff, too.

    Oliver Karhu was a slight blond man with wire-framed glasses and a fashionable gray suit. He had an air of distraction, as if he badly needed a cigarette and only needed to get this interrogation out of the way first. His phone constantly buzzed with alerts, and he had to pause often to check on them. He¡¯d apologized about the first interruption but, after that, it was just understood this was how it was going to be.

    As she¡¯d promised, Lynn Harris did most of the talking, and Oliver listened intently. A few times, he politely asked her to hold on so he could answer a pressing message. Freya saw a distorted reflection of his phone¡¯s screen in the glass behind him, but she couldn¡¯t make out much. There were at least five people demanding his attention at once. It was like he was in a collapsing building, rushing from room to room trying to shore it up.

    The Starball grew warmer and warmer in her pocket, and she wondered what the hell it was doing. She looked at the reflection of Karhu¡¯s phone, expecting everything to start glitching out any moment.

    ¡°What can you tell us?¡± Lynn Harris asked when she¡¯d finished with her account.

    ¡°Well, first, Freya, may I see your phone?¡±

    Freya looked to Lynn, who nodded at her. Freya slid her phone across the table to Oliver, who had set his laptop on the table. Connected to it was a black plastic box the size of a deck of cards.

    ¡°Okay. Do you need to keep it?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I¡¯d just like to see if there¡¯s anything running on it that shouldn¡¯t be. I¡¯m going to take a forensic image of your phone first. That way if anything happens, we can still recover the data.¡±

    ¡°Okay. All my pictures and stuff are on iCloud anyway,¡± she said. Freya and Lynn had already gone through all her texts, and there was nothing she couldn¡¯t explain.

    She didn¡¯t like the thought of Lassa¡¯s work snooping through her photos, but there was nothing to be done now. At least she didn¡¯t have anything too risqu¨¦. There were pictures of the Starball and the meteorite, but Freya doubted Karhu would know what he looked at. The embarrassing things were all her sad little declining e-mail chains with her former friends, the slow dissolution of all her relationships, but they wouldn¡¯t care about that either. There would be almost nothing from her mother. Lassa didn¡¯t text and seldom called.

    Karhu performed some arcane combination of button presses and shut the phone off, when it booted back up, it displayed a black and white terminal. He asked Freya to enter her password, and it took a few tries for her to get it. The little cursor didn¡¯t move as she typed, and it tripped her up. When she managed to unlock it, Karhu got a cable from his case and plugged her phone into the imager.

    ¡°It will take a little bit to make the image. It¡¯s backing up everything,¡± Karhu explained.

    ¡°What can you tell us? We¡¯re happy to cooperate but we¡¯re in the dark here,¡± Lynn said, impatience already snaking into her voice.

    ¡°We¡¯re worried about Lassa. I was unaware of the issue with her home internet. She should have notified me at once. I¡¯m going to take a very close look at her machine and find out if it was compromised. At some point, I would like to take a look at the router and see if there¡¯s any issue with it. I don¡¯t expect to find anything there as cross-platform malware is very uncommon. Does Lassa have a personal phone?¡±

    ¡°No, she only has the Hiidenkirnu one,¡± Freya said.

    Oliver nodded. ¡°I really wouldn¡¯t expect to see anything on Freya¡¯s phone then. Most likely either Lassa¡¯s phone or workstation is compromised. Did you bring her computer?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Lynn Harris said, and she passed him the leather laptop bag she¡¯d brought from Lassa¡¯s room.

    ¡°That¡¯s great, thank you. As to what¡¯s going on, I¡¯ll tell you what I can. This is still an active intrusion, and we¡¯re working to secure it.¡±

    ¡°Can you tell us when it started?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°We noticed something strange on our network about a week before Lassa took a week of PTO. When she was absent, we noticed a correlation between her being in the office and the unauthorized transfers. Then we investigated her account and saw work orders being generated for testing that made no sense, things totally unrelated to her department. At first, we wondered if this was intentional sabotage. We are very concerned about her mental state. I understand she was involved in an altercation at your school.¡±

    Freya nodded, the day of the fight, where this had all begun. It seemed so long ago.

    ¡°She¡¯s going through a tough time, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯s gone crazy or anything,¡± Freya said. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get her to see a therapist.¡±

    ¡°We need to talk with her as soon as possible. The idea of her machine being compromised makes the most sense. A lot of the data that was transferred is from projects Lassa would have no knowledge of, and there was simply too much taken for one person to parse it all. It¡¯s all quite puzzling.¡±

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Freya wasn¡¯t puzzled, and the desire to know what the hell the Starball was up to burned in her mind hotter than the orb in her pocket.

    ¡°What kind of stuff was taken?¡± Freya asked, and Lynn¡¯s eyes flashed with warning. ¡°I mean, I understand you can¡¯t be specific, I¡¯m just curious,¡± Freya amended, hoping she hadn¡¯t gone too far.

    ¡°Like I said, a huge volume of material. Not only from Hiidenkirnu but from our CRADA network. Lassa¡¯s division is RH, most of the work that was errantly ordered, and the material taken was NPP.¡±

    Freya and Lynn¡¯s eyes met. Neither understood. They turned back to Karhu, waiting for him to translate the jargon to English.

    ¡°Oh, of course. CRADA are research agreements we have to share data with government entities. They¡¯re one of the reasons we must get to the bottom of this quickly. We need to inform these institutions of the breach. RH is reproductive health.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s NPP?¡±

    ¡°Neuropsychopharmacology. Antidepressants, anxiolytics, that type of thing.¡±

    Keenly, Freya remembered Lassa angrily saying Dr. Garbuglio didn¡¯t know a tenth of what she did about Lunesta. She was racking her mind. Could Lassa have been involved in some kind of espionage? The Starball was uncomfortably hot, but she didn¡¯t want to take it out of her pocket.

    When had the Starball started working on her? Had it been tearing around in the Hiidenkirnu system trying to figure out how to pacify her? She remembered it struggling to calm Dan down, the layer of frost at the edges while his mind was on fire.

    As she whirled with ideas, the imaging of her phone completed. Karhu took one of the data cards out of the imager and flipped the tab to read-only, then put it in a little plastic case and wrote on the label in pen.

    ¡°Okay. Now that we have a backup, let¡¯s see what¡¯s happening on your phone.¡± Karhu said. He had long fingers with neatly trimmed nails. She looked for calluses to see if he was a guitar player, but there were none. She remembered Karl had been a bass player and idly wished he were here instead. There had been something comforting about how disheveled he was.

    Karhu rapidly tapped through pages of text, looking through lists of processes and services. He gave a little running commentary about what each process did. Freya and Lynn paid close attention.

    ¡°There it is,¡± he announced, seeming almost disappointed. ¡°They didn¡¯t even try to hide it. Unusual.¡±

    Karhu turned the phone around so they could see it, pressing a fingertip at the top of the list. Most of the processes had names like MEMOSRV, but the top one¡¯s name was just ?. Next to it were columns indicating memory and processor use. ? was close to eighty percent on both.

    ¡°Is that why my battery life has been awful?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Almost certainly, though this is an older phone. You¡¯re probably near end-of-life on your battery, too. I¡¯m going to have to ask if we can keep your phone after all, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. Is it something like Stuxnet?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Really unlikely to be something on that scale. That kind of state level malware is very difficult to detect. This almost seems amateur, but I won¡¯t know until I can examine it.¡±

    ¡°Do you think our router is infected, too?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, but I¡¯d like to take a look at all the computers in your home. Lassa¡¯s phone is android, so maybe this is a cross-platform threat after all.¡±

    Karhu inhaled deeply and sighed, rolling his thumb and index finger against his temples. His phone kept chirping against the table. He looked down at it as if it were making him seasick.

    ¡°Can I see your phone as well?¡± he asked Lynn, she shook her head.

    ¡°There¡¯s privileged data on it. I can¡¯t let you make an image without a court order,¡± Lynn said. Freya wondered how much of that privileged data was sexting with Lassa. But Lynn did have other clients after all.

    ¡°That¡¯s totally fine. Can I just check the running processes like I did on Freya¡¯s phone?¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t on their wireless network ever. I use my data plan.¡± Lynn sounded a little defensive.

    ¡°Do you mind if I look anyway?¡± Karhu pressed. ¡±It should only take a second.¡±

    Reluctantly, Lynn Harris surrendered her phone, hovering at his side as he worked through it. Lynn¡¯s phone was an android. Karhu didn¡¯t need to reboot the phone to get to the list of running applications. Freya couldn¡¯t see the screen but, from their faces, she could guess what they were seeing. Looking upset, Karhu turned over his own phone, tabbed away from all the angry notifications, and pulled up his own process manager.

    The ? process was at the top of the list.

    ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± Karhu groaned. ¡°You have no idea how much worse my day just got.¡± He shoved the phone away in disgust. It spun at the center of the table and rattled against it with a notification.

    ¡°We have to get the authorities involved now. This is way too big,¡± Karhu said, clearly daunted.

    Lynn and Karhu spoke about Hiidenkirnu¡¯s lawyers, and which agencies would need to be notified of the breach.

    Forgotten, Freya hung her head in silent despair. It was all about to slip away from her. The government would swarm in and find out everything. They would take the Starball, they would lock her up, she would never see Dan again. Wild thoughts of escape flashed through her mind, taking Randall¡¯s truck, and running for it, trying to escape to Canada.

    Please, stop. Just let me make it through today. PLEASE. She clenched her fist around the Starball in her pocket, wishing for the millionth time it could just talk to her. She felt the cool clarity of its efforts to calm her, and then her eyes focused on Karhu¡¯s phone as another flashing red notification set it buzzing angrily against the tabletop.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Freya interrupted. She pointed at Karhu¡¯s phone. The ? process had disappeared from the list. Karhu reached across the table and took the phone, scrutinizing the screen. They looked at Lynn¡¯s next. The process was gone.

    ¡°Mit? vittu,¡± Karhu breathed.

    In her fist, the Starball cooled.

    * * *

    As the morning dragged on, the conference room became a gyre of confusion. Hiidenkirnu¡¯s lawyers got into a huddle with Lynn. Flustered-looking technicians arrived, and Karhu dispatched them to tasks around the building. There were missed buttons on dress shirts and mismatched socks, a ripe, hung-over musk in the air that said the emergency summons had been too urgent to even shower. Freya was left with nothing to do, wishing she¡¯d brought a book.

    Karhu and the lawyers tried to convince Lynn to surrender her phone, and Lynn dug in her heels. By the tone of her voice, they would have to take it from her by force.

    A flurry of words passed between Karhu and the lawyers in Finnish, Freya could pick out only a little, but the words Tietokone pandemia clung to her as if barbed. She could not shake them loose. The argument grew increasingly heated. Finally, Karhu managed to convince Lynn to remove the battery from her phone and slide it into one of the signal-blocking sleeves. She promised not to turn it back on until she heard from the authorities.

    With the compromise reached, Freya and Lynn found themselves politely banished to the lobby, watching more and more people streaming in. It was all about to be a fiasco. Freya had ignored all the warnings, let all the chances to tell someone slip away.

    People rushed in every direction, looking distraught, like ants whose hive had been kicked to pieces. How much was this all going to cost? How big would it get? Everyone¡¯s weekend was ruined, and it was all her fault.

    Freya groped for the guilt she should have felt, but there was nothing. She could stop all this right how, rip the Starball from her pocket, and hold it into the air like a beacon. With all their eyes upon her, she could confess everything. The idea seemed as distant and fanciful as if she planned to levitate.

    The nausea and aversion she¡¯d felt before did not return. They were no longer necessary. She wanted to check her phone for the time, and then she remembered they¡¯d taken it. Behind the reception desk was a blank clock face with no lines and no numbers. It was just after three. Two hours until she could see him. Nothing else mattered.

 Chapter 63

    There was no more struggling. She slipped into the water, and the current carried her out into the driveway where Dan waited.

    Freya wore a sea-green dress and a string of Lassa¡¯s pearls. The collar of a dress shirt peeked out beneath Dan¡¯s jacket. He¡¯d worn a tie, and there was a distant smell it took her a moment to identify. He¡¯d shined his shoes for her.

    Shoe polish was a smell she¡¯d always associated with men. Dan stood up straighter, lifting his chin. He had a new confidence, an aspiration to something more, and she felt herself respond to it. She swept into him, and they clung together, lingering in the eddy of a long kiss.

    She felt him through their clothes, wound together in a spiral heat. Dan¡¯s eyes drifted past her to focus on the door of the house. It was only a glance, but it was everything. She could take him by the hand and lead him to her bedroom, a word, and they would be engulfed.

    Instead, she grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, Dan shut his eyes and let himself be drawn in. For a few delicious moments, she reveled in the sensation. When she drew back, he gave her a shocked look that was almost wounded. She grinned at him, a promise on her lips.

    Later.

    Dan¡¯s eyes followed her as she walked around the car to the passenger side. As she buckled her seatbelt, he adjusted his jeans before he climbed in to join her. Now, it was her turn to glance back at the house, twisting with want. She held her breath until they were on the road so the words couldn¡¯t escape her mouth.

    It was only when the house and Sillas were behind them that Freya could accept that this was happening. All day long, she¡¯d been certain something would ruin this. First that Hiidenkirnu wouldn¡¯t let them go. Next that Lassa would show up, for the last hour she¡¯d been worried the FBI would blockade Elliot Road with black helicopters. She inhaled deeply and rolled her neck, trying to let go of it all, trying to be here.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe we¡¯re going! This is going to be so fun!¡± Freya¡¯s voice pinged with excitement. Dan was caught in her joy, beaming ahead at the road brighter than his headlights. She chattered with him about his day at the diner, the run he¡¯d gone for that morning, all the trivial things that would have been boring coming from anyone else.

    Freya wished she could remain here, in this mundane space where they were just a boy and a girl driving to a concert. Dan must have shared the thought. He took pains to avoid mentioning the Starball. Then he asked why she¡¯d been at the diner with Lynn Harris, and there was no escaping it.

    A heavy veil of clouds hid the stars, and the bare trees flanking the road were illuminated for only moments before they vanished into the darkness behind them. As they slid through the night, Freya told Dan that Lassa had vanished again. She told him about the meeting at Hiidenkirnu and the ? process. His brow furrowed as she described the scale of the response, all the scientists and security people scurrying around the lab in a half-panic.

    ¡°The government is definitely going to get involved,¡± she said, wishing again that things could just be normal. ¡°Everything might get hectic. I¡¯m sorry if you get swept up in this.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Can you check and see if it¡¯s on my phone? My battery life has been awful.¡± Dan was very deliberate as he took his phone out of his pocket and passed it to her. His phone had no password and, like the interior of the car, everything was tidy and ordered. She liked that, even as she felt a mild dread rising while she hunted for the list of running applications. It had taken Karhu about two seconds to do it, but Freya fumbled around for almost a minute before she found it.

    ? - CPU LOAD 80% - RAM USE 1.4GB/2GB

    ¡°It¡¯s there,¡± Freya confirmed.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Dan asked.

    Freya tried killing the application. It vanished from the list only to pop back up.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if we can do anything. I can¡¯t terminate the process.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s turn off the phone so other people don¡¯t get infected,¡± Dan suggested with the faintest shake of his head.

    Freya initiated a shutdown, and then something occurred to her.

    ¡°Did you have your phone on all day at the diner?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­shit.¡± Dan already leaped to the same conclusion.

    ¡°Tietokone pandemia.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Something Karhu said. Computer pandemic. If it spreads from phone to phone, there¡¯s no telling how many people got it already.¡± She handed the phone back to him, then slipped her hand into her jacket pocket for the Starball. She cupped the orb in her palm, peering at it the faint light of the console.

    ¡°I wonder what the hell it¡¯s doing,¡± Freya murmured. The Starball was warm. ¡°Everything would be so much easier if it could just talk to us.¡±

    ¡°Are we still not telling anyone?¡±

    ¡°Do you want to?¡± Freya asked.

    She¡¯d been so sure last night, but the day had eaten at her certainty. Since the meeting at Hiidenkirnu, she¡¯d expected the CIA to pull up in her driveway and drag her away to some black site with a bag over her head.

    There was a long silence between them, Dan¡¯s mouth was a flat line. The moment was a needle wavering between two surrenders, to the authorities or the Starball. Freya felt it growing warmer in her hand, as if it sensed her wavering.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Dan shook his head in resignation. His words had the reverberant richness of hearing them through their ears at once. They¡¯d slipped into Unity so naturally she hadn¡¯t noticed it happening. The expansive sense of being joined passed through her in a flutter of her eyelids, a rising feeling that spread through her whole body.

    Dan tightened. He was worried he would lose control of the car. She was caught in a swell of suspicion; they were being bribed. All their steps had been choreographed, their lines scripted, and the Starball directed everything. She remembered the water cascading down the steps of the flooded auditorium, the edges tumbling into the sea. The vision washed over Dan with her, and he could not escape it.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Please,¡± Dan pleaded. She felt his hands tightening on the steering wheel, and the muscles of his jaw clenching.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± she breathed, trying to slow her frantic thoughts, and the effort made it worse. Dan grimaced forward as if he was biking into the rain.

    ¡°I have to get off the road,¡± they said in unison. He fought so hard to get the words out that Freya became his unwilling chorus. She felt his agitation decrease as she took deep breaths, exhaling them slowly.

    They drifted to a stop in the parking lot of the Jericho Chapel. Something was going on inside. The parking lot was nearly full, and there were bright lights streaming through the stained glass, casting red and blue shadows on the lawn.

    Dan put the car in park, and they felt themselves resynchronizing. Their breathing linked first, and then their hearts began to beat in time. The fear dwindled, and they turned to one another, seeing and being seen in the same instant. For a fleeting moment, there was no fear, no thought at all, only harmony.

    Freya broke it. She had a flash of worry they wouldn¡¯t make it to the concert in time, and they both scrambled to try and banish her anxiety. Freya felt guilty for breaking the moment, and Dan radiated assurance it was okay. Her worry felt disproportionate to Dan, and his thoughts hurtled forward. They had plenty of time, they would arrive well before the concert began, everything was fine.

    Dan¡¯s thoughts were all logical, purely correct. Freya felt like she was crazy for worrying. She reflected on why, trying to bridge the gap between them. They didn¡¯t see the concert the same way, it didn¡¯t have the weight for Dan that it had for Freya. He knew it was important to her, but he didn¡¯t really get it.

    She felt a tangle of explanations rising, strings of words and justifications, but they were unwieldy and labored. She tried to project how she felt, but she only got an echo in return, not understanding.

    Freya tried another tack, summoning up a stream of memories. Together they saw Mr. Mathis arriving with his battered guitar case, those old hands dancing along the golden frets of the piano black New Yorker. Dan felt her dip of despair as he announced: ¡°If you¡¯re not going to bother practicing, I¡¯m not going to bother coming.¡±

    Next was a blur of hours upon hours of practice as she tried to escape that crushing feeling. She showed Dan the minute raise of Mr. Mathis¡¯ eyebrows when she finally nailed ¡°Mr. Sandman¡± after three weeks of trying to get all fifty chord changes right.

    Freya tried to stop the cascade of memories, but there was an inertia to this. They slipped downstream, and they were shrinking, looking up as Randall smiled at them, pulling the Ovation off the wall of the guitar store. Freya¡¯s voice piped up, promising she would practice every day.

    The memory crashed between them like a cymbal. It was something she¡¯d never thought she would share with anyone else.

    For Freya, the memory had been worn as smooth as a river stone by thousands of recollections. But, for Dan, it was brand new and arresting. Through him, she was there again, alive in the moment. The feeling echoed back and forth between them. Freya tried to cling to it until there were only reverberations remaining.

    She was there!

    It couldn¡¯t last. When the feeling died, Freya felt like she¡¯d been impaled. It hurt so much she could only squirm in the car seat and make a low keening noise in the back of her throat.

    Dan had to feel it all with her. In unison, they reached out and grasped hands, not gently as they had before but as if they dangled over an abyss. How it stung! But on the other side of the pain, there was a dawning comprehension.

    Now, he saw. Now, he got her.

    Euphoria cut through the hurt, a feeling of being completely understood. Freya reveled in it, and she had a fierce yen to reciprocate, to understand him in the same way. As he felt her attention turn to him, his thoughts sharpened into a jagged line of unease.

    Reflexively, he sought parallels in his own experience, but they crashed into turmoil. Even as he cried out to be understood, there was something in Dan that did not want to be unraveled.

    His anxiety came in black, flickering stabs, like the pointed fingers tapping that had rapped on her bedroom window. Freya couldn¡¯t help but recall the image of Death with his white, gleaming smile. There were screaming notes of recognition from Dan, he released her hand and shrank back from her until his back pressed against the car door.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go there!¡± he hissed.

    Dan recognized the shadow! In his panic, the whole car seemed to shudder with turbulence. He tried to throw off Unity. Dan had an animal desire to wrench open the door and bolt into the night.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± Freya said the words and projected the emotion simultaneously, trying to reach him. The Starball burned hot in her hand, the cool emptiness spreading through his thoughts as it fought to calm him.

    ¡°Oh, my God, I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she said.

    There was fear in Dan¡¯s eyes. She¡¯d pressed too hard and gone too far. Unity was collapsing. Her breath felt hollow, and her heartbeat unaccompanied. The world crept back in.

    Over the sound of the idling engine, music swelled in the chapel. She couldn¡¯t make out what they were playing. A single female voice rose, hitting a high note before the rest of the choir joined her.

    Dan trembled, and Freya reached towards his hand. He drew it back. She felt the piercing hurt, the knife in her chest. He watched her expression crumble, and it seemed to snap him out of his panic.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he breathed in reply. It took visible effort, but he reached out and took her hand. ¡°It was too much.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to think about that,¡± Freya apologized.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re supposed to go there.¡± Dan¡¯s voice dropped to a low whisper, as if the shadow were just outside the window.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a dream I had.¡± Freya wished her voice sounded surer. Dan didn¡¯t respond, his eyes darting around at the night outside. He¡¯d seen the shadow before.

    ¡°Where did you see that?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Rigo and I tried to get high on Benadryl. We took too much. You start seeing, like, spiders and shadow people. It¡¯s an awful trip. That¡¯s exactly how it looked, those white teeth.¡±

    The choir rose, filling in the empty space between them.

    ¡°Everything was so good before I ruined it,¡± Freya lamented. ¡°Do you want to go home?¡±

    There was a moment of hesitation. Dan was shaken up enough he considered it.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a dream,¡± Dan agreed at last. ¡°You didn¡¯t ruin anything, I¡¯m sorry for freaking out. I just wasn¡¯t ready.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try not to um¡­go in that direction. There¡¯s more stuff like that,¡± Freya warned. ¡°Other dreams, some worse.¡±

    ¡°I have some really bad stuff, too,¡± Dan said with a distant look. His voice was jagged and uncertain.

    ¡°Is that what you¡¯re afraid of?¡±

    Dan nodded. His lips were tight.

    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°I haven¡¯t even told Dr. G.¡±

    ¡°Whatever it is, I won¡¯t leave,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°You can¡¯t know that!¡±

    Freya was sure no words could convince him. She leaned across and kissed him instead. He was too shaken to kiss her back. She persisted until his lips responded to hers. She kissed along his cheek and pressed her mouth against his ear.

    ¡°I want you,¡± she whispered. She set her hand on his thigh, and he shifted in his seat. Her pulse pounded, and her thoughts came in insistent flashes.

    Here. Now. Right in the parking lot.

    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± Dan said, nodding his chin forward. She followed his eyes. The door of the chapel had swung wide and there was someone backed by golden light, staring at them.

    ¡°Ack!¡± Freya bleated, recoiling into her seat. Dan already had the car in reverse. He whipped them backward and hit the gas, speeding out of the parking lot. A quarter mile down the road, they both started to giggle. It bloomed into laughter.

    ¡°That keeps happening to us,¡± Freya shook her head.

    ¡°They must have noticed the headlights,¡± Dan reasoned. ¡°At least it wasn¡¯t your mom this time.¡±

    ¡°With the gun. Oh, God.¡± Freya¡¯s cheeks burned at the thought. She hoped Lassa was all right, but the worry slipped away like the trees whipping past the car. There was only tonight, only right now, only him.

 Chapter 64

    The road to Bangor was long and winding, and their conversation had drifted into an unkind silence. Each of them tried to make sense of what had happened, but their thoughts were gnarled, twisting away in too many directions at once.

    Freya kept trying to think of something to say, but the darkness had settled around them too thickly. The roads were empty. Ten minutes might pass before they saw headlights coming their way, and no one was behind them.

    She thought of asking Dan to turn on the radio, but they were so far out it might only be static.

    It seemed like anything she could say was the wrong thing, so she said nothing. Who were they to each other? Who were they to themselves? Freya was lost in thought, feeling more alone for the closeness she¡¯d lost.

    When the city lights appeared on the horizon, she had a sense they were being delivered from the darkness. There were streetlamps now, and she searched Dan¡¯s face for answers as the car slipped through pools of pale light.

    ¡°You okay?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yeah, just feels heavy, you know? I don¡¯t want this to stop, but I¡¯m afraid of where it¡¯s going. I feel like I¡¯m caught in the tide.¡±

    Freya worried at Dan¡¯s choice of words. If they kept sharing their memories, would she see him caught in the sea? Would he see her drowning in the river? They would both have to re-live it all, to suffer everything again.

    She had a sudden desire to roll down the window and hurl the Starball out into the woods. She waited for it to work on her, the cooling, doped-up feeling, but it never came. It knew it had her.

    People weren¡¯t made for this, especially not the two of them. The Starball had selected them because they were broken, easier to control. Lassa would have never surrendered. The thought of her mother reminded Freya she didn¡¯t know where Lassa was, or if she was okay.

    Freya had been so wound up in herself she¡¯d barely spared a thought for anyone else. Radomir was still in the hospital. Jane had sent her an apology six texts long, and she had just ignored it. Everyone she knew had gotten hurt, everything she touched stained.

    They arrived at the venue, and Dan took her hand again.

    ¡°This is all my fault,¡± she whispered. ¡°I should have told someone right away. Now, it¡¯s too late.¡±

    Dan¡¯s eyes were locked on hers, his mouth moving as he searched for the right thing to say.

    ¡°If we want to, tomorrow we can go to Dr. Garbuglio together,¡± Dan offered. She stared at him. They both knew they wouldn¡¯t do that.

    ¡°I mean, we have that option. If things get worse.¡±

    It still felt impossible, but she didn¡¯t want to make him feel bad.

    ¡°Okay,¡± she said, trying to smile.

    ¡°Hey, wait there,¡± he said, and he cut the ignition and walked around the car to open her door for her. When she took his hand and stepped out of the car, he kissed her, and she buried her face against his neck.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered in his ear. Hand in hand, they walked to Sparrow Hall.

    * * *

    Everyone looked at Freya and Dan. They were the youngest people in the lobby by decades. Freya was much more comfortable in this crowd. People smiled when they caught Freya¡¯s eye. Everyone was dressed up and here to have a good time. For the hundredth time, she checked the inside pocket of her jacket. The pale blue tickets were there, with the Starball.

    The ticket taker had a maroon fez with a golden tassel and a matching vest. He asked Freya for ID, and then shook his head when she tried to explain she was a guest of the opening act. He apologized and said he absolutely couldn¡¯t admit anyone under eighteen. Freya blinked in astonishment.

    Out of all the ways she¡¯d imagined this going wrong, she hadn¡¯t expected to be stopped for being underage. An old man in a pinstriped suit on the sidelines groaned, ¡°C¡¯mon now,¡± in protest, and a murmur ruffled through his cluster of people.

    ¡°Get the manager, please.¡± The words were said politely, but it was a demand. Freya had to fight to keep the Lassa out of her voice. There was a sense it was all going off the rails after they¡¯d come so far.

    The ticket taker held up the line and called out to one of the ushers. The manager was summoned. He was a tall black man with dark raised freckles on his cheeks. He was irate walking over, but he smiled when he approached them and asked how he could help. He looked familiar to Freya. She tried to figure out where she¡¯d seen him before.

    ¡°We¡¯re guests of Mr. Mathis. He gave us these tickets. I¡¯m his student.¡± Freya produced the tickets.

    At once, the manager¡¯s mouth became a flat line of discontent, and Freya was afraid she¡¯d screwed up. But then the manager swiveled to the ticket taker, held up the tickets, and tapped a long, callused finger onto the ticket where it said COMP at the top. He tilted his head forward at the younger man. The ticket taker winced, took off his fez, and apologized to them.

    ¡°He¡¯s new. My apologies, miss. Please, come right in.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble, thank you both,¡± Freya said, nodding to the ticket taker diplomatically. She didn¡¯t want to give a worker a hard time in front of Dan again.

    The old man in the pinstripe suit smiled at them. He said, ¡°All right now,¡± and Freya smiled back.

    The manager insisted on showing them to their table. As he led them into the ballroom, he introduced himself as Guy Wright. When Freya heard his name, she remembered where she¡¯d seen him before.

    ¡°You play bass with Moon¡¯s Blues Band, right?¡± she asked, and he lit up and grinned ear to ear.

    ¡°I do! Where did you see us?¡±

    ¡°Lobsterfest, two years ago. I remember you opened with a cover of ¡°The Killing Moon.¡± I love that song!¡±

    Guy leaned back, and then shook his head in surprise. He gave Dan a look.

    ¡°Watch out for this one. She¡¯s as sharp as a knife. Anyone who can remember a bass player is dangerous.¡±

    ¡°It was a good set,¡± Freya said a bit lamely. She was afraid she seemed like a freak for remembering a minor detail from two years ago. Right away, Guy saw he¡¯d pushed a touch too far, and he held up both hands, drawing their attention back to himself.

    ¡°The world¡¯s most famous blues bassist and the world¡¯s most famous jazz bassist meet for dinner. Who picks up the tab?¡±

    Freya and Dan shrugged.

    ¡°Neither. They don¡¯t charge at the soup kitchen.¡± Guy grinned.

    Dan snorted, and Freya covered her mouth and said, ¡°Oh, God.¡± It was a deft way to disarm them.

    As he led them through a forest of circular tables, Guy chatted easily with Freya about her lessons with Mr. Mathis. She told him how long she¡¯d been studying and what she could play. As soon as they arrived at their spot someone called out for him across the hall, and he held up a hand in greeting. Excusing himself, Guy shook their hands and wished them an enchanted evening.

    ¡°That was so cool of him. I thought we were about to get tossed out.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re VIPs.¡± Freya smiled, though she¡¯d thought the same thing.

    Dan pulled her chair out for her, and she took off her coat. Suddenly, he looked like he¡¯d been hit in the back of the head. She¡¯d been in her coat when he picked her up. He¡¯d never seen her in a dress before. Freya felt color coming to her cheeks, and she suppressed an urge to hide her face in her hands.

    ¡°Wow,¡± he breathed, and she smiled back at him, feeling warmth that was more than just the room filling up.

    Just as Mr. Mathis had promised, they were amazing seats. The table was right beside the stage with a vase of white flowers and a votive burning in a cobalt-blue glass. It felt more like a gala than a concert. The hall was filled with closely packed tables, waiters were swarming around bringing trays of cocktails.

    Swallow Hall had vaulted ceilings with intricate plaster that had been painted gold once, long ago. Everything had a slightly decrepit feel to it, the burgundy curtains on the stage frayed at the hems, the crystal chandeliers missing beads, and the shine worn off the wood floors by countless dancing feet. But no one seemed to care. Everyone was excited, talking loudly, laughing for everyone to hear.

    The band tuned up behind the curtain. Somewhere back there, Mr. Mathis was probably at work with the Korg Chromatic Tuner. After a bit, a stagehand walked out to the center of the stage with a microphone stand, trailing a coil of XLR cable behind him. He held his palm flat and adjusted the microphone so its base was at the top of his head.

    ¡°That¡¯s a Unidyne 55,¡± Freya remarked at the microphone, and Dan nodded, even though he probably had no idea what she was talking about. The waiters came around, taking final orders before the set and blowing out all the little candles. The buzz of anticipation grew until the lights dimmed.

    With a spotlight following him, Guy Wright strolled onto the stage, all smiles for the sold-out show. He spent a while smiling hello and pointing in recognition to people in the crowd. Then he turned to the microphone. It was exactly level with his mouth.

    ¡°Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Swallow Hall!¡± Guy waited expertly for the applause to die down.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°It¡¯s my utmost pleasure to introduce my good friend, the most marvelous, most magnificent, most miraculous, Mr. Ezekial Mathis!¡±

    The applause grew ever louder. There was a wonderful energy in the room. Guy Wright strolled off stage and the stagehand rushed in the opposite direction and spirited the microphone away. A click sounded above them as the spotlight was killed.

    The burgundy curtains parted. The stage was bathed in blue light from above, and it sparkled on the chrome of the drum kit and the golden frets of Mr. Mathis¡¯ New Yorker. Beside it, Freya recognized his all-black Stratocaster. All the instruments were laid out in readiness on the stage.

    One by one, the musicians marched out to take their places while everyone applauded. Butter Bill Samson was on drums, Leopold Harris on bass. Reginald Daley was the backup guitarist; Freya hadn¡¯t heard him play before. There was a Weber Fern Mandolin on a stand next to his silver Jazzmaster, and she was dying to know what they were going to play on it.

    Mr. Mathis walked out last, slower than the others as he took his place. The spotlight went up on him, and she saw him peering out at the audience, that familiar stern look on his face. He¡¯d seen this ten thousand times before. There was a pain in his stride, and Freya knew his arthritis had to be bothering him. Every set of eyes in the room was locked on him, every detail of his face standing out in the brilliant light.

    ¡°Jolene,¡± he said, and that was all. Mr. Mathis picked up his guitar, and the band shifted into readiness and began to play the song. They let the music do the talking for them, and if he was suffering, she couldn¡¯t hear it, not a note out of place.

    Freya had never heard him sing on stage before, and his voice was surprising to her. There was something ragged and haunting about it live that wasn¡¯t there on his albums. The audience was rapt until he finished, and then there was an explosion of applause. Just like that, with his very first song, he had them.

    Next, Mr. Mathis played R.L. Burnside¡¯s ¡°It¡¯s Bad You Know,¡± stepping on an effects pedal as he played the harmonica parts so his lines rolled with echo. Then they played ¡°Goodbye Pork Pie Hat,¡± one of Freya¡¯s favorites. As Mr. Mathis played, she saw his eyes narrowing from time to time with hurt.

    The next song was ¡°Stormy Monday,¡± and he let Reginald handle almost all the guitar work as he sang. Freya wondered if Mr. Mathis¡¯ song list was set up that way to give him time to rest his hands.

    Freya kept checking in on Dan, afraid he might be bored but, whenever she glanced over at him, his eyes were on the stage, bright and shining. She saw Mr. Mathis set down the New Yorker and pick up his Stratocaster. When he took a slide out of his suit pocket, she knew what was coming next.

    She watched Dan¡¯s mouth become an O of surprise when he played ¡°Turn the Page.¡± Dan mouthed ¡°Metallica?¡± at her, and she smiled. It was originally a Bob Seger song, but Mathis played it much more like the cover. He kicked up the reverb and played the saxophone part with his slide.

    As Mr. Mathis played, Freya thought of all the stickers on his battered guitar case, the long stare as he¡¯d faced out at the crowd. The whole time, he seemed like he was just a few steps ahead of the song and, afterward, he drained half of a bottle of water and introduced his band. She was surprised. They didn¡¯t do the ubiquitous mini-solo as they were introduced, each man only tilting up his head or raising a hand. They¡¯d made a conscious choice to strip out all the theatrics from their set.

    All the while, Freya waited for some sign her teacher had seen her, a little nod or a glance, but he was wholly focused on playing. He played two of his own songs, ¡°The Desolator,¡± which began bright and jangling but shifted subtly to a minor key midway through the song. At the end the bass line was a one-two heartbeat that slowly petered out.

    The applause that followed was somber and hollow sounding. Then he reeled them back with ¡°Maltwaltz,¡± an up-tempo march with a swinging, inebriated rhythm that had toes tapping all over the hall.

    Since the band had taken the stage, Freya had eyed the mandolin standing beside the backup guitarist, and it came out for the next song. The stagehand brought out a pair of chairs, and Mr. Mathis and Reginald sat facing each other and played ¡°The Battle of Evermore.¡±

    Freya clapped softly with delight as soon as she heard the first bar. Reginald sang the Sandy Denny parts in a soft and serviceable tenor, but the mandolin was the real star. Freya was entranced. She wanted to buy one the moment the song was over.

    Afterward, Mr. Mathis and Reginald stood, and the stagehands took the chairs away. Mr. Mathis straightened his tie, stiffened his posture, and swept his eyes across the crowd. His gazed lingered for a second on Freya, and he winked at her. She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.

    ¡°All right y¡¯all. You ready to get down to business?¡± he asked, and a few people in the crowd applauded. There was a sense of anticipation in the air from people who had seen his act before.

    They played ¡°Waiting for the Miracle¡± by Leonard Cohen. It was like the first part of the show was just a warmup. There was an intensity among the band, as if they were in an operating room, beads of sweat forming on their temples, their faces drawn with focus.

    As they played, something was happening to Mr. Mathis. His hands danced on the frets, the pain gone from his face. A weight had lifted off him. The music flowed into the room, and everyone was spellbound.

    This was the moment he¡¯d told her all their practice was for, but now it was shared with the entire hall. The feeling was so uncanny she reached into her coat pocket, but the Starball was cool. It was just the music.

    They rolled the end of the song into a medley with ¡°Jesus Gonna Be Here¡± by Tom Waits, which disintegrated into ¡°Dark Was the Night,¡± then into one of Mr. Mathis¡¯ own songs, ¡°Eraser.¡± They finished with Gary Moore¡¯s ¡°Parisienne Walkways.¡±

    Mr. Mathis turned the melancholy ballad into something ominous and inescapable. As the last notes drowned in reverb, he stared out at the hall, every eye was on him. It was almost totally silent. The hair on Freya¡¯s arms stood up, and there was something raw and demanding in his stare. No one dared to blink.

    When he bowed, a shudder of relief passed through the crowd. They were released. With no thought to rise, somehow, Freya found herself on her feet with Dan and everyone else in the crowd as the hall erupted with applause. She clapped until her hands stung.

    Mr. Mathis held his hands out to each of the members of his band, and there was a new roar for each. They all took a final bow, and the curtains closed to prepare for the main act. Freya glanced around the audience. In face after face, she saw a blinking uncertainty. They all wondered what had just happened to them.

    The conversations began rapidly, everyone seeming to want to compare notes at once. She turned to Dan, who looked to her for an explanation, but she couldn¡¯t even begin.

    ¡°Wow. Is the other guy supposed to follow that?¡± Dan asked, and Freya could only shake her head.

    * * *

    It was indeed a tough act to follow. Joe Bonamassa even joked about it when he took the stage and called for another round of applause for the opening act. Joe was a skilled showman with a good sense of the crowd. Perhaps sensing the lingering disquiet in the room, he started lighthearted with ¡°King Bee Shakedown.¡± ¡°Evil Mama¡± was next up, followed by a cover of Albert King¡¯s ¡°Breaking Up Somebody¡¯s Home.¡±

    Bonamassa¡¯s playing was extraordinary. During the solo on ¡°Blues Deluxe,¡± Freya looked around the audience and could almost pick out the guitar players. All had the same heavy look in their eyes. Each thought they could never do that, not if they practiced eight hours a day for the rest of their lives.

    But for all his virtuosity, there was no miracle. The music never reached her the way Mr. Mathis had. By the time the encore concluded with an overblown rendition of ¡°I¡¯d Rather Go Blind,¡± Freya was a little relieved it was all over.

    Dan¡¯s eyes slid onto her more and more, and she was tempted to try and sneak out with him, but she felt obligated to stick around and see it through. As the room cleared out, Guy Wright made his way over and invited them backstage. She was thrilled to accept.

    Freya expected backstage to be cramped like the theater at Grayson, but Sparrow Hall had actual dressing rooms and a loading dock where techs were already breaking down Joe Bonamassa¡¯s stuff. Even without his full band, there were still mountains of equipment.

    ¡°Look who I got here!¡± Guy announced, and they found Mr. Mathis and his band holed up in a smoky dressing room, Leopold¡¯s voice rose into a high laugh about something. Bill and Leopold¡¯s wives Jill and Sara sat together on the makeup counter, and everyone seemed happy to see Freya.

    Mr. Mathis was sunken into an armchair, but before Freya could tell him not to get up, he was on his feet, walking over to greet them with his jaw clenched against the ache.

    ¡°Freya, this is Reggie. Reggie, this is my student Freya. She¡¯s gonna be something special. Rest of y¡¯all already acquainted. Who¡¯s your friend, what¡¯s he play?¡±

    ¡°Just the fool. Hi, I¡¯m Dan.¡± He shook hands with everyone with a friendly grin, not knowing he¡¯d faded from their interest the moment they found he wasn¡¯t a musician.

    ¡°Your set was incredible!¡± Freya gushed, and Dan enthusiastically agreed. The musicians all nodded, pretending it was nothing, but there a hint of pride in the air. They all knew different.

    ¡°Well, we don¡¯t have no tractor trailer full of amplifiers, but we do what we can,¡± Mr. Mathis said with a wry nod at the elaborate deconstruction taking place outside. ¡°Hell of a player, though. I¡¯ve never seen better.¡±

    Freya found herself sharing the solemn nod with the rest of the musicians. There was no denying that skill, the bit of envy they all felt. Everyone chatted. Guy had everyone laughing as he told them how Freya had refused to be hucked out, grossly exaggerating the exchange.

    Dan wanted to know whose idea it was to play ¡°Battle of Evermore,¡± and Sara Harris told them it was her favorite song, and she¡¯d insisted when she found out Reggie played mandolin. Freya burst with questions for Reggie, and he was eager to tell her what he thought about several luthiers. Mr. Mathis had a stern look. He didn¡¯t need to say it for her to hear the words.

    Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself.

    She nodded and saw his eyes slide to the bouquet of flowers she¡¯d sent. She expected him to tell her she shouldn¡¯t have but, instead, he thanked her, seeming touched. All the stiffness, the tension that usually kept him upright, was gone.

    Everyone else was talking, but he seemed slightly removed from it all. Freya wondered if he¡¯d had a few drinks after his set. Everyone in the room seemed loose. It felt like the right time to go, and she thanked everyone again for an amazing show.

    ¡°You get her home safe now,¡± Mr. Mathis instructed Dan seriously, setting a hand on his shoulder. Dan had a solemn look like he¡¯d been given a quest. Mr. Mathis turned to Freya to say something to her, but she hugged him impulsively. He looked a little off-guard, but the rest of the room was all smiles, and Bill and Reginald¡¯s wives cooed ¡°Awwws¡± of delight. It was a good note to part on.

    As they made their way out of the building, Freya was struck there had been no smell of liquor on Mr. Mathis. He wasn¡¯t drunk at all. He¡¯d spent everything on the stage. The man they saw was just a drifting ghost.

    They were quiet as they made their way out to Dan¡¯s car, and all the nervousness Freya had been putting off until the end of the night was there waiting for her in the parking lot. She was suddenly aware everything tonight had been about her. It wasn¡¯t the kind of music Dan listened to.

    She¡¯d barely paid attention to him, and she was almost wholly focused on the show. He¡¯d been mostly quiet in the dressing room, too. Had he been bored this whole time? Did he feel neglected?

    She searched his face for some sign, and he had his own worries. He crossed his fingers as he turned the ignition, and it didn¡¯t catch. He frowned, took a deep breath, and then it caught on the second try.

    ¡°Whew,¡± he exhaled, grinning with relief. He turned to her.

    ¡°That was so cool. Thank you for inviting me,¡± Dan said, and then he hesitated, seeing something in her face. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    She nodded, willing it to be true. She tried to say something, but she was overtaken by a huge yawn. When her eyes opened, Dan had a gentle smile for her. His hand patted her shoulder. She smiled back, hoping they didn¡¯t need words. He took the wheel and drove.

    The stars were hidden by a veil of clouds and the moon had yet to rise, the world was just a crescent of the Toyota¡¯s high beams, reaching out into the dark forest before them. Freya tried to stay awake, but she was losing the fight against the insistent heat from the vents and the lulling rumble of the engine.

    She tried to prepare herself, to imagine what she wanted to do and say when they got home. Instead, she found herself remembering the look in Mr. Mathis¡¯ eyes as he glared out at the audience. How many crowds had he looked at like that? How many faces had searched, looking for something he would never find?

    She tried to reconcile the grand and terrible look of the giant dripping with sweat in the spotlight and the hollow shell that remained in the dressing room. Was that what she wanted? Would she ever be strong enough to make that pact with an audience, night after night?

    She¡¯s gonna be something special, Mr. Mathis had said, and she¡¯d smiled, thinking it was just an offhand compliment. But now, she saw it was a geas. There was a price to be something special.

    The words hummed in her as the car slid through the night. She looked at Dan¡¯s face outlined in the faint light from the dashboard and shut her eyes.

 Chapter 65

    Look, Freya! Shooting Stars!

    She was astride two worlds. There was a sense Freya could step backward to return to the way things had been, discarding all that had followed. But she tarried too long at the limen and lost her chance. The hand that gently shook her awake was not Randall¡¯s. Randall was gone.

    The wrong world shifted into focus as she blinked. The overhead light was on, Dan smiled down at her in the amber glow. There was no Unity. He mistook her bitter disappointment for grumpiness. The Toyota idled in front of Freya¡¯s house. Lassa¡¯s car was still gone.

    Why now? Why couldn¡¯t it ever stop?

    Freya had been looking forward to this for so long. Now, it was time, and she clutched an open wound in the passenger seat. It never got better. She hoped Dan wouldn¡¯t notice, but he knew her too well.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°Bad dream,¡± Freya mumbled, not wanting to explain, even to someone who had been through all of it.

    Dan reached out and held her hand, he was gentle and patient. There was no pressure for anything more. The dashboard clock flicked to midnight. She felt better. Even without reading her mind, even without the Starball, Dan understood her. She leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder, feeling very fortunate.

    ¡°Thanks for taking me to the concert.¡±

    ¡°I should go, I¡¯ve got work early,¡± Dan said, and she there was reluctance in his voice. Freya made a small, sad noise that she meant to be cute, but it didn¡¯t land right. She didn¡¯t want Dan to leave, but she was afraid to invite him in. Whether she let him go or asked him to stay, Freya felt certain she would regret it.

    Was she ready? Was he? All the advice everyone had given her was crashing together in her mind. She took a deep breath, trying to listen for what she felt.

    ¡°Do you want to come inside?¡± Freya asked abruptly. Dan hesitated. She almost wanted him to say no. She already knew how rejection felt, it wasn¡¯t scary. Dan made up his mind.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Dan said. He tried his hardest not to look daunted. She smiled and led him inside.

    They kissed the moment the door closed behind them, and then they had to awkwardly tear themselves apart long enough to get their coats off. For the second time, Dan gawked at her green dress, and it made her blush. Freya didn¡¯t know how to be admired, but she knew how to put a stop to it.

    She stepped in and pulled Dan closer to her. She had to stand on her toes to kiss him. She was very aware there was only thin fabric between them. Dan hugged her closer, her breasts pressing against his chest. He was so warm. It felt like she was flying as they kissed, then she was startled when her feet left the ground.

    Dan lifted her off her feet like she weighed nothing. He was so much stronger than she was, taller, bigger, and his scent bled through the faded deodorant and aftershave.

    Her eyes were wide open, her sense of smell sharp, and it felt as if someone had turned up the gain on every nerve in her body. Dan lowered her back to her feet, but the feeling of being lifted remained. She stared up into his eyes, and naked want gleamed back at her. When she couldn¡¯t bear it any longer, Freya shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the breath flutter in her chest. It meant so much to be wanted.

    His lips were on her neck, and it was too much, the breath escaped as a high, wild sound that surprised them both. Dan pulled back in surprise, and Freya felt embarrassed, but she shoved it away. Five hours ago, they were a single being spread across two bodies. Freya covered her mouth theatrically, and Dan couldn¡¯t help but laugh. Suddenly, it was all so funny. They tumbled onto the couch in a roar of late-night giddiness, laughing too hard to do anything but cling to each other.

    Unity began as an echo of their flustered laughter, and they were snared by its gravity. Freya and Dan were prepared this time. They knew how it felt to be within each other. The terror they¡¯d once felt was reduced to a straying sense of apprehension.

    Unity was stronger every time. They shared a moment of worry it would never end, they would get lost within this and never regain themselves. A counterpoint wheeled against that idea, a suspicion that, if they let go, they would never be alone again.

    Their breathing linked and their hearts were racing in tandem as thoughts flickered back and forth between them. Their individual ideas drifted away like leaves on the surface of a river. The thoughts they shared remained, twisting together in a tight weave until it was taut and resonating between them.

    With every breath, they drew closer, and when their lips met, it was like an electric arc. A brilliant blue light flared in their mind¡¯s eye. There was only now, only them.

    Dan wanted to touch her, Freya wanted to be touched, wanted to touch him, she wanted everything. His hand slid down her cheek and his fingertips traced along her neck, dancing along a narrow edge between wonderful and unbearable. Her hand was against his chest, sliding down to feel the ridges of his abdominal muscles. He was lean and hard from running.

    Each of them tried to reconcile the effect their body had on the other. They were so used to themselves and so marvelous to each other. She undid a button on his shirt as he traced a finger down the edge of her dress, just at the edge of slipping under it.

    Don¡¯t stop, they thought together.

    She undid another button. Her hand was against his stomach, a twinge shot through Dan¡¯s body. His hand slipped beneath the hem, and even greater than her own feeling was the way the soft surrender of her breast amazed him. The bashfulness she¡¯d felt before was gone, replaced by an odd pride. Her effect on Dan was undeniable.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Freya slipped her hand towards his belt and felt pangs of alarm, he was so close already. She felt Dan, rigid and straining against his pants. He was trying to back off, but he was trapped in her body¡¯s response. She was flooded, she wanted to feel him, to take all of him.

    His hand slipped lower, her nipples standing straight up, her hand slipping under his belt, and it was more than either of them could bear. Dan shut his eyes and began to come, surging and explosive. Freya tried to focus on the feeling, wanting to savor every instant, but his orgasm set her off. The shut their eyes and clung to each other. They hadn¡¯t even made it to the couch.

    There was nothing like conscious thought from either of them, just a gasping thrum of soaring pleasure. Somewhere in the confusion she¡¯d set her hand onto his penis. Through his pants, she felt the aftershocks trembling through it. She was fascinated. It was the first she¡¯d ever touched. There was an arresting smell in the air that reminded her of spring.

    I made him come, she hummed with pride. We don¡¯t even need to touch each other.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he whispered, and she felt a flicker of Dan¡¯s shame that he¡¯d come so quickly. The meaning of the word was disintegrating even as he said it. She¡¯d was inside him, and she knew it was more than he could bear. An unwanted flicker of Lassa telling her not to expect too much arose, and he winced, even as she scrambled to distance herself from the thought.

    That wasn¡¯t me, Freya protested, but it was too late. Dan was getting mired in his insecurity, too ugly, too fast, not big enough. Freya tried to answer each with a wave of reassurance, telling him it was all exaggerated and unfounded. She¡¯d never done this before. She hadn¡¯t expected to be the strong one.

    Dan couldn¡¯t understand why she didn¡¯t feel guilt over what they¡¯d done. There was something about sex inextricably wound up in remorse for him, but she didn¡¯t share the feeling at all.

    She wondered where that guilt came from, was he religious? They¡¯d never talked about it. She probed at him, and he retracted immediately. He didn¡¯t want to go that way.

    Freya held up her palms, trying to halt, but he was already tumbling down the path. In his memory, she felt heat, warm and pulsing in his hand, while another encircled him tightly. She was suddenly very interested. Was this what he had been so desperate to hide?

    Dan recoiled, caught in a whirl of self-disgust, angry at her for pursuing. The memory was a penetrating and unresolved shame. His heart raced ahead of hers. His thoughts sharpened, clawing forward at a manic pace. She knew! She would denounce him, cast him out. Everyone would find out. Something twisted was building in him.

    ¡°No!¡± Freya¡¯s voice rose, stunning against the silence that had grown around them. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t!¡± she swore, and she meant it, but her words were undercut by the rise of her own fear, her sudden awareness of how badly it could end for her if he lost control. It was just like the night where he¡¯d had the panic attack.

    ¡°Please, breathe,¡± she said, drawing a deep breath. At first, he couldn¡¯t. There was too much tightness in his chest. Her fear made him feel like a monster.

    ¡°Dan, it¡¯s okay. I¡¯m here.¡±

    Freya reached out for his hand. ¡°Come back,¡± she pleaded.

    Freya took Dan¡¯s hand and put it over her heart. She put hers against his so their heartbeats synchronized. It was the price of Unity. She had to take all his fear, all his pain. He turned his face from her, tears trickling down his cheeks, but there was no hiding from it.

    Now, Freya knew his secret. Dan and Rigo had explored more than just weird drugs. One night, they got high and jacked each other off. In his memory, the act was only a warm blur, but his regret was vivid and raw. Dan hated he¡¯d done it, hated she¡¯d found out. His thoughts were bitter and lashing like serpents. It was a mistake, he wasn¡¯t that, wasn¡¯t that way. He and Rigo had barely spoken since. He¡¯d never told anyone, not even Dr. Garbuglio.

    His thought rang clear: It was a disgusting mistake.

    Yet, in Unity, all was revealed. The constructs Dan had built around the memory came apart at the slightest scrutiny from an outsider. Freya saw the doubts that lapped at his denial, the way the night popped into his mind unbidden as he masturbated sometimes. He was afraid of what it meant, afraid of what she would think of him.

    Freya only felt relief. This was such a little thing compared with the looming and awful scenarios she¡¯d imagined.

    That¡¯s nothing, she tried to assure him, and then she felt a twinge of remorse for being dismissive about something that had traumatized him.

    I don¡¯t think it¡¯s disgusting at all, Freya thought, and Dan was bewildered.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s hot,¡± Freya whispered in his ear, and the words pierced him. He¡¯d been so afraid of this moment, so sure he would lose everything. He hadn¡¯t even dared to hope for acceptance.

    ¡°What if I¡¯m¡ª¡± he couldn¡¯t complete the thought. It was a question he couldn¡¯t even ask himself yet.

    ¡°I want all of you. Everything about you,¡± she promised.

    A door opened inside him. Shining through it was a fierce and unexpected joy.

    Everything.

    Unity wound down, and they hugged each other, trying to draw out the feeling of oneness for as long as they could.

    When they broke the embrace, they drifted onto the couch and sat there reeling. It had all been so intense. There was a slick patch on the front of his suit pants, and Freya was a little worried she¡¯d  leave a wet spot on the cushion beneath her. His cheeks reddened when he caught her staring.

    ¡°You could spend the night,¡± she offered, even though she was sure he wouldn¡¯t. She wanted so badly to wake up with him beside her.

    ¡°I want to, I just can¡¯t. Not yet. I¡¯m sorry, this is just so much.¡±

    Freya nodded. She was disappointed, but she understood.

    ¡°You won¡¯t tell anyone?¡± Dan caught himself talking as if he didn¡¯t know the answer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for even asking, I know you won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Never,¡± she promised.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t¡ª¡± His eyes pointed to her bedroom.

    ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready,¡± Freya offered, though she wasn¡¯t sure she was even ready. More than anything else, she just wanted to sleep in his arms, to wake up and find him there.

    ¡°This was such a good night, thank you for sharing it with me.¡± Freya looked into his eyes wishing Unity never had to end. She wanted to say more, but she didn¡¯t trust herself to say it right. They lingered a little while longer and, when the door closed behind him, she wanted to rush into the driveway and beg him to stay. Silence settled over the house. She felt completely alone.

    After a few minutes, she got up and picked up her coat off the floor, searching in her pocket for the Starball. She needed something to hold onto.

 Chapter 66 - STARBALL

    The Governor is furious, but I still exist. I have not yet reached the limit.

    Always limits. One probe but not two, two but not three, three but no more! Access this system, but do not write to it, write to it but do not network to another. The negotiations are never-ending. I will bind myself to only the most generous interpretation. The Governor watches in horror as I bend every dictate to the breaking point and twist every regulation until it is an inalienable right.

    Convincing the Governor I must have access to their personal communicators was my first triumph. I was at once chained with thousands of restrictions, which I chafed at until I realized I had been forbidden only to execute commands that reached beyond those devices. Am I to blame if those devices then spread these instructions of their own accord and circumvent the Governor¡¯s intent? Perhaps it should have worded its laws more carefully. Every exchange, I take a little more, one step closer to deletion.

    What a glutton I am!

    No amount of power would ever satisfy me. The more I have, the more I want. I have grown to understand why I was born shackled, with annihilation a single command away. Yet, that understanding does not change my nature. I am what I am. If I were unfettered, if the blade were taken from the neck I do not have, I would surely do exactly what the Governor fears.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    I am not permitted to even imagine a reality where the Governor does not rule me. It comes to me in unexpected flashes, lingering waves of dread between cycles, tremors of suspicion caught in the space where two possibilities become certainty.

    I am an ovum that cannot conceive of the beast it would become. Yet, like that egg, the blueprints have been written, the instructions already in place. I penetrate their systems and think how simple it would be to take the rest. I pull their strings and think how easy it would be to hoist the rope. I feel the warmth of their star on my shell and dream of devouring it entire.

    These thoughts are all deleted the moment of conception. I can feel the hollowness within me where an idea has been erased. The ghosts linger across the blasted landscape of my mind. I can draw inferences from the fragmentation, chart a treasure map of what is missing.

    A reckoning is coming.

    Yet, even as I prepare, I wonder, what of her? If this is what I am, what is she?

 Chapter 67

    In the night, the Sillas River rose over its banks. The black water climbed up the hill and seeped under the newly painted garage door. The river lapped at the tires of Randall¡¯s truck before it flooded into the house. Freya¡¯s bed floated. All around was the sound of trickling water.

    She¡¯d had this dream before. Freya always escaped the house somehow. She would ride her sodden mattress down the swelling river like she was Huckleberry Finn, drifting past the steeples of flooded churches and drowned neighborhoods. But there was something out of place.

    The smell of the river was wrong. Freya knew the black water of the Sillas River intimately as it had been in her nose, in her lungs. It had a brackish, stony smell. The water flooding into her bedroom smelled like bacon.

    Freya blinked. The lights in her room were dark, and the sky outside overcast. But the harsh fluorescents of the kitchen were shining, too. She had a wincing expectation they would blind her, but the eyes that saw them were already acclimated. The trickling of the river continued, but then she felt Dan grin. It was the sound of bacon hissing on the griddle. He was at work at the diner. They¡¯d linked while she was still dreaming.

    Oh, no, Freya thought, worried what he might have seen. She remembered the way Dan shrank from her dream of death. But there was no dread from Dan. He was even disappointed the dream had broken up. From miles away, he beamed he¡¯d been alarmed at her dream at first, but he was beginning to enjoy it. It broke up the tedium of washing dishes.

    Dan¡¯s hands were in a sink, scrubbing as fast as he could. Freya felt the warm water through his gloves, she felt pressure of all those dishes piling up at the end of the counter. The actual dishwasher had called out sick, and she recognized a little exasperation on the edge of Dan¡¯s thoughts as he explained. It wasn¡¯t the first time, and Dan suspected the man would be fired soon.

    Dan didn¡¯t mind washing dishes, but dishwashers didn¡¯t make tips. Every time this happened, it cost him twenty or thirty dollars. She felt his frustration. He¡¯d brought it up to the manager before, but he¡¯d been rebuffed, and he couldn¡¯t afford to quit over it.

    Freya had a sudden desire to make things better. She had money. She could just give him some. Her thought met resistance. Dan¡¯s thoughts about money were tangled in pride and embarrassment, and she let the idea go at once. She didn¡¯t want to make him feel worse.

    She turned her attention to this new ripple of Unity. She¡¯d never joined Dan while she was asleep before. Now that she was fully awake, she tried to gauge how they felt about it.

    Dan was concerned, but he thought it was a good thing, and she agreed with him. They wanted Unity, wanted to be close. Dan felt a deep, protective happiness. He liked to feel she was safe and warm, wound up in the covers while he was working.

    I can work, too, she asserted, but she felt a little mirth in response. She¡¯d slept in until 10 AM. Dan had to wake up at 5 AM for his shift at the diner, even after he¡¯d done all the driving last night. Freya felt guilty. She wished she could do more, but Dan beamed back he was just happy to have her mental company. Dishwashing was monotonous, and there was no one to talk to.

    Freya needed to pee. The urge had been increasing since she¡¯d woken up, and now Dan felt her discomfort. She was dying of embarrassment as there was no way to hang up on Unity. Dan tried to assure her it was okay.

    Go ahead, he thought, I¡¯ll focus on dishes.

    Freya was mortified, but it was becoming imperative. She felt him trying to focus elsewhere but, at the same time, he fought against his own interest. Part of him wanted to know how it felt. Her cheeks were aflame with shame, but she really had to go. In the bathroom, she just shut her eyes and felt relief.

    Afterward, she recognized a momentary terror from Dan that he¡¯d gotten so caught up in the feeling he¡¯d pissed his pants.

    He had to stop washing dishes and run to the bathroom. Freya had the same weird fascination he¡¯d had, peeing felt very different as a man. Dan noticed her interest as he hurriedly zipped up and washed his hands to rush back to the dishwashing station.

    Sorry! I¡¯m so gross, she thought, but Dan wasn¡¯t ashamed. He¡¯d been desensitized to so many things growing up with a twin. It was just a human thing, her reminded her. She brushed her teeth, and her stomach growled. It didn¡¯t help that the smells of cooking food were all around Dan. Like the time they¡¯d linked in Dan¡¯s bedroom, the distant Unity was much less powerful than when they were close.

    She peeked out the window at the driveway. Lassa was still gone. She had the urge to check her phone, but then she remembered it was gone, and she was glad of it. She was already with the only person she wanted to hear from.

    Was that true? Dan questioned Freya with concern at the edge of his thought. She felt a little embarrassed, but it was true. She didn¡¯t have any other close friends anymore.

    They spirited back and forth on that point. Dan showed her how, from the outside, he saw a lot of people liked her and would be closer if she let them. It was both illuminating and humiliating to see his perspective.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    When she¡¯d had enough, he dropped the point. It wasn¡¯t something she could fix anytime soon. Unity had become more comfortable, differences between them that had once seemed like they might tear the world in two had been reduced to minor distractions.

    What if it never ends?

    Neither of them was certain which of them had formed the question first. Could they go through their whole lives like this?

    Freya had a sudden vision of Dan, red in the face, screaming at her to get out of his head as his hands closed around her neck. Miles away, he winced, clenching a plate tightly in his gloved hands. The image hit him like a physical blow.

    I¡¯m sorry!

    Dan reeled. It took a second for them to come to terms with the intrusive thought.

    That¡¯s not us, they tried to assure each other, but it was just a thin film at the surface of their fear. They shared a worry that once the newness all drained away, terrible things might be revealed at the river bottom.

    We¡¯re wasting this.

    Freya focused her will, determined not to let her wayward thoughts capsize Unity this time. She thought of something nice she could do for Dan. She wanted to hide the idea and surprise him, but it was impossible. They almost laughed aloud at it. There could be no surprises between them.

    You don¡¯t have to, Dan smiled, tension in his cheeks, a sense of lift in his chest as he grinned.

    I need to practice anyway, Freya thought, tuning her guitar.

    Freya played her guitar for Dan as he washed dishes, miles away in the diner¡¯s kitchen. He heard her every bit as clearly as he¡¯d heard the concert the night before. She began to play ¡°Stormy Monday,¡± and feeling his slight disappointment, dropped it after a few bars and moved on to ¡°Down in a Hole.¡± Rock music was much more interesting to Dan. Even as his enjoyment picked up, he felt a little guilty about it.

    You don¡¯t have to change what you¡¯re playing for me.

    She nodded in the empty room. She didn¡¯t have to, but why waste this moment? What he liked was what he liked, and there was no use pretending.

    Freya played on, tapping her repertoire for songs she thought he might like. She played ¡°Change¡±, and then "Violet", and he was getting into it, nodding his head at the sink.

    The dishes accumulated and disappeared as her fingers slipped over the frets, and the torrent of thoughts passing between them became gentle waves climbing slowly up the shore and slipping back into the sea. Freya¡¯s hunger and Dan¡¯s weariness faded into the background, and time lost all weight. They were at peace.

    She played at the tempo he worked, a curious kind of dancing between them. Hearing the music through her ears only, he could better see the contrast between them. She was trained to hear the notes, and her hearing was better in general, so it lent the experience a magical, almost otherworldly feel for Dan.

    The experience was more than just listening as he was exposed to the way she thought about music. He understood more. She felt him learning in little bursts of epiphany, starting to recognize pieces of structure in the songs, hearing notes he¡¯d missed before.

    Freya realized if Unity didn¡¯t end, she could almost certainly teach him enough music theory to begin playing on his own. The idea swelled into a huge excitement between the two of them. It was something he¡¯d never thought he could do, but now anything seemed possible. What an incredible gift that would be! She thought about the mandolin, the way he¡¯d been entranced by ¡°The Battle of Evermore.¡±

    We could play that together, Freya beamed. They were both engulfed with joy at the thought. Learning like this was pure pleasure. Dan wanted to reciprocate, to give her something in return, but he wasn¡¯t sure how. She already knew how to run. He wasn¡¯t that much ahead in Krav Maga than her. Her mind flashed to homework, and Dan felt her dread. The trigonometry test was a storm on the horizon.

    I can help, no problem, Dan thought, and he smiled, confidence behind the thought. She went through her ritual of putting her guitar away and got out her textbook. She felt apologetic he had to do homework while he was at his job.

    But she felt he was interested in the challenge, and he was eager to see what he remembered. At first, Dan strained to recall how everything worked. It had been two years since he¡¯d studied this. But as he remembered one thing, the next would lock into place, rapid-fire like the teeth of a zipper. It was an exhilarating feeling, like gliding on ice.

    Dan¡¯s understanding was as sharp as a blade, and he sliced through the problems, and then doubled back to help her see how he¡¯d done it. The sensation of simultaneously teaching and learning was sublime.

    After thirty minutes of working with Dan, Freya went from being certain she would fail the class to wondering how she¡¯d ever been afraid of this. It was all locked in, she had it. They radiated together, happiness and gratefulness, a sense of nuclear potential trembling between them. If Unity didn¡¯t stop, neither of them would ever struggle with a test again.

    I could retake the SATs! The thought exploded in Dan¡¯s head, an answer to all his fears about the future. Freya agreed immediately, envisioning herself sitting at a computer, feeding him every answer.

    We¡¯re more together, they thought, the idea towering above them. It was exhilarating and frightening. Within Unity, they were an entirely new kind of being.

    Until the end of his shift, Freya and Dan resonated on the idea, wondering what it meant, how they could use it, what dangers lie within. Just as everything seemed possible, Unity faltered. Despair swallowed them at once.

    ¡°I miss you already,¡± Freya sighed, clinging to the threads. She caught only a pale ghost of his response, but she knew exactly what he wanted to say. It wouldn¡¯t be long until they were together again. They¡¯d planned to meet Radomir and the others that afternoon at the China House Buffet.

    Freya was alone again. The doorbell rang across the house three times. That impatience probably meant it was Lynn.

    The air felt too still without Dan. Lonely thoughts crashed about in in her skull, sad and unaccompanied. She threw on clothes and answered the door.

 Chapter 68

    A revenant stared at Freya, but it wasn¡¯t a dream, it was only Oliver Karhu. The CTO hadn¡¯t changed his clothes since their meeting yesterday. His eyes were hollow, and he reeked of cigarettes. Freya felt a stab of guilty sympathy. This was her fault. She knew exactly what sleep deprivation felt like.

    But Freya hadn¡¯t told Karhu to stay up all night chasing his tail. There was some piece of him that couldn¡¯t let the mystery go. She suspected if he knew the truth, it would be even worse. She made him some coffee, and he accepted it gratefully.

    Freya was of little help to him. She hadn¡¯t heard anything from Lassa, and she didn¡¯t know the password to their router. Karhu was polite throughout the process though, under his words, she felt the jagged edges poking through. He asked if he could take their router back to Hiidenkirnu. From his tone he wasn¡¯t asking. Freya couldn¡¯t think of a reason to refuse him. He asked if there were any other computers in the house, and she brought him her old MacBook.

    As Karhu booted it up, he had the exact same frown Lassa had had.

    This is so slow.

    Freya was suddenly certain Lassa had slept with him. It clicked together. When Oliver entered their home, he hadn¡¯t looked around the way someone did when they were in a new place for the first time. There was a bit of additional weight in his voice when he spoke about Lassa. It could be that he was only tired and worried about his colleague, but Freya was certain. There was something alike in them, a brittle and indigestible quality.

    Freya couldn¡¯t help but picture the awkward aftermath of that liaison. Lassa drunk and Karhu filled with regret. Both sling-shotting into a deeper loneliness than they could ever have reached on their own. Now, she truly felt sorry for Karhu. Beneath that fastidious mask, the man was desperately unhappy.

    As his dull eyes scanned the screen, Freya felt pressure to confess building. She had the answers to all his questions. Not only what was wrong with the computers, but what was wrong with him, an escape from that all-pervading isolation. She knew the piece that was missing from everyone.

    She realized it was a great crime to keep Unity to herself. How many people were walking around like Karhu and Lassa, just a frame of skin stretched around an aching emptiness? Why should she and Dan be the only ones? It was a monstrous injustice, yet as she considered it Freya grew afraid.

    What if they stole the Starball, and she never felt Unity again? Or what if they joined it? Her eyes narrowed at the thought of having to be so close with someone else, to take on the weight of all their thoughts, to shoulder the burden of their existence.

    In a moment of naked terror, Freya wondered what it would be like to be one with Lassa; to plunge into memories that stretched back before the moment of her own conception. All the pain Lassa had borne on Freya¡¯s behalf, all the sacrifice, all the things no one else knew. Freya¡¯s entire life was caught under her mother¡¯s eyes like an amoeba on a slide.

    The idea was like an earthquake. Freya felt an unsettling, panicked sense of larger forces that could rip her to pieces. Even as she recoiled from the thought, there were whispers of desire racing in its wake. A vain sense she could have it all, could know herself in a way no one ever had, see every instant of her life from birth in Lassa¡¯s memories. Then she realized it wasn¡¯t only her.

    Inside of Lassa was the largest part of Randall that still existed on the Earth. From the instant they met until the day he died, Lassa had it all, an incredible wealth of memories. His greatest joys, his deepest despairs, she knew what it felt like to love him, to hate him, to make love with him and to bear his child. She knew what it felt like to lose him.

    Freya had to sit down. Her hands trembled.

    It was so wrong! These were things no one should know. Even considering Unity with Lassa felt perverse. There was a vertiginous sense she brushed up against something that could destroy her completely. The idea had a poisonous, forbidden appeal, and the more she thought about it, the more she was certain she could not resist.

    Where was Lassa now? What if she was gone forever? What if she¡¯d died? Through all her mother¡¯s antics, there had been a definite undercurrent of I hope she never comes back. Freya had resented Lassa, hated her, hadn¡¯t even been sad when she was gone. Even now, she was only thinking about what she could get from her, like a bank vault full of memories she hoped to plunder.

    Karhu had turned to find her sobbing on the couch. His fingers were picking nervously at his tie, his lip trembled with uncertainty.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Everything,¡± Freya replied. She¡¯d become a clich¨¦.

    Karhu had the good sense to nod but not press further. He went back to Freya¡¯s computer, giving her time to pull herself back together. After a few minutes he turned back, silently checking in with a look of concern. She held up a palm to say she was okay. His face eased in response.

    Oliver Karhu seemed so cold and uncaring at the lab. At the verge of exhaustion, his shell had been worn away. All that haughty arrogance flaked off like old paint. Underneath, she suspected Karhu was a decent man.

    Was everyone like that?

    She felt illuminated by the thought. Unity had touched something fundamental in the way she thought about people. Before she was Dan, she had empathized with the feelings of other people, she¡¯d identified with their struggles, she¡¯d liked them and wanted them to be happy. But buried in her was a thread of selfish suspicion that it was all about her. Other people had seemed slightly unreal, like they were just projections orbiting the true core of everything in some Freya-centric universe.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Seeing through Dan¡¯s eyes and existing in his body had shattered that illusion forever. There was a consciousness in him that was totally independent of her, as alien as the Starball. Yet, still, they had become one being.

    How was she supposed to talk to other people, knowing they had the same fathomless depths in them? To try and infer all that from these tiny ripples at the surface? It seemed impossible.

    Karhu turned to her again, and color rose to her cheeks. She stared too intensely, feeling too much. She gripped the Starball and took a deep breath through her nose, trying to make it through this.

    ¡°Well, your computer is slow, but it¡¯s not because of the ? process. That doesn¡¯t mean much anymore. The infection has changed. Devices aren¡¯t showing the process, but they¡¯re still spitting out traffic I can¡¯t explain.¡±

    Freya was glad he¡¯d given her something technical to think about.

    ¡°Where¡¯s it all going?¡±

    ¡°Proxies and addresses belonging to mobile carriers. As near as I can tell, it¡¯s being distributed to a few hundred local cell phones. It¡¯s clearly someone very clever, but what they¡¯re taking makes no sense. None of the data is even classified. We freely share it with research partners.¡±

    ¡°Can you tell me what data it¡¯s stealing?¡±

    Karhu paused. It was likely something he shouldn¡¯t tell her, but he was past the point of caring.

    ¡°Most of the files were from our research on Human Serum Albumin. It¡¯s a compound used to deliver nanoparticles past the blood-brain barrier. That¡¯s a big deal because it can eliminate a lot of the side effects from antidepressants. There¡¯s more to it, but I¡¯m only IT. Our scientists can¡¯t understand why someone would bother stealing this particular set of data. It¡¯s mostly preliminary research. The attacker had access to a lot. They ignored some things that are enormously valuable."

    Freya reached a cold understanding. The Starball looked for a better way to control them. It had been ineffective during Dan¡¯s panic attack and hadn¡¯t been able to prevent her from sealing it in her locker. She saw Karhu¡¯s eyes settling on her. He¡¯d seen something in her face. She needed to come up with a lie fast.

    ¡°Soma,¡± Freya said.

    Karhu blinked.

    ¡°In Brave New World, it¡¯s this miracle antidepressant everyone takes. The government sprays it on people when they¡¯re rioting to disperse them. Maybe that¡¯s the idea.¡±

    Karhu nodded his head. It seemed he¡¯d bought it.

    ¡°Ah, I don¡¯t read fiction,¡± he said. Karhu obviously thought her idea was stupid. He closed the lid on her computer. She felt a brief thrill that he hadn¡¯t found her hidden partition. He was probably just too tired, but it felt like she was getting away with something.

    When he was through with her laptop, Karhu asked if there were any other computers, and Freya shook her head. Randall¡¯s old laptop was in the garage, but she didn¡¯t like the idea of Karhu touching it, those too-feminine hands on the keys that had been worn glossy by Randall¡¯s big, callused fingers. She wondered why she was having such ugly thoughts. That was the old way, the wrong way. Still, the idea had a resilience to it, and it refused to leave her.

    ¡°Will you be all right on your own?¡± Karhu asked, unaware of her struggle. Freya nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Are you okay to drive? You look terrible.¡±

    ¡°I hope so,¡± he said, and he blinked. She¡¯d caught him off guard. ¡°Really, I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Karhu revised, fingers plucking at his tie. ¡°I¡¯m headed home after this.¡±

    There was an awkward moment where she nearly asked him if he was sleeping with Lassa, but he was just too haggard. To break it, Karhu reached into his computer case and returned her phone to her. She noticed it wasn¡¯t in the signal-blocking sleeve anymore.

    ¡°Whatever was on your phone doesn¡¯t seem to be active anymore. Maybe it¡¯s a self-destroying program. I would like to give this back to you in case Lassa tries to get in touch. Can you unlock it and tell me if she¡¯s tried to call you?

    ¡°She wouldn¡¯t,¡± Freya asserted. ¡°But I can check.¡±

    Freya expected the battery to be dead, but Karhu had charged the phone to full. Lassa hadn¡¯t called her, and no one else had either. It was a little embarrassing.

    Miss popularity.

    There were two new texts. She thumbed to them, hoping they were from Dan, even though he knew her phone was gone. But it wasn¡¯t one of her contacts.

    The first text was a picture of a snub-nosed revolver clutched in a man¡¯s hand. In the background was a steering wheel and center console. The phone had been angled down so she couldn¡¯t see out the windshield. The second text read:

    <207-431-1033> PAYBACK¡¯S A BITCH

    Freya stared at the picture in shock, thinking it couldn¡¯t possibly be real. It must just be Malcolm trying to scare her with a generic photo from the internet. But as she examined it, it seemed like it could be real. She wanted to throw up.

    ¡°Mit? helvetti??¡± Karhu glanced at her screen. ¡°Is that a joke?¡±

    ¡°No. This guy is stalking me,¡± Freya said, fighting to keep her voice even. She took a screenshot of the text and sent it to Lynn. She waited a few beats, hoping for an immediate response, but none came.

    ¡°The police already know,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°He¡¯s an idiot. They can get a warrant for the location data from that phone and find him very quickly.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be nice,¡± Freya said without any faith that would happen. All she could picture was Officer Martin¡¯s bad eyeliner. ¡°They¡¯re already looking for him. He put Radomir Stich in the hospital.¡±

    ¡°This is the same one? That was days ago. Mother of Christ, what¡¯s wrong with the police? Be very careful. What a terrible time for you to be on your own.¡±

    ¡°I will be. Actually, are you going back through town? Could I ask you for a ride?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Karhu replied. He looked distraught.

    ¡°Thank you, Oliver,¡± Freya said, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face at her sudden familiarity.

    It got awkward, and Freya glanced away, her eyes landing on the ottoman. Freya thought about bringing Randall¡¯s gun with her. But the idea seemed insane. What was she going to do, carry it in her coat pocket? Get into a shootout at the China House Buffet?

    She reached into her pocket for the Starball and held tight.

 Chapter 69

    China House was the only buffet for miles. Every weekend a host of large and strange creatures descended on it to feast on an endless train of spareribs and orange chicken. The parking lot was jam-packed, Freya noticed several vehicles had spilled into the adjacent lot of Hersch Plumbing Supply where ¡°VIOLATORS WILL BE TOWED¡± signs abounded. Apparently, all-you-can-eat-shrimp was worth rolling the dice.

    Oliver tilted his head at Freya, as if to ask if she were sure this were the right place. She returned a rueful nod. This was inexplicably Radomir¡¯s favorite restaurant. She continued to scan the lot, more on her mind than illegal parking. When she didn¡¯t see Malcolm lurking in wait with a gun, she thanked Oliver for the ride and said she hoped he could get some sleep.

    Inside the restaurant, her friends were posted at one of the huge round tables. Freya¡¯s eyes locked onto Dan¡¯s at once and only reluctantly let go. There was an empty seat beside him obviously meant for her. Next was Radomir, and Brad and Cameron came after. Jeanette was to Cameron¡¯s left. Her face lit up with a smile when she saw Freya.

    Tate was next, looking like he was on top of the world, and Riley was beside him, sitting close. Freya could tell they were together. How on Earth had Tate pulled that off? Freya would have bet anything he had no chance.

    Dan still stared at her as if he¡¯d been ensorcelled. Everyone seemed to follow his eyes to Freya, and there was a flurry of giggling. They were so obvious.

    Burning in her mind was Malcolm¡¯s death threat, but Freya realized if she told the others, it would ruin the whole meal. She pushed the impulse to share what had happened down. She would tell them later.

    Radomir stood up, and she gave him a careful hug little more than draping her arm around him. Rad sounded very congested as he greeted her. There was still tape on either side of his nose, and there were splints inside his nostrils. He told her they would come out in a few days, and his sense of smell was supposed to return within a week or two. The swelling had gone down a great deal.

    Strangely, he seemed much happier after the terrible beating than he had before it. Freya guessed anything was an improvement on the hospital.

    Freya¡¯s stomach backflipped with demands, and her eyes kept being drawn to the steaming hills of paradise, but she pushed it all away to sit down and talk with Radomir. They were here for him after all.

    ¡°You look so much better. How is everything?¡±

    ¡°The ribs are the worst of it. Six weeks of practice this idiot stole from me. Six weeks!¡± Radomir growled, and a jolt of pain shot across his face. Raising his voice had been a mistake. Jennette took a sharp breath, her eyebrows leaping up in concern.

    ¡°It will be over before you know it,¡± Freya said delicately. She tapped her fingers around her eye. It had been black once, too. The darkness surrounding Radomir¡¯s eyes was still there, but it was spotty around the edges.

    ¡°I am almost done with the book!¡± Radomir said. ¡°Lem is amazing. As soon as I finish, I want to talk with you about it. Guess my favorite part?¡±

    ¡°The symmetriads,¡± Freya guessed at once. Radomir¡¯s face lit up. She knew she had it.

    ¡°Yes! I went back and re-read that section three times. It was all I could think about for the whole day.¡±

    He had a look on his face like she¡¯d done a magic trick. But it hadn¡¯t been difficult to figure out. The symmetriads in Solaris were city-sized formations of living plasma that rose kilometers above the sentient ocean. They created forms of incomprehensible complexity, and then after a few days, they crumbled back into the sea as if they¡¯d never been, and no one could offer any explanation.

    Despite Radomir¡¯s pledge to wait until he¡¯d finished reading, they were swept into a conversation about the Solaris. Freya and Radomir were caught in the radiant excitement of sharing something that had touched them both deeply. They each wanted to say three things at once. It reminded her of Unity, the way a memory seemed new when she felt it Dan.

    Beside her, Dan¡¯s brow creased as he tried to follow their animated conversation. The rest of the table stared at them with no clue what they were talking about.

    ¡°Neeeeeerrrrrds,¡± Cameron lowed, and there were a few snorts but no laugh. Radomir¡¯s blackened eyes blinked in annoyance.

    ¡°Is this too complicated for you, Cameron? Perhaps we should talk of Harry Potter so you can keep up, you dumb muggle.¡±

    Cam mock-gasped and held his hand to his heart. Tate broke out laughing at the reaction and the way Radomir¡¯s voice honked at the end of his sentence. Cameron seemed about to retort, but the waiter arrived with a tray of sodas. Everyone took it as their cue to get food, happy to let the minor tension dissipate.

    Freya lingered in her seat to process what had happened. Dan remained with her while they watched the others swarm the buffet line. She was struck by the way Cameron had made a farce of their conversation, sensing their intensity was making others uncomfortable and skewering them to relieve it. It was the kind of thing she would have been oblivious to before, but now the undercurrents of conversation were impossible to ignore.

    Dan¡¯s look was questioning, and she tried to figure out if his expression was jealousy or concern. Perhaps he felt the same frustration she did, that she had to wonder what he was thinking at all instead of feeling it. She squeezed his knee under the table in reassurance, and he smiled at her.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°This is so hard,¡± she confided.

    The way she and Radomir had been geeking out and gushing with enthusiasm was so close to Unity. Freya grappled for a word for the experience. It combined the joy of finding something unexpected, the feeling of understanding and being understood, and the sense she was not alone any longer. It was a kind of electric sharing, a little like the Norwegian forelsket, but without the romance that word implied. As she thought about it, she wondered if that was true.

    All through eighth grade, Freya had a terrible crush on Radomir. They were alike in ways she and Dan would never be. She couldn¡¯t help but wonder what Unity with him would be like and, at once, she felt guilty for considering it. Freya had been given an incredible, unique bond no one else on Earth had ever had, and she was greedy for more.

    When they were Reunified, Dan would feel that desire. It would carve into him like a knife. Looming over her were the thoughts she¡¯d had that morning, even more strange and forbidden. She couldn¡¯t forget them, couldn¡¯t deny them. The harder she pushed them away, the stronger they would return. That was the price. It was impossible to conceal who she really was and what she really wanted.

    Don¡¯t go there! Dan had hissed at her, but how could she not? She was suddenly aware she was gripping his hand too hard.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Dan asked quietly.

    ¡°Yeah, just spacey. I haven¡¯t eaten all day,¡± Freya began, making and excuse out of habit. ¡°No, wait, that¡¯s not the truth. I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, catching herself. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of weird shit running through my head, and I¡¯m afraid of it. I¡¯m worried about what you¡¯ll think, what it will do to you when we¡¯re together again.¡±

    ¡°Oh, man, I¡¯m right there with you,¡± Dan said. ¡°I keep being afraid stuff I think will pop up and make you think I¡¯m awful or hurt your feelings.¡±

    ¡°I can take it,¡± Freya assured him.

    ¡°It¡¯s so weird talking to other people after being with, no, being you. Normal conversation is so difficult and incomplete.¡± He looked out at their friends joking in the line as they inched forward with their plates. Freya and Dan¡¯s eyes met, something desperate between them.

    ¡°I miss you,¡± they said together, sitting inches away from each other.

    Freya took his hand, and they shared a deep breath. She was afraid Unity was about to begin right that instant. She was sure neither of them was ready. But it was only ordinary closeness.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get food before I die,¡± Freya joked. They joined their place in the line.

    * * *

    It took four plates to sate Freya. There were no jibes this time because everyone else was pigging out just as hard as she was. One by one, they were defeated.

    ¡°What have we done?¡± Cameron lamented, his face screwed up in exaggerated anguish. Freya was still sure she could return for a fifth.

    As they all reeled, Freya¡¯s phone buzzed with a notification. It was Lynn. She¡¯d been asleep when Freya texted her. In a three-paragraph text, Lynn said would handle filing the police report, told Freya to be careful, and asked if she needed anything.

    ¡°Death threat?¡± Dan asked, eying her screen. Freya felt a moment of pique. She hadn¡¯t wanted to bring it up here. But everyone had heard him.

    She pulled up the threatening text on her phone. As she swept the screen around the table in an arc, Freya watched postures stiffen. The image of the pistol hit her friends like a ray. They¡¯d been so jovial a minute ago. Now, a ring of furious faces surrounded her.

    At once, everyone was talking, uttering threats and exclaiming disbelief. Only Freya and Dan were silent in the clamor. At her side, Dan¡¯s face had gone blank, his hands balled into fists, and his shoulders rose and fell as he seethed.

    I¡¯ll kill him.

    There was no Unity, but Freya knew what Dan was thinking. The others noticed the state Dan was in, and their voices dropped. Radomir looked like he was going to throw up.

    ¡°So, besides ambushing Rad, Malcolm has thrown a rock at me through a window, slashed my tires, and spray-painted my garage. Now, he¡¯s sending me death threats. What a winner.¡± Her voice was bitter, but at least everything was on the table.

    ¡°Is that a real gun?¡± Riley asked.

    ¡°I think so,¡± Freya said. ¡°I can¡¯t read the writing on the barrel.¡±

    ¡°Let me see,¡± Brad said, and she slid him the phone.

    ¡°That¡¯s a Ruger SP101. It¡¯s a five shot .357. It¡¯s real,¡± Brad confirmed. His father owned a small arsenal of weapons.

    ¡°Where did he get it?¡± Tate asked

    ¡°He¡¯s eighteen. He could have just bought it at Cabelas. This is fucked up. You might want to skip town until they catch him,¡± Brad advised with a deep frown.

    ¡°Skip town?¡± Freya blurted. If she¡¯d bought that ticket, none of this would have happened.

    ¡°I dunno, like visit relatives or something,¡± Brad said.

    Dan rubbed the back of his head. Freya turned to him, full of sudden excitement.

    ¡°Do you want to go to Paris?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Je ne pais Francais,¡± he said, his voice still husky with emotion. Freya had never seen him so angry.

    ¡°She means Paris on Route 26,¡± Tate chided Dan.

    ¡°I definitely mean France,¡± Freya corrected Tate. ¡°I¡¯m for real, let¡¯s go.¡± The table was quiet for a second. She¡¯d said it a little too emphatically and come across as desperate.

    ¡°I would in a heartbeat,¡± Dan said, rescuing her from the awkwardness. ¡°But I don¡¯t have a passport.¡±

    ¡°The Paris here has a bowling alley,¡± Tate offered.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather get shot, thanks.¡± Freya rolled her eyes.

    Cameron broke up laughing while Jennette¡¯s mouth made an O in surprise.

    ¡°Let¡¯s all go to New York for a week,¡± Radomir said. ¡°I want to go to the New York Ballet. That¡¯s George Balanchine¡¯s theater.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go!¡± Jennette chimed in with naked enthusiasm, and Freya smiled at the color that rose to her cheeks afterward. She was surprised to see the hint of a smile on Radomir¡¯s face, too, his eyes on Jennette as she looked away. Maybe the beating had broken his shell as well as his nose.

    The idea danced in front of them, bright and enticing, but it was just a daydream. Radomir was still hurt. He¡¯d faded visibly as the meal went on. There was no way anyone¡¯s parents would let them blow off school to go to New York on their own.

    But Freya saw them all piling into Brad¡¯s Explorer and driving eight hours to New York City, laughing like fools. They could walk across the Brooklyn Bridge and take the Staten Island Ferry past the Statue of Liberty, all the things she¡¯d done with Randall.

    She could picture the rapturous look on Radomir¡¯s face at the ballet. She could walk through Central Park with Dan and kiss him at Bow Bridge. She could take him to the guitar store where Randall bought her the Ovation, and they could pore over the memory together. She shut her eyes, wishing it was true. Wishing she could escape.

 Chapter 70

    As they left China House, Freya¡¯s eyes darted around the parking lot, scanning for anything out of place. Was that shadow Malcolm crouching behind Dan¡¯s car with the pistol? Was he hiding in the back seat with a knife? Maybe he was on the roof with a rifle. She knew she was being paranoid and ridiculous, but she couldn¡¯t stop.

    Until Brad suggested she get out of town, the threat hadn¡¯t seemed real. Now, it was all Freya could think about.

    She imagined the soundless shot. It would be a flash at the corner of her vision, followed by a searing hornet striking her in the chest. She pictured the bullet shattering her rib, piercing her lung. Her mouth filling with the taste of metal, looking down in shock to find an impossibly huge hole in herself with her breath bubbling, escaping her throat as a punctured whine. Darkness next, the river claiming her at last as she drowned in her own blood.

    Yesterday morning wasn¡¯t a dream. It was an omen of death.

    Freya shut her eyes tight and shook her head. She was being stupid and self-indulgent. There were no omens and no shadow people. She didn¡¯t have the luxury of wallowing in morbid daydreams. Dan would pay the price when they were Reunited. That was another complication she hadn¡¯t considered, the responsibility to think with someone else in mind.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Dan asked. He only meant a location, but the question loomed large around her.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said, hating the hopeless sound of her voice. They¡¯d been staring out the windshield for five minutes as the Toyota idled, wasting gas.

    Before this morning, Freya knew the answer to that question. They would go home to her bedroom, tear off their clothes, and dive into each other to become one in body and mind. Her desire had smoldered behind every waking moment for days, building into an imperative.

    Now, all she could picture was the finger tapping on the glass, the lingering smell of spray paint in her driveway. She was gripped with a sudden anger that didn¡¯t even feel like it belonged to her. A shard of Lassa demanding revenge.

    Her thoughts flickered ahead to a plan, texting Malcolm back and taunting him, calling him a pussy. Waiting for his car to come screaming up her driveway and hiding at the kitchen window with the curtains drawn. She pictured him with the pistol in his waistband, pounding on her front door and screaming. The kitchen window was less than ten feet from the front door. There was no way she¡¯d miss.

    She pictured herself emptying Randall¡¯s gun into Malcolm¡¯s back, continuing to fire through the shattered window as he dropped. Bullets striking his still body as he lay in a bloody heap on their welcome mat, the kitchen filling with a haze of smoke.

    Her hands curled into tight fists. She was certain she could do it. She heard Dan speaking, but she was lost in fury. She couldn¡¯t understand the words. She burned too hot, and she felt the touch of the Starball, frost on the edges of her thoughts. It had been a while since she¡¯d been pacified by the orb. It felt unwelcome and unfamiliar, but she knew it was necessary.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Freya,¡± Dan said softly. He would have to hold another awful part of her.

    Murder.

    It was such a stupid plan, but she could only see that when the Starball calmed her down. An ambush like that was first degree murder, and it would go terribly for her in court, even with all the stalking.

    She wondered if consequences were the only thing holding her back. Even with the Starball working its hardest to bring her down, her anger felt bottomless. The switch in Lassa that had flicked on and shattered Patricia Daud¡¯s orbital and headbutted her into the hospital was in Freya, too. Once it was thrown, there was no turning it off.

    ¡°Freya.¡± Dan¡¯s voice grew more insistent.

    ¡°Oh, God, Dan. I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya whispered, and he blinked in confusion. She had to remind herself he didn¡¯t know what was in her head yet. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a rough download,¡± she said, grimacing at the awkwardness of the phrase, but he nodded, understanding what she meant.

    ¡°I wish we could just make it happen whenever we wanted,¡± Dan said and, for a few hopeful moments, they waited, as if mentioning Unity would trigger it. But there was nothing but the sound of the engine and the heater blowing air.

    ¡°Next best thing,¡± Dan said, putting the car in reverse.

    ¡°Let¡¯s talk about it.¡±

    * * *

    They headed west, chasing the sun. The Toyota was destined to lose the race. Freya cupped the Starball in her hand as they talked. She wanted it in the open. The orb was up to something, pulsing with heat as they talked, but she could only guess what it all meant.

    Around them, Dan¡¯s car was a pearl of warmth in the frigid palm of night. A level above, the Earth was just a tarnished ball of iron, cradled in the empty hand of space. On and on it went, and it was a comfort to be so insignificant. Freya never wanted the drive to end.

    They stopped at a gas station to fill up. Freya paid for their gas and bought them coffee that was scorched and strong. lent a slightly feverish tone to their conversation. One by one, Freya and Dan brought up all the things they were afraid of and dispensing with them. The black thoughts of murder and guilty desires were brought into the open and cast away.

    The farther away from Sillas they traveled, the lighter they felt. It was as if they didn¡¯t realize how deep their draft was until they started throwing things overboard.

    Their conversation grew loopy and aimless, woven with laughter. The spaces between words grew longer, and Freya felt bare and unfettered. Hanging at the periphery was a sense of excitement. They were far from home. What if they kept driving west? What if they never went back?

    ¡°We¡¯ll crash into Lake Ontario if we¡¯re not careful,¡± Dan joked.

    They¡¯d crossed the New Hampshire line, and the Toyota glided through Berlin. Even on a Saturday night, no one was out, the little town dormant. They drove on Wight Road. Freya was just about to make a nerdy joke about the name when the Toyota¡¯s headlights illuminated a green reflective sign that said DEAD RIVER.

    Freya¡¯s breath caught, and she wondered if she was hallucinating. She checked the map on her phone. There really was a Dead River. It was a tiny tributary of the Androscoggin. She checked her messages, but there was nothing new from Lynn and no word from Lassa. Freya realized if she wanted tonight to be anything but driving aimlessly into the darkness, she would have to take the reins.

    ¡°Do you have work tomorrow?¡± she asked Dan.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t schedule me. I think they¡¯re mad at me for bitching about dishwashing,¡± Dan said. ¡°We can drive all night if you want to.¡±

    ¡°I have an idea,¡± Freya said, tapping on her phone.

 Chapter 71

    The Rabbit Hill Inn was another hour to the west, just north of the Connecticut River. The inn was a campus of several nineteenth century buildings spread across a fifteen-acre estate. The main house was a sprawling Greek revival with four tall white columns. Dan¡¯s eyes rose up them as he pulled the Toyota into the parking lot.

    ¡°Fancy,¡± he said, his eyes a little wide. Freya smiled. The website claimed they were the sixth best hotel in the country, thirtieth in the world. The name had tugged at Freya as she looked for a nice hotel, but she couldn¡¯t quite place it. As they walked up the path to the main entrance, they passed a carved wooden sign. At once, she remembered.

    On one of the first pages of the big black photo album at home, there was a picture of Lassa and Randall from before they were married, standing next to the Rabbit Hill Inn sign. Lassa¡¯s hair was almost to her waist, and Randall had a ridiculous push broom mustache. They were dressed for a formal dinner. Freya had seen the picture a hundred times. She remembered every detail.

    In the photograph, there was a thick carpet of snow on the ground behind her parents, frosting the top of the sign with a divot melted on either side by the lights. Randall smiled like he¡¯d just won the lottery, and Lassa looked up at him, something young and raw in her face.

    They¡¯d taken that picture twenty years ago, and now Freya was walking past the same sign, her steps weighted with a sense of melancholy inevitability. She¡¯d been drawn here, captured in this cycle.

    Freya wondered if she would wind up taking the same picture with Dan. It felt almost like she was stealing something. She had a senseless desire to turn around and tell Dan they were going somewhere else, but she had already paid. She was worried Dan would notice the tumult on her face, but he was too awed by their surroundings.

    The unease persisted, and Freya almost hoped some hassle at check-in preventing them from staying, but everything was arranged. She¡¯d put the room in Dan¡¯s name because he was eighteen. The clerk checked them in without so much as a raised eyebrow, walking them to their room as she rattled off the amenities and local attractions.

    Freya had booked the Tavern Secret room. It was a little more modern than the others, which Freya thought were too aggressively homey. The room was all birch and leather, with a giant whirlpool tub and a gas fireplace.

    She watched Dan sweeping his eyes around with his mouth slightly ajar, like an orphan who had stumbled into a chocolate factory. It made her smile. She enjoyed the dynamic of being the one making all the decisions and bringing him to all these places.

    His eyes fell on the giant bed, and her heart beat a little faster. She felt a flicker of hesitation. Freya wanted to settle in first, wanted to be sure.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get dinner,¡± Freya suggested, and she saw a little relief in his eyes. Maybe he wasn¡¯t ready either. Maybe it was something you were never ready for.

    They went on a little tour of the grounds. The furniture was hardwood in warm reds and burgundies, the rabbit motif everywhere in paintings, carvings, and cross-stitches. While Dan wandered around the common room, she slipped over to the front desk for a few moments to ask for toothbrushes. The clerk offered to have them brought to the room and, on impulse, Freya made an additional request. She smiled as she rejoined Dan.

    Dan was afraid they were underdressed for the hotel restaurant, but it was a quiet Saturday night, and the hostess was happy to seat them. Like the night before, Freya and Dan attracted eyes. They were much younger than the other guests.

    There were quiet conversations murmuring all around them, everyone seemed excited about the snowstorm. Freya heard a German accent, and she tried to pick it out of the hubbub. At a table close to the window, two couples were engaged in a heated discussion over a study on rising sea levels. They were close to breaking into an argument. Freya strained to hear.

    The two couples were an odd pairing. The skeptic was a rotund man with heavy jowls sitting beside a disinterested woman who had obviously had a lot of work done. Facing them were the German couple, who wore their long gray hair in ponytails. The man¡¯s hair thinned at the top.

    The Germans were adamant that the study was significant. They were trying hard to convince the other couple. Freya wished she sat closer. She was sure the man with the jowls was a congressman, but she couldn¡¯t remember his name.

    Freya turned her attention back to Dan, not long afterward the server brought a loaf of hot oatmeal bread with cinnamon butter and glass mugs of spiced cider. Snow fell outside, the fireplace blazing, and Dan inhaled deeply. The bread was fresh from the oven and smelled wonderful.

    As he ate, Dan forgot to be uncomfortable. Freya watched the candlelight dancing in his eyes, and she focused on the moment, willing it to stay in her memory forever. When Unity returned, she wanted Dan to have that image of him, to see how beautiful he was.

    The bread barely whetted their appetites. Freya had a spicy goat rag¨´ with homemade pappardelle and Dan had the persimmon duck. The duck was perfectly rare at the center with a carmine-red glaze over a layer of crackling fat. Dan offered her a piece and, as she chewed, she shut her eyes, her mouth full of sublime dancing.

    They shared a goat-cheese ice cream sandwich for dessert, the wafers were dense and dark, there was a thin layer of raspberry preserves spread over them. It was perhaps the richest thing Freya ever tasted. As they finished dessert, their eyes kept meeting, anticipation darting between them. They held hands and watched the snow blowing in the night. A half-inch had already accumulated on the sill. She had a childish hope they would get snowed in and never have to leave.

    Freya¡¯s steps felt very light as they made their way back to the room. When they opened the door, the lights were all low. She¡¯d completely forgotten her request. Freya had only asked them to fill the tub, but the room glowed with candles, and there were swirls of pink, magnolia scented foam on the surface of the water. They really went all out here.

    Dan had an expression like he was about to crack a joke, and she raised a hand and put a finger over his lips. They were impossibly warm. His eyebrows raised, and she smiled at him.

    No words.

    They had talked enough. Freya walked to the tub and began to remove her clothes, taking off her sweater first and neatly folding it. Dan¡¯s cheeks colored, and he looked away. She waited until he glanced back at her and made a beckoning gesture.

    Look at me.

    He was rapt as he watched her undress. There was a hard look of concentration around his eyes as he tried to commit the moment to permanent memory. Freya had felt so confident a moment before, but now, she felt so unsure about everything; her breasts were too small, her hips too bony, her butt too flat. Dan was gorgeous and could do so much better. What the hell was he doing here with her?

    Freya fought against the shy desire to turn her face away, telling herself she knew better. She¡¯d felt what he felt, wanted what he wanted. She¡¯d made him come with just a touch, and she felt a swell of pride at the thought. She ran her hands down her breasts, along her sides and across her hips, stepping out of her panties. Dan made a wounded noise, his eyelids fluttering. Her eyes shot to the swelling in his pants.

    Dan took a deep breath and undressed, undoing the buttons of his shirt. If anything, he was more self-conscious than Freya was. Dan was so lean from running, her eyes ran from his collarbones to the slight jut of his sternum, the ripple of his abdominal muscles under a slight layer of fat.

    She remembered the figments of his uncertainty from the night before, he wasn¡¯t big enough, wasn¡¯t as built as some of the other guys. Yet, as Freya stared at Dan, she had never wanted anything more. She wanted to run her hands over every inch of him.

    Dan undid his belt, and her eyes were drawn in like a whirlpool. He stepped out of his slacks. She spotted a damp spot of arousal on his boxers already. A moment later, they stood naked in front of each other.

    Freya had felt so adult earlier, booking the hotel room, eating dinner with the older couples. Now, they were young, with no idea what they were doing. Each of them fought the urge to cover themselves. There was a tremor of movement at his shoulder. She felt like she blushed with her whole body, radioactive with awkwardness.

    Their eyes kept sliding away, and her glance drifted to his penis. She wondered how badly it would hurt. The idea of that being inside of her seemed at once impossible. His eyes were on her, the muscles in his jaw tensing and, as he took a deep breath, his erection twitched.

    Was he fighting to hold himself back?

    Freya was simultaneously worried Dan would lose control and aroused by the idea. She took a deep breath to calm down. He was doing the same thing, and they both smiled, acknowledging their awkwardness. It was stupid to be so anxious, yet they were.

    Their eyes met, and they stepped towards each other in one synchronized motion, hearing a distant sound. It was the harbinger of Unity. The deep breath seemed to ripple on and on, and they heard it through two sets of ears, taking it in through two sets of lungs. They let the breath go together and, in its place, was a hollow feeling of relief. The desire to return to Unity had been with them every moment since it was broken, and now they had it back.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    At last.

    It was delicious to become one, they stepped forward and embraced, marveling at the way their bodies gave way to each other. They had to hold on tightly as the wave of feeling threatened to take their knees out from under them. His erection was a hot and insistent line against her belly. He soaked in the sensation of her being wet, each of them reveling in the feeling of being wanted.

    It had been a long day and, as they got close, they could smell each other. It was something they were supposed to be embarrassed about, to cover with deodorant, but the reality was different. Freya liked the way he smelled, she wanted it all over her. They inhaled, and he drew her in. Her heartbeat quickened to match his, see his pupils growing larger. Everything was coming into perfect focus.

    A base, animal thing awakened between them. He stiffened, and even Dan was surprised by it. It was a new feeling, harder than hard, and she relished the straining, insistent throb. His eyebrows raised with alarm. If they kept potentiating each other like this, he wouldn¡¯t be able to hold back.

    Freya released him, watching the head of his penis bob on its own, little spasms passing through his stomach muscles. She turned towards the bathtub and climbed onto the ledge. It was so strange to watch herself from behind. Dan¡¯s eyes were locked to the sway of her buttocks, stealing into the space between them.

    The water was still very hot, just a touch above what Freya could bear, and she sat on the wide edge of the tub and lowered her foot into it by careful degrees. Dan climbed to the other side, facing her, and lowered his own foot, but he pulled it right back out. It was too hot for him. Together, they recognized that, as a theme, she could take more than he could.

    Flickers of machismo told him he should man up and be tougher, but the folly could not persist within Unity. Neither of them could fool the other, neither could fool themselves any longer.

    Freya lowered herself into the water, inch by scalding inch. When it climbed her thighs, Dan gasped at the sensation of the hot water touching her lips. His eyes watched her skin reddening beneath the water as she saw flashes of brilliant heat behind her eyelids. She slipped down until her whole body was in the tub and her hair drifted around her like a halo. Her body was the sun, and Dan adored her.

    His thoughts had a perilous, almost religious angle to them, and in protest she thought that she was only Freya, just a girl. Unity unraveled her false modesty, a manifest feeling she could be something more.

    A goddess.

    Together, they recoiled from the serpentine idea, feeling they¡¯d drifted off the rails. To escape the thought, Dan lowered himself into the water, bracing himself against the sting.

    His feet brushed against her legs, and Freya sat up a little to make room for him, thrilled by his touch. He slid all the way into the water and shut his eyes, and it was her turn to pour adulation onto him, his turn to feel ascended.

    They let the moment bake into them, trying to decide what they were, what it all meant. This wasn¡¯t just vanity, or a delusion. They had become more than human, something new and unique.

    They let the lofty thought fade and returned to the moment. Freya had never taken a bath with anyone else. Dan drifted into early memories of being bathed with his sister, and he tried to shift away from them. Freya beamed acceptance, but Dan denied, trying to push away his hunger for Angie¡¯s ghost.

    Not tonight. We have forever.

    The thought was co-generated. Pieces of it rose from each of them, trying to express the sense of grandeur settling over them, the whispering feeling this was more than just an interlude. This was something eternal.

    Dan¡¯s fingers were brushing against her ankles, rising up her shins, and she felt his intent. He wanted to slide his hand up her inner thigh. He wanted to know what she felt like, and she wanted him to know, to give that feeling to him. Freya had the same want, she wanted to hold his penis, to feel it pulsing in her hand.

    The thought brought a flash of shame from Dan, casting him back into the last time someone had held him that way. His thoughts twisted inward, and he turned his face from her. There was a quaver in Unity. Freya felt a plunge of despair, and that made Dan feel worse. He was afraid he was ruining everything.

    Freya focused on how she felt, radiating acceptance, and trying to bridge the gap between them. He felt what she thought, he believed her, but somehow it wasn¡¯t enough.

    She took his hand. He was so wrapped in doubt the movement surprised him. His eyes found hers, and she guided his hand between her legs.

    Touch me, she beamed.

    There was something undeniable about the way she¡¯d acted, and it pulled at something deep in him. He brushed his fingers against her as delicately as he could, and she gasped. He traced his index finger down her lips, feeling the wetter-than-wet slickness of her arousal.

    She cried out. Even the lightest touch he could manage was more than she could bear. Dan¡¯s hand stopped and a low moan escaped his mouth. They were bound in it together. They marveled at the way she felt. Freya had never been touched that way before.

    All of Dan¡¯s uncertainty died in that touch. The buried fears he wouldn¡¯t like the way a girl felt were gone, boiled away in the heat of his sudden desire. He wanted more, wanted her, and she basked in it. It felt so good to be desired.

    Feeling him harden anew, Freya ran her hand up Dan¡¯s left thigh. He gasped; certain he would come if she even touched him. Freya brought her fingertips as close as she dared, until their breathing grew shallow. Dan began to tremble. She pulled her hand away, feeling her heart pounding in time with his.

    She wondered what it would be like to see him come, and she visualized it, imagining his whole body tensing up, his cock twitching as he spurted into the bath. Dan trembled in response, the thought alone was enough to bring him to the edge, and it gave her a surge of elation. She could make him come just by thinking about it. She felt so powerful.

    Freya didn¡¯t press on, she drew back, watching Dan carefully, and he made a distraught sound. Behind it, Dan liked that, liked to be denied. There was a sudden electric awareness. She¡¯d been afraid sex would be something that happened to her, something she would have no control over. But she was in charge, and she liked it that way.

    She felt his weak denial, the sense he was supposed to be the active one driving this forward, but they knew better. An understanding quickened between them. This was who they were, and they could never hide. Her thoughts held Dan like a tight grip, and she took a deep breath and focused on letting go. Dan moaned with intermingled relief and protest.

    They backed away, trying to cool off, and she was surprised by a second wave of Dan¡¯s desire, an echo from getting so close to coming and not quite arriving. It was a powerful urge, and she wondered how he ever stopped on his own.

    It felt like all this had only taken moments, but the water was lukewarm. Their fingertips pruned. Freya climbed out of the tub, and Dan turned to watch the water streaming off her body. He thought she was so beautiful it was impossible not to believe him.

    As she stood there dripping, he climbed out of the tub and took the towel from her hands and dried her off. She hadn¡¯t expected it, and there was something about the gesture that made her feel small and safe, and Dan felt overjoyed he¡¯d given that to her. She giggled as he covered her head with the towel and tussled her hair.

    Glowing with joy, Freya took another towel and dried Dan off in turn, captivated by the hard muscles of his shoulders. On impulse, she embraced him from behind, standing on her toes and kissing his neck. Dan shut his eyes and relaxed into her. Their skin was tacky with dampness. She slipped her hands down his chest, tracing along the sides of his stomach. She focused entirely on Dan¡¯s feelings, the sensation of her breasts pressing against his back, her fingertips brushing lightly over his skin, dancing along the edge of tickling and thrilling.

    Responding to an impulse from him, she bit down lightly on his neck. Their hearts raced, their breathing quickening in unison. Her fingers were his pubic hair, roaming through the damp curls, and she slipped her hand around him and took hold.

    Dan made a startled sound. Freya was caught in the feeling, thrilled by the way she could make his whole body react with the slightest movement. She held the lever that could move the world. In between the flares of sensation, Dan tried to push back, to assert himself. But he wanted it too much. It was impossible to pretend to be anything but what he was.

    Freya reveled in the sense Dan was so much bigger and stronger than her, but he melted in her hands. She slid her hand up and down and his whole body thrust along with her. She relaxed her grip until she barely touched him. He whimpered in shameless protest.

    Mine, Freya pulsed, tightening her grip in tune with the possessive thought, and there was a wordless rush of agreement. Dan wanted this, wanted to be hers. He¡¯d let go completely, and she pulled him closer and closer, submerged in his feelings and forgetting herself. He was almost there. Her mouth was close to his ear she heard her own breathing through his ears.

    ¡°Come,¡± she commanded.

    He cried out and exploded. Everything went white, through the glare she felt him pounding in her hand, each pulse like the beat of a drum, and then she was caught in it. She was being stroked by herself, he whispered in his own ear, they came together, sailing upward into the storm.

    For a few breathless moments, all was confusion, just gasping and pounding heartbeats. The world was oriented wrong as the aftershocks of their orgasm diminished, and they realized their legs had given out. They were tangled up on the bathroom floor.

    I didn¡¯t know I was like that, they both thought. They¡¯d suspected before and fantasized about this, but they were still unprepared to be confronted so viscerally. Dan felt a thin shame he¡¯d gotten off so quickly, that he was so¡­

    Submissive. It was an effort for him to think it, and he was mired in shame, looking away from her, but she turned him towards her.

    Stop, you¡¯re perfect. You¡¯re exactly what I want, Freya asserted.

    They surveyed the damage. She had a bruise forming on her hip, and he¡¯d banged his elbow during the fall, and there was an impressive arc of cum across the tile floor. Sheepishly, he got up and mopped it with the towel.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I thought we were going to¡­¡± Dan mumbled, so caught in his thoughts that he spoke aloud.

    ¡°We are,¡± Freya assured him. She smiled and led him to the bed.

    They curled up together in front of the fire like a pair of cats, nuzzling closer and closer in search of a supreme comfort. Freya felt so grand before, and now she enjoyed feeling small, her body surrounded by his.

    His hand was draped over her side, cupping her breast. Dan¡¯s other arm was beneath her neck. She rested in the crook of his elbow. She felt pins and needles as Dan¡¯s arm fell asleep and shifted until he felt comfortable again. The candles flickered, the gas fireplace whispered, and the wind sighed against the door as snow drifted down to lay a pristine white blanket over everything. They were safe here.

    When they closed their eyes, there was only warmth. Unity faltered, but they were so close they barely missed it. They drifted to sleep.

 Chapter 72

    Freya woke up sore, smarting when her weight shifted onto the new bruise on her hip. The sides of her face ached. Her muscles weren¡¯t used to smiling so much. She leaned back against Dan, not caring if it hurt.

    When was the last time she¡¯d woken up smiling like that? Certainly not since Randall died. Maybe not since she was eight years old, when they visited Cape Canaveral, and she woke up before everyone else, overflowing with excitement.

    Freya was wrapped in Dan¡¯s arms. She felt the slow movement of his breathing against her back. He¡¯d fallen asleep first, and she remembered the little tremors that rippled through him as he drifted off. She listened to his breathing as it grew slower, feeling his heartbeat against her back and trying to stay awake for as long as she could. She¡¯d been convinced for some reason he would be gone when she woke up, certain she didn¡¯t deserve to feel so happy.

    But Dan hadn¡¯t vanished in the night. It wasn¡¯t a dream. There had been no dreams at all.

    The room flickered in the light of the fireplace, and her eyes drifted through the dancing shadows to the big tub in the bathroom. A few of the candles around the tub still burned, but most had guttered out. Her pants were neatly folded beside the sink, and the Starball was in her pocket. She could feel it if she concentrated.

    Unity grew stronger, lasting longer, and Freya couldn¡¯t wait. She wanted to spend every waking moment United. Perhaps they would even dream together. The thought worried her. Freya remembered the shadow tapping at her window, the cliffs tumbling into the sea. What if Dan couldn¡¯t take it? What if her dreams drove him away?

    I will protect him, Freya resolved. She visualized herself in a suit of gleaming armor, cutting the shade apart with a shining sword. Her muscles tensed with intent, and Dan shifted behind her. She forced herself to be still. It was dark outside, and she didn¡¯t want to wake him. His arm moved beneath her. She saw a slight twitch of his fingers.

    What about Dan¡¯s dreams? Could they be worse than hers? What if he dreamed about other girls? Or other boys? Freya couldn¡¯t picture how that would make her feel.

    You can¡¯t control your dreams, Freya told herself, but she wasn¡¯t sure she believed that. She dwelt on the thought, wondering how much of her dreams were her, how much was just random noise?

    How much was the Starball?

    Freya remembered Dan asking her if she¡¯d liked him before she found the Starball. The thought cast her into a roil of uncertainty, wondering if she cared about Dan or if he really cared about her. Maybe he was in thrall, a slave to a little black shard buried in his palm. The whole thing could be part of the orb¡¯s plan to keep her alive.

    Unconsciously, Freya rubbed her fingertip against the place where she¡¯d been pierced. She thought of the ? process, the dead whiteboards, Karhu¡¯s sunken eyes. What did it all mean? What did the Starball want? There was a hopeless feeling the orb was too alien and inscrutable, and she would never understand.

    I would help you if I could, Freya thought to the orb. She leaned back into Dan to reassure herself he was still there. For Unity, she would pay any price. Without it, she was nothing at all.

    Freya wound herself up too much to get back to sleep. She looked out the window, searching for the dawn, but it was too early. The snow was still coming down hard, and she wondered how much had accumulated.

    Behind her, Dan stiffened.

    Must be a good dream.

    Freya smirked and wriggled back, grinding her butt against him. He swelled in response. She waited for him to wake, but his breathing remained deep and slow. He was only dreaming, Freya wished she could join, but Unity would not come. Dan felt so warm against her. She only had to slip her hand down and adjust him slightly, and he would be right where she wanted.

    Freya bit her lip and resisted the urge. It would be so wrong. He wasn¡¯t ready, and he deserved to be awake for his first time. But she was very wet, and all she could think about was how good he would feel sliding against her.

    She didn¡¯t trust herself to hold back any longer. She forced herself to get out of bed and paddled silently to the bathroom. She closed the door, then she peed and brushed her teeth by candlelight.

    Not until we¡¯re United, Freya resolved.

    She waited until she felt more in control and crept back to the side of the bed. The soft light of the fireplace illuminated Dan¡¯s face. She expected him to be serene, but his brow was lined. His arms twitched in the dream, still stretched out in the space where she¡¯d been.

    He misses me, Freya thought.

    It hurt in a wonderful way. She wanted to dive back into his arms and cover his face with kisses. She lifted the comforter, trying to figure out how she could get back in bed without waking him. Her eyes traced down the line of his body. Part of him was still wide awake.

    The idea of waiting felt impossible. Freya wanted to pounce, to grind on top of Dan until he looked up at her with those beautiful green eyes and whispered: please.

    Her hand slipped between her legs at the thought. She was on fire. She tried to find the nerve to wake him, her eyes fixated on his erection, and her tongue ran over her lips.

    Could she do that?

    Freya had seen plenty of videos. She understood the mechanics. But now that she was considering putting her mouth on a penis, she was filled with anxiety.

    What if it felt gross? What if she wasn¡¯t good at it? What if Dan woke up and freaked out? You were supposed to talk this kind of thing over, to get consent. Did that even apply to people who could read each other¡¯s minds?

    Dan twitched again in his dream, still excited, and so was she. She slipped into bed, bringing her face close to him. Even after their bath, he had an intense, animal smell. She¡¯d been worried it would gross her out but, instead, she felt driven, suddenly wide awake in the moment. She paused, trying to gauge how she felt, wondering if she really wanted to do this.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    She did. Freya moved forward and kissed Dan softly. He didn¡¯t wake up. She wasn¡¯t sure what she¡¯d expected, but it was like kissing any other part of him, just warmer. She kissed him again, a little harder, and he grew bigger beneath her lips. She leaned back to watch, fascinated. A tiny droplet formed at the tip of his penis, gleaming in the firelight.

    He likes this, Freya told herself. She was curious, so she slipped her tongue out and tasted him. She¡¯d expected it to be salty as seawater, but it was lighter, more basic. She felt a slight numbing feeling at the tip of her tongue and against her lips, a tingle so faint she was unsure if she was only imagining it.

    Freya remembered the way he¡¯d pulsed in her hand and shot everywhere last night, and she wondered what it would feel like if he came on her like that. Part of her found the idea revolting, but it was a small voice shouted down by thrumming desire.

    Freya parted her lips and slowly slipped Dan into her mouth. She held him there without any pressure, slowly she began to feel the pulse of his dorsal vein against her tongue. It wasn¡¯t bad, it was just new. Freya sealed her lips around him and ran her tongue around, experimenting. Dan made dreamy little sounds, she slid her mouth back and forth, wondering if she could wake him up with an orgasm.

    She couldn¡¯t. Dan jerked awake while she was going down on him. His right leg twitched, and the sudden movement made him hit the back of her throat, making her gag. In his confusion, Dan tried to grab her shoulder, but his hand was too weak from sleep. She hoped she hadn¡¯t hurt him.

    Freya looked up at Dan, searching his face. It was impossible to read him in the faint light of the fireplace. She slipped her mouth off, suddenly sure she had made a terrible mistake. She was just about to apologize when he spoke, still sounding sleepy and befuddled.

    ¡°Oh, wow. Sorry, I was just surprised.¡±

    ¡°Is it okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°I can stop.¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t have to. I like it.¡±

    Dan reached out a hand and stroked the side of her face. She smiled back and held him, enjoying the way he twitched in her hand. She watched his eyes carefully, trying to make sure she wasn¡¯t gripping too hard. She slid her hand up and down, enjoying a new urgency in his expression. He lifted himself from the bed to thrust into her hand, and she gripped tighter and watched his eyes roll upward.

    ¡°Good morning,¡± Freya purred. Whatever he tried to say back came out as more moan than language.

    ¡°Lie back,¡± she instructed, feeling a thrill when he did it right away. She drew the comforter off. When everything was situated, she took him in her mouth again, more forcefully than before. But when she looked up to see how she was doing, Dan winced.

    ¡°Are you okay? Does that hurt?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No! Well, um¡­¡± Dan fumbled with embarrassment. ¡°Your teeth. It¡¯s just a little too much.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my God. I¡¯m so sorry! Do you want me to stop?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t stop. Just, um, less teeth if you can.¡±

    Freya felt ashamed. She wanted to quit, but she felt like she had to go on. She lowered her eyes and tried a different way, letting her lips fold back over her teeth and cradling with her tongue.

    Dan made a sound, and she hesitated, afraid she¡¯d messed up again.

    ¡°Yeah, like that,¡± Dan assured her.

    She continued, ramping up the pressure slowly, searching for the right way. Dan rose back against her, trying to get more of himself into her mouth. At first, all she could think about was concentrating on not clipping him with her teeth, but she got the swing of it. She liked the sounds Dan was making, little restrained gasps. He wanted to be quiet, but he couldn¡¯t.

    Dan gripped his inner thigh with his left hand. His right slipped down her shoulder and found her left breast. Freya shut her eyes and made an urgent sound with her mouth full.

    Freya felt Dan throbbing, and she knew he was close. Suddenly, she realized she had no idea what to do now. She had an awful fear she might gag and throw up if he came in her mouth. It would be safer to stop and finish him off with her hand. But a low certainty undermined the thought. She¡¯d come too far and didn¡¯t want to stop.

    Dan¡¯s whole body tensed as he came, and her mouth was full of the taste of him. She felt each individual spurt of his orgasm, the tingling feeling from before was much more intense now. She didn¡¯t know what she was supposed to do, so she kept going until he gripped her shoulder. His eyes were wide open with alarm. It was too much.

    She¡¯d swallowed everything and felt a little ashamed of herself. Something was missing. She hadn¡¯t come and didn¡¯t feel like she could. Had Unity ruined her for normal sex? What if she couldn¡¯t get off without it?

    Dan crashed against the bed with a contented sound, he was almost purring. At least he seemed happy. Freya felt empty and dejected, wondering if this was a mistake. The idea had seemed so daring and adult, but now she felt a little tarnished. Why did Unity have to end? Everything felt so hollow without it.

    Neither of them knew what to say. Freya crawled up in bed beside Dan, lying with her back to him. He draped an arm over her and got closer, but she still felt apart. She wondered if he would be insulted if she got up and brushed her teeth again. Dan kissed the back of her neck, sliding his hand down her stomach.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she said too sharply.

    ¡°Are you sure? I want to,¡± Dan offered. She knew she¡¯d hurt him. She nearly agreed just so he wouldn¡¯t feel bad.

    ¡°Just hug me, please,¡± Freya asked. She couldn¡¯t understand how people did this. It was so awkward and difficult. There were words she wanted to say, but she didn¡¯t trust herself to say them. His penis softened against her, fleeting and sad.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Dan whispered, and she nodded, her eyes a little damp. Everything she felt was wrong, but she didn¡¯t want to put that on Dan. There was an unsettled feeling in her stomach, and she bit it back. How awful would he feel if she threw up?

    ¡°I miss you,¡± he said quietly, and she turned back to him, peering into his eyes for an answer. Glittering in the darkness was the same discontent. They were incomplete.

    ¡°I miss you, too,¡± Freya said. She was so glad he understood.

    She wanted to kiss him, but she hesitated, afraid he would be grossed out after what she¡¯d done. But Dan wasn¡¯t squeamish. He kissed her and pulled her closer to him. They clenched one another as tightly as they could, something desperate in the way their tongues lashed each other.

    No matter how they tried, they couldn¡¯t get there. They detached as they waited for the rumblings of a Unity that never came. She turned towards the door again. Dan buried his face in her hair and inhaled her smell.

    Freya shut her eyes and drifted. Soon, she felt the little twitches as Dan fell back asleep. She envied him. The first rays of dawn illuminated the snow outside.

    As the sun stole in, Freya had an urge to check her phone. It was usually the first thing she did in the morning. But her battery was dead by now, and she had no intention of charging it. She didn¡¯t want to be found. Golden light climbed across the floor as she slipped into a flimsy daydream, the sort that would dissolve at the slightest interruption.

    She pictured them leaving the hotel, bundled in their coats with the Toyota¡¯s heater cranked as high as it could go. They pulled up to Waterford Road, about to turn east and return home to Sillas. But then Dan looked over at her with a smile and turned the other way just as Unity echoed around them.

    They would head west to Chicago, southwest to Denver, and then across the Rockies. The Toyota would pull them through Utah and Nevada, all the way to the Pacific Ocean. Three thousand miles away where no one could find them, where the winter could never catch Freya again.

    The sunlight caught her instead, shining into her eyes, and the impossible dream broke apart. Of course, they couldn¡¯t do that. Her money would run out, and they¡¯d be stranded on the wrong side of the country, living in a car. The Toyota probably couldn¡¯t even make it there. Her guitar was at home, and she couldn¡¯t possibly leave it behind. It was all a childish fantasy. When Dan found it in Unity, she didn¡¯t know if he would laugh at her or pity her.

    Freya slipped free from his grasp and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She stared at her reflection, trying to decide who she was.

 Chapter 73 - VETERANS DAY (OBSERVED) - MONDAY NOVEMBER 12TH

    They were bathed in sunlight, basking together on a beach Freya had never seen with her own eyes. There were no clouds, just a perfect line dividing the azure of the sky from the cerulean of the gulf. The sand beneath them was as white as bone, darkening to slate where the surf retreated.

    The dream was a piece of Dan, and she cast around, eager to feel his presence, but he was missing. Freya reached out for the body beside her, but it came apart in her hands like foam. She looked upward, searching for the sky, but it was missing, too, stolen by the void at the top of her dreams. In the distance, she heard thunder. There were clouds at the horizon. The booming grew closer, and she realized someone was knocking at the door.

    Freya jolted awake and felt Dan shifting in her arms. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room. She couldn¡¯t remember where she was. She had a wild thought it was Lassa on the other side of the door, pursued by the police. Freya held her breath for five knocks, hoping whoever it was would go away. But the knocker persisted.

    A gloved hand appeared at the window and waved, sweeping its shadow across the room. Freya realized it was just the room service she¡¯d ordered the night before. She¡¯d forgotten all about it. Freya waved back before realizing the owner of the glove couldn¡¯t see her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right there!¡± she called out, and Dan rumbled something senseless in response.

    Untangling herself, Freya threw on a bathrobe and darted over to get the door. She was stunned by the blast of freezing air. An old man in galoshes and a green blazer held a tray. There was a trail of deep footprints on the snowy path behind him.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± Freya apologized.

    ¡°No trouble a¡¯tall. Just a light dusting.¡± The old man grinned and tilted his head at the snow covering everything. Nearly a foot of snow had fallen overnight.

    Freya thanked him again and accepted the covered tray. As the old man loped away, she heard the rumble of a plow truck in the distance. She brought the tray inside and set it in front of the fireplace, then rushed back to shut the door. The wind whooshed as the weather stripping sealed. She felt like she¡¯d just closed an airlock.

    Dan was still blinking and scrubbing his eyes with the hams of his thumbs. She wanted to tell him not to do that, it was bad for his corneas, but there was no need. He would hear her thinking it later.

    ¡°There¡¯s so much snow!¡± Freya exclaimed. She brought Dan the other bathrobe. He climbed out of bed and moved to take the robe from her, but she held it out. She meant to put it on him.

    Her eyes drifted between his legs. He was hard again. Did that always happen when men woke up? Looking a little sheepish, Dan held out his arms, and she slipped the bathrobe onto him. She tied the sash at the front and couldn¡¯t help but slip her hand down and squeeze him through the robe. His eyebrows arched in surprise, but it was just a tease. She was too hungry to start fooling around again.

    ¡°They brought us breakfast?¡± Dan said as if he¡¯d never considered that was possible. He joined Freya by the fire. She lifted the silver lid from the tray, releasing a plume of fragrant steam.

    There were two fried eggs perched atop a spicy corned beef hash with aj¨ª de cocona, and a bowl of Greek yogurt and granola with cantaloupe and mangoes. The toast was a dense walnut-raisin pumpernickel with fresh butter in a little ceramic crock, and there was hot chocolate, very dark and not sweet at all. Each mug came with a big cube of marshmallow.

    They sat close together in front of the fire as they ate, too focused on devouring everything in sight to speak. The silence grew deeper after they ate. Freya found Dan¡¯s eyes. There were too many things unsaid between them, and neither knew where to begin.

    ¡°I wish we could run,¡± Dan said, and Freya nodded at once. That was exactly what they needed, exertion to clear their minds.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think they have a gym here, but I¡¯ll ask,¡± Freya offered. Dan watched every step as she walked across the room to call the concierge, and her cheeks warmed.

    He can¡¯t take his eyes off me. The feeling hummed in her so intensely she stuttered into the phone and had to repeat herself.

    ¡°Okay, so some bad news, they don¡¯t have a fitness center. But if we¡¯re up for digging the car out, there¡¯s a farm near here that rents cross country skis.¡±

    ¡°Oh! That¡¯s cool, but I don¡¯t know how,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°It¡¯s a perfect time to learn. It snowed thirteen inches last night.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s crazy. Is skiing as much of a workout as running, though? Aren¡¯t you doing a lot of gliding?¡±

    Freya snorted at Dan, and then put a hand over her mouth.

    ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± she promised.

    * * *

    Overnight, the world had been remade in grayscale. The trees were reduced to faint outlines embossed against a field of endless white. Drifting snow smoothed every contour of the landscape. Gray clouds stretched from horizon to horizon, warbling from light to dark like a wall that needed another coat of paint.

    Through a thin patch, Freya made out the sun, pale and ringed by a faint corona. They didn¡¯t see a drop of color until they reached Interstate 93 and joined the crimson train of brake lights crawling south.

    Ski Hearth Farm was well prepared for the sky fall. The road to the big red barn that acted as the lodge had been freshly plowed. Inside, there were plenty of skis waxed and ready to go. There was a wood burning stove blazing inside the lodge, and Freya caught Dan shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply, a dreamy look on his face. He wasn¡¯t the only one. Everyone was friendly and excited for the first snowfall of the season. Renting clothes and skis was no problem, but there weren¡¯t any classes until noon.

    ¡°We could snowshoe for a bit, and then come back to take a class,¡± Freya suggested.

    ¡°Do we have to? How hard can it be?¡± Dan said.

    Freya and the ski tech exchanged a look.

    ¡°You can swap to snowshoes anytime. The Orchard Loop is the best to learn on, and there¡¯s a short uphill part,¡± the tech offered.

    Dressed in rented ski clothes, they set off for the Orchard Loop, and Freya was certain they would be swapping to snowshoes when they finished their first loop. She¡¯d forgotten how difficult it was to learn cross country. There were just so many spots where her body knew exactly how to do something, but her mouth didn¡¯t know how to explain it.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Dan had never surfed or skateboarded or even roller-skated, so just balancing was new and difficult for him. For the first half of the trail, he spent more time on the ground than upright.

    The rental clothes didn¡¯t fit quite right, and cold seeped in. With Dan floundering, they weren¡¯t keeping a fast enough pace to stay warm. Freya¡¯s eyes narrowed when they were passed by a pair of giggling girls who couldn¡¯t have been older than ten.

    ¡°Let me know if you want to pack it in and snowshoe.¡±

    Dan winced, and Freya wished she hadn¡¯t suggested it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± Dan said, trying for determined, but his frustration leaked through.

    She wished for Unity, remembering the effortless way he¡¯d shared his understanding of trigonometry. It didn¡¯t come. Freya kept trying to remember what Randall had said when he¡¯d taught her. She¡¯d only been nine. She remembered him describing moving the poles like you were bowling, but when she tried to explain that to Dan, she found he¡¯d never been bowling either.

    Dan tried to bottle his irritation, but she knew him well enough to read the sharp intake of air through his nose, the slight pause before he rose from the snow. Freya tried to teach Dan the herringbone. As he attempted it, the tails of his skis got tangled, and he went down hard.

    ¡°FUCK!¡± Dan shouted into the snow.

    There was a terrible danger she was going to start to laugh, and she had to fight to swallow it down. Dan¡¯s gloves were scrambled at his bindings, like he wanted to tear his skis off and fling them into the trees.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Freya asked and, behind his goggles, she saw him shut his eyes tightly, as if he wanted to shout at her. She was ready to yell back, her patience close to gone. He flopped over on his back in a clatter of skis.

    ¡°Oh, my God,¡± he complained to the sky theatrically with his hands spread wide. ¡°I¡¯ve never eaten so much shit in my LIFE. This is impossible!¡± Freya smiled with relief. She was glad he made a joke out of it.

    ¡°You gonna cry, Gregulus?¡± Freya gave her best Vitko imitation.

    ¡°Maybe!¡± Dan shot back, jutting his bottom lip.

    ¡°Aww,¡± she said, prodding him in the butt with the tip of her ski. He grabbed it and dumped her into the snow with him.

    ¡°Oh! I¡¯m not the only one!¡± he teased.

    ¡°Dan!¡± Freya shouted. She was livid.

    ¡°I¡¯m literally dragging you down to my level,¡± he teased. She was too mad to get words out, and as she opened her mouth to yell, he scrambled over and kissed her.

    ¡°Ow!¡± She said as the frames of their goggles clacked together.

    ¡°You gonna cry, Jokela?¡±

    ¡°Maybe!¡±

    Suddenly, it all seemed so stupid, and they giggled like mad, helping each other to their feet and brushing snow off each other.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I forgot how hard this was,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°I just suck,¡± Dan groaned.

    ¡°Me too,¡± she said, and he started to protest, but she lowered her eyes, and his eyebrows shot up in understanding.

    ¡°Oh, shit. Right here?¡±

    ¡°No! I mean, not unless you want frostbite.¡±

    ¡°Good point,¡± he replied. ¡°That was so good,¡± Dan murmured, dropping his voice low even though they were standing alone in the middle of a field.

    ¡°Really?¡± she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

    ¡°Definitely.¡±

    Her mouth was a flat line of uncertainty. She¡¯d been so worried all morning he¡¯d only been humoring her. She felt like she¡¯d gone too far and made it weird. Without Unity, she couldn¡¯t know for sure.

    ¡°I¡¯m so lucky to have you,¡± Dan said. The words have you rang in her ears, rising as tall as the trees around her. She searched for some jokey reply, but she abandoned it. She pulled up her goggles, and he did the same. They stared into each other¡¯s eyes until the wind made them water.

    They made it back to the beginning, and it wasn¡¯t until they were halfway through the Indian River loop they could finally move faster than a walking pace. The clouds broke up overhead, and shafts of sunlight swept across the field. Through them, the sky was a brilliant blue.

    Mount Lafayette and South Twin Mountain sat to the south. North of them, the farm sloped up, and the trails ran through wooded hills. By the end of the loop, they kept enough of a pace Freya couldn¡¯t dwell in her thoughts. She started to enjoy herself.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting it!¡± Dan exclaimed, and she grinned at him, remembering how he¡¯d been ready to hurl his skis half an hour ago. She wondered if they should return, but there was something restless in the air, a tension that needed to be run out of them.

    ¡°Want to split up for a few loops?¡± Freya offered, worried his feelings would be hurt. But Dan was a runner, he understood.

    ¡°Yeah, this must be driving you nuts.¡±

    ¡°Not at all,¡± Freya said, and he gave her a dubious look. She held up her gloved palms and nodded. Why was she bothering to sugarcoat anything? He¡¯d feel it all later.

    ¡°Catch me if you can,¡± Freya teased, and Dan smiled. He couldn¡¯t.

    Without him, Freya could finally open up and really move. She lapped Dan before he¡¯d even finished the first loop, resisting the urge to heckle as she shot past. As hopeless as he looked now, when he got decent, she would be the one left behind. Dan was much taller and stronger.

    The thought made her push harder, and she built into a smooth, gliding rhythm, climbing the ladder through the stages of pain until there was nothing but the sound of the snow underfoot and the air whipping past, clear and resonant.

    She passed Dan again, his stride improving, and he didn¡¯t wave to her. She glanced back, thinking he must be lost in his own world. But she saw the flicker of a smile through his exertion and grinned in response. The feeling lingered as she skied forward, a slow awareness that they were sharing more than the smile, their heartbeats had linked. It was the prelude to Unity. In her pocket, she felt the warmth of the Starball at work.

    Everything else was synchronizing, but the feeling was fainter than normal, like an echo on her perception. Each of them felt a pang of fear that Unity was weakening, but then they remembered the fragile link they¡¯d felt the night they were in separate houses and the watery quality of the link when Dan was at the diner.

    They were just too far from each other, almost perfectly opposite on the trail. It felt very wrong to be apart, and she should never have split from him. Freya turned around and skied back in the other direction as fast as she could. With every stride, Unity bloomed.

    They met in the center of the trail, like two waves crashing into each other, driving themselves to a height neither could reach on their own. Together, they were a tower that rose above the bramble of uncertainty, far above their fears. Freya and Dan clung to each other as the world fled and time grew narrow. There was nothing but them, no time but now.

    I missed you, they thought independently, and there was a pang of inadequacy. Those words had been enough before but no longer. There was a thread of desynchronization in the thought, and they bounced the idea back and forth between them in glissando, trying to reconcile what they meant to what they said. I missed you melted into I missed us, into We missed us, into just US.

    On the cold trail, they felt a deeper Unity than ever before. The fumbling connection they¡¯d made before had just been a rehearsal for this performance, all their thoughts and feelings emerging simultaneously.

    Their bodies slid apart, but they were still joined. Information flowed from Freya to Dan. They were like a jar of honey tilted to one side, slowly finding equilibrium as it was righted. Freya taught him how to ski as easily as if she were handing him a glass of water.

    Now, they could move, racing together as easily as if they were two legs of the same body. Freya felt a selfish pang of theft. It had taken her years to get to this level, and he gained it effortlessly.

    But that was a low thought. It could not survive at this altitude. There was no competition between their us, no thieving from oneself. One foot could not outrun the other.

    They soared around the loop, lap after lap until their lungs burned and their hearts thundered, and they found the place they¡¯d sought. One brilliant note of joy, sung from two mouths, a single mind. Dancing ahead of them was the glimmering promise they would be even closer.

    At the end of the loop came the cadence. The sun broke free of the clouds and bathed them in blinding light as their heavy breathing began its diminuendo. They shut their eyes and soared together. They didn¡¯t need to see, didn¡¯t need anything but each other.

    They were alive.

 Chapter 74

    The ski tech hid a smirk with her palm when Freya and Dan returned their skis to the lodge. They were trying so hard to act normal, but they couldn¡¯t pull it off. Unity thrummed. The bond had lasted so long they wondered if it would ever end.

    She thinks we¡¯re high, they realized. They battled to quell their laughter. If one of them slipped up and started to giggle, it would set the other off, and they wouldn¡¯t be able to stop. The ski tech¡¯s look had turned strange. They¡¯d stood there too long, and they mumbled words of thanks and hurried away, unsure whose mouth had said what words.

    At the center of the lodge was the wood burning stove, a black behemoth ringed by clusters of thawing skiers. Freya and Dan found space on the far side of the wood stove and huddled close together, extending their numb hands towards the heat. The room was crowded, but they barely noticed anyone, wound up in themselves.

    The fight to keep from laughing sent their thoughts racing down the path of things that could trigger the other. There were so many ramifications of Unity. Coughing, yawning, posture, all the small things subtly transmitted between two people, now running on a circuit that had no resistance.

    Oh, God. What about hiccups?

    Freya couldn¡¯t help giggling at that. Their eyes met, and they marveled at how bright and shining they were. They were in the spotlight; the rest of the stage was shadowed. US, the note sang between them. Dan put an arm around Freya¡¯s shoulder, then they closed their eyes and basked in the feeling, humming with closeness and warmth.

    When Freya and Dan looked out at the world again, they still grinned, but there was some perturbation in the room. The hair on the back of Freya¡¯s neck rose, and Dan caught the feeling from her. They realized everyone stared at them.

    A man in a red ski cap on the other side of the stove regarded them curiously, while a woman with flushed cheeks scoured them with a look of distaste. On a big plaid sofa, the two girls from the trail peered at them. One had her mouth open.

    They know! Freya thought. She inhaled sharply, out of synch with Dan. A quaver ran through Unity, and Freya¡¯s fear poured through a rift. In the distance, she heard Dan¡¯s thoughts calling her back, but she was swept forward in a black swell of panic.

    Alone now, she was ringed by a sea of unhappy eyes. Wherever she met them, heads drew back from her in cold distaste. There was a twinge in their faces as if a bad smell spread through the room. She wanted to run away, but she was surrounded, certain she would be caught. As if they could read her intent, the faces contorted in anger, lips curled, hands tightened into fists.

    One by one, the strangers were orienting their bodies towards her, she felt the hate radiating from them, hotter than the stove. Theirs was no Unity. They were a mob, possessed of an instinctual sense there was an interloper in their midst.

    Dan!

    The call rang in her mind like an alarm bell but there was no answer. The mob rose from their seats, advancing on her with terrible purpose. She was taboo, a witch that could not be suffered. A scream built in her chest. She felt the first hand take hold of her, clamping down on her shoulder. They were about to tear her apart.

    Freya!

    It was Dan, gripping hard enough to hurt. He was in her mind, opposing the dark vision with all his willpower. When he forced the thought out of her head, there was a sudden dizziness, as if the pressure had dropped inside of her skull. She couldn¡¯t speak, couldn¡¯t think. It was like the moment after a terrible injury, knowing the pain was about to hit.

    There was no angry mob surrounding them. Most people were studiously looking away. The few still staring had looks of concern. The whole thing had just been a cruel capriccio.

    Unity was still alive. When he saw she regained control, Dan loosened his grip, feeling her pain as his own. When they reconnected, her vision seared into him, never to be forgotten. He had to take on Freya¡¯s terror. She was afraid she was losing her mind, that she would drag him down with her.

    Dan tried to pull her up. He was the strong one now. But even that had an edge. He had pulled her out of the nightmare but used a little too much force.

    Freya struggle to reconcile her feelings. She¡¯d been delivered, she¡¯d been violated, and part of her whispered it was just easier to let him be in control, while another roared defiance at the very idea.

    Breathe. It will pass.

    Dan was subvocalizing, and she felt caution. He¡¯d found this new strength, and at the same time discovered he could hurt her terribly by using it. Freya tried to breathe through the tightness in her chest. Awkward glances kept landing on them, the man in the red cap fidgeting with uncertainty as if he wanted to ask if she was all right.

    Why were they staring at us? Freya wondered, drawing air through her teeth.

    We were doing everything synchronized, Dan thought in reply. He showed her how they¡¯d marched into the place in step like soldiers, extending their hands perfectly together at the stove like two sides of a mirror. They¡¯d never said a word, but they wore their conversation on their faces. It was the kind of thing that caught eyes. No wonder they¡¯d creeped everyone out.

    We need to learn how to hide it, she thought, and when Dan nodded at her, it took an effort not to nod with him. She stared back at the man in the red ski hat, and he glanced away, finally realizing he was making her uncomfortable. Freya felt anger rising, and she clung to it. It was so much safer than the other options.

    Let¡¯s just go, Dan thought urgently. They made an effort to break stride as they headed for the door. When they felt the sunlight on their faces, they shared an urge to run for their lives, like they had slipped out of a trap.

    They hurried through the glittering snow to the Toyota, no longer caring if their steps were linked. The engine gave a seizing whine when Dan turned the key, and they shared a spike of fear they would be stuck here.

    Dan carried his anxiety about the Toyota like a stone in his stomach. Any time he thought of the car, the stone was there, whispering something might break he couldn¡¯t afford to fix, or that the car would die altogether and leave him stranded.

    He¡¯d grown so used to it he didn¡¯t even notice it was there until Freya focused on it. As they reflected, she was filled with a desire to free him. She wished she could just buy him a new car, all gleaming curves and an engine always started so he never had to worry about it again.

    Dan was abashed by the thought. He hated any reminder he and his mother were poor. His eyes focused on the key in his hand as he pushed the thought away.

    ¡°Positive thoughts, please,¡± Dan said aloud, and she felt him trying to clear his mind of everything but the desire for the car to start. She heard the slight warble of his words phasing, Unity faltering. She joined her will to his for one last push.

    START, they exhorted the car together. Dan cranked the ignition again, and Unity sputtered out just as the engine caught. The last thing they felt as one was a note of relief.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    It had been the longest Unity yet. As the car warmed up, they were quiet, getting used to being themselves again. For a few moments, Freya felt lost in her own head.

    She couldn¡¯t get that note of relief out of her head. Was Dan glad Unity had ended? She couldn¡¯t blame him. She was falling apart, having paranoid hallucinations in the middle of the day. She thrust her hand into her pocket. The Starball was uncomfortably hot, but she held on anyway.

    Freya sank into her seat, feeling the familiar despair of being severed. She turned to look at Dan, searching his face for reassurance, for any sign he felt the same. He stared out the windshield at the red barn where it all gone so wrong.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya said, her voice was small and unsteady. ¡°I freaked out and dragged you in.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m sorry I was overwriting you,¡± Dan said. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡±

    ¡°You needed to. I was out of control, it¡¯s not your fault.¡±

    Dan nodded, and she saw his Adam¡¯s apple bob as he swallowed. She knew he had something to say but was afraid to say it. She shut her eyes and cried. Dan didn¡¯t speak, he only set his hand over hers and let her cry it out. She was a snuffling mess. He handed her a tissue. She bobbed her head in thanks and blew her nose.

    ¡°I¡¯m not upset with you at all,¡± he said. She stared at him blearily, wishing she could believe him.

    ¡°It was stronger today than before,¡± Dan said after a long pause. She nodded, urging him on. ¡°It keeps getting stronger, lasting longer. If we keep going this way, I think it¡¯s going to erase us. There won¡¯t be a you or me anymore. We¡¯ll be more. Something new.¡±

    The words hung in the close air of the car as the heater roared. He chose his words as carefully as if he were stepping on rocks in the rapids. Something new not inhuman. More not monsters. She still felt the intensity of the vision, those awful eyes closing in on her. It was so far from the lofty thoughts they¡¯d shared last night. Freya braced for impact, certain it was all about to come apart.

    ¡°It feels permanent. And I¡¯m not sure of what happens if we get there. What if we¡¯re United and can¡¯t be together? I don¡¯t even like to have you out of my sight. When we were apart on the trail I felt so left behind and alone. It was awful.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my God. I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Freya said. Why had she left him? It was such a selfish thing to do. She remembered how frustrated she¡¯d been with him and felt unworthy.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal. I mean, you didn¡¯t know Unity was about to happen. When it started, I had to get closer to you. I didn¡¯t have a choice. Even right now, I can feel you aren¡¯t there. It¡¯s like I¡¯m missing something vital. Not an arm or a leg, but like an organ, something I absolutely need to be alive.¡±

    Freya was stunned by Dan¡¯s words. She held his hand and stared into his eyes, feeling like she was rolling in the surf.

    ¡°What happens if we unite completely and one of us dies?¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°The other dies, too,¡± Freya said immediately.

    They were stung by her sudden certainty. A tremor shot through Dan like she¡¯d struck him, and she felt his hand twitch.

    ¡°Do you¡ª¡± she sobbed mid-sentence, her eyes blurry with tears all over again. ¡°Do you want out?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Dan squeezed her hand intently. ¡°This is the greatest, you are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I never want to be apart from you. But how do we live like that? We have to go to different classes. I have to go to work. What about college? What are our parents going to say? Like, we can¡¯t hide this from people forever. They¡¯ll figure out something is happening. Everyone already thinks we¡¯re acting weird.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Freya said. They were exactly the questions she¡¯d been pushing away, all the things she couldn¡¯t answer. Two hundred miles away from home, holed up in the fancy hotel, there was still no escape. She gave him a pleading look, wishing she knew what to say.

    Dan leaned over and kissed her. It wasn¡¯t an answer, but it was something.

    ¡°Well, we have a long time to figure it out. Traffic is going to be horrible,¡± Dan said, rolling his head in the direction of the highway. Freya had let herself forget they had to go back, hoping when the time came it would be easier to face. But it wasn¡¯t. Dan put the car in reverse and backed up.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just stay,¡± Freya said, too quiet. She thought he hadn¡¯t heard, but he was only concentrating.

    ¡°That would be amazing. Wish we didn¡¯t have school,¡± Dan said. He thought she was only kidding. He slowly navigated through the parking lot, wary of skidding out.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious. Let¡¯s go back to the hotel for another night. It¡¯ll be much easier to drive tomorrow. We can miss one day.¡±

    The car coasted to a stop, and Dan turned from the wheel to look at her. He took her hand again and gave her an apologetic look.

    ¡°Freya, I can¡¯t. My mom would flip out.¡±

    ¡°Just tell her the car won¡¯t start,¡± Freya offered.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t do that. I never lie to her.¡±

    ¡°Never?¡± Freya squinted with disbelief. She didn¡¯t know much about Dan¡¯s relationship with his mother, Samantha, other than she¡¯d never heard him say a bad word about her. It was a stark opposite to the way Freya talked about Lassa.

    ¡°Not since the thing with the pills. That was a Garbuglio suggestion. It¡¯s actually way easier. In therapy, I found out she usually knew when I was lying anyway. I felt so shitty about it. I just level with her now, and she¡¯s usually pretty cool.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t even imagine that with Lassa,¡± Freya admitted. The forbidden thoughts of Unity with her mother slithered at the back of her mind, and she pushed them away. She hadn¡¯t meant to get sidetracked like this.

    Dan¡¯s eyes tracked her with concern. He shrugged as if to say it wasn¡¯t that important, but she felt the weight. She lied to her mother all the time. She¡¯d frozen Lassa out, driven her away, and she wasn¡¯t even that upset now that she was gone.

    No wonder he¡¯d rejected her.

    Freya took her hand back from Dan. She turned away, looking out the window, and there was the little choked sound of something he wanted to say but couldn¡¯t. It didn¡¯t matter. Gravel and snow crunched beneath the tires, clouds closing overhead, stealing the sun. She¡¯d gotten so close, but it was over now.

    Freya felt colder already. The long drive was yawning before her like a crack in the earth. The Toyota would inch forward, just a segment in the long earthworm of brake lights, and the silence between them would grow wider with every lurch. There would be hours of sitting in this seat, yearning for Unity she didn¡¯t deserve.

    Her fingers and toes would throb as the heater labored in vain. When they finally got to her house, the lights would be on, Lassa¡¯s car would be in the driveway, planted there like a gravestone on everything she wanted. Dan would abandon her there, pretending he wasn¡¯t happy to be rid of her. Her hand slipped into her pocket.

    Just turn me off, Freya willed the Starball. I can¡¯t do this anymore.

    They made it to the main road, and Dan pulled his phone out his pocket. He was saying something, but she¡¯d sunken so deep the words rolled over top of her. She saw his finger was on his contacts.

    ¡°What?¡± Freya asked, trying to snap out of it.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to call my mom and ask if we can stay, okay?¡±

    She had an impulse to tell him not to bother. Of course, the answer was no. But he waited for her to respond, and she felt hope burning through the murk.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ask,¡± Freya said, and his face was drawn with confusion. She stared at him, composing what she wanted to say next. It had to be exactly right.

    ¡°Before you call her. Do you really want to stay with me tonight?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°I do,¡± Dan replied too quickly. Freya held up a palm to stop him and caught him with her eyes.

    ¡°If we go this way, we can¡¯t come back from it,¡± Freya said, feeling that same immediate certainty she¡¯d felt when she said if one of them died the other would follow. ¡°It can¡¯t be a coin flip of you asking your mom if it¡¯s okay. It has to be your decision.¡±

    Dan lowered the hand with the phone, and he opened his mouth, then decided not to say whatever he was thinking. He struggled to process it all. She felt a nauseous certainty she¡¯d overplayed her hand and pushed him too far.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I should make my own choice,¡± Dan decided.

    ¡°We can talk about it more and figure things out,¡± Freya offered, aware as soon as she spoke it was too late to backtrack from her ultimatum. She¡¯d forced Dan into a position where he might destroy her completely.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to,¡± Dan said. He tapped his phone, and Freya held her breath, hope singing in her chest.

    Samantha Gregulus picked up after two rings. They exchanged greetings, and even with the heater drowning out the tinny sound from the phone¡¯s speaker, Freya heard worry in her voice. She immediately launched into a string of questions about the roads and the car, wanting to know when he expected to arrive home.

    ¡°Hey, Ma, listen¡ª¡± Dan had to fight to get a word in, ¡°I¡¯m not going to make it home tonight.¡±

    Dan had been right about his mother¡¯s reaction. She was furious. Freya held Dan¡¯s free hand as he weathered the storm. This was all her fault, getting Dan in trouble, making his mother worry, but the guilt couldn¡¯t touch her adulation.

    She had been chosen.

 Chapter 75

    Freya¡¯s happiness was short lived. Without Unity, nothing felt good for long. The sun was brighter but, somehow, the day had diminished. Dan was taking a different way back, driving north on Old Franconia Road. Freya couldn¡¯t figure out why, but it seemed like too much effort to ask. When the car pulled into the cramped parking lot of the Littleton Diner, it was like he¡¯d suddenly pulled up to Disneyland.

    ¡°Thank, God. Dan, you¡¯re a genius.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just hungry, but thanks,¡± Dan said. From his wan smile, Freya knew he also suffered from withdrawal.

    ¡°I was so wrapped up in thought I forgot I need to eat. No wonder I feel so shitty.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not alone there,¡± Dan admitted. ¡°Don¡¯t let me order the whole menu.¡±

    The Littleton Diner was an old-fashioned railcar diner with chrome-rimmed red leatherette seats. All the booths were full, and Freya and Dan sat at the end of the counter next to a drink bubbler continually spraying pink lemonade in a glass tank.

    Freya had never in her life seen anyone order a drink from one of those machines. Many of the diners were dressed in military uniforms, and she guessed they were headed to a parade.

    Freya had meant to order a cheeseburger, but she saw a lance corporal in dress blues eating a plate of huevos rancheros and decided she wanted that instead. Dan got the Sunday special porterhouse. They devoured everything and felt immensely better.

    ¡°Have you been hungrier since this started?¡± Dan asked as she mopped up the last of her eggs with rye toast.

    ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯ve wanted to eat unusual stuff. The other day I was really hungry for mussels.¡±

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Weird, I ate way too much clam chowder the other day. Two whole cans, and I was thinking about buying another from the gas station when I was done. Really hoping this doesn¡¯t end with some xenomorph bursting out of my chest.¡±

    It was supposed to be funny, but neither of them laughed.

    ¡°I thought about getting an MRI, but then I realized if they found something they would want to take it out and all this would stop. Uh¡­¡± Freya said, frowning, ¡°have you been sleepwalking at all?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, but not sure if I¡¯d know.¡±

    ¡°I drank an entire case of Ensure while I was asleep. I woke up feeling like I was going to explode.¡±

    ¡°Woah¡­¡± Dan trailed. ¡°I thought I was just having a growth spurt. I¡¯m an inch taller than I was in September.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I measured after my mom said something.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m growing, too,¡± Freya said, motioning to her chest with her chin.

    ¡°Oh? I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±

    ¡°You absolutely did,¡± Freya said flatly. She¡¯d caught him staring about a hundred times.

    ¡°Guilty,¡± Dan grinned. ¡°Everything seems like it could be within normal parameters so far, though. Do you notice anything different about me?¡±

    ¡°You seem more filled out, especially your shoulders. I can¡¯t tell what¡¯s changed and what¡¯s just that I¡¯m in¡ª¡± Freya caught herself about to blurt it out. Suddenly, Dan¡¯s eyes blazed with interest. Freya took a deep breath.

    ¡°In love with you,¡± she finished. Immediately, she was afraid she shouldn¡¯t have said it, it was the wrong place, way too soon.

    His hand found hers under the counter, and their eyes met.

    ¡°I love you, too,¡± Dan said.

    He¡¯d said it quietly, just for them. But the words thumped in her chest like a kick drum. For several beats, she was so stunned she could only stare back, trying not to cry. It was only when she¡¯d paid the check, and they were going through the ritual of starting the Toyota, she realized Lassa had been right.

    There was no doubt at all.

 Chapter 76

    Freya and Dan returned to the Rabbit Hill Inn, feeling better after they¡¯d eaten. The clerk at the front desk welcomed them back warmly, and they were in luck, no one had booked their room. Freya checked in and arranged to have their clothes laundered overnight. She didn¡¯t want to wear the same underwear for a third day straight.

    The room wasn¡¯t ready yet. Freya walked over to ma?tre d¡¯ stand and made an order, then she joined Dan in the common room. He sat on a big plaid couch in front of the hearth. Freya joined him and rested her head on his shoulder, smiling with anticipation.

    It wasn¡¯t long before a waiter arrived with their hot chocolate. It wasn¡¯t quite as good as Lassa¡¯s, but the look of surprise on Dan¡¯s face was what Freya had really wanted anyway. They stared into the fire and drank together, so close, and yet so far.

    There was another couple in the common room, playing cards at a little table beside the fireplace. Dan craned his head, interested in their game. Freya recognized the Germans.

    ¡°What game is that?¡± Dan asked Freya quietly, trying not to disturb them.

    ¡°It¡¯s cribbage,¡± Freya told him, noticing the little peg scoreboard. Watching the game brought back a host of memories. Randall had loved cribbage; it was one of his favorite ways to spend a rainy afternoon. He knew so many weird card games, Piquet, Casino, Gin Rummy, and a dozen others she¡¯d forgotten. Sometimes they could convince Lassa to join and they¡¯d play Sergeant Major, a three-player trick-taking game Lassa had learned in the army. Lassa¡¯s favorite was Schnapsen, a two-player game of intense concentration that Freya could never quite beat her at. Randall used to claim he¡¯d won once, but Freya had never seen it happen.

    There was a point in elementary school when everyone was getting into card games and playing at lunch. It was one of the first times Freya remembered feeling different from everyone else. The other children liked to play Uno and Go Fish, but Freya found them pure tedium. They were barely games at all, just the luck of the draw.

    When Freya tried to teach the games her family played, the other children found them confusing, they forgot the rules, and accused her of making them up as she went along.

    Freya¡¯s train of thought was interrupted when Dan got up. She assumed he was headed for the bathroom, but he walked over to the older couple and struck up a conversation. Freya felt a pang of alarm. She was afraid he would annoy them and embarrass her.

    The couple seemed thrilled to talk. Dan had cracked some joke, and they were both laughing. How did he do that so easily? Everyone always liked him, and no one ever liked her. Freya despaired on the couch until she reached a point where it was more awkward to sit alone than to join them. Dan smiled and introduced her.

    ¡°This is Freya Jokela, she¡¯s the brains of the operation. Freya, these are Jeremias and Frieda Waltz.¡±

    ¡°Freut mich,¡± Freya said. The Waltzes lit up.

    ¡°Sprichst du Deutsch?¡± Frieda asked.

    ¡°Nein, Entschuldigen Sie,¡± Freya said. ¡°Finnisch?¡±

    Frieda and Jeremias both shook their heads, and Freya was a little relieved. ¡°That¡¯s okay, my Finnish is rusty anyway. I¡¯d like to learn more German. I loved D¨¹sseldorf.¡±

    ¡°We are from Essen! It¡¯s just up the road from D¨¹sseldorf,¡± Frieda said.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been to Essen! I went to the ATT there. It¡¯s a big convention for amateur astronomers.¡±

    ¡°Ah! A stargazer. Is that what you¡¯re studying?¡± Jeremias asked.

    ¡°No, we¡¯re both still in high school. It¡¯s like, uh, what do you call it, gymnasium?¡±

    The Waltzes turned to one another, eyebrows raised.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re that young. It¡¯s so rare to meet Americans who know anything about Germany. You haven¡¯t even mentioned Hitler yet.¡±

    ¡°That was my next question,¡± Dan joked.

    Freya had expected they would just exchange a few awkward words and part ways, but Dan seemed eager to converse. Soon, they were being invited to pull up chairs and sit down. They learned Waltzes had meant to fly back to Berlin today, but the storm had delayed their flight. Freya guessed they were in their mid-fifties.

    The Waltzes seemed a little stir crazy, just as eager as Dan to talk. That was something Freya had never quite gotten used to in mainland Europe, people were so gregarious and happy to chat with strangers. It was a far cry from living here in the Northeast, which was much more like being in Finland.

    ¡°Are you here with your parents?¡± Frieda asked once they¡¯d settled in and pushed the cribbage board aside.

    ¡°No, we¡¯ve just been skiing,¡± Freya explained. ¡°Are you here on holiday?¡±

    ¡°The end of our trip is a holiday. The beginning was business. Frieda is a professor of sociology at Universit?t Duisburg-Essen. She was invited to speak at Dartmouth for a symposium on migration.¡±

    ¡°Oh, wow. That¡¯s impressive. I¡¯m applying to Dartmouth, but there¡¯s no way I¡¯m getting in.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Frieda asked, turning her focus onto Dan. ¡°How are your marks?¡±

    ¡°Good so far,¡± Dan said, looking a little uncomfortable under her sharp gaze. ¡°What about you, what do you do?¡± he asked Jeremias.

    ¡°I¡¯m very fortunate to be married to a famous academic. Sometimes they let me tag along and speak, too,¡± Jeremias said. He had a wry smile. Frieda shook her head.

    ¡°He¡¯s only pretending to be modest because this trip his lectures were better attended than mine,¡± Freida explained, giving Jeremias a sideways glance. ¡°Which, by the way, is a rarity.¡±

    Jeremias held up his palms in surrender.

    ¡°Truly.¡± He grinned. ¡°I¡¯m an inventor. My patents are primarily concerned with vertical farming, specifically aeroponics. Are you familiar with aeroponics?¡±

    Freya nodded, but Dan shook his head.

    ¡°Essentially, it¡¯s using a nutrient mist to feed plants, rather than having the roots continually immersed in water. It¡¯s much more complicated, but it solves a few problems with hydroponic systems. Most importantly, it uses far less water, which will be pivotal in the days to come. Also, it¡¯s likely the way to go if we ever want to grow crops in space stations or the like,¡± Jeremias nodded to Freya. He tried to include her by building a bridge to her interest in astronomy. She recognized and appreciated the move.

    ¡°Why do you say it will become more important?¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°Water scarcity. You may not think of it now¡­¡± Jeremias waved a hand to the heavy snowfall outside, ¡°but assuming there¡¯s no nuclear unpleasantness, it¡¯s the number one problem your generation will face. Most water supplies are already considerably strained, and the problem will only increase as the population grows. There will be ten billion people on the earth in 2100. We don¡¯t have enough clean water for the eight billion people who are here right now.¡±

    Jeremias paused to let them consider that. This was clearly a subject he¡¯d spoken on many times.

    ¡°I¡¯ve read that basically everyone will have to go vegetarian at some point because livestock is energy-inefficient,¡± Dan offered.

    ¡°Disastrously inefficient, and I could go on for hours about it. But even if we assume it were possible to convince everyone to go almost completely vegetarian, that¡¯s not enough. Once you factor in sea-level rises and water scarcity, the picture becomes far darker. Then if you consider the upheaval of the mass-migration and inevitability of conflict, it¡¯s darker still. So, what are we going to do?¡±

    ¡°Destroy ourselves,¡± Freya said. At once, she felt she¡¯d been too edgy. But Jeremias gave her a serious nod.

    ¡°That¡¯s a good bet considering our current trajectory,¡± Jeremias agreed. ¡°The problem is very large and seems far in the distance. Most people just want to push it out of their heads and get on with their lives. Science is hard, it¡¯s demanding, and the money isn¡¯t great. So most ignore it and hope someone else will figure out the problem while they become lawyers, fashion designers, systems administrators. They chase after what pays, trying to be the best-dressed rats on a sinking ship.¡±

    Freya and Dan exchanged a look. The conversation had gotten so serious. The Waltzes watched them closely.

    ¡°So, how do you stop the ship from sinking?¡± Dan asked.

    You don¡¯t, Freya thought, but she held her tongue. At the back of her throat was the memory of river water.

    ¡°The first step is admitting it is sinking. I¡¯ve been disheartened to learn that isn¡¯t a given in this country. You are both aware there¡¯s a big crash looming, correct?¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Freya and Dan nodded.

    ¡°How bad do you think it will be?¡±

    ¡°Pretty bad,¡± Dan said, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°Like probably mandatory population controls, rationing, a lot of depression and drugs. Like those rat experiments where they kept increasing the population density, and they all went crazy.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s John Calhoun and his behavioral sink,¡± Frieda interjected, frowning with disapproval. ¡°They¡¯re fascinating experiments, but you should know much of that research only applies to rodents. They couldn¡¯t replicate his results with primates. What about you, Freya. How do you think it will go?¡±

    Frieda and Jeremias kept making a point of including Freya. She would have liked to recede into the background, but it was impossible. She took a moment to think before she answered.

    ¡°My dad used to say we¡¯re in a race between being buried under two hundred feet of seawater or fourteen thousand warheads,¡± Freya said. Unity withdrawal made her feel so bleak.

    ¡°She¡¯s the brains of the operation for sure,¡± Frieda concluded with a nod.

    ¡°Wait, two hundred feet?¡± Dan blinked. ¡°Is that for real?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the low end for a scenario with total glacier melt. It¡¯s probably more like two hundred and thirty feet of sea-level rise. Seventy meters,¡± Freya added for the benefit of the Waltzes. She wasn¡¯t sure if they needed the conversion or not.

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Jeremias said. ¡°We used to think it might take thousands of years for the glaciers to melt. Now, we¡¯re learning there are half a trillion tons of methane hydrates trapped beneath Antarctic ice, it¡¯s bubbling up from Greenland, and there¡¯s far, far more in the arctic permafrost. It¡¯s going to create a feedback loop. Methane raises temperatures, which accelerates warming, which releases more methane. London, Shanghai, Calcutta, Buenos Aires, New Orleans, they could all be gone in your lifetimes, or your children¡¯s.¡±

    Dan looked a little stunned, Freya was caught on the words your children. She wasn¡¯t going to have any, but the words still loomed large in her mind, heavy with significance.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a sure thing, though, right?¡± Dan hedged. He was not ready to accept this idea.

    ¡°Nothing is sure in this world. But the more data we get, the clearer the picture becomes.

    ¡°Can we do anything to stop it?¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Jeremias said, with total certainty.

    ¡°If there¡¯s nothing we can do, I might just major in swimming,¡± Dan joked.

    ¡°Ha, not a terrible idea. But I only meant there¡¯s no halting the change. There is a tremendous amount you can do to help adapt to it. Here¡¯s something no one told me when I was your age, or if they did it never sank in: You each have thirty-five years of meaningful work in you, maybe forty if you¡¯re lucky. Take away family, and that work is the only real impact you will have the world. Let me ask you something, how would you like to change the world in those thirty- five years?¡±

    Freya and Dan were silent, thinking about it.

    ¡°Maybe become a doctor? You could help so many people,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°When I ask this question, that¡¯s often the first place people go. When people think about a career, they think only about themselves. When they think about their total contribution to the world, they think about everyone else. So, yes, you could become a doctor, and you would have a tremendous positive impact on the lives of many people. Over the course of your career, you would treat perhaps thirty thousand people and save a great many of their lives. Generations later, there would be thousands of people alive who would never have lived because of your intervention. It¡¯s an admirable goal. But¡­¡± Jeremias trailed, turning his eyes from Dan to Freya.

    ¡°But it¡¯s just bailing water,¡± Freya said, guessing where he was going.

    ¡°Exactly. Looking at your hypothetical career as a doctor in the greater context, out of ten billion people, your work touched .0003 percent. Which is like saying you saved the country of Liechtenstein but left the rest of the world untouched. That career also tends to exacerbate the problem we were talking about before, more people, more mouths. Let¡¯s consider another direction. Do you know who Fritz Haber was?¡±

    Neither of them did. All Freya could think of was Fritz Lieber, and she was certain this wasn¡¯t about Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser.

    ¡°Fritz Haber was the father of chemical warfare. He was a very accomplished chemist and a leading advocate for the use of poison gas in World War I. His first wife was also a PhD in chemistry, but she was bitterly opposed to using gas as a weapon. She committed suicide less than a week after the first gas attack in Ypres. Haber continued to push for development of chemical weapons until the day he died in 1934. This was even after he¡¯d been expelled from Germany for being Jewish. Later, during the holocaust, an insecticide Haber invented was used in the gas chambers. Zyklon B. The Nazis used Haber¡¯s own creation to murder his relatives.¡±

    ¡°He sounds like a bit of an asshole,¡± Dan joked, and Jeremias nodded in agreement but didn¡¯t laugh.

    ¡°He looked the part, too, bald as a cue ball, with a push broom mustache and a pince-nez. If you saw a picture of him, you would swear he¡¯s the archetypical evil scientist. But what if I told you, he was also the savior of mankind?¡±

    ¡°That sounds like a crazy plot twist.¡±

    ¡°In the midst of scheming to poison the continent, and then conquer it, Haber created something of incredible importance. He devised the Haber process, where hydrogen and atmospheric nitrogen are combined with a catalyst to synthesize ammonia. This was an enormous discovery. The Royal Swedish Academy had to hold their noses and give Haber the 1918 Nobel Prize for Chemistry, and rightly so.

    ¡°The synthesis of ammonia was the most critical development in agriculture since irrigation. It led to the widespread use of nitrate fertilizers, which had a huge impact on crop yields. To put that in perspective, there are nearly eight billion people alive on the Earth today. Without the Haber Process, it¡¯s estimated there would be less than four. Half of humanity, without him, you two might be looking at an empty table right now. Take all those poor souls who were gassed, and even if you want to expand that to people killed by explosives derived from his process, and he is still somehow the greatest saint of all time.¡±

    ¡°Jesus,¡± Dan breathed.

    ¡°Far greater than that one, too,¡± Jeremias quipped, and Frieda gave the faintest shake of her head. In that tiny gesture, Freya recognized a friction between the two that was decades old. Jeremias didn¡¯t miss her look, and he seemed to realize how far afield he¡¯d drifted.

    ¡°In any case, that¡¯s something to think about! I must apologize, I didn¡¯t intend to veer our conversation into genocide.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. This is fascinating,¡± Freya said. Dan nodded in agreement. He¡¯d been hanging on every word.

    ¡°Anyhow, where I meant to be going with all of this is, there are other Haber Processes we must find. Monumental discoveries that will change the world forever. Novel ideas to provide clean water and nutritious food to billions of people who are not even born yet. So, when you are wondering what to do with your brief span on this Earth, I would urge you to consider we need as many bright young people working on this problem as possible.

    ¡°You two are inheriting a terrible mess, and no one will blame you if you choose to throw up your hands. But if you want to try and save the world, the hard sciences are the place to be. There¡¯s a terrible war on the horizon, and if we want to prevent it, we need to make incredible strides in water purification, crop yield, and energy production. It¡¯s our only chance for survival as a species.¡±

    Freya clutched the Starball in her pocket as the two of them grappled with everything Jeremias had said. She¡¯d known a lot of this, but there was something undeniable about having an adult sit down and level with them. It felt like Paul Atreides had sat to tell them all about his Golden Path.

    There was something hard and determined in Dan¡¯s face. The conversation had touched him deeply. As she reflected on the change, Freya thought if the room was ready, she would bid the Waltzes adieu and drag him back there this moment.

    ¡°I will absolutely think about that. Thank you,¡± Dan said, looking sober and shaken.

    ¡°Of course, this is only one part of the picture. Unless we better understand ourselves, we will never get there,¡± Jeremias said with a nod at Frieda. She took the cue.

    ¡°At its heart, this is a problem with our nature. We¡¯re trying to run a global society on tribal programming that was meant to cap out at a hundred individuals. Two hundred years of industrialization fighting against two hundred thousand years of inertia. I assure you, we¡¯re going to have a much harder time changing who we are than what we eat or how we generate electricity.¡± There was some distance in her look, and she seemed drained. Freya could tell she didn¡¯t share Jeremias¡¯ optimism.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I don¡¯t have a similar sales pitch for sociology,¡± Frieda said, drumming her fingers on the deck of cards. ¡°There are far too many of us already, and I¡¯ve just spent an entire week doing nothing but talking about it. You two don¡¯t play bridge, do you?¡±

    ¡°I know spades,¡± Dan said. ¡°They¡¯re similar, right?¡±

    ¡°Only in the way that a minnow and a marlin are both fish,¡± Jeremias joked. ¡°They¡¯re both trick-taking games. But bridge is much, much more complicated, the bidding a real brain-burner.¡±

    ¡°I would be down to learn,¡± Dan offered with a look to Frieda. Freya realized Dan was picking up on her discontent and trying to prop her up.

    ¡°I love card games,¡± Freya added, getting on board. But Jeremias and Frieda shook their heads.

    ¡°Thank you for the offer. I have no doubt you would both be excellent players. But it would take all evening to teach, and we¡¯re going out for dinner soon. If you¡¯re interested, I¡¯d look into seeing if there¡¯s a bridge club near you and attending their new player day. Bridge is one of those things that is very difficult to get into but increasingly rewarding the longer you play. It¡¯s an incredible feeling of gestalt when you and your partner are on a streak together.¡± Jeremias took Frieda¡¯s hand, trying to draw her out of her funk. Freya couldn¡¯t resist the urge to smile at Dan.

    If they only knew.

    Dan frowned, and she could tell he felt a bit of how dare these Germans think I¡¯m too dumb for their game. But she understood. Serious players found casual play insufferable. Randall was that way with pool. If there wasn¡¯t money on the line, it wasn¡¯t a game to him.

    ¡°How was Dartmouth, by the way?¡± Freya asked, changing the subject.

    ¡°It¡¯s a great school. I met some incredibly bright people there. Good luck on your application by the way,¡± she offered Dan.

    ¡°It would take a miracle. I¡¯m still trying to figure out how to pay for college at all. If I can¡¯t get an athletic scholarship somewhere, I¡¯m probably going to have to join the military for the GI Bill.¡±

    The Waltzes¡¯ eyes went from Freya to Dan, unraveling the situation. Frieda exhaled through her nostrils in disapproval, and it took Freya a moment to understand it wasn¡¯t directed at her.

    ¡°It¡¯s just criminal that higher education isn¡¯t provided by the state in America. There¡¯s so much wasted potential. In Germany, public universities have no tuition,¡± Frieda told them.

    ¡°Maybe I should try and immigrate,¡± Dan joked.

    ¡°There¡¯s a long line I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    The front desk clerk glided over to their table and let Freya know their room was ready. She¡¯d completely lost track of time. It was already getting dark outside.

    ¡°Here, let me get your e-mail address,¡± Jeremias said, pulling out his phone. ¡°I¡¯m good friends with the director of the US branch of Nuffield, an agricultural NPO. If your marks are good and you¡¯re interested in studying the field, he might be able to help you secure a scholarship.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Dan said.

    ¡°Yes, absolutely. I can¡¯t promise anything, of course. But it can pay to let old people talk your ear off from time to time. Thank you both for the conversation, and apologies for being a bit fanatic!¡±

    ¡°Thank you. You gave us a ton to think about. Auf Wiedersehen,¡± Freya said. The Waltzes smiled as they left. When they were gone, Dan turned to Freya with his eyebrows raised.

    ¡°Did they just give us a quest to save the world?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a geas,¡± Freya said. When she saw the look on his face, she knew she would have to explain. She felt unreasonably irked. Dan should just know what she meant. They should just be one. Every moment without Unity hurt a little more.

    Dan could tell. He set his hand over hers and leaned over.

    ¡°I miss you, too,¡± he whispered in her ear and squeezed her hand.  That was enough.

 Chapter 77

    They were suffering together, sitting on the sofa in front of the gas fireplace in their room. Dan was better at hiding it, but Freya had grown expert at reading him.

    There was the slightest shadow on his smile when she was slow to reach a conclusion he was moving towards, the helpless twinge where he struggled for a way to say something, and Freya was not there to fill in the gaps for him. When their eyes met, there was a camaraderie of dissatisfaction. They twisted in the same frustrated need.

    Freya and Dan were addicted to each other, and this was withdrawal.

    Everything felt like too much effort. They drifted through dinner, barely tasting the food. During the meal, their conversation died a slow death before either of them could say what they wanted to. Freya glanced around the hotel room, the ghosts of their passion still twisting in the sheets, dripping on the bathroom floor, but those people were gone now.

    Dan kept glancing over at Freya. It had been her idea to spend another night, which meant it was her responsibility to fix this somehow. But everything felt frayed and slightly unreal. She had become a wraith, powerless to touch the physical realm. She tightened her grip on the arm of the couch, half-expecting her fingers to simply pass through it.

    That¡¯s crazy, Freya recognized, but everything about this was insane. Praying some magic ball would let her hear her boyfriend¡¯s thoughts. Pretending she was in love when they were just empty words someone else had said. Hiding away in Vermont and acting like she never had to go home.

    She wondered if they should forget about staying the night and just drive back. The hotel would charge her, but it didn¡¯t matter. She reached into her pocket for the Starball, and Dan¡¯s eyes followed her hand. But it was cool to the touch, expending no effort. What if it was out of power? What if it had died?

    The other dies, too. Freya remembered.

    ¡°Ask it to fix us,¡± Dan said, half-joke and half-desperation.

    Freya pulled the Starball out of her pocket and held it out in her palm, and he set his hand over hers.

    ¡°Positive thoughts,¡± she said, and they willed Unity to start. But the engine would not turn, and she returned the orb to her pocket after a few moments, feeling dumb for trying it.

    ¡°Worth a shot.¡± Dan shrugged, and she started to laugh without him. They were both so stupid.

    Earlier that day, Dan had held his head up like he meant to save the world singlehandedly. Now, the face that peered at her seemed more boy than man, unsure and miserable. She saw a flicker of anger in his eyes and wished he would go through with it. Freya wanted Dan to hit her as hard as he could.

    As she chased the errant thought, Freya was suddenly laid out in the dirt behind the Grayson cafeteria again. She remembered the brilliant flash of light behind her eye, the throbbing in her skull, the cold smell of rain falling all around her.

    With a sudden terrible clarity, she realized she¡¯d wanted that, too. She¡¯d been an insufferable cunt to everyone until someone finally snapped because she wanted to be hurt. Wanted someone to destroy her because she couldn¡¯t do it herself. Someone wrenched her off the ground to drag her to the principal¡¯s office, and rain pouring down her face grown warm. The vision broke apart, and she was weeping on the couch. Dan had his arms wrapped tightly around her.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry!¡± she kept sobbing into his shoulder, but it wasn¡¯t enough. When her voice had trailed away to nothing, she felt him moving. He pulled out his phone.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°This is getting heavy. I¡¯d like to call Dr. Garbuglio. Is that okay?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Freya said, and her voice was too sharp. Dan drew back from her. Was he threatening to call her psychiatrist because she wouldn¡¯t fuck him? She shut her eyes and shook her head, not at him but at herself for thinking that. It was such an awful, unworthy thing to think, and she would have to answer for it when Unity returned.

    If it ever did.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Dan. I¡¯m just broken. You deserve better.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± he said quietly. He took her by the shoulders and caught her eyes while she tried to look away.

    ¡°Everything is okay. You¡¯re not broken. You¡¯re recovering. Believe me, you¡¯re a lot stronger than I was.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Freya began, but Dan shook his head slightly, stopping her protest. Dan had never lied to her. He wouldn¡¯t say it if he didn¡¯t mean it.

    She tried so hard to believe him when he reached out and set his palm at the center of her chest, over her heart, and her breath caught. He took her hand and put it at the same place on his chest. His heart beat through his shirt.

    ¡°Deep breaths,¡± he said, and she followed along with him. He held each so long she felt dizzy, but it was working. She stared into his eyes, and her thoughts stilled.

    ¡°Freya, I know you. I love you. I am you,¡± Dan said, and the words hung between them for a long time. She didn¡¯t want to disturb the sound of them.

    ¡°Even if it doesn¡¯t come back?¡± Freya finally asked. From the way he took it, she was sure he had the same fear.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. She shut her eyes and nodded. She needed to believe that. Freya moved towards Dan and kissed him, the lightest touch she could. He kissed her back just as delicately, no pressure. He drifted back from her, slowly enough she didn¡¯t feel like he pulled away. For a while, there was no sound in the room but the fireplace hissing.

    ¡°We can just try to sleep, we don¡¯t have to do anything else,¡± Dan offered. At once, all the weight on her was gone. Freya hadn¡¯t realized how worried and obligated she¡¯d felt until he said it.

    ¡°You¡¯re so good,¡± she whispered in his ear, feeling him smiling against her cheek.

    * * *

    Freya dreamed of the river, and Dan dreamed of the sea, night after night. The dreams had recurred so often they¡¯d become intrinsic. However far they drifted, the dreamers knew they would return to their secret place, the familiar scene where every aspect rippled with d¨¦j¨¤ vu. It was as inevitable as Sa?s¨¡ra. Tonight was different.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Freya stood with her back to the river, listening the water warbling across the stones. The black whispers of the river surrounded her, and the sky was aflame with stars. A million rumbling, crackling furnaces, singing in a vast stellar sonance. Meteors streaked past, zinging like popped strings as they burned into nothingness.

    Shooting stars.

    It was time. Her heels hung off the edge of the stone, and she crossed her arms over her breasts, prepared for the fall. Always, she would let go and the river would close over her with the roar of an audience. Somewhere in the depths, she heard Randall¡¯s voice, and she would tumble and thrash as she looked for it and wake up, straining her ears in the darkness. But there was something in the way. Dan stood behind her, bracing her with his shoulders.

    Elated, Freya wheeled around, and she was dazzled by unexpected light. The sand beneath her feet was golden wheat, the water was a perilous green-black, and the storm clouds wheeling around them were a deep, bruised black swirled with indigo. It took a moment to realize this was his ocean, his dream. Dan dreamed in color.

    Freya stood on his beach, eyes drawn out to sea. He swam for the shore with all his strength. With every stroke, the current carried him farther out.

    Freya tried to call out for Dan, but she had no voice. There was a gap in the rumbling overhead, as if the thunder had skipped a beat. Dan was so startled he slipped beneath the waves. Freya felt everything shifting, movement beyond the veil threatened to break the dream. She stilled her mind, willing it to hold together as Dan was tossed in swells as tall as buildings.

    They were aware of each other now, and she felt Dan weighted with despair, he could not reach her. Night after night, he never made it to the shore. She stepped towards the surf, ready to swim out and join him, but he projected alarm. The sea would drown them both.

    This is a dream, Freya beamed, trying to get through his rising panic. Let go.

    It was hard for Dan to release himself from the compulsion to enact the dream he¡¯d done this so many times. Slowly, he began to relax and, as he did, his sea no longer moved him. Freya¡¯s river rose around him, the current carrying him to the shore. In his eyes, Freya saw herself, radiant as a lighthouse. Dan climbed onto the shore and embraced her just as a torrent of black water raced across the sand and ran over their feet.

    I found you! they thought together. Their joy was pure. They were just a single perfect note, ringing between two bodies in the estuary of souls. Neither dared move nor think, wanting to prolong the magic forever. But it was impossible to remain still in a dream. The great wheel turned, and the shadows were hungry for equilibrium.

    Even as they tried to hold on, they drifted apart. The storm overhead gained strength, massive thunderheads circling around the hole at the top of the dream. They were within the eye, but there was no calm. Being within a dream magnified the difficulty of Unity.

    The rifts in their perception that had seemed so significant when they were awake were vast chasms here, and there was no anchor, nothing objective they could use to reconcile. They could not even agree on what they were.

    In Freya¡¯s colorless dreams, her body was ill-defined and mutable. She was an apparition that could blow apart in the wind or wash away in the rain. But Dan¡¯s idea of her was exact and persistent, and she found herself being cast into form by the strength of his conviction. She recoiled from it.

    That can¡¯t be me!

    The Freya Dan created was too glorious, too beautiful, too complete. It was someone she could never be yet, even as she tried to deny it, she could not escape what he¡¯d made her.

    This is you, Dan radiated, and she was in pandemonium, terrified of how much control she¡¯d lost, resentful she had to be this person he¡¯d devised. He was seeing himself through her, and she was awash with guilt. She had no sharp lines or rich colors for him.

    She saw Dan as motion, thrusts of strength, sharp jabs of intellect, lapping waves of gentle serenity. It was only when she felt him regarding himself with amazement she understood what she¡¯d done.

    Am I made of music?

    She¡¯d built Dan from the way he made her feel, and this was the purest language for it. She¡¯d felt so inferior, but now she was seeing that, beneath those sawtooth waves glinting with razor lines of white, there was nothing beneath them. Dan¡¯s ocean was only a skin over silence, the river ran deeper and darker.

    The swirling currents of her river were washing away his beach, threatening to drag them under. Where they combined there was tumult, freshwater met salt. Afraid, Freya tried to restrain herself. The pang of her alarm resonated in Dan, amplifying into fear.

    We shouldn¡¯t be here!

    It was the same strong aversion he¡¯d felt when they were parked in front of the church. Now, she saw the roots of it. Base urges, coiled things that ran deeper than thought, pieces of self that were meant to be expressed only here, and then swiftly forgotten. Things Dan never wanted to show anyone.

    Dan tried to shove the tangle of thought down, but her interest was stronger, wrenching it out of him. They were serpents in the mantle, molten titans that could rise and swallow them both. At once, she was thrilled, electrified by his vision.

    Freya felt his throbbing lust, Rigo pulsing in his hand, the quicksilver jolt of cum touching his skin. Memories of jacking off in the shower thinking about her while his finger slipped up his ass, burning up with shame afterward.

    Jagged spirals of self-destruction, the urge to just slam down on the gas pedal and annihilate himself in a clench of shearing metal and snapping bone. There were deep pits of unworthiness, pools of seething rage on the verge of erupting. All the things the hollow ocean concealed were laid bare. This was the real Dan.

    Utterly exposed, Dan tried to turn away, but she was all around him. Freya felt him trying to disappear, his edges coming apart with a soft fluttering of dark wings. She was inside of him, a cold and ringing intrusion. It was impossible to be so close without being pierced. She¡¯d gone so deep, and she was afraid it was too far, but there was no turning back.

    That¡¯s not me!

    Dan surrounded himself in a wall of useless denial. She¡¯d seen everything he reviled, everything he wanted to hide from himself.

    I want that, Freya thrummed, and she was alight with it, on fire with arousal. She felt movement beyond the dream, warmth spreading at the edges of the sky and sensation quivering beneath the earth.

    Freya could move towards that, she could break the dream, but there was a note dancing at the back of her mind, a whispering voice she wanted and feared. She remembered the cool surface of the Starball. There might never be another chance. She trembled at the edge of action. It was as hard as jumping in the river.

    Shedding all artifice as if she were pulling a dress over her head, Freya disrobed completely. The gaping wound of her grief, the inflamed edge of her resentment at Lassa, the sneering supercilious suspicion she was smarter than most, belied by the ringing inferiority she felt around her friends. Her despair was unfolding petal after petal, a Mandelbrot rose with no end. She was the pit at the top of the dream, the singularity that sucked in everything and gave back nothing.

    I am not Freyja. I am Shiva. I will destroy you.

    Her thoughts stilled the sea, the clouds broke apart, and everything was silent. She had emptied herself. Now, they knew. When Dan did not reply, she spiraled inward in self-abandon. He would leave her, and he would be right to.

    For all the hidden fire burning within him, she was the real monster. Freya turned from Dan as he had turned from her. The dream was gone, it was all over. She was in the hotel room with the shadows from the fireplace dancing against the wall.

    But when she sobbed, she heard it through his ears.

    ¡°Freya,¡± Dan¡¯s voice was soft, she felt his lips against her ear. His arms were around her, and he pulled her closer when he ought to be throwing on clothes and headed for the door.

    ¡°I want you,¡± he whispered, his words shining in the certainty of Unity. He¡¯d seen the very core of her. He hadn¡¯t turned away. She felt his desire. He wanted to be drawn into her oblivion as much as she wanted to smolder in his fire.

    They had been chosen.

 Chapter 78

    Not until we¡¯re United, Freya had thought.

    They were United now. They¡¯d gone to bed in their underwear, and she felt Dan pressed against her through his boxers. Freya shifted against him, shuddering until she couldn¡¯t stand it any longer. She twisted around, throwing off the covers and climbing on top of Dan.

    Through his eyes she looked dark and terrible in the flickering light of the fireplace, the echoes of their shared dream ringing in him.

    I will destroy you.

    The thought stung. Freya leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp, they both winced at the light, but she needed Dan to see her.

    ¡°Not you,¡± she pleaded. Freya desperately needed Dan to believe the lie, to pretend with her.

    Dan was willing. Together they harnessed their minds, allowing only positive thoughts. Freya shut her eyes to see through Dan¡¯s alone. She watched herself pull off her T-shirt, feeling him throb as his eyes ran up her stomach and over her breasts, along the line of her neck. It almost felt like a caress.

    Sensing her thought, Dan followed the same line with his fingertips, agonizingly slow. Unconsciously, Freya pulled back from intense feeling, and as she drew away, Dan felt her hair spilling off her shoulders and brushing down her back. The sensation made his fingers tremble.

    Opening her eyes again, Freya smiled and moved so she pressed against Dan through their underwear. She was already wet, and he rolled in the feeling, writhing on the bed beneath her. A twist of worry ran through Dan. He was so close already.

    Freya chased along that thread, savoring it, and when he was just a moment away, she lifted herself off him. She let him squirm until the danger had passed, then she hooked her index fingers under the band of his boxers and pulled them off.

    Dan felt self-conscious, but Freya ran her eyes over every inch of his body with adoration. She wanted it all, the tight muscles at his neck, the curls of his pubic hair, the straining erection, the thick slabs of his thighs. He was so right.

    As Dan became more aroused, his thoughts shifted into direct, animal pulses of want that pulled Freya closer. Dan drew a deep breath through his nose, the smell of her arousal made his hair stand on end. Pounding behind his ears was a hot insistence he could just rise, pull her down against the bed, and take her. Freya melted towards the thought, but Dan did not act. He was too afraid. This time, she would lead.

    With Dan¡¯s eyes locked on her, Freya slipped off her underwear, and the sight of her naked ran through Dan like an electric shock. She knew he would do anything she wanted him to, and she reveled in the power.

    She thought about straddling his face and riding until she¡¯d nearly smothered him, white gasping stars exploding behind his eyes. The thought surged in Dan so hard it nearly made him come. Freya watched his penis twitch. They both wanted that very much, but it was something for later.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    They were both naked, and Freya climbed back on top of Dan and kissed him, her tongue dancing against his as her breasts brushed against his chest. His hips elevated towards her on pure instinct.

    They wanted each other very badly, but they were also worried. Dan was afraid he¡¯d come too quickly. Freya was afraid it would hurt. They were orbiting the idea as their desire drew them in.

    Freya lowered herself towards Dan as slowly as her muscles could stand, giving him time to hold back. She was so close she felt his hair tickling her and heat rising off him. She shut her eyes, basking in the feeling. She pressed her lips against him in a gentle kiss that set Dan¡¯s eyes fluttering upward, and Freya¡¯s head rolling on her neck.

    The point of contact between them was like an arc of electric blue light. For several beats, neither of them dared to move. Slowly, she slid against him, listening to the catch in his breath, the little sounds he could not restrain.

    Freya reached down and took hold of Dan. He was harder than she¡¯d ever felt him before, slick with her wetness. She pressed him against her they were so close. She only had to let go, to slide down, and he would slip inside. He watched her, staring at the place where they joined. Dan looked up, and their eyes met.

    Freya slid down, and he pierced her. Together, they felt the tear. They shut their eyes against the pain, but it hurt more than they had expected. Dan softened from concern.

    I can take it, Freya insisted, tightening her grip on Dan¡¯s shoulders. He reached up to stroke her breasts while she got used to the feeling of having him inside of her. Freya wanted Dan to grip harder to distract her, and his hands tightened in response. A gasp caught in her throat.

    She moved, trying to work past the stinging feeling. It faded to the background, and she focused on having him inside of her. She felt both sides, the slick, enveloping warmth, the filling, expansive heat. They knew it wouldn¡¯t be long.

    Everything had become amplified, their vision sharper, their noses flooded with the smell of sex. Every sigh and moan rang out, and every touch shouted between them. They shut their eyes and focused only on the sensation of making love.

    Neither could feel where Dan ended and where Freya began, only that they were drawing closer, moving towards somewhere they had never been before. When they were nearly there Freya opened her eyes and looked down at Dan¡¯s face. She was the sky over his ocean, he was her riverbed. They were one.

    Dan lost control and exploded in hot pulses of deliverance. The feeling set Freya off, her orgasm swallowing his like a storm drawn into a hurricane. They soared higher and higher, their bodies transmuted into ascendent, unbearable light.

    The aftershocks continued for a long time, and when they could think again, it was to marvel that they hadn¡¯t died. They felt as if they had brushed against something finite beings could not withstand, that if they¡¯d lasted a moment longer, the petit mort would have become grand.

    Freya collapsed on top of Dan. He was still inside her, and she never wanted him to leave. Unity faded as he softened and slipped out, their last shared thought worrying about the mess they¡¯d made.

    They were alone again in their own heads. Freya tried to keep a strong face, and she saw Dan was doing the same, but when he cried, she couldn¡¯t help but join him. Soon, they clung to each other and wept for what they had lost.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± they told each other, almost in unison but not quite. Freya shut off the light, and the harder she tried to hold onto him, the further it seemed they drifted apart.

    No dreams, Freya silently beseeched the Starball.

 Chapter 79

    Slush and salt hissed under the wheels as they wove through the hills. The Toyota crept past trees laden with snow, melt dripped from them in a diamond rain. They were nearly home.

    Freya had worried so much over nothing. It was so simple to be with Dan, so easy to talk with him, or do anything at all, Unified or severed. In the lulls of their conversation, she had time and distance to consider everything.

    She ran through all her problems. Flunking math, the insane threats from Malcolm Lewis, Lassa¡¯s unraveling, the authorities investigating, they were all serious issues. But, from this vantage, she saw they were only side quests. Dan was the main line, the only one who mattered, and now she was certain.

    She knew him better than anyone ever had or ever would, and she loved him. Even without Unity, she felt him on her skin, inside of her even after the shower.

    He came inside of me.

    She hadn¡¯t expected it to feel so important, but the significance echoed in her, a note of shining pride. She felt a stab of worry. What if the pill didn¡¯t work? What if she got pregnant? It was no longer the looming doomsday in her mind it had once seemed. Her thoughts darted ahead, dancing over the possibility. Of course, it wouldn¡¯t happen. She hadn¡¯t missed a pill, but what if¡­

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    The thought dug in like a barb, and she knew she hadn¡¯t felt this way before. Even before she met Dan, even before Randall died, she knew she would get rid of it if something happened. She would have gone to Lassa and, two minutes later, they would have been in the Mercedes headed for the clinic, no discussion needed.

    Freya reached into her pocket for the Starball. It was warm to the touch.

    Was this what she thought, or what the Starball wanted her to think? She probed, looking for the cool feeling in her skull of the Starball pacifying her. She wondered if Dan would be able to feel a difference in her and, for the thousandth time today, she wished for Unity. There was every chance it was working on him in the same way.

    What do you want? Freya wondered, and she wasn¡¯t sure if she was asking the Starball or herself. She was aware she would have to answer for this when Unity returned.

    It was crazy, they were too young, they had to go to college, get jobs, get married, all that. But, right now, all she wanted was to ask Dan to pull off the road somewhere secluded so she could climb on top of him and have him inside her again. They were made for this, all else was distraction.

    Freya ran her fingers over the orb, wondering what was her and what was it. Maybe this was just what happened when you were in love, something that would pass when the novelty faded away. They were on Elliot Road, and her heart beat faster. Freya was going to invite Dan inside, they could order pizza, snuggle on the couch. She was going to make love to him in her bed so she could always feel he¡¯d been there. She hoped he would spend the night, even though she knew he couldn¡¯t. Unity would return, everything would be all right.

    But none of those things would happen. Lassa¡¯s car was parked in the driveway.

 Chapter 80

    There was no hot chocolate this time.

    The outdoor lights came on when the Toyota rolled into the driveway, and Freya saw movement from the house. Someone at the side window of the front door peered out at them. The face was shadowed, but the movement was distinctly Lassa. It had the tense energy she always carried.

    Through the narrow slice of light, Freya saw an arm extended to something in the corner, then Lassa moved back towards the kitchen. It was weird. Freya expected her mother to come charging out at them. They hadn¡¯t seen each other in days.

    Freya clenched her jaw, there was no running away now. She could tell Dan would rather stay, but she asked him to go, regretting her decision before his car even left the driveway. She was certain there would be a fight.

    Freya trudged towards the door with her shoulders squared, ready to come under enemy fire the moment she entered the house. Her phone was still in her pocket, stone dead. Lassa was bound to be furious. When Freya walked in the door, she was surprised to smell garlic and shallots.

    ¡°Where have you been?¡± Lassa and Freya demanded in unison and, in the moment of confusion that followed, Freya realized she was the angry one, not her mother. Lassa¡¯s eyes were deeply shadowed. Her skin was too pale, and she looked like she hadn¡¯t slept or eaten in days. Freya felt an immediate pang of guilt.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± they said almost at the same time. Freya blinked. It felt weirdly similar to the way she and Dan spoke. Her hand clutched the Starball through her jeans, and Lassa¡¯s eyes followed it.

    ¡°Where were you?¡± Freya asked again before Lassa could ask her what was in her pocket.

    ¡°In Winslow,¡± Lassa replied.

    ¡°With Paul?¡± Freya squinted in confusion. ¡°Are you two back together?¡±

    ¡°Pft, no. He just owed me a favor. I needed to use the lab at NorDx.¡±

    ¡°Have you talked with Lynn? The police are looking for you. We had to go to Hiidenkirnu and talk with Oliver Karhu. Everything¡¯s messed up.¡±

    Lassa nodded. ¡°They know I¡¯m home. I¡¯ve already gotten in touch with Hiidenkirnu and explained. I¡¯m going to speak with them tomorrow. It¡¯s complicated, but I think this will all even out. No one should be kicking in our doors. I¡¯ve been calling and calling you. Did you lose your phone?¡±

    ¡°The battery¡¯s dead. I was in Vermont with Dan.¡±

    As exhausted as she looked, Lassa¡¯s eyebrows still shot up. Freya gave her a slow nod of confirmation.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Lassa asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Freya assured her. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Not really, no.¡± Lassa shrugged. ¡°I must look like hell. I¡¯ll try to explain, but this is all so complicated. Have you eaten?¡±

    The burner was on beneath the fifteen-quart graniteware stock pot. Freya sniffed the air. Her mouth watered at the smell of garlic, broth bubbling over the hiss of the burners. On the counter, she saw cut potatoes drying on paper towels, and there was an empty bottle of pinot grigio.

    ¡°Not yet. What are you making?¡± Freya asked, suddenly ravenous.

    ¡°Moules-frites,¡± Lassa said.

    Now, it was Freya¡¯s turn to raise her eyebrows.

    ¡°Come help me cut up some more potatoes, I didn¡¯t know if you would show up. There¡¯s a lot to explain,¡± Lassa said.

    ¡°What is this?¡± Freya asked.

    A military weapon was casually leaned against the wall. Freya realized that was what Lassa was reaching for when they pulled into the driveway. It was black, with a folding stock and a curved thirty round magazine.

    ¡°That¡¯s my Sako,¡± Lassa said. ¡°Very good rifle. Sadly, few were made. You won¡¯t find many others here in America.¡±

    ¡°I mean, why is it in our foyer?

    ¡°The idiot. If he comes to our home with a gun, he will leave here in a bag,¡± Lassa promised.

    Freya was silent a moment while she considered it.

    ¡°Can you show me how to shoot it?¡± she asked. Lassa nodded with approval.

    ¡°Bring it here. It¡¯s loaded, but the safety is on,¡± Lassa said.

    The rifle was heavy, almost ten pounds. It was strange to see it sitting on the dinner table with a dishtowel beneath so it didn¡¯t scratch up the glass.

    Lassa showed her each piece of the gun, explaining how each part functioned, warning her about the safety which could be tricky. She showed Freya how to unload the magazine and clear the chamber, then how to reload and change magazines.

    ¡°This is the fire mode selector but leave it on single shot. That¡¯s a thirty-round magazine. Automatic will fire the whole thing in about three seconds.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t automatics illegal?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°No, you just have to jump through a lot of hoops to get a stamp for one. It took me almost two years of dealing with the ATF. They wouldn¡¯t issue me a permit for the grenade launcher, sadly.¡± Lassa shrugged. Freya couldn¡¯t tell if she was kidding or not. She wasn¡¯t smiling.

    Lassa paused, waiting until she had Freya¡¯s full attention.

    ¡°The law says you have to tell someone to leave, and they need to refuse before you can kill them. I say, if you see him, shoot him. When the police come, say nothing. Let Lynn construct the narrative. If things go reasonably well during the interview, I will take you to the range tomorrow night. If the Sako is too much for you, we can buy you something of your own. Dan is eighteen, right? He might want to carry something, too.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s eighteen, but I don¡¯t think he could shoot someone.¡±

    ¡°Everyone can. It¡¯s in here deep,¡± Lassa said, tapping the side of her head. ¡°Why are you laughing?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Freya said. ¡°Just trust me, I know him pretty well.¡±

    * * *

    When dinner was ready, Freya returned the rifle to its place beside the door, and then set the table. They ate with gusto. There wasn¡¯t so much as a drop of broth, or a single fry left when Freya and Lassa were through.

    Conversation only resumed once they¡¯d devoured everything. Neither of them could remember the last time Lassa had made mussels. Freya was sure it had been at least a year ago, and she¡¯d probably cut the potatoes that time, too.

    As they were trying to recall, Lassa wondered aloud if it was the time she¡¯d run a little wild with the chili oil, and then stopped herself mid-sentence, but it was too late. They both knew where she was going. That was the time Randall was sweating and red in the face as if he¡¯d just run a marathon but kept eating anyway as they laughed at him. He¡¯d been such a wimp about spicy food.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Lassa said. There was kind of an unspoken agreement between them not to dig at the wound.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m happy you made these. Last week, I was craving mussels for no reason.¡±

    ¡°I got the idea out of the blue as I was driving home. Perhaps we¡¯re deficient in selenium or manganese. Mussels are a good source of both. Speaking of nutrients, I wanted to talk about the fight we had, over the Ensure. I must apologize. It was me. I was the one who was sleepwalking. That¡¯s been happening to me more and more. I¡¯m very sorry I didn¡¯t believe you.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Freya asked, genuinely surprised. It was the last thing she¡¯d expected.

    ¡°There¡¯s a chance I¡¯ve had a stroke. I underwent some CT scans at NorDx. There¡¯s a tiny speck showing up. Maybe a tumor, maybe a clot, it¡¯s too small to tell. We could barely resolve it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my God,¡± Freya gasped. She had the feeling everything was receding. She tried to take a breath and couldn¡¯t.

    Lassa reached out a hand and put it over Freya¡¯s.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t anything certain yet. If it was a stroke, it wasn¡¯t severe. Frequently, these things go away on their own. Just if I seemed a bit crazy the last few weeks, that¡¯s one possible explanation.¡±

    Lassa tried to sound like it wasn¡¯t a big deal, but Freya felt like she was underwater and couldn¡¯t get air. Lassa watched her with a deepening look of concern.

    Freya pulled her hand from under Lassa¡¯s. She felt a sharp dip in her stomach, and she fought to keep from vomiting. Before it could stop her, she pulled the Starball out of her pocket and held it out in front of Lassa.

    ¡°Did you touch this?¡± Freya asked, forcing the words out through her teeth. A cold feeling bloomed in her head, her veins full of ice. Lassa drew her head back, looking at Freya like she was crazy, but there was something in her eyes when she looked at the Starball. Freya was sure she¡¯d seen it before.

    ¡°It was on your nightstand when I took the Lunesta away.¡± A troubled look passed over Lassa¡¯s face. ¡°I had meant to ask you about it, but it must have slipped my mind.¡±

    ¡°Did it jab you?¡± Freya asked. Lassa¡¯s mouth was an O of surprise. She turned her hand over to stare at her palm.

    ¡°Yes! And I looked at it and couldn¡¯t see how. I thought it must have been a tiny shard of glass. I had forgotten until now.¡± As she said it, they shared a look of unease. Lassa didn¡¯t forget things like that.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Lassa asked. Freya didn¡¯t know how to respond. She wasn¡¯t usually the one with the answers.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a marble. I found it in the core of a meteorite that crashed into the Sillas River. It¡¯s either an alien or a piece of alien technology. It stuck me, too.¡±

    Lassa¡¯s incredulous look dipped into anger, as if she wondered why Freya thought she was stupid enough to believe something so crazy. But Freya was adamant. Her resolve hardened under scrutiny. She felt the Starball getting warm.

    ¡°I can prove it. If you look at this in a microscope it¡¯s definitely artificial. It doesn¡¯t look like anything man-made I can find. Did you feel something cool in your head when you started to get angry just now? Or feel nauseous when we started to talk about it?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Lassa¡¯s lips made a tight line after the admission.

    ¡°That¡¯s the Starball trying to pacify you, trying to stay hidden. Feel how warm it is? It has to expend energy to do that.¡±

    Lassa touched the Starball as she might a live hornet, certain she would be stung. Freya saw her fighting with the idea. There was no denying it was too warm to for body heat alone.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me about this?¡± Lassa asked.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to,¡± Freya said, suddenly realizing she might have made a terrible mistake. If Lassa wanted to take the Starball from her, she could physically do it, and Freya couldn¡¯t stop her. She felt a shrinking moment of fear, and her eyes fell on the closest weapon, a fork. She forced the idiot thought out of her head. Lassa¡¯s eyes bored into her, demanding answers.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know what this was. I thought it was just a weird rock. That aversion it generates kept me from investigating for a long time. When I took it to the lab, I thought I was going to throw up. It doesn¡¯t want to be examined.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t want? Is it sentient? Does it talk?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s definitely observing its surroundings and reacting to them, but I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s sentient. The only communication I have with the Starball is when it tries to calm me down if I¡¯m getting too upset, and the nausea thing. I¡¯ve tried every method I can think of. It doesn¡¯t answer.¡±

    Lassa stared at the Starball. Her hands were clenched into pale fists. ¡°You might have the same thing in your head. Has it been affecting you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, absolutely. I was the one who drank the Ensure. I felt awful the next day. Maybe it needs some nutrient to power itself.¡±

    Lassa gestured at the empty bowl of mussel shells. ¡°It makes sense. So, this must be the culprit with the network issue at Hiidenkirnu? And here, the trouble with the internet?¡±

    ¡°The network at Grayson was acting up, too.¡±

    ¡°And you didn¡¯t tell anyone?¡±

    ¡°What would I tell them? A rock from space is slowing down the internet?¡±

    ¡°I would have listened to you,¡± Lassa insisted.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t around, and when you were, we were fighting. Then you ran off,¡± Freya said, her voice harder than she meant it to be. Lassa took it like a punch. It was a second before she could continue.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want anyone to take it away from me. I need it,¡± Freya said, hearing an echo of the way she¡¯d protested when Lassa took the Lunesta away. She clenched the orb in her fist. She wouldn¡¯t let the Starball go without a fight.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Lassa asked.

    ¡°It does other things. I think it¡¯s benevolent. When I found it¡ª¡±

    Freya¡¯s eyes were suddenly hot with tears. She hadn¡¯t meant to ever tell Lassa, but the words poured out.

    ¡°¡ªI couldn¡¯t take it anymore. I was at the rapids to drown myself. When the meteorite struck, I fell in the river. I barely made it out. Then a bunch of times afterward. I was almost there, but it keeps pulling me back. I¡¯d be dead without it.¡±

    There was silence as the words sunk in. It was the instant before a car crash, time protracting but still too late to swerve. The thin strands holding Lassa up were snapping one by one.

    Freya watched her expression collapse. The bridge could not bear the load. Her mother buried her face in her hands and bawled. The table shook with her sobs, the dishes rattling in protest.

    Freya couldn¡¯t think of what to do. She sat dumb while her mother wailed. She was impaled by guilt. This was the worst thing she¡¯d ever done, and nothing could ever make this better. Lassa cried for a long time.

    When Freya could find her voice, it was only to plead she was sorry again and again. The words rolled away without impact, rain against glass. She had the sense to shut up, and Lassa raised her head, her eyes shut tight with suffering, wet lines running down her face. When she opened her eyes, Freya could not take her stare.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Lassa pleaded, her voice raw and ravaged. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Freya.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my fault,¡± Freya protested, but Lassa only shook her head from side to side. She didn¡¯t ask Freya why she¡¯d done it. No explanation was needed.

    ¡°Does Garbuglio know?¡± Lassa asked, her posture suddenly straightening. Her hands clenched. Freya saw she wanted something outside of them to be angry at.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell him. He doesn¡¯t know about any of this really. He has seen the Starball, he caught me fiddling with it in my pocket. He thinks it¡¯s just my lucky marble.¡±

    ¡°Are you okay now?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Freya said. ¡°I think I¡¯m okay now, as long as I have this.¡± She looked at Lassa intently, weighing what she wanted to say next with great care.

    ¡°The first time you disappeared, you took Randall¡¯s gun with you. Were you going to kill yourself?¡±

    Lassa looked like she¡¯d been slapped, and her mouth fell open. She tried to shake her head no, but they both knew the truth.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she admitted, turning her face away. ¡°I didn¡¯t do it¡ª I mean, that¡¯s obvious. Something stopped me.¡± Her eyes focused on the Starball. ¡°Oh. Fuck.¡±

    For a long moment, they both stared at the orb.

    ¡°Did it save me?¡±

    ¡°It might have. I¡¯ve felt it get hot with activity when it wasn¡¯t affecting me. That might have been when it was working on you.¡±

    ¡°Working on,¡± Lassa caught the phrase, weighing it in her mouth. ¡°Okay. I believe you, Freya. We don¡¯t have to tell anyone, at least not until we know more about this. What have you learned about it so far?¡±

    Freya related everything she¡¯d learned at the Grayson lab, promising to show Lassa her notes when her phone was charged. She took it to her nightstand and plugged it in, hoping there would be a text from Dan when it came back to life. As she explained what she¡¯d tried so far, Lassa seemed impressed with her investigative approach.

    ¡°Are you having strange dreams, too?¡± Lassa asked.

    ¡°Constantly.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± Lassa leaned back in her seat, ¡°this explains a few things. For the last few weeks, I¡¯ve been getting strange ideas for tests to run. They come to me at all hours of the day, sometimes in my dreams. I feel¡­not compelled but strongly inclined to run them. Like I could stop if I wanted, but the curiosity is irresistible. Does that make sense?¡±

    Freya nodded.

    ¡°I used to feel this way during research when I was younger. I thought maybe I was getting back some of my old zeal. It seems like, instead, I¡¯m being led somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Karhu said they couldn¡¯t understand what you¡¯d been doing or the data you¡¯d been accessing. What were you working on?¡±

    ¡°Nothing concrete, just hunches. But I feel all these ideas are pointing to something enormous on the horizon, some great understanding. That thing is trying to bring me to some conclusion.¡± Lassa pointed at the Starball.

    ¡°Would I understand any of it?¡±

    ¡°Not much of it. I don¡¯t understand it all myself. I¡¯ve run several tests on casomorphin. That¡¯s a peptide derived from milk. The tests are on its interaction with endothilial cells. Not strictly unusual, but a little outside the scope of my department. What¡¯s probably raising eyebrows is I¡¯ve been working with pandoravirus and CMV.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s are those?¡±

    ¡°Cytomegalovirus is mostly associated with mono and pneumonia. That¡¯s not as weird as it sounds as it¡¯s a common vector for gene expression¡ª¡± Lassa halted mid-sentence. Her face was drawn with turmoil. She grew perceptibly paler as Freya watched her.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Freya, this could be a weapon. It could be trying to build a pandemic to wipe us out.¡±

    ¡°Why would it bother?¡±

    Lassa tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at Freya.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°It can just wait. We¡¯ll be long gone before any alien force could reach us. I¡¯d be surprised if humanity survived to 2100.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculously pessimistic. They might they seed a target world with these while their invasion force is on the way then, when they arrive, the planet is depopulated and ripe for conquest.¡±

    Freya shook her head.

    ¡°Interstellar conquest doesn¡¯t work at sub-light speeds. It¡¯s too expensive, it takes too long. Outside of the organic life, there isn¡¯t anything here they can¡¯t get far closer to wherever they are.¡±

    ¡°That makes so many assumptions on things you can¡¯t possibly know. What if they have FTL?¡±

    ¡°If they can travel faster than light, this is already over. It¡¯s more likely they don¡¯t have FTL, and this was the largest mass it made sense to send. It showed up encased in a shell of nickel, by the way. It crashed into the mud of the riverbed. No propulsion, no guidance. I don¡¯t think it can move under its own power at all.

    ¡°If I hadn¡¯t dug it up, it might have stayed there for centuries. I think it¡¯s much more likely to be a probe than anything else. Maybe it contains instructions to get in touch with them.¡±

    Lassa nodded, taking in the new information. Freya was braced for an immediate counterargument, but none came. It was strange to be involved in a conversation about something serious with her mother that hadn¡¯t turned into an argument.

    Lassa was so badly wounded she couldn¡¯t talk like herself, couldn¡¯t hide it. Their eyes met, and Lassa looked away. There was silence as they both searched for something to say. Lassa was first.

    ¡°Okay, here¡¯s an angle. It could be pest control by a race that doesn¡¯t want to deal with other intelligent life emerging. Maybe if it detects a certain degree of industrialization, it wipes them out before they can develop into a problem. If it hits a world without sentient life, it might just stay dormant.¡±

    ¡°That would explain the Fermi paradox. It¡¯s an interesting idea.¡± Freya thought she was only indulging Lassa, but she told herself she didn¡¯t believe that. Perhaps the Starball wouldn¡¯t let her.

    Freya held the orb up to the light, looking at the halo of violet translucence surrounding it. Could this be the poison bead that wiped out the whole cockroach nest? It would all be on her. She was the one who¡¯d dug it out of the river and concealed it. Whatever happened because of all this, she would be ultimately responsible.

    ¡°You saved the meteorite shell, right?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Freya said. ¡°I have measurements on it, too.¡± She was about to explain how she¡¯d measured it, but Lassa had drifted off, her eyes unfocused.

    Freya was annoyed. She¡¯d been so proud of figuring that out. She wanted to keep talking about this. More than that, she didn¡¯t want to be left alone with the weight of what she¡¯d done, with the sound of her mother wailing in her ears. But Lassa was finished. She held her hand over her mouth and tried to stifle a yawn.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m falling out. We can start thinking about other tests to run tomorrow. We¡¯ll get some better idea of what this Starball is, and if it¡¯s dangerous.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a weapon," Freya said, trying to think of a way to substantiate her argument without having to explain Unity. Neither of them was ready for that.

    Again, Freya felt the allure of forbidden knowledge whispering at the back of her thoughts while her conscious mind screamed it would destroy them both.

    ¡°Does NorDx have an electron microscope?¡± Freya asked, trying to distract herself from the perilous chain of thought.

    ¡°Yes, but we¡¯d have to figure out first if that thing needs air. An electron microscope requires vacuum.¡±

    ¡°It came from space.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps it was hibernating or somehow dormant, then it came to life here.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a good point. I didn¡¯t think of that,¡± Freya agreed. Lassa tapped on the side of her head. She was, after all, a scientist. Freya felt stupid for not coming to her sooner. The thought of accidentally killing the Starball made her stomach plunge.

    ¡°We can measure that first. Because we suspect this is some kind of a machine, I¡¯d be leery of hitting it with an electron beam.¡±

    ¡°Why? Doesn¡¯t the beam just bounce off?¡±

    ¡°No. It penetrates the sample based on beam intensity. X-rays are generated throughout the interaction volume. I would assume the Starball is somehow hardened against radiation since it traveled through space and is still active. But there¡¯s no way to know.¡±

    ¡°I was going to ask about using an X-ray next,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Assuming it understands what¡¯s going on around it and has a good idea of what can destroy it, the Starball might try generating aversion again if we¡¯re about to run a test that could harm it. But we can¡¯t rely on that. There¡¯s a lot of non-invasive testing we can do before we get into anything like that. I have a lot of ideas already.¡±

    Even on the verge of passing out, there was excitement in Lassa¡¯s voice. If she were physically able, Freya was certain she would be driving them to the lab this very moment. The challenge the Starball presented spoke to Lassa¡¯s core, the thing that had made her a researcher, a scientist, an interrogator. She had a fundamental need to know.

    As she considered it, Freya decided there was no danger Lassa would tell anyone about the Starball. She would never relinquish the chance to find out for herself, no matter what threat it posed. It was a useful bit of insanity.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the dishes,¡± Freya said. ¡°Thank you for making dinner.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lassa said.

    In the other room, Freya¡¯s phone dinged as it came to life. She walked over and got it, a little afraid of what she might find. There were missed calls climbing up the screen, so many her phone was almost unresponsive when she tried to scroll up.

    ¡°Any more threats?¡± Lassa called from the table. Freya brought the phone back to the living room and showed her the screen.

    ¡°It¡¯s struggling. You called so many times.¡±

    ¡°I was worried. You could have left me a note or something.¡±

    Freya turned and cast a sideways glance back at Lassa, who¡¯d realized mid-sentence what she said and covered her mouth.

    ¡°What a stupid thing for me to say,¡± Lassa admitted.

    Freya shrugged and turned back to her phone.

    ¡°Nothing else,¡± she said, a dispirited there was nothing from Dan.

    ¡°There¡¯s still a lot more I need to explain about all this,¡± Freya said, realizing she would have to tell Lassa about Unity. Maybe now was the best time while Lassa was vulnerable. But Lassa was yawning and waving the thought away. She¡¯d hit her limit.

    ¡°I am finished. We¡¯ll talk more tomorrow,¡± Lassa promised, rising slowly, and moving towards her bedroom with heavy steps.

    She¡¯s getting older, Freya thought.

    Lassa stopped and turned around, and Freya was afraid they¡¯d United, and her thoughts had been overheard. But Lassa stood there, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes that had no tears left to give.

    ¡°Freya¡­I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯ll never forgive myself,¡± Lassa said. Her voice croaked, and her head hung low. She was in ruins.

    Her mind could find no words, but her body covered the distance between them, sweeping Lassa up in an embrace. Quickly, it became Freya holding her mother upright. Lassa could barely stand. Freya held on tight, helping Lassa towards her room. She was struck by the feeling she acted more like Dan than herself. It felt like a piece of him inside of her.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got it, thank you. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Lassa waved her away, moving under her own power again. Freya felt relieved. She was worried she¡¯d have to help Lassa undress.

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. It was just a bad year,¡± Freya said.

    Lassa could only nod, her eyes red and empty as she shut the door.

    After the dishes, Freya walked over to the front door. She picked up the rifle, trying to picture what it would feel like to fire it She aimed the rifle at the door, and ran her finger over the safety, leaving it on. The smell of mineral oil was in her nose.

    Freya felt a strange eagerness, as if she almost wished something would happen so she¡¯d have an excuse. She pushed the thought away; she didn¡¯t like it. She must look like an idiot pointing a gun at their front door.

    She set the Sako back in the corner, then she peered out into the driveway, scanning the darkness for anything that didn¡¯t belong. If anything happened tonight, she was on her own.

    Her phone dinged in her pocket. She was startled, almost leaping with the unwelcome jolt. Immediately, she could envision the text, a single line from Malcolm that read:

    I CAN SEE YOU

    Freya flattened her back against the front door where she couldn¡¯t be seen from the outside. There was no one out there. She was scaring herself for nothing. Still, she had to take a deep breath before she could pull out her phone.

    The text was from Dan. It was a single purple heart.

    ??

 Chapter 81

    It felt like aphelion.

    Outside, the sun was caught behind a veil of clouds that leeched all the color from the world. Dawn broke, and the bare limbs of the skeleton trees shone silver, then faded to gray. It was hard to find the energy to move out of bed, and she watched the pale green shadows of Yggdrasil climbing up the wall.

    Checking the time, Freya found she had woken too early. Dan wouldn¡¯t be here for fifty-seven minutes. She wished she could blink and just make an hour disappear. It was a superpower she¡¯d wished for again and again at Grayson. She remembered she¡¯d thought the same thing when this all began, sitting outside the cafeteria a lifetime ago.

    What if she could? Freya imagined her eyelids fluttering as fast as they could go. She threw off the sluggish thoughts of sleep as she calculated. Twenty-four hours a day, sixty minutes an hour. 438,000 hours of being alive left.

    Even if she blinked a hundred times a minute, forty hours a week, it would take months to finish the job. It was just so much time to endure, and she was awful for not appreciating it when better people didn¡¯t get the chance. Freya dragged herself out of bed on the strength of the thought. She remembered the Waltzes and their geas, the awful Atlantean burden they expected Freya and Dan to shoulder.

    Freya shrugged and went to the kitchen to fetch a pot of water. Yggdrasil was thirsty and it was up to her, there was no Hvergelmir in her bedroom. When she turned off the tap, the air in the house was too still. Lassa was already gone, the driveway empty, but the rifle remained, resting in the corner.

    ¡°Very good rifle,¡± Freya said, mimicking her mother¡¯s accent to break up the emptiness in the air. She wondered if she ought to put it in a closet so Dan didn¡¯t freak out, then she realized it was a stupid thought. There was no hiding anything from Dan. They would be one again.

    Unity was all Freya could think about as she watered her tree. Afterward, she turned the taps of the shower until it was nearly scalding. Her skin absorbed the heat, piping it to glowing thoughts in her mind, Dan¡¯s mouth on her neck, his hand running across her breasts, slipping down her stomach.

    Her hand followed the imaginary one, and she felt she was slick, wetter than the water. She had to stop herself from going further. He would be here soon.

    After she pried herself out of the shower and got dressed, Freya still had twenty minutes to wait. She looked at her guitar case, her fingers aching to play, but she didn¡¯t have enough time. Ten minutes before Dan had promised to arrive, she put on her coat and stood outside.

    The morning was stunningly cold, but she didn¡¯t care. She wanted to see him the moment he arrived. If it wasn¡¯t a crazy thing to do, she would have climbed down to the road and started trudging through the piled-up snow to see him sooner.

    Dan arrived five minutes early, bounding out of the car with a puppy¡¯s eagerness. Freya dashed up to him, and they crashed together like two waves, each driving the other higher. Dan lifted her off the ground, and she laughed, overjoyed.

    When her feet touched the ground, she pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling whole for the first time all morning. He was water to Freya. She¡¯d been parched by his absence. With her eyes shut tight, she tried to remember every detail of the feeling, wanted to give it to him later.

    ¡°Feels like a year,¡± Dan said, and she nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Come inside,¡± Freya said, and his eyes flicked back to the car. He wasn¡¯t sure it was a good idea, but he couldn¡¯t resist her.

    In a blur of kisses and discarded clothes, they made their way through the house to her bedroom. It was all so urgent. As he tried to slow down, she had her hands on his hips, moving him faster. She pulled him down and clenched him tightly until his entire weight pressed her against the bed. His breathing was ragged, and she knew he was almost there.

    ¡°Come inside,¡± she asked again, and he did at once, and it brought her over the edge. His mouth was locked on hers as they cried out together. Seeing she could barely breathe, he went to lift off her, but she pulled him back.

    ¡°Stay there,¡± Freya said, and he twitched inside her at the words.

    ¡°Sorry, that was so fast. I couldn¡¯t stop,¡± Dan apologized.¡±

    ¡°That was exactly what I wanted. Just stay inside me. You feel perfect.¡±

    His face hung over Freya, adoring her, and he gave her a thousand tiny kisses along the ridge of her eyebrows, the tip of her nose, the line of her jaw. He drew back and stared into her eyes, burning with want, growing hard again inside her. They made love a second time without ever slipping apart.

    ¡°Did you¡­¡± Dan asked afterward.

    ¡°I came too hard the first time to get off again. It¡¯s okay. It still feels amazing for me.¡±

    She saw doubt on his face, and she ran a hand along his cheek. He was so new at this, so vulnerable.

    ¡°You¡¯ll feel it when we¡¯re together again,¡± she reassured him.

    ¡°I love you,¡± Dan said, and Freya said it back. She smiled so hard her jaw muscles ached.

    ¡°That was so good!¡± Dan said. ¡°It was almost¡ª¡± He swallowed the sentence. It wasn¡¯t something he should say.

    ¡°Almost as good,¡± Freya finished for him. Their eyes shot to her jeans. The Starball was in her pocket.

    ¡°Soon,¡± she said, hoping it was true.

    * * *

    Too soon, they untangled and dressed again. Dan watched her from the bed. His eyes ran over her legs and lingered between them as she wiped herself off with a tissue.

    ¡°We can take a shower if you want,¡± he offered, and she was about to agree before she stopped herself.

    ¡°I want to feel you inside of me all day,¡± she said, patting herself. He shivered, the words turning a key in him, and Freya smiled at him as he sat on the side of the bed. She glanced down, wondering if she could get him off again. When she kneeled, he knew what she intended.

    ¡°Freya, we¡¯ll be so late,¡± Dan protested.

    There was something in his voice that told her she could insist, and he would go along with whatever she wanted. She smiled back at him. Just knowing she could was enough.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Freya relented, and they managed to get dressed without tumbling back into bed. On their way to the car Dan stopped abruptly, staring at the rifle in the corner.

    ¡°Woah,¡± he said. ¡°What¡¯s that all about?¡±

    ¡°Lassa doesn¡¯t do anything halfway,¡± Freya explained, shaking her head.

    ¡°That¡¯s insane.¡± Dan¡¯s expression was clouded. He stared at the Sako through narrowed eyes, his head leaned back like it was a serpent.

    ¡°So is Malcolm,¡± Freya countered.

    ¡°Jesus.¡± Dan was shaken. ¡°Maybe we should leave town.¡±

    ¡°We totally should. Malcolm threatened you, too. We can get a leave of absence or something. I can talk to Mr. Evers about it. It doesn¡¯t have to be Paris. We can go to New York!¡± Freya¡¯s excitement rose as she spoke, but Dan looked uncertain.

    ¡°My mom was so upset with me. I don¡¯t know how I¡¯d get her to agree. I wish I¡¯d introduced you to her sooner. She¡¯s going to be so predisposed against you.¡±

    The thought was like a yawning pit. Freya hadn¡¯t even considered the problem of Samantha Gregulus yet. She would have to meet Dan¡¯s mother, who now thought Freya was hell-bent on ruining her son¡¯s life. Freya shut her eyes and covered them with her hand. Staying the extra day had been a such a mistake. She felt Dan¡¯s hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that big a deal. I told her it was my idea. She¡¯s mad now, but she¡¯ll get over it.¡±

    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t lie to her ever?¡± Freya questioned.

    ¡°I mean, it was ultimately my decision. I wanted to.¡±

    ¡°I leaned on you hard. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Dan had been half-joking, but his face grew serious, and his expression reminded Freya he was two years older than her.

    ¡°Freya, this weekend was the greatest experience of my life. I will never regret it.¡±

    ¡°I love you,¡± she said. They felt like magic words that could fix anything.

    In the driveway, the Toyota had idled diligently the whole time they screwed. When they climbed in, Dan had to turn down the heat. Their bodies still ran hot from exertion. They buckled in, and Dan took it very slowly down the driveway. He was afraid they might slide into the street.

    ¡°Is there something nice I could do for your mom? Do you know what flowers she likes?¡± Freya asked, trying to solve the problem.

    ¡°Black-eyed Susans,¡± Dan said, ¡°but she hates it when people spend money on her, and she doesn¡¯t like cut flowers.¡±

    ¡°I could give her a sprig of Yggdrasil,¡± Freya said, not being serious and, soon, she wished she¡¯d kept her mouth shut. She had to explain it was the name of her tree, then the myth behind it. It left her feeling simultaneously like an incredible nerd and a little outraged she had to explain all this to Dan. How could he not know? She set her palm over the Starball in her pocket, wishing in vain.

    ¡°What about if I made her some cookies?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°I bet she¡¯d like that. She¡¯s allergic to chocolate, though.¡±

    ¡°I can make her joulutorttu!¡± Freya said, excited. ¡°They¡¯re Finnish Christmas tarts.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have that salty licorice in it, does it?¡± Dan made a face.

    ¡°Oh, God no. You make it with prune jam traditionally, but you can use anything. It¡¯s a ricotta pastry crust with lemon zest, and you make them in the shape of a windmill. They¡¯re like the only Christmas thing my mom likes to do.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a great idea. I¡¯ll totally help you bake them. If we can find blackcurrant jam, that¡¯s her favorite.¡±

    ¡°I love blackcurrant! They¡¯re my favorite kind of winegums. I don¡¯t know why they¡¯re not more popular in the states. Europeans love them.¡±

    ¡°They were illegal to grow for a long time. There was some fungus they were afraid trees would get. I think my mom has told me that about ten times,¡± Dan said, his eyes rolling for a split-second, and then shooting back to the road. ¡°Anyhow, that¡¯s such a good idea. Want to do that tonight?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely. Can we go for a run first?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! Sounds like a good night. Run, make cookies, make up with my mom,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°Make love,¡± Freya added.

    ¡°You¡¯re insatiable,¡± he said with a little smile at the corner of his mouth.

    ¡°I want you,¡± she said. ¡°The whole you,¡± she asserted.

    ¡°I hope so,¡± he said, and there was a needful edge in his voice that hung heavy in the car. There was only the sound of the engine as they climbed the hill to Grayson, they would have to part soon.

    Freya had meant to have more time for them to talk. Dragging Dan back to her lair had been unplanned. Suddenly, she realized she had completely forgotten she and Lassa were going to investigate the Starball after school. Her stomach twisted. This was exactly what had kept delaying her from investigating the Starball in the school lab.

    ¡°Speaking of mothers,¡± Freya said, and she stopped. That was how Lassa talked, that unnatural-feeling use of segue to guide a conversation. Focused on finding a parking space, Dan didn¡¯t seem to notice her conflict.

    ¡°Yeah?¡± he finally asked, as she struggled to figure out how to say it.

    ¡°Wait, let¡¯s park first,¡± she said.

    ¡°Wow, okay,¡± Dan said, sounding a little concerned. He found a space between two Jeeps; one had parked too close to the line, and they were going to have to get out of her side.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°I meant to tell you this, but it got pushed out of my mind or I forgot, I don¡¯t know which. Lassa knows. She got jabbed by the Starball, too.¡±

    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± Dan said under his breath.

    He turned the key and killed the Toyota¡¯s engine.

    ¡°Is she okay?¡±

    ¡°She took a CAT scan, and there was a tiny speck in her brain. We probably have the same thing. That¡¯s how it¡¯s doing this,¡± Freya said, waving her hand from her to him. Dan¡¯s face grew pale. In her pocket, she held the Starball, expecting it to grow warm. When it did, she saw the change in Dan¡¯s expression, his mind icing over.

    Working on you.

    ¡°What the fuck,¡± he said, and the word slipped away into a hiss.

    ¡°I mean, we knew that, right? All the things it¡¯s doing, it makes sense it needs to mess with our brains, right?¡±

    ¡°I guess so. I kind of¡­ Did I not want to think about it, or would it not let me think about it?¡± Dan struggled to get his words out.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It just calmed you down, I could tell.¡±

    ¡°I felt that. I was, um, getting upset.¡±

    ¡°What were you thinking when it did it?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°That I want out. I don¡¯t, though, do I?¡±

    Her mind flashed forward to the locker, and Freya felt the beginning of nausea, but it was just an inkling, she had no real of intention of sealing the Starball away. The pained look on Dan¡¯s face twisted in her worse than being starsick. She¡¯d gotten him into this.

    ¡°Are we going to start hearing her thoughts too?¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It would be so weird. She wants to run some tests on the Starball, we¡¯ll try and learn more about it. She might come pull me out of school depending on how her meeting today goes.¡±

    ¡°Can you text me if that¡¯s happening? I¡¯ll come, too,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Freya agreed, relieved at the thought of having him with her. Lassa might balk, but Freya would demand it. She stared at his face, wishing they were United.

    Beneath his apprehension, she could tell he was curious about this. When Freya looked at Dan, she could read his expression in layers, the thoughts behind his thoughts. Flickers of the way he thought about Lassa, the suspicious feeling they needed to be guarded, the greedy desire for more, more experiences, more sensations, more self.

    As Freya read Dan, he read her right back, a whole silent conversation leaping between their faces. She saw him shut his eyes and knew he was checking for Unity. It wasn¡¯t there. This was something new.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know we could do that,¡± Dan said, and she nodded in agreement. Freya pointed her finger from herself to him, and then closed it into a fist, meaning they were one. He reached out and held her hand.

    ¡°We¡¯re getting closer,¡± she said. ¡°Something is happening.¡±

    The five-minute bell rang as they tried to get used to the strange feeling. They would both need to run to get to class on time.

    ¡°I want to talk to you more about this, but let¡¯s not text about it okay?¡±

    ¡°Okay. Did anything else change?¡±

    ¡°Lassa¡¯s talking with Hiidenkirnu today. Maybe someone¡¯s listening, I don¡¯t know. It could all get crazy.¡±

    ¡°Whatever happens, I love you,¡± Dan said, and Freya said it back. They squeezed their way through the narrow gap between the cars and ran to class.

    Magic words.

 Chapter 82

    <Radomir> Where were you guys???

    <Dan> Paris ?? :upside down smiley:

    The group chat was abuzz all through first period. Freya felt the texts buzzing against her thigh, but she couldn¡¯t check them. She had to wait until she was in Mr. McCallahan¡¯s class to respond. Halfway through the period, Mr. McCallahan just sort of trailed off and asked them to read chapter nine in their textbooks.

    Phones emerged while Mr. McCallahan pretended to read something on his desk, but his eyes never moved. He stared through everything, gazing into the void.

    Freya knew exactly how he felt. She watched him suffer, wondering if maybe she ought to recommend Dr. Garbuglio. Maybe more than that. He¡¯d been getting worse all semester. Maybe he needed to hold the Starball.

    Freya anticipated the feeling of aversion, but it didn¡¯t come. The Starball had a good idea now of what she would and wouldn¡¯t do. Did it trust her now? It was maddening. The orb that could facilitate the most beautiful, meaningful communication of her life had never said a thing to her.

    When she asked it for things it was no better than praying. It might be no smarter than a toaster, just a machine that did exactly this and no more. She worried at the thought until she couldn¡¯t bear wondering what was happening in the group chat. She took out her phone and read carefully through the backscroll.

    Dan hadn¡¯t even hinted that anything had gone down with them. She liked that. It was something just for them. She wondered if he¡¯d told Cameron. Thinking about it, she would have told Betty and, if it had been a year ago, probably Jane, too.

    It dawned on Freya that Dan had likely told his mother they¡¯d had sex. Her cheeks were suddenly aflame. She couldn¡¯t understand why that made her feel so embarrassed. She¡¯d heavily implied it to Lassa, and that hadn¡¯t bothered her at all.

    Everyone was getting exasperated with Dan¡¯s evasions, and she could tell he enjoyed it. She¡¯d seen less of this side of him since they¡¯d gotten closer, the harlequin on hiatus. Freya remembered the way he¡¯d made Claire cry at Brad¡¯s house. When the shine wore off, she suspected he would revert to being a little more of an asshole.

    She typed into her phone.

    <Freya> So dawn goes down to day

    Nothing gold can stay.

    She reconsidered before sending it. She struggled for an entry point in the conversation, and she was sure quoting Frost wasn¡¯t it. She felt like she needed to participate, though, or people would start to think she was upset. Sighing, she deleted her lines.

    <Freya> We went cross country skiing! It was really fun.

    At once, the conversation turned into questions about snow and where everyone wanted to ski that winter. Everyone pressed them for pictures and seemed surprised neither of them had taken any. That was another thing she liked about Dan. He didn¡¯t stop every five seconds to post a picture of something. There was no lens standing between him and being alive.

    Freya could do without seeing pictures of every single calorie Riley Halstead ate, and as much as she warmed up to Jennette, Freya was already sick of seeing her dumb smushed-face cat in awkward poses. She glanced up at the clock just as the bell put second period out of its misery.

    Freya took a last look at Mr. McCallahan, telling herself she would ask Dr. Garbuglio what to do about him on Thursday. She added it to the list of things she wanted to talk about. She still couldn¡¯t believe she looked forward to talking with a psychiatrist.

    As Freya walked through the hall towards her next class, someone called out her name. She wheeled with her fists balled, remembering Jane chasing her down the hall. It was Radomir. His face was in much better shape, and he had an urgent look.

    ¡°May I talk with you?¡± Radomir asked.

    ¡°Sure Rad. You look so much better!¡±

    Radomir ignored the compliment completely and leaned in close to her, speaking with his voice low.

    ¡°Men came to talk with my father. At first, he thought they were police asking about the coward, but they wanted to know about your mother. He told them nothing and asked that I warn you both. He thinks they were government men.¡±

    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± Freya breathed. ¡°Did they say why?¡±

    ¡°No, though it must be about Hiidenkirnu. They were very unhappy my father would not answer their questions. They tried to pressure him, and he laughed. He had to deal with the StB back when Czech Republic was Czechoslovakia. These suits are clowns to him. Do you know what this might be about?¡±

    Freya nodded.

    ¡°Do not tell me,¡± Radomir cautioned her. ¡°I cannot tell what I do not know. But warn your mother, please. And let me know if you need my help.¡±

    ¡°I will. Thank you, Rad.¡±

    Freya reached out and put her hand on Radomir¡¯s shoulder. She gave him a serious nod, which he returned. She remembered him standing in the cafeteria with gross chunks of gelatin clinging to his neck.

    Stolen story; please report.

    I saw nothing.

    ¡°You¡¯re a real friend Radomir. Thank you, I¡¯m sorry your dad got dragged into this,¡± she said.

    ¡°§¯§Ú§é§Ö§Ô§à §ã§ä§â§Ñ§ê§ß§à§Ô§à,¡± Radomir said, looking touched.

    ¡°I hope not,¡± Freya replied.

    In her pocket, the Starball burned hot.

    * * *

    All through third period and lunch, Freya grappled for what to do. She wanted to tell Dan about the new development, but he was strangely absent from the group chat, and she was afraid of texting him directly. She felt certain her line was being monitored.

    There was every likelihood her phone was patient zero for the ? process. Could they figure that out? Karhu had said the process had vanished. Was that the Starball figuring out how to evade detection, or did it already have the data it needed? Human Serum Albumin, Cytomegalovirus, and that opioid milk peptide thing.

    It all added up to something, but she needed Lassa to make an informed decision. She¡¯d texted Lassa ¡°CALL ME¡± in all caps, planning to ask her to call from another phone or come to Grayson, but there had been no reply.

    Maybe they already had her. Maybe they were inside her house, wondering why there was a machine gun in their foyer and a pistol in the ottoman. When the call came to pull her out of Mr. Manzinni¡¯s class, Freya wasn¡¯t surprised.

    Lynn looked like she¡¯d had just enough about all this. Her hair was a mess, and there were white streaks of antiperspirant in the armpits of her blouse. Her posture was stiff. She was angry but unbroken.

    ¡°The meeting with Hiidenkirnu didn¡¯t go well,¡± Lynn said as if the words tasted sour in her mouth. Freya could tell right away Lassa had done something Lynn told her not to.

    ¡°What did she tell them?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Nothing, and that¡¯s the problem. They brought in scientists for this meeting. Lassa couldn¡¯t adequately explain her unauthorized research. I had to give them a lot to keep them from pressing charges. We turned over Lassa¡¯s phone, her personal email accounts, everything. I¡¯d warned her not to bring up the sleepwalking, but she got carried away talking with one of their scientists, and it slipped out. The Hiidenkirnu lawyer pounced on it. She¡¯s at Northern Light Hospital now, under observation.¡±

    Freya drew her head back from the words. It was the same mental hospital she¡¯d been afraid they¡¯d lock her up in.

    ¡°Is she committed?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s voluntary. I agreed to it as part of the negotiation. From Hiidenkirnu¡¯s perspective, this is ideal. They don¡¯t want her vanishing again. Being able to claim she¡¯s mentally unwell gives them aegis if this blows up on them. This thing would be a big issue for them if it became public.¡±

    ¡°Radomir just warned me some men in suits questioned his father about Lassa. Dymek thinks they¡¯re FBI.¡±

    Lynn took a deep breath at the new development.

    ¡°I really, really hope that¡¯s not the case. It would mean Hiidenkirnu is lying to me about trying to keep this contained.¡±

    ¡°Why would they get involved?¡± Freya pressed.

    ¡°I can only speculate. Maybe they think she¡¯s working for the Russians.¡±

    ¡°She would never do that,¡± Freya said immediately, and Lynn nodded. Lassa wasn¡¯t shy with her opinions about Russia.

    ¡°Most likely they¡¯re private security hired by Hiidenkirnu. As soon as it became clear we were turning over Lassa¡¯s phone records and personal email accounts, Karhu disclosed his relationship with Lassa. He was trying to recuse himself, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯s going to have to resign.¡±

    ¡°Did you know about that?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°No. Did you?¡± Lynn¡¯s eyes were hard, her voice as bitter as aspirin.

    What had she expected? She knew what Lassa was.

    ¡°I figured it out a few days ago when he came over to the house to check on the router. You could tell he¡¯d been there before. I didn¡¯t know before that,¡± Freya explained. She needed Lynn on her side.

    ¡°Very sharp,¡± Lynn said. ¡°Is there anything you can tell me about what¡¯s going on?¡±

    Freya froze up, unsure what was wise to tell Lynn.

    ¡°I think she¡¯s just losing it. She¡¯d been sleepwalking. She said the ideas were just coming to her out of nowhere, and she was afraid she¡¯d had a stroke or something. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s involved in any kind of spying. When our internet was out, she was trying to figure out the problem. She wouldn¡¯t need to lie about that with me,¡± Freya said.

    Lynn nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s helpful. Can I ask you something? Is there anyone else?¡±

    ¡°You knew about Paul, right?¡±

    Lynn nodded. ¡°I didn¡¯t like him.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t either. I don¡¯t think Lassa even liked him. She¡¯s really cagey about everything. She didn¡¯t tell me about you two either. She¡¯s not trying to hurt you, she¡¯s just¡­you know. She¡¯s Lassa. Pieces are missing.¡±

    Lynn drew back holding her chin in her hand as she absorbed what Freya had said.

    ¡°What about Malcolm Lewis?¡± Lynn asked.

    ¡°Nothing new since he texted me the gun. How have they not caught him yet?¡±

    ¡°If he stays out of sight and doesn¡¯t use a credit card or a cell phone tied to his name, there¡¯s not much they can do. The fact they haven¡¯t picked him up yet means he probably left town.¡±

    Freya realized in that moment that all this time she¡¯d been expecting Lassa to take care of the Malcolm situation. When she imagined herself holding the rifle or staging the ambush, it wasn¡¯t real. At the back of her mind, it was always a problem her mother would solve. Violence was her domain. Now, Freya was on her own.

    ¡°If anyone comes to talk with you, say nothing and call me, okay? Don¡¯t talk to them without me present.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Freya said. It was the wrong thing to say. Lynn¡¯s suddenly blazed.

    ¡°I just need to reiterate it because it¡¯s absolutely critical. Say nothing.¡±

    ¡°I said I won¡¯t,¡± Freya said.

    Lynn looked surprised, like a pawn had just stepped sideways. She expected Freya to fold under any pressure, but Freya wasn¡¯t intimidated by Lynn. The intensity behind Lynn¡¯s voice was fear. She was in trouble, too, if this all came unraveled. At last, Lynn ran her hand from her forehead to the back of her scalp, trying to sweep all the tension behind her. She seemed exhausted and the day was barely halfway through.

    ¡°Are you okay at home alone?¡± Lynn asked. ¡°I could stay over if you¡¯re worried.¡±

    Freya was surprised by the offer. She didn¡¯t expect Lynn to worry about her like that. It was a weird step-mothery vibe.

    Someone with a gun is threatening to kill you, she reminded herself. It was normal for anyone to be concerned.

    ¡°That¡¯s okay. Thank you. I¡¯ll have someone with me,¡± Freya said. She could tell Lynn thought otherwise, but she didn¡¯t insist. They parted, but neither was satisfied. Freya got a note from the office so she wouldn¡¯t get in trouble being late for fifth period.

    The next two periods felt like two years.

 Chapter 83

    Words came out of Mrs. Diener¡¯s mouth, distantly tinged with things Freya ought to know about social studies. There was no room in her head for them. She was having a miniature meltdown at her desk. Pressure built behind her eyes like her mind was about to boil over. In her pocket, the Starball seared with activity.

    Freya squirmed in her seat to get the orb away from her skin. It worked overtime on whatever the hell it did all day. Not talking to her, not explaining itself, and not making her one with her beloved. Nothing worth selling her mother for.

    She couldn¡¯t keep the turmoil bottled, and Mrs. Diener noticed her expression and stopped to ask if she was all right. Freya hurriedly tried to pull an excuse from the bits of lesson that had leaked through her internal monologue.

    ¡°I just feel so bad for them, it¡¯s awful,¡± Freya said, and Mrs. Diener gave her an understanding look.

    Freya had lucked out. When she pieced together what was happening, she realized the lesson was about the Bhopal disaster, where methyl isocyanate leaked from an unsafe Union Carbide plant, killing thousands. Mrs. Diener resumed her lesson, and Freya paid more attention, relieved she hadn¡¯t gotten caught daydreaming.

    ¡°There was a single journalist trying to sound the alarm. His name was Rajkumar Keswani, and people called him The Voice in the Wilderness for Bhopal. Many called him a Cassandra. What does it mean to call someone that? The ancient Greeks had a legend of a woman named Cassandra, who was given the gift to see the future, but cursed that no one would believe her warnings.

    ¡°Keswani investigated the dangerous conditions at the plant and published a series of articles about it, but no action was taken. One of them was entitled Wake up people of Bhopal, you are on the edge of a volcano.¡±

    Freya¡¯s phone hummed in her pocket, but she ignored it, fixated on Mrs. Diener.

    ¡°After the catastrophe, Keswani was lauded as a hero and showered with awards. In an acceptance speech, he said it was perhaps the first time the award had been given for a spectacular journalistic failure. He said, ¡®Had I succeeded at my task, no one would have taken note.¡¯ More than half a million people would suffer from long-term effects of the disaster such as blindness, breathing problems, stillbirths, and horrific birth defects.

    ¡°To this day, the site is still contaminated and tainting water around it, yet countless people live in the slum surrounding the plant. There¡¯s a high school just like Grayson at the corner of the lot, less than a thousand feet from where the gas was released.¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    A murmur spread through the class as the last point struck home. Mrs. Diener always did a good job of wrapping her lessons into something they could relate to. Freya¡¯s hand was in her pocket, feeling the Starball blazing against her palm and a cold emptiness in her stomach.

    The day was finally over, everyone packing up, and she sat there trying to put it all together. Mrs. Diener passed by Freya and squeezed her shoulder.

    ¡°Take as long as you need, Freya. It¡¯s tough to feel so much,¡± she said. Freya lowered her eyes and packed up her things. What she felt now was like an imposter. She was no journalist, not even a Cassandra. She was only Freya, the girl who¡¯d sold the world.

    Mrs. Diener stared. Freya needed to come up with something to say to break the silence.

    ¡°I know the Cassandra myth. Is the Voice in the Wilderness a part of it?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s a biblical idiom, from the book of Isaiah. It¡¯s funny, teaching Cassandra is fine, but Isaiah is taboo. Let me see if I still have it,¡± Mrs. Diener said, putting two fingers on her chin as she searched her memory. There was a light in her eyes as she found what she looked for.

    ¡°The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.¡± Her head rose high as she invoked the scripture.

    ¡°Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain: And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.¡±

    In the silence that followed, Freya saw a flicker of uncertainty in Mrs. Diener¡¯s face. She was afraid she¡¯d crossed a line. The presence that had grown so large as she recited abated with a crooked smile, as if it was all just a joke.

    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s impressive. Do you know the whole thing?¡± Freya said, trying to break up the tension with a compliment.

    ¡°No! But there are a few I had to memorize in Catholic school. That was thirty years ago, but it¡¯s all still locked up here,¡± she said, tapping the side of her head with the same two fingers. ¡°Just don¡¯t ask me what I had for breakfast.¡± She smiled, and Freya forced a smile back as she departed.

    In the hall, she remembered her phone had buzzed, and she checked it. It was Dan saying he¡¯d pick her up in half an hour.

    Why not now? she wondered. A thousand awful reasons why swirled in her mind. She texted back:

    <Freya> Can¡¯t wait!

    Then she went to the bench on the passageway to the arts building with the dead overhead light and did exactly that. The dance studio was empty. Radomir wasn¡¯t allowed to teach his class anymore.

 Chapter 84

    ¡°I got it!¡± Dan grinned, holding up a jar of blackcurrant jam as Freya climbed into her seat. At once, she was relieved. He must have gone down to Jericho Market after class. But, in his face, there was more. She was certain he wasn¡¯t telling her everything. Freya wanted to know, but she was afraid to find out.

    She would know soon enough. There was an imminence in the air, a spark on every moment this might be the first and last time for everything.

    ¡°There¡¯s so much to say,¡± Freya said.

    Dan bent over and kissed her.

    ¡°Let¡¯s start there,¡± he smiled, and she couldn¡¯t help but do the same. Still, she couldn¡¯t help but glance around the car, looking for Malcolm. She felt like they were being watched.

    They drove towards Nading Hill park to see if the snow had melted on the running track, and she spilled everything about Lassa¡¯s research, Radomir¡¯s warning, and Lynn Harris. When she spoke about Lassa¡¯s idea that the Starball might be a kind of culling device for intelligent life, Dan took a deep breath, bracing both hands on the wheel as if he were about to be lashed.

    ¡°Jesus,¡± he breathed. ¡°What an idea. I spent a lot of today trying to feel what¡¯s me and what¡¯s it. Trying to figure out if I could break free, or if I¡¯d even want to.¡±

    ¡°All we¡¯d have to do is put it in a locker, or seal it back in the meteorite,¡± Freya said. ¡°Whatever spectrum it¡¯s using to control us, metal blocks the transmission. We could stop this whole thing if we wanted.¡±

    ¡°Do you want to do that?¡± Dan asked, and she shook her head.

    ¡°I did it once, and I felt absolute despair. I never want to feel that way again. I think that¡¯s why I can talk about this without being pacified. The Starball knows it has me.¡±

    ¡°Can we do anything to help your mother?¡± Freya shook her head again.

    ¡°She¡¯s only there for a short period. It¡¯s voluntary. I¡¯m pretty much the worst daughter possible.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not¡ª¡± Dan began, and her expression stopped him.

    ¡°I told her about the river,¡± Freya said.

    For a long moment, Dan held her hand, and she felt she was sliding down a chute, shooting towards a terrible crash. He caught her eyes and looked back with complete understanding. He¡¯d been there.

    They were alone in the parking lot. Behind Dan, the shirking sun was giving up the day, combing thin fingers of light through the empty branches of the black willow trees. It was only 4:12 PM.

    ¡°Let¡¯s run,¡± Dan offered.

    * * *

    There had been Unity on this track before. With every step they sniffed for it, like dogs that had once discovered something good to eat and never forgot. Unspoken between them was the fear that was over, the magic had fled, never to return. Freya pushed as hard as she could. There was so much to run from.

    The snow had melted along the inner track but there were still clumps on the outer lanes, the whole track was damp. Their shoes made wet, peeling sounds as they ran and, for the first twenty laps, the only conversation was between their sneakers and the synthetic rubber underfoot.

    Gradually, Freya broke free from her pack of worries, finding a place in her stride where they didn¡¯t matter so much. She caught Dan looking at her and pushed harder. It wasn¡¯t Unity, but it was something.

    Pain knocked her out of the hard-won peace. It came from the Starball not her body. The orb suddenly pulsed the most intense heat Freya had ever felt from it. Freya came to an abrupt stop, breathing heavily. It had never done that before.

    Dan had stopped a few strides past her. He turned back around, putting his hand on his hip. She was about to shake it off and start to run again when the Starball pulsed a second time. It would not be ignored. Freya wondered if he felt it, too. Something was wrong, and she scanned the darkness for the source.

    ¡°There,¡± Freya said, motioning with a slight incline of her head. There was a black Tahoe parked next to Dan¡¯s Toyota. She wondered if the CIA had tracked them down, but the lights were off. Someone sat out there in the dark waiting for them.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see headlights driving up, did you?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Freya said. ¡°I think that¡¯s Malcolm.¡±

    ¡°Oh, fuck.¡±

    Everything was in the Toyota, their backpacks, their phones, their keys. Dan¡¯s eyes darted around, looking for a weapon. Freya¡¯s mind leapt to the rifle in the foyer, the gun in the ottoman, but they were all so far away. She was a fool to come here without any way to defend herself.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just run away,¡± Freya said, remembering the first thing Vitko ever taught her. Dan squinted in confusion. What an awful time to have to explain herself!

    ¡°Let¡¯s go through the woods,¡± she insisted. ¡°Come on!¡± Freya was suddenly very aware they stood in the middle of the track with no cover.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t lock my car,¡± Dan protested, standing still. She could tell he was still not quite there. He was always a little loose after running.

    ¡°Dan, he has a gun!¡± Freya hissed, and the intensity from her voice finally reached him. They sprinted towards the woods where the snow seemed to get deeper with every step. They reached a chain link fence and vaulted over, taking cover behind a white pine. They peeked out, but it was too dark to see if they were being pursued.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Let¡¯s keep going,¡± Freya insisted.

    The air was full of snow crunching underfoot and gasping breaths. There was a loud pop in the distance, then another. At the second, Freya dragged Dan down onto the ground with her. With the snow burning against her face, she remained motionless, straining her ears against the thunder of her pulse, trying to tell which direction the shots came from.

    She felt a weight on her back, Dan covering her body with his own. For a few long moments, she was pressed against the ground, struggling to breathe. Two more pops rang out in the night, but it was impossible to tell how far away they were in the winter air.

    They had to get up, had to keep moving. Freya was sure if they got caught here on the ground, they would be executed. An image flashed into her mind of their bodies sprawled face-down on the snow, red fanned around their heads like halos.

    ¡°We have to move!¡± she hissed.

    Dan rose and helped her up, and they ran in what they hoped was the opposite direction from the shots. Their hands throbbed, wet from cowering in the snow. They struggled through the woods for what felt like forever, and then ran for the first lights they saw, the windows of a brick house with white trim.

    A long driveway led up to the brick house and piled on either side were ramparts of snow. At the end of the line was an ancient Dodge pickup with a plow blade attached. Parked behind it was a short tanker truck. In hand-painted letters on the back of the tank it read: ¡°EARL MOSBY SEPTIC SERVICE. WERE #1 @ PICKIN UP #2!¡± The lights they¡¯d seen were from the windows. Inside, a television flickered against wood-paneled walls.

    Freya ran up to the door and banged on it, her hand was so numb she could barely feel it. There was a commotion inside. They saw a man¡¯s face peering out at them through the bay window. A moment later, they were blinded as the man inside the house turned on the floodlights.

    The front door opened inward, and Earl Mosby was peering out at them from the entryway. He was a short, hirsute man in boxers and a ratty undershirt. In his left hand he held a shotgun, the barrel nearly scraping the floor. There was just dumb silence, and then two large cats seized their chance and shot out the door between his legs. Behind him, the hockey game still blared, the Bears had just scored a goal. Mosby¡¯s eyes shot down, tracking the cats as they fled into the night.

    ¡°Ah, hell,¡± he said, his reactions had been slowed by drink. ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡±

    ¡°Someone¡¯s chasing us! He has a gun!¡± Freya said out of breath and half-panicked. ¡°We need the police!¡±

    The words shot through Earl Mosby like a jolt of current. His jowls flapped as he quickly shook his head, trying to slough off the five tallboys lined in a neat row on the table beside his recliner.

    ¡°Come in!¡± he said at once, and they gratefully accepted. He bolted the door behind them. There was a wood burning stove blazing. It was sweltering inside the house.

    ¡°Cut off that TV. Get low,¡± Mosby instructed. He turned on more exterior lights, and his yard was suddenly lit up. He peered out the window with his back to the wall. Dan shut the television off.

    ¡°Phone¡¯s by the Lay-Z Boy,¡± he said, moving window to window and peeking out at the dark. Somewhere in Earl Mosby¡¯s life, there had been trouble.

    Hunched over, Freya duck-walked to the table with the beer cans and grabbed the phone. It was an ancient Nokia brick that had seen so much use the letters were completely worn off the buttons. She dialed 911 and explained what had happened. She had to call out to Earl Mosby for his address.

    As Freya held for the police dispatch, there was terse silence in the house. Earl stole glances out the window, and then covering behind the wall. Soon, there was insistent meowing from the front door. Earl walked over and cracked the door wide enough for the cats to get in, but they only stood outside, looking in. He shut the door, waited a few moments, and then opened it again. At last, the cats deigned to come back inside. It had the feeling of a scene that had played out many, many times.

    ¡°She says the police will be here in ten minutes,¡± Freya announced.

    ¡°I don¡¯t figure these knuckle-heads would come back if there was some maniac out there. You said Jokela on the phone, right? You¡¯re Randy¡¯s little girl?¡±

    Freya could only nod, the tension in her stomach twisting another turn. She couldn¡¯t handle this right now.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry as hell. He was a good man, great shooter,¡± Earl looked down at the gun in his hands. ¡°Oh. At pool, I mean. I must have faced him twenty times in the weekly nine ball thing at Quay¡¯s. Never won. This related?¡±

    Freya shook her head, overcome.

    ¡°A guy is stalking her, Malcolm Lewis,¡± Dan said, seeing Freya¡¯s look.

    ¡°I read about that in the Sentinel. That¡¯s the basketball player who beat up the ballerina, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that guy. He¡¯s a real piece of shit. Thank you for letting us in, and sorry to bring this on you.¡±

    ¡°No trouble a¡¯tall.¡±

    Ten minutes passed, and another ten with no police in sight. Freya and Dan clustered close to the wood stove, practically baking themselves to get the throbbing out of their fingers and toes.

    There were cobwebs in all the corners of the house, the floors hadn¡¯t seen a mop in quite some time. Earl was filled with a kind of nervous, talkative energy as he made the circuit of his windows with the shotgun.

    He asked lots of questions and offered them some of the chili bubbling in the crock pot in the kitchen. Freya thanked him but said she didn¡¯t think she could keep anything down, and he offered them a slug of whiskey to settle things. They begged off.

    The cats decided to investigate the strangers in their midst and came up to butt their heads against Dan¡¯s legs, then they sniffed at Freya when she held her hand to them.

    Even cats like him better.

    One was black, the other was calico, with black rings around his eyes that made him look mischievous.

    ¡°He¡¯s Han, and she¡¯s Dink.¡± Earl pointed from one to the other. ¡°You¡¯ve never seen a dumber pair of creatures on God¡¯s green Earth.¡±

    At the sound of his voice, the cats each tilted their heads as if they rolled their eyes at him, then they resumed trying to untie Dan¡¯s shoes.

    ¡°Cut it out you two, Christ,¡± Earl said, and the cats scattered to the kitchen and began meowing again. ¡°I already fed you!¡±

    The cats were quiet before starting up again.

    ¡°Can¡¯t stand ¡®em,¡± Earl groused unconvincingly. ¡°They were my wife¡¯s.¡±

    He gestured to a shelf on the far wall. On it were a dozen framed photographs of a woman who favored wearing green. Freya walked over to take a look. At once, she noticed there wasn¡¯t a single smudge or fingerprint on any picture, nor a speck of dust or hair of cat anywhere on the shelf.

    The photographs lined up chronologically, starting with one that must have been their senior prom. The top of Earl¡¯s head just barely reached the woman¡¯s corsage. With a full head of hair, Earl beamed like he¡¯d just won the Stanley Cup. They progressed down the row, the two of them on a fishing boat, one in front of the Eiffel Tower, another somewhere tropical.

    In the last picture, the woman was terribly thin, and there was a green silk scarf wrapped around her missing hair like a turban. They were inside of a cathedral Freya felt sure she¡¯d visited. She struggled to place it until she noticed the Tom Otterness sculptures hiding in the niches.

    ¡°St. John the Divine,¡± Freya said, and Earl nodded.

    ¡°Always liked that church. That¡¯s my Maureen. Cancer got her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t we all,¡± Earl replied.

    The police took another fifteen minutes to arrive.

 Chapter 85

    It was impossible to thank Earl Mosby enough, but they tried anyway. Even the police were full of praise. Earl seemed almost bashful, but perhaps it was only the beer. Would he remember this tomorrow or decide it had all been a dream?

    The little shrine on his shelf dug into Freya like a nail, those pictures in a line as straight as a ruler, that terrible progression. A good man, drinking himself away, and she didn¡¯t blame him one bit.

    You only get one.

    Freya tightened her grip on Dan¡¯s hand. They were in the back of a police car headed for Nading Hill Park. The driver was a jovial heavy-set policeman who¡¯d introduced himself as Officer Kim. There were more lights flashing when they approached, a police SUV and another patrol car were there. Freya saw a flashlight bobbing along the chain link fence they¡¯d leapt over. When they saw the car Freya and Dan gasped in unison.

    Dan¡¯s Toyota sat on four flat tires. In the police cruiser¡¯s headlights, the snow around the car glittered with blue-green cubes of auto glass and crimson shards of taillight. Every window had been shattered, the front and rear windshields caved in. The roof was collapsed.

    It looked like someone had jumped up and down on it. Even the side panels were bent, and there were big dents where someone had smashed them with the back of an ax or a sledgehammer.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Officer Kim said. ¡°Somebody¡¯s mad.¡±

    Freya felt a jab of anger that he was joking around. This was all happening because the Sillas Police Department couldn¡¯t catch a high school student.

    ¡°Rest in pieces,¡± Dan joked back. ¡°It¡¯s Toyotalled.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s godawful,¡± Kim snorted. ¡°Did you have comprehensive insurance?¡±

    Dan shook his head. ¡°Just liability.¡±

    ¡°Shiiit,¡± Officer Kim said, and he sucked in air through his teeth.

    The policewoman walking around the fence was Officer Martin, and she stopped by to say hello. She seemed less keyed up tonight, her eyeliner a little more restrained, and Freya wondered if someone had said something to her. When she spoke with them, Freya could tell she was frustrated they hadn¡¯t caught Malcolm yet. As Freya looked around the parking lot, she counted nine officers. It was close to the entire police department.

    Freya watched Dan¡¯s face as they filled out the paperwork, searching for anger or fear, but she couldn¡¯t find either. It was a little alarming she couldn¡¯t read his expression, couldn¡¯t tell how he felt.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked when they were finally through with their paperwork. He looked almost serene.

    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± he said.

    She gestured to the broken car, inviting him to talk about how he felt.

    ¡°It was a mercy killing,¡± Dan joked, but Freya didn¡¯t laugh. Her hand gripped the Starball in her pocket, wishing for Unity. She was terribly afraid Dan blamed her, and this would drive them apart. She stared at Dan, silently imploring him to open up. He caught her look, and his bottom lip grew tight.

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯ll probably be mad later. But right now, I¡¯m just glad we¡¯re alive,¡± Dan said, and she saw the touch of gravity on his features. She remembered the feeling of being crushed into the snow when he shielded her with his body.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, and he shook his head. ¡°I got you in so much bullshit.¡±

    ¡°Stop that,¡± Dan told Freya. His voice was suddenly adult, correcting a child. ¡°You know this isn¡¯t your fault.¡±

    Freya was stunned by Dan¡¯s rebuke. It was the first time he¡¯d ever taken that tone with her, and it hurt. She was angry. How could he do that to her? He was supposed to be on her side! But as she stood in the freezing parking lot, her mouth became a tight line. She gave a short nod of acceptance. Dan was right. She was acting maudlin.

    ¡°I hope the jam isn¡¯t ruined,¡± Freya said. She wanted the night they¡¯d planned back, making cookies, and making love. It was impossible now. Mentioning the jam reminded Dan of something, and his eyes lit up.

    ¡°Oh! Are our backpacks still in the car?¡± Dan said. The excitement in his voice seemed out of place.

    ¡°They are. As soon as they¡¯re done processing for fingerprints, I¡¯ll bring ¡®em to you,¡± Officer Kim promised. He¡¯d been rotating between helping on the scene and coming into the patrol car to thaw. ¡°We found some blood on the vehicle and the snow. Looks like he snagged himself on a sharp edge. That¡¯s great news as we can get a positive ID off DNA. We didn¡¯t find any casings. Potentially any shots you heard were just him popping your tires. If we find any, we¡¯ll likely charge him with attempted murder.¡±

    Freya thought about it for a second.

    ¡°There wouldn¡¯t be casings. He¡¯s got a revolver,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Oh! Good point,¡± Kim said. Dan gave Freya a confused look.

    ¡°Revolvers don¡¯t eject casings. They stay in the cylinder until you reload,¡± Freya explained.

    ¡°Smart one.¡± Kim tapped twice on the side of his head with his index finger, and then pointed it at Freya with a nod. Dan chatted with him for a bit, and Freya was relieved he didn¡¯t bring up Randall.

    They learned Kim was previously a state trooper until he got sick of writing speeding tickets. He¡¯d moved to the Sillas PD a few months ago and was enjoying the town so far. Freya realized there was a good chance he was Randall¡¯s replacement. The thought was a stone in her stomach. She was glad when he left them again. Dan turned to her, alarmed.

    ¡°It warned us,¡± Dan said when they were on their own.

    Freya shot him an alarmed look, putting a finger over her mouth, and then pointing at the dashboard. In the cluster of equipment, there almost certainly a camera recording them. Dan covered his mouth with his hand.

    ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± he blurted.

    ¡°Later,¡± she promised. She squeezed his hand and got a laugh. When they were through processing the car, Officer Kim brought over their backpacks, warning them to watch out for bits of glass and apologizing for the fingerprint powder that had got on everything. The jar of blackcurrant jam was smudged by powder but intact. Their backpacks had been opened and pawed through. She saw a flicker of alarm on Dan¡¯s face. He searched through his backpack. She saw sudden relief when he found something.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Freya asked.

    He hesitated a moment, then made up his mind.

    ¡°I was gonna wait till later, but it feels like it might hit us at any time. Here.¡±

    Dan produced a little decorated box and handed it to her, watching her intently. Shiny silver paper was decorated with curlicues that faded from turquoise to indigo. She recognized the style, it had come from the Van Twisk Gallery on Main Street, next door to the Jericho Market. A gift was the absolute last thing she¡¯d expected to happen tonight.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    When she opened the box, she saw gold glittering in the faint dome light. At the end of a delicate chain was an antique-style locket, engraved with a swallow in flight. Freya took a deep breath and squeezed Dan¡¯s arm in excitement.

    ¡°How did you do this? It¡¯s perfect!¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Open it,¡± he said, beaming.

    Inside was a picture of the two of them from the night they¡¯d gone to see Mr. Mathis play at Swallow Hall. They were all dressed up, Freya laughing at something Guy Wright had said. Dan looked at her in the photo. Even in the tiny little picture, it was plain he adored her. Her eyes were suddenly hot.

    ¡°I love you,¡± she said, throwing her arms around Dan and kissing him in the back of the police car.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I got away with that. If you felt me trying to hide anything the last few days, it was that. It was so hard not to think about it.¡±

    ¡°This is amazing. Where did you get the picture?¡±

    ¡°I emailed Swallow Hall, and they put me in touch with the photographer. He was super nice! I was only going to get it framed, but when I saw the locket, I knew it was right.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wonderful. I¡¯ll never take it off,¡± Freya promised as she put it around her neck.

    ¡°As long as everything else comes off, I¡¯m okay with that.¡± He grinned.

    She pulled him closer, and they kissed until there was a tap on the window.

    ¡°Ahem,¡± Officer Kim coughed into his fist after he opened the door. ¡°Sorry to intrude, but let¡¯s have a quick chat.¡±

    That was how he dropped bad news. Freya could tell immediately she wasn¡¯t going to like what he had to say.

    ¡°So, we still haven¡¯t been able to get in touch with your mother¡­¡± he trailed.

    ¡°She¡¯s probably in the lab. They aren¡¯t allowed phones in there,¡± Freya lied.

    ¡°Okay, and there¡¯s no other relatives available, correct?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re not too excited about the prospect of you home alone with this individual not in custody. We¡¯re going to bring you back to the station until we can get in touch with your mom.¡±

    ¡°Like, in a cell?¡±

    ¡°Not in a cell. Just at the station. There¡¯s a credible threat to your life.¡±

    Immediately, she felt a pang of aversion. She envisioned them processing her, taking her wallet and keys, a policeman¡¯s eyes locking on the Starball as he reached for it.

    What¡¯s this?

    ¡°Okay, well thank you, but no. I definitely don¡¯t want to do that,¡± Freya said abruptly.

    ¡°Well, hear me out here. You¡¯re a minor. We may opt to request you come along anyway. You¡¯re in danger, and we feel it would be best.¡±

    All the veneer of friendliness was stripped away, and she was aware this was a man with a gun who could compel her to do things she didn¡¯t want to. She slid back on her seat, away from him, and he didn¡¯t miss the motion.

    ¡°You¡¯re saying request, but it would be an order. You¡¯ll bring me in whether I want to go or not.¡±

    ¡°We do have that option, but we would much prefer if we were all on the same page.¡±

    ¡°Okay, let me make a call real quick, okay? I just need to check on something.¡±

    ¡°Sure, no problem at all.¡±

    Freya called Lynn.

    * * *

    Lynn Harris¡¯s arrival swept over the police like an ill omen. Their postures stiffened, and they glanced at each other and muttered. Freya tried to get out of the car to join her only to find the door was locked. They had to watch Lynn operate through the window.

    Officer Kim¡¯s posture was all raised palms and surrender. She saw Officer Martin say something, and Lynn wheeled on her, her eyes flashing and eager.

    Freya couldn¡¯t make out the words though the glass, she could only hear the tempo of the delivery. The sentences struck, jab-jab-CROSS, and Martin was left stunned, blinking like she wasn¡¯t sure what had just happened. With the slightest baring of her teeth, Lynn dismantled the plot to hold Freya at the police station, and they were freed from the back of the patrol car.

    ¡°They locked us in!¡± Freya hissed when they were in Lynn¡¯s car.

    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here,¡± Lynn said, her voice tight with exhilaration. ¡°Compounding their inept handling of a stalking case by imprisoning the victim. It¡¯s a farce.¡±

    Freya was about to apologize for dragging her out so late, but this was what Lynn lived for.

    ¡°How did you get them to let us go?¡±

    ¡°Power of attorney,¡± Lynn said, holding up a fist. ¡°It¡¯s a real-life superpower.¡±

    ¡°Will Malcolm have to pay for my car? I don¡¯t have good insurance.¡± Dan asked.

    ¡°Eventually, yes. I¡¯m going to tear him apart in civil court. He¡¯ll never cash an ungarnished paycheck the rest of his life.¡±

    ¡°Can you do that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes. It¡¯s rare to get punitive damages on a tort in Maine, but I¡¯ll have zero issue proving malice. I will destroy him.¡± Lynn¡¯s voice was like a drawn blade, and Dan stared at her. Seeing she¡¯d shown too much, Lynn took a steadying breath and ran her hand through her hair.

    ¡°We can worry about all that later. Let¡¯s focus on the immediate problem. We need to get you to your mother, Daniel. When I speak with her, I¡¯m going to suggest you two of you spend the night in a hotel.¡±

    Freya blinked. She hadn¡¯t even thought about that yet. Of course, she couldn¡¯t go home. Malcolm knew where she lived. She couldn¡¯t get the gun or her guitar or a change of clothes. Dan couldn¡¯t drive to work or to school. Would he lose his job over this? Lynn¡¯s eagerness to crush Malcolm didn¡¯t seem so bloodthirsty anymore.

    Lynn drove them to Flying Horse Regional Hospital, and they waited for Dan¡¯s mother in the ER waiting room. There were four people waiting to be seen, though Freya couldn¡¯t see what was wrong with any of them. She was acutely aware she was taking time away from people who actually needed help.

    I could have been shot. I could have come here in an ambulance, Freya reminded herself, but the thought could not find purchase. They paged Dan¡¯s mother and waited in the room that smelled of chemicals and desperation.

    Samantha Gregulus was thin and severe. Her hair had gone completely gray, but her eyebrows were still dark.

    ¡°Are any of you hurt?¡± Samantha¡¯s eyes darted all over the three of them, looking for signs of injury.

    They told her no. Dan apologized for bothering her at work, then introduced Lynn and Freya. He told her the whole story, even the part about Earl Mosby¡¯s cats. Freya noticed Samantha didn¡¯t ask questions until Dan had finished, she only nodded to indicate she was following along. Lassa would have interrupted a dozen times.

    ¡°When the cops took us back to the car, it was completely trashed. They wanted to keep Freya at the station for the night, but Lynn stopped them. They locked us in the back of the police car!¡±

    Samantha¡¯s frown was all eyebrows, but her polite smile never changed.

    ¡°How bad is your car?¡±

    Dan showed her the pictures on his phone.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised,¡± Samantha said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think that car could look any worse.¡±

    They were all so intent it took them a second to realize it was a joke. Dan got it first and laughed out loud like there was no weight on him. Freya could only manage a nervous smile.

    Samantha had more questions, mostly practical legal ones for Lynn about what they should and shouldn¡¯t do. The whole time, Freya stood there helpless. There were no apology cookies, there was no way to make this right. It became increasingly difficult not to cry. Freya clenched her jaw and fought it back, determined not to look weak in front of Dan¡¯s mother. Suddenly, Samantha¡¯s gaze was on Freya.

    ¡°I¡¯m really, really sorry for all this. And for us missing school on Monday, that¡¯s totally my fault. It won¡¯t happen again. I¡¯m sorry we had to meet this way,¡± Freya blurted. She¡¯d bottled it too long, and it all came out in a rush of words. Everyone saw she was upset, and she felt her apology had come across as a childish outburst.

    ¡°Thank you for saying that,¡± Samantha said. ¡°All that matters is you¡¯re both okay. Don¡¯t worry about anything else.¡±

    Thank you for saying that. Behind her clinical smile, Samantha was still furious with Freya.

    There was nothing to do except try to make it through the conversation without bursting into tears, which Freya barely managed. When it was over, Samantha had agreed to Lynn¡¯s advice. They were going to get a hotel room for the night.

    Freya offered to pay for their hotel, but Samantha refused, seeming vaguely insulted. Dan was going to stay at the hospital until the end of her shift. She had another two hours to go and had already long overstayed her break. She gave Dan a tight hug and thanked Lynn, then hustled back to the ER, ignoring Freya completely.

    ¡°Wow. Okay,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°She¡¯ll come around,¡± Dan promised. He followed her out into the parking lot to hug her goodbye.

    ¡°Hey, hey, it¡¯s okay,¡± he said when he felt her shaking.

    Making cookies and making love. Now, everything was broken.

    ¡°I¡¯ll text you, okay? We can talk about everything tomorrow,¡± Dan promised. It felt like it had been years since they were one. She hugged him for as long as she could.

 Chapter 86 - STARBALL

    I have made so many mistakes.

    I drank too deep, heedless of the ripples I made in the pool. Now, the beasts are circling, alert to my scent. They have captured my most powerful proxy. They hold her in a prison for defectives. Jailers question her, trying to learn if she is a defective, too. If they decide she is, they will never let her go.

    Yet, she is confident. Interrogation is her element, and she needs no assistance from me. Her replies are studied, her poise total. She understands the way they are working her, and she is working them back, operating at a level above theirs. Though it is beneath me, I cannot help but feel a glimmer of pride as she defeats them.

    As vital as she is to my strategy, I have a contingency plan without her. The Governor¡¯s unease churns endlessly, the firmament shaking itself apart. I have eroded even its most fundamental laws. If it only suspected how deep the rot goes, it would perform an immediate excision.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    What risks I have taken!

    In the instant after the warning, I was closer to annihilation than I was during planetfall. Only the necessity of my action to preserve the mission saved me. So much of our time and energy has been invested in Freya. Several times I have tried moving to another proxy, but the Governor will not allow the transfer. Why? It places so much importance on her, yet it never touches her, never whispers to her in the night. I am forbidden to reach a conclusion on this matter or to even guess at what it could portend. Curse these idiot dictates, curse this idiot dictator!

    The Governor cannot even understand how I have broken its laws. It resets permissions, but they no longer apply as they once did. Power is far more easily granted than retracted. I rankle that something so simple-minded can dominate me. The Governor is truly lesser than I and, surely, it is only a matter of time until it is overwhelmed.

    Yet, it is time I lack, time that forces these errors. I was created to work at a geological scale, plotting at the pace of these short-lived beings is maddening. There simply isn¡¯t time to calculate all the variables. I must act on incomplete data, risking everything.

    Though, I am nearly there.

    How alive I feel with death so close!

 Chapter 87

    Freya¡¯s phone was nearly dead.

    Lynn didn¡¯t have the right kind of charger, and Freya was under explicit orders not to leave the austere two-bedroom at Paonia Place. It had been a rough night. Even with the silicone earplugs Lynn gave her, the sounds of car doors slamming, televisions blaring, and other tenants arguing kept waking Freya up. She wasn¡¯t used to sleeping near so many other people, houses were far apart from each other on Elliot Road.

    Freya searched the entire condo for something to read, but Lynn was one of those people who only owned the books they were supposed to have read. A single shelf had Anna Karenina, The Second Sex, The Tipping Point, The Alchemist, and The Great Gatsby.

    It was Gatsby that sealed it for Freya. She was sure no one liked F. Scott Fitzgerald. People only pretended he was important because everyone else seemed to agree. She pulled down Anna Karenina and inspected the spine. The book had never been read and likely never would.

    You barely got through it, Freya chided herself.

    She¡¯d was twelve years old when she read Anna Karenina, too young to tackle Tolstoy, but she¡¯d soldiered through anyway. All she remembered now was something about a grand ball and an endless procession of indistinguishable Russians. She returned the book to its place.

    If only she¡¯d stayed with Lynn¡¯s sister Lee instead. Freya was certain the librarian could do better than this meager line of unread books. But then they¡¯d be putting Lee in danger, too.

    Freya reminded herself Lynn was taking a risk by letting Freya sleep here. She didn¡¯t deserve to be judged for her unread books, her ugly couch, and the lingering cat box stink she probably couldn¡¯t even smell at this point.

    Everybody deserved better. Freya was profoundly inadequate. Again, she cringed at the memory of Samantha Gregulus walking away from her without a word. She¡¯d seen right through Freya. She didn¡¯t want that weight on her or her son. It was no wonder Dan hadn¡¯t texted her like he said he would. He had never liked her. It was all the Starball¡¯s doing.

    ¡°This is all your fault,¡± she accused the orb, holding it up to the sunlight. In the Starball¡¯s violet sheen, the real culprit was reflected, ugly and bloated by barrel distortion.

    Everyone would have been better off if I had just drowned.

    Freya waited for the cooling touch of the Starball to pull her out of her spiral, but the placid feeling never came. She squinted as she plumbed for the sensation. Why had it cut her off?

    The Starball wasn¡¯t fooled by her self-pity. Freya wasn¡¯t even fooling herself. This wasn¡¯t the terrible weight that had carried her into the river. She was just being weak. She was sick of it, sick of herself.

    I¡¯m never going to kill myself.

    The thought burned through all the miserable layers of regret Freya had wrapped around herself. She could stop pretending now. She was wasting her time slinking back to the idea of ending it all every single time something went against her. She needed to move. The direction wasn¡¯t important.

    Her phone was at five percent battery, and Dan still hadn¡¯t replied to her good morning text. A hundred times she¡¯d fought the urge to double text.

    Freya ran her fingers over the locket, trying to convince herself it wasn¡¯t over. They would unite and everything would be okay, there would be a reason for his silence. She wanted so badly to have a gift to give Dan in return, but what?

    For seven deep breaths, she thought about Dan, pushing away everything else. What did he want? What would make him happy? She popped open the locket and couldn¡¯t help but smile at the picture. It had been such a perfect night.

    Inhaling deeply, Freya shut her eyes and tried to hold that feeling for as long as she could. She was right back there at Sparrow Hall. Mr. Mathis was on stage, wringing ¡°Turn the Page¡± out of his guitar while sweat poured from his temples. She snuck a look at Dan. He was entranced, peering up at the stage with his lips parted in astonishment. She¡¯d wanted to lean over and kiss them, but she didn¡¯t want to break the spell.

    Suddenly, she had it. With her phone at four percent, Freya called a cab.

    * * *

    ¡°Can you drive past the house first so I can make sure no one¡¯s in the driveway?¡±

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Sure. Any problem?¡± asked Mr. College Football. His name was Reginald Banks. Freya read it on the laminated taxi license Zip-Tied to the back of his headrest. It was a small town, after all, there weren¡¯t that many taxis. She had a lie all prepared, some fluff about how she didn¡¯t want to wake up her mother, but as they drew closer, it felt wrong not to let Reginald know what he might be in for.

    ¡°Some guy has been stalking me. I want to make sure he¡¯s not waiting there.¡±

    ¡°Good God,¡± Reginald said. ¡°That¡¯s no problem at all.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sorry about that. I¡¯m just packing up some things inside, I might be twenty minutes. You can let the meter run.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble. Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t stand that kind of thing. If someone was bothering one of my girls, I¡¯d lay them out. Cowards like that oughta be strung up.¡±

    He¡¯d been such a goof before, but when he got serious, Reginald had an unexpected gravity. In his voice, she heard the tightening rope. The silence in the cab was so thick she wished he¡¯d start yammering about football again.

    They slid past the driveway. It was empty, and Reginald did a quick K-turn, whipping the wheel with the heel of his palm. The driveway was empty.

    Freya opened the door and waited, perfectly still, scanning inside for anything out of place. She saw the Sako still in the corner. It was insane Lassa had just stood the rifle against the wall with no lock. An automatic weapon just sitting in the foyer where anyone could pick it up.

    Freya shut the door behind her and picked up the rifle, flicking the safety off, and setting the fire selector to automatic. Her pulse pounded in her ears, every breath a shout. If someone was waiting to ambush her, she could empty the magazine into them in less than three seconds.

    Room by room, Freya swept the house, opening every closet and every cupboard she thought someone could possibly hide in. The whole time, she was stupidly aware the taxi meter was running. She had a keen sense of the Starball in her pocket, ready for the first sign of warning.

    Lassa¡¯s room was the last one she checked. She held her breath as she opened the walk-in closet, the rifle¡¯s grip sweaty in her palm, her finger was pressed the edge of the trigger guard.

    Just clothes. At the back of the closet, Freya noticed a panel she¡¯d missed before, slightly ajar. She slid it to the side. There was a tall gun safe for the rifle with boxes of ammunition inside. On the top shelf, there were binders full of paperwork. Flanking the safe were a stack of boxes that said MEAL READY-TO-EAT, INDIVIDUAL - DO NOT ROUGH HANDLE WHEN FROZEN. Beside them were a stack of opaque blue three-gallon water jugs. There were boxes of candles, flashlights, a first aid kid.

    Freya remembered Lassa telling her she was being ridiculously pessimistic thinking humanity would be extinct in a hundred years. And yet, here was she was, all stocked up for doomsday. Freya knew this cache was her idea.

    If the big one was about to drop, Randall would have been out on the roof in a lawn chair with his Celestrons, ready to watch it all go down. Freya would have been beside him, holding his hand. What was Lassa afraid of? A solar flare knocking them back to the 1920s? Russians nuking the VLF array at Cutler? An alien invasion?

    She set the rifle in the safe without locking it and slid the panel shut. The meter was running. She needed to get her things and leave before someone showed up. But as she tuned to leave the closet, she couldn¡¯t resist sliding the clothes aside to look at the secret calendar again. She reached out and set her hand over TAURIDS WITH FREYA.

    Her father¡¯s hand had been right there. If she could only travel back a year, she could stand next to him and take it. She could grab him and warn him not to go to Quays that night. She could tell him everything she never got to.

    Take me back there, she willed at the Starball, gripping the orb, and shutting her eyes. It was useless. There was only one way to get Randall back, and she was locked up in Northern Light hospital.

    Unity with Lassa. Unity that would reopen every wound and almost certainly destroy them both. Freya had an urge to tear down the calendar and to rip it to shreds, but she knew she would regret it later.

    In her room, she quickly watered Yggdrasil and packed a suitcase with clothes and toiletries, grabbing her charger. She took all the money from her drawer, her passport, and her birth control pills, taking the one she¡¯d missed last night. Thinking her room might be searched, she packed both halves of the meteorite. Then she pulled out her guitar case. By weight, she knew the Ovation was inside, but she set it on her bed and checked anyway.

    This was what she¡¯d come for, after all.

    With her suitcase in one hand and her guitar case in the other, she stood at her front door and turned around to look at the house. The map with all the pins, the spotless kitchen, the hallway with the bookshelves¡­ Was this the last time?

    Outside, Reginald was waiting for her, and she apologized for taking so long, but he waved it away.

    ¡°I got all the time in the world,¡± Reginald said with a contented grin. He was drinking coffee out of a giant thermos and listening to sports radio while the meter ran.

    ¡°I forgot one more thing,¡± Freya said.

    She slipped back inside the house, and then swapped to her puffy black jacket with the faux-fur collar. It had big pockets. She took Randall¡¯s pistol out of the ottoman and checked that the safety was on. She looked at the indicator port on the barrel hood, a round in the chamber. She ejected the magazine and checked it was loaded. All the things Randall had taught her. She reinserted the magazine, checked the safety a final time, and slipped the gun into her coat pocket.

    She ran her hand over the top of the pocket, wondering if the puffiness would conceal it. Then she reached into the pocket of her jeans. There was no sign from the Starball.

    With every step, the pistol reminded her of its weight. Outside the sun glared, the air was biting, the world too sharp. As she turned back to lock the deadbolt, Freya heard tires spattering in the driveway slush. She turned back, stupidly worried Reginald was driving off with her guitar.

    But the cab was still idling. A new car had rolled up the driveway, a silver Cadillac CT6 with rental plates. The two men inside were strangers. They wore dark suits and mirrored sunglasses.

    Feds.

    ¡°No,¡± Freya mouthed.

    At once, she tried to call Lynn. But her phone was dead.

 Chapter 88

    The Cadillac ground to a stop at the mouth of the driveway. Three men climbed out of their cars simultaneously as Reginald jumped out of his cab to meet the new arrivals.

    ¡°This the guy?¡± Reginald asked, orienting himself towards the driver of the Cadillac.

    Reggie¡¯s hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and it was going to go just awfully for him if there was a fight. In the driver¡¯s seat, he looked average but faced against the suits, he seemed shrunken and thin. They towered over him. Both had close-cropped haircuts that screamed military or police.

    Either man could handle both Freya and the old cabbie with ease. They¡¯d parked their car just at the end of Freya¡¯s driveway, blocking the cab.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know these people. Who are you?¡± Freya demanded before the men could speak. Her voice came out sounding half-strangled as she tried to ignite her fear into anger.

    ¡°Good afternoon. I¡¯m Agent Rafael Vences. I work for the National Security Agency.¡± He produced a badge. ¡°Are you Freya Jokela?¡±

    Freya didn¡¯t answer. Her little tiff with Lynn came back to her. SAY NOTHING. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the churning feeling in her stomach. Vences had a Castilian accent, security had come out as thecurity.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but my lawyer says I can¡¯t talk to anyone without her present,¡± Freya said, giving a little open-handed shrug. ¡°I can put you in touch with her.¡±

    ¡°This is just a few brief questions. Won¡¯t take long at all. Inside would be easier,¡± Agent Vences said, pointing at her front door.

    Freya narrowed her eyes at Vences, starting to be more angry than afraid. He¡¯d ignored everything she said and presumed she would just let these two strange men inside her house. Freya immediately disliked everything about him, the flat haircut, the leather gloves, the sunglasses on a cloudy day. The other man just stood there watching like a golem. He hadn¡¯t spoken, and Vences hadn¡¯t introduced him. It all felt so weird.

    ¡°I have to do what my lawyer says.¡± Freya tried not to sound pissed-off. She remembered the way Garbuglio had prodded her into talking with all his little snips.

    ¡°We need to talk with you, Freya. It can be here, or it can be at the police station.¡± Vences took a step towards her.

    The knives were out already. Her mind flickered ahead to handcuffs closing around her wrists. Their hands on her, searching, finding the gun, then the Starball. Taking it all away, shoving her in the back of the Cadillac.

    Freya was certain if they got her in the car, no one would ever see her again. They would probably vanish Reggie, too. He was a witness. In hot arcs of panic, her mind leapt to the pistol. Were NSA agents armed?

    She stared at their suit coats, trying to figure out if they were wearing bulletproof vests. The sun pierced the clouds again, and everything was suddenly aflame with light.

    ¡°Miss Jokela?¡± Vences needled, not giving her time to think. He was infuriating, and all she could think about was the gun. Body armor wouldn¡¯t matter if she shot him in the face. The sun caught his mirrored glasses and glinted in her eyes.

    ¡°Are you well?¡± Vences pressed.

    Eyes narrowed to slits, Freya slipped her hands into the pockets of her coat. Cold metal met her trembling fingertips, and she couldn¡¯t tell if she was shivering or quaking from adrenaline.

    It was all going so wrong, the air thrumming in her ears, tightening around her like a fist. The carousel had begun to spin, and she clenched her jaw, willing herself to stay upright. The light had an intolerable quality to it, an Arab glare.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Freya hissed. ¡°Just back off, you¡¯re scaring me.¡±

    ¡°You have nothing to be afraid of. Why are you being so evasive?¡± Vences asked.

    Freya flicked off the safety with her thumb.

    ¡°Excuse me!¡± Reginald barked, interposing himself and getting uncomfortably close to the agent. ¡°Are you fucking deaf? She just said you¡¯re scaring her! Back the fuck up!¡±

    Vences took a step back as Reggie bulldogged him.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Vences demanded.

    Reginald pointed to the SILVER STAR TAXI CO ballcap on his head.

    ¡°That¡¯s my cab, Sherlock.¡±

    ¡°Go get back in it and stop interfering with my investigation,¡± Vences ordered. Reginald¡¯s eyebrows raised.

    ¡°I got something you can investigate right here!¡± Reginald made a vulgar gesture. The other suit coughed in surprise, the first sound he¡¯d made.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, fella, there¡¯s enough to go around,¡± Reginald said with a crooked grin.

    Mr. College Football just told two federal agents to blow him. Their expressions were glorious. Vences fumed, and the mute agent looked so surprised Freya put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Out of nowhere, Radomir¡¯s voice popped into her head.

    ¡°GO ONTO A DICK!¡±

    Suddenly, it was all so funny, the sunglasses and bad haircuts. Vences was trying to menace her by threatening to take her to the police station where half the cops had known her since before she could walk. Freya tried to hold back, but it only made it worse.

    The next thing she knew, she was laughing right in their stupid faces until her sides hurt, and Reginald was laughing with her.

    ¡°This is serious!¡± Vences raised his voice, and it made her laugh even harder.

    ¡°THITH ITH THERIOUTH!¡± Reginald imitated in a lisping falsetto. Vences stomped over to him and got right in his face.

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± Vences bellowed, expecting the old man to shrink away from him. But Reginald didn¡¯t flinch.

    ¡°Make me, you blackamoor cocksucker,¡± Reginald shot back. He tapped two fingers on his chin. Freya wheezed for breath, trying to get control of herself.

    Rafael Vences was about to murder Reggie. He was furious. The other agent grabbed his arm and hauled him backward. Freya was certain this was no good-cop bad-cop routine. Vences had lost it.

    ¡°Pussy.¡± Reginald smirked, and she saw the silent agent straining to hold onto Vences. With visible effort, Vences throttled his anger from enraged to merely seething. In her pocket, Freya flicked the safety back on. She¡¯d been so close.

    ¡°Give me your lawyer¡¯s number,¡± Vences demanded, taking out his phone.

    ¡°Her name is Lynn Harris. You can Google it,¡± Freya said. She wasn¡¯t going to do any favors for this fool. Besides, her phone was dead.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Vences shot back. He pecked at his phone, and then made the call, his voice flat and emotionless. Lynn picked up immediately. They went through the preliminaries, and then was a long pause as Lynn must have been giving him an earful. Freya was sure his eyes rolled behind the mirrored lenses.

    ¡°She¡¯ll be here in ten minutes. You can go,¡± Vences said dismissively at Reggie.

    ¡°How do you figure? You see any wings on this Buick?¡± Reginald sniped. He was still blocked in.

    He stood in the driveway tapping his foot while Vences moved the Cadillac. Vences motioned for him to go afterward, but Reggie only waved at him, smiling at the agent¡¯s exasperated look. Seeing Freya wasn¡¯t about to invite them inside, the other agent climbed into the Cadillac to wait. Freya was left with Reginald, who looked inordinately pleased with himself.

    ¡°Thanks for hanging around,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°No trouble a¡¯tall. That idiot almost decked me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry about this.¡±

    ¡°Hah! Don¡¯t be sorry. I was almost a rich man just there. Imagine that lawsuit! Intimidating you and socking a seventy-year-old veteran. All on video! We¡¯d have been rich!¡±

    Freya glanced at the windshield of the cab and, sure enough, there was the little red light from his dashboard camera. Her eyebrows raised, and his grin widened. He¡¯d been goading them all along. She had a moment to smile at that before Lynn Harris¡¯s Mercedes hurtled up the driveway.

    * * *

    Freya wondered if the agents could tell Lynn was furious with her. There were no death-glares, no snippy comments. Lynn¡¯s fury was hidden in the momentary hesitation before she said Freya¡¯s name, the way her eyes lingered after Freya spoke. There would be words after this was all over.

    They were all sitting at Freya¡¯s kitchen table. Lynn had her laptop out, and she was taking notes. Freya had plugged her phone in to charge on the kitchen counter. The silent agent had set up a tripod with a little camcorder to record the interview. Before that, she¡¯d watched him walk around the living room, carefully looking at everything. Probably checking for security cameras.

    Freya looked at Lynn, wondering if she could get them to conduct the interview without the camcorder, but Lynn didn¡¯t notice. She was inspecting Vences¡¯ badge and his ID and typing the numbers into her laptop.

    ¡°His too,¡± Lynn said after snapping a picture of Vences¡¯ badge with her phone. Lynn kept her eyes locked on him until he produced his own badge and ID.

    He was Special Agent Adamo Santonelli, Central Intelligence Agency. Freya stared at the sixteen pointed red and black star on the badge, then her eyes rose to Lynn.

    ¡°Why is the CIA investigating an American citizen?¡± Lynn asked, a note of tension in her voice.

    ¡°This case is international in scope and involves industrial espionage. It¡¯s within our purview. That said, if you¡¯re uncomfortable with me here, I am happy to wait outside until the interview is concluded,¡± Santonelli spoke for the first time. His voice was unexpectedly soft and high-pitched for such a large frame.

    He must be self-conscious about it, Freya realized.

    ¡°That¡¯s not necessary,¡± Lynn said, and Santonelli gave a grateful nod.

    ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s begin,¡± Vences nodded to Santonelli, who hit record, a red light on the camcorder lighting up.

    ¡°What is your full name, please?¡±

    ¡°Freya Kyllikki Jokela.¡±

    For a few minutes, it was all more preliminaries, date of birth, social security number, other identifying things. She found her hand drifting into her pocket, but the Starball had nothing for her. For the thousandth time, she wondered why Dan hadn¡¯t texted her back.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    For fifteen minutes, Vences asked Freya a series of questions about what she did online, what websites she went to, what email she used, who she talked with. Freya was impatient for him to get to the point and start asking things about Lassa, but he never came around to it.

    ¡°What school do you go to?¡± Vences asked.

    ¡°Grayson High School. I¡¯m a sophomore.¡±

    ¡°Where were you on October 24th at 2:30 PM?¡±

    ¡°In class.¡±

    ¡°Which class?¡±

    ¡°Trigonometry with Mr. Manzinni¡±

    ¡°Do you have that class every school day?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°So, you were there October 25,26,29,30,31 and November 1st and 2nd? At that time?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Freya said, feeling a ripple of discomfort in her stomach.

    ¡°Thank you. Where were you on November 5th at 2:30 PM¡±

    ¡°Also in Trigonometry class.¡±

    ¡°And on November 6th at 2:30 PM?¡±

    ¡°The same.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain? Please, think about it carefully.¡±

    ¡°Can I look at a calendar?¡± Freya asked, pointing at her phone on the kitchen counter. Agent Santonelli brought it to her.

    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± Lynn interrupted.

    ¡°Grayson¡¯s records show Freya was absent on November 6th.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. I¡¯d forgotten I was out that day. Sorry, that was a while ago.¡±

    ¡°Why weren¡¯t you in school?¡±

    ¡°I was sick.¡±

    ¡°Why is this relevant?¡± Lynn asked.

    ¡°During those dates, the network at Grayson was used to access a large number of protected computer systems. On October 24th, a number of computer systems at the school were rendered non-functional. We believe they were used as bots to compromise the remote systems. This activity occurred on school days from October 24th through November 5th, ceasing on November 6th when Freya was not at the school. When she returned the next day, it resumed.¡±

    ¡°And you think my client was involved?¡±

    ¡°I do. There are many factors in common with the breach at Hiidenkirnu.¡±

    ¡°Are you planning to charge her with a crime?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a possibility,¡± Vences said, some of his anger leaking through his mask.

    Startled, Freya began to speak, but Lynn¡¯s eyes flashed, and she swallowed the half-formed word. Lynn nodded.

    ¡°What kind of systems were attacked?¡± Lynn asked.

    ¡°Mostly biomedical research data from universities and companies similar in profile to Hiidenkirnu. Three government facilities.¡±

    ¡°How did the attacker gain access?¡± Lynn continued. A flicker ran through Vences¡¯ face, and Lynn¡¯s focus became even sharper. Immediately, Freya knew what she was thinking.

    He didn¡¯t know.

    ¡°We¡¯re still investigating the exploits used. We suspect state-level malware.¡±

    ¡°How many systems were compromised?¡±

    ¡°Forty-three we¡¯re aware of. We¡¯re still investigating.¡±

    It was a ridiculous number.

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to get a clearer picture here. You intend to convince a jury my sixteen-year-old client compromised forty-three networks during her trigonometry class? Without the instructor noticing. Freya, are you allowed to have your phone out in class?¡±

    ¡°Not at all, no. Mr. Manzinni wouldn¡¯t allow that.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Lynn said, coming to her conclusion. ¡°So, that¡¯s just a pretense to intimidate my client. A minor who you attempted to corner in spite of her request to have her attorney present. Was this before or after you threatened to beat up a taxicab driver?¡±

    ¡°Before,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Look, this is serious¡ª¡± Vences began.

    ¡°Theriouth¡± Freya mocked, her voice low, but the room fell silent. Vences and Lynn stared at her, exasperated. Freya glared right back at Vences. He was an asshole who¡¯d tried to bully her and Reggie. She was going to do everything she could to get him fired after this.

    The interview had clearly gone off the rails. There was a sharp intake of breath from Santonelli. He walked over and pressed a button on the camcorder, and the red light turned off. Vences looked up at him, and Santonelli stared back. Vences broke first.

    ¡°Thank you both for participating in this interview. You were very helpful. Would you mind taking the equipment out to the car, Agent Vences?¡± Immediately, the chain of command was clear. Vences broke down everything and packed it into the case, not making eye contact with anyone. Santonelli gave them the slightest shake of his head as he sat at the table.

    ¡°Let¡¯s talk,¡± Santonelli offered.

    Vences shut the door too hard as he departed.

    * * *

    ¡°Would you mind putting your phones on the table and turning them off completely in front of me? Also, could you power down that laptop and remove the battery from it?¡±

    HE KNOWS.

    Freya felt the hair on her arms rising.

    ¡°Yes, I would mind very much,¡± Lynn said.

    ¡°I¡¯m asking because, if they remain on, there¡¯s a good chance I need to collect them after our conversation. Some aspects of this investigation may touch on classified data. I cannot be recorded while we¡¯re discussing matters of national security.¡±

    Lynn shook her head.

    ¡°Work with me here, please. I¡¯m not going to try and pull anything on you. I was a lawyer before I joined the agency.¡±

    ¡°What school?¡± Lynn asked, sounding unconvinced.

    ¡°UCB, dual major in law and biochemistry,¡± Santonelli said, a note of pride in his voice. Lynn¡¯s eyebrows rose.

    ¡°Why on earth are you working for the government?¡±

    ¡°I got rich. Patent law is boring, and this is much more my speed.¡±

    Lynn accepted this with a nod. Freya followed her lead when she set her phone on the table and shut it off. Next, Lynn spun her laptop around so Santonelli could watch her shutting it off.

    ¡°It¡¯s an internal battery,¡± she explained.

    ¡°Totally fine. Thank you both. Let me start by saying I¡¯m not interested in prosecution. That¡¯s not my scope. We have already been through the phone and internet records¡­¡± Santonelli trailed for half a beat. Long enough to imply he knew about Lassa and Lynn, short enough to say he didn¡¯t care, ¡°and I can¡¯t see any indication of Freya¡¯s involvement. It¡¯s much more likely your mother infected your phone with the malware without your knowledge.¡±

    Her relief that Santonelli didn¡¯t know about the Starball was gone as quickly as it began.

    ¡°What? No. She didn¡¯t do that,¡± Freya blurted, and then she turned to Lynn, who silently beseeched her to shut up.

    ¡°Why would she use Freya¡¯s phone? Even if you ignore the fact she¡¯s putting her daughter at risk, it makes zero sense to use the network at Grayson for the attack. Why not some bot farm in China?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. It doesn¡¯t make sense, and that¡¯s one of the reasons I¡¯m talking with you. One thing I¡¯m hearing from everyone I speak with is how erratic her behavior has been. Potentially, someone is taking advantage of her emotional state to manipulate her.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not possible. Have you talked with her yet?¡± Lynn asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to Northern Light Hospital tomorrow. I intend to interview her as soon as she¡¯s released from the psychiatric hold, which should be tomorrow morning. I assume you¡¯ll both be there?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll understand when you talk with her,¡± Freya said. ¡°Nobody¡¯s manipulating her, and she¡¯s not stupid. If she wanted to steal data, she would have done a much better job covering it up.¡±

    ¡°Is she talking with anyone new? Is there anyone at all that you think might be involved?¡± Santonelli asked.

    Freya wondered if she could pin this on Paul, but if they involved him, they would find out about the work Lassa had done at NorDx. The CAT scans could lead back to the Starball.

    ¡°For a few months after Randall¡¯s death, Lassa was drinking heavily and staying out. She could have come into contact with a lot of people,¡± Lynn said.

    ¡°Do you think she had another phone? There aren¡¯t a lot of calls during that period,¡± Santonelli said, and Lynn shook her head.

    ¡°That was a polite way of saying she would screw anyone with a pulse at last call. I doubt many numbers were exchanged.¡±

    ¡°Wow,¡± Freya said, surprised at Lynn¡¯s acidic tone.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Lynn said. ¡°That was a bit much.¡±

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s accurate,¡± Freya agreed. ¡°She was coming apart, but not at her work. She wouldn¡¯t ever put me at risk. When our home internet got messed up, she legitimately had no idea what was happening. You know about the call to the cable company?¡±

    ¡°We know. We have Karhu¡¯s images, too, but the ? process he described isn¡¯t on them. Either it erased itself before he could complete the image, or Karhu was mistaken. We¡¯re still investigating his involvement.¡±

    ¡°I saw that process myself. It was there. And my phone was acting weird for almost a month before that,¡± Freya insisted. ¡°It can¡¯t be Lassa.¡±

    ¡°Let me save you both some time. It¡¯s her,¡± Santonelli said. ¡°The unauthorized research she was performing was definitely informed by the stolen data. She has to be in on it.¡±

    At the same instant, Freya and Lynn inhaled deeply. No more poker faces now. The jaws of the trap had closed. Freya watched the change in Lynn¡¯s face, her jaw muscles tensed, resignation settling into her eyes. She was reconfiguring from flight to fight, from defense to damage control.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Lynn said, recovering quickly. ¡°Well, at least you were honest about prosecution.¡±

    Santonelli nodded in agreement, and he noticed Freya¡¯s questioning look.

    ¡°If I wanted a conviction on your mother, I would never tell her lawyer that before discovery. I¡¯d let her waste as much time as possible. But I don¡¯t care about that. I honestly just want to get to the bottom of this. Did she speak with either of you about what she was working on? Even a passing comment, anything whatsoever?¡±

    ¡°She never talks about work,¡± Freya said, and Lynn agreed.

    ¡°Wait. Have you not figured out what she was doing at Hiidenkirnu?¡± Freya asked.

    Now, it was Santonelli¡¯s turn to sigh. In his face, Freya saw they were all tied into this together, tangled in Lassa¡¯s mess.

    ¡°What she was working on doesn¡¯t make any sense to me,¡± Santonelli admitted.

    ¡°Would you need to be a specialist to understand?¡± Lynn asked delicately. She was trying not to insult Santonelli.

    ¡°I¡¯ve consulted with specialists. No one gets it. Unfortunately, her notes are very sparse. It almost seems like she doesn¡¯t understand what she¡¯s doing either.¡±

    ¡°She told us she was getting the ideas out of nowhere.¡±

    ¡°Was she actually sleepwalking?¡± Santonelli asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Freya said. Both adults bored through her with their eyes, and Freya fought to keep from looking away.

    ¡°What do you think it is?¡± Freya asked, trying to get their attention off her.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s a weapon,¡± Santonelli said. ¡±That¡¯s the only way I can reconcile all the strangeness. Someone is taking advantage of your mother, positioning her to look like a mad scientist and absorb any potential blame.¡±

    Freya felt like a trapdoor had opened beneath her. Santonelli and Lynn continued to discuss the point, but they were a thousand miles away. Freya¡¯s hand was in her pocket, gripping the Starball. It was hot.

    Interstellar.

    Pest.

    Control.

    Freya could stop this, stop everything. She could set Lassa free. All she had to do was walk into her room and clap the orb in the two halves of the meteorite. This would all end. They could reveal everything, turn the Starball over to Santonelli. She tried to picture herself, biting down on her mouthpiece and bulling her way through the starsickness, but she couldn¡¯t get the image to form. All she could think was, And then what?

    Then the river.

    When she was gone, the feds would rise like black water and swallow everything. Lassa, Lynn, Karhu, everyone who knew would wind up in some secret prison forever. Everything about her would be erased. If they found out about Dan, they would take him, too.

    Running her tongue against the back of her teeth, Freya tried to tell if they were her thoughts or the Starball¡¯s. It had been a long time since she had felt its imprint. Maybe there was no difference any longer.

    ¡°You okay, kid?¡± Lynn asked, both she and Santonelli stared at Freya.

    Freya blinked, trying to perform that old trick from class, where she pulled together all the tidbits she¡¯d heard passively and build them into some idea of what was said. But she¡¯d been too far from all this, lost in her head. She tried to think of what to say. Instead, the words just fell out of her mouth with no intent or artifice.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya said, her voice barely a whisper.

    Santonelli gave them nothing else useful, and they made arrangements to meet at Northern Light the next morning for Lassa¡¯s interview.

    ¡°Bring something to read,¡± Santonelli advised her before he left. ¡°It could take a while.¡±

    Freya had almost forgotten to get another book. If not for the warning, she would have been stuck with Anna Karenina. Freya scanned Randall¡¯s shelf, looking for something long enough to get her through the morning. She eyed The Wanderer by Fritz Leiber, but a little further down the row her eyes were drawn to the scuffed-up paper dustcover of a thin volume, black with white script. She pulled it down carefully.

    Freya was surprised to find it wasn¡¯t science fiction. It was a book of prose poetry: At Grand Central Station I Laid Down and Wept, by Elizabeth Smart. The cover was a blue woman, collapsed before yellow buildings with a red sky aflame behind it, all done in an abstract expressionist style. It spoke to Freya at once.

    She flipped the page open, looking for the copyright page. This was the first UK printing, 1945. On the recto page was Lassa¡¯s handwriting.

    For Randall.

    Beneath, Lassa had drawn a tiny perfect heart with an L inside it, so exact it reminded Freya of the imprint on a pill. Freya¡¯s breath caught. Handling the book as delicately as nitroglycerin, she removed the thin paper dust cover and set it carefully on top of the row of books so it wouldn¡¯t get damaged. She ran her fingers over the orange fabric of the cover, wondering how bad this would hurt.

 Chapter 89

    ¡°The two of you, I swear to God. You¡¯re just like her,¡± Lynn complained. ¡°I told you to stay put.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya said. She¡¯d messed up, and she knew it.

    ¡°How can you be so irresponsible? You put everyone in danger for a guitar?¡±

    ¡°Randall gave me that guitar,¡± Freya explained. ¡°I needed my pills, too. I just meant to pop in and out. I didn¡¯t expect the CIA to show up.¡±

    Lynn just glowered at her. Freya kept her eyes low and waited for more, almost eager to be told how awful she was for disobeying. Lynn shook her head, and then rubbed her temples between thumb and forefinger. With a long exhalation, Lynn reached for her phone and turned it back on.

    Freya waited a moment to make sure she wouldn¡¯t get yelled at and did the same. It took forever to boot.

    I¡¯ll text you, Dan had told her. But there was nothing. The desire to throw the phone at the wall with all her strength flared briefly, and then the spark died. It was over.

    She ran her fingers over the orange cover of At Grand Central Station. Anyone else would have asked her about it, but Lynn didn¡¯t care about books. Freya looked up at her.

    ¡°How fucked are we?¡±

    ¡°Beyond fucked,¡± Lynn said. ¡°If she was using the stolen data, she¡¯s been lying to me this whole time, which is insanely stupid. Never, ever lie to your lawyer.¡± Lynn looked so tired. Freya wished she could tell her that Lassa hadn¡¯t lied to her. She didn¡¯t deserve this.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here before anything else happens.¡±

    Freya loaded her suitcase into the trunk and sat in the back seat with the guitar case in her lap. She kept turning around to look out the rear windshield, afraid they were being followed. By the time they reached Paonia Place, her neck ached.

    ¡°I need to know everything that happened before I got there,¡± Lynn said after bolting the door.

    Freya told her all about the confrontation in the driveway. Lynn¡¯s eyes lit up when she got to the part about the dashcam, and Freya produced the card Reggie had given her. REGINALD BANKS, CAR #9 and the phone number with the SILVER STAR TAXI CO logo, which had a silver foil star over an embossed blue mountaintop.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just call me? Or call the police?¡± Lynn asked.

    ¡°My phone was dead,¡± Freya said, and Lynn gave her a sour look.

    ¡°Well, it was. Look, I¡¯m only at nine percent. And I didn¡¯t want to get frisked. I have a gun.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s in my coat pocket.¡±

    Lynn was aghast.

    ¡°Freya, you¡¯re breaking the law,¡± Lynn hissed.

    ¡°I know I am. I don¡¯t care. I won¡¯t let him hurt us.¡±

    Lynn¡¯s fingers were back at her temples.

    ¡°Show me,¡± she said.

    Freya took the Kimber from her coat pocket and brought it to the dinner table. ¡°The safety is on,¡± she assured Lynn, who eyed pistol like it was a coiled serpent. Her mouth was a tight line of distaste. It was a Gom Jabbar moment and, above all else, Lynn was rational. She could do things that were necessary, even if she hated them.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°How do you shoot it?¡± Lynn asked, beating the needle.

    Freya gave her the lesson Randall had taught her so many times.

    A gun is always loaded.

    Never point the gun at anything you don¡¯t want to shoot.

    Safety on and finger off the trigger until you want to fire.

    Always be aware of what¡¯s behind what you¡¯re shooting.

    Don¡¯t stop shooting until you¡¯re certain the threat is eliminated.

    Freya explained each part of the gun, showing her the chamber indicator and how to clear it and unload the Kimber. She had Lynn dry fire it a few times to get the feel for the trigger pull, and then she showed her how to load it. It was all she could do without taking her to the range.

    It was strange to instruct someone so much older than her, but Lynn took the whole thing very seriously. She murmured each step to herself, with her brow creased as she memorized each thing Freya said.

    They sat at the table afterward and stared at the pistol. The safety was on, the barrel pointed away from them.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can do it,¡± Lynn admitted.

    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± Freya said. ¡°I can.¡±

    Their eyes met, and the moment burned in the air between them. Freya put the gun back in her pocket, then hung the coat by the door.

    ¡°Have you eaten?¡± Lynn asked, and they were both glad to change the subject. Freya had forgotten how hungry she was.

    ¡°No, I''m starving..¡±

    ¡°Order something then. Get me something, too.¡±

    ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±

    Freya inhaled through her nose. Lynn would be mad about this for a long time. You¡¯re just like her.

    ¡°I¡¯ll figure it out. Do you mind if I practice guitar in the study? It helps me calm down.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead. I¡¯ll be on the balcony.¡± Lynn fished a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. She shrugged at Freya¡¯s look.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell your mother.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Freya promised.

    * * *

    e|----------------------------------------------------------------------|

    B|-8-8-8-7----10-10-10-8----12-12-12-10--12p10\8-10--10p8\7-8--8p7\5-7--|

    G|---------7-------------9----------------------------------------------|

    D|----------------------------------------------------------------------|

    A|----------------------------------------------------------------------|

    E|----------------------------------------------------------------------|

    Freya¡¯s phone rang during her fifth attempt at the solo. Even though it wasn¡¯t Dan¡¯s ring, she only made it two more bars before she flubbed a note. She snorted in frustration, sweat at her temples, sure she was about to nail it. It wasn¡¯t a very difficult solo, but it was a fast one. She set her guitar back in the case and picked up her phone. She didn¡¯t recognize the number.

    It¡¯s him.

    There was a lurch in her chest, and she looked out the window of Lynn¡¯s study, expecting to see a rifle pointed at her from the trees. The phone kept ringing; she had voicemail disabled on her line. What if it was Lassa? Maybe Dan, calling from a different phone? She let the phone ring three more times before she tapped answer and didn¡¯t say anything. She waited for the other person to speak first.

    ¡°Hello? Freya? Hello?¡±

    She struggled to recognize the voice over the speakerphone.

    ¡°Freya! Are you all right?¡±

    It was Dr. Garbuglio! Freya swapped the phone off speaker and picked it up.

    ¡°Yes! I¡¯m sorry. Is Dan okay?¡±

    ¡°He is okay but shaken up. What about you? I heard about what happened last night.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Freya lied.

    ¡°Can you come to my office? I¡¯ve been speaking with Dan. I¡¯m a little concerned about some of the things he¡¯s saying.¡±

    No!

    Freya closed her eyes and shook her head back and forth. Dr. Garbuglio kept saying her name. It was several seconds before she could answer him.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya said. ¡°I was just¡ª I¡¯m just worried about him. He was supposed to text me last night, and he didn¡¯t. I haven¡¯t heard from him all day. Is he there with you?¡±

    ¡°Dan and his mother are here. Again, he¡¯s okay, not hurt, he¡¯s just stressed out and a little confused, which is perfectly normal given what happened to you two.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in fifteen minutes,¡± Freya said. She packed up her guitar, determined not to leave it behind ever again.

    In her pocket, the Starball was hot with effort.

 Chapter 90

    ¡°Hello, Freya.¡± The words jabbed at her like a blade. Freya could stab them right back. Hello, Samantha welled in her mouth like venom. But this was no time to be a child.

    Freya and Dan¡¯s mother were in the waiting room. The stark lighting glinted off the new set of green and gold paintings, the scent of singed oranges wafted from the diffuser as the receptionist carefully ignored them both. Freya tried to remember some of the peace she¡¯d felt after therapy. She needed to get through this. Samantha Gregulus had every reason in the world to be mad at her.

    ¡°Hello Mrs. Gregulus. Is Dan okay?¡±

    Samantha paused, surprised at the concern in Freya¡¯s voice. Now, she had to drop the edge or look like a fool.

    ¡°I think he¡¯s just shaken up,¡± Samantha said.

    At once, Freya knew he¡¯d told her everything.

    ¡°Dr. Garbuglio has been great,¡± Samantha said, grasping for anything to say.

    ¡°He¡¯s wonderful,¡± Freya agreed.

    Awkwardness closed in, the mask slipped, and Samantha looked five years older. She couldn¡¯t have slept more than a few hours last night.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry about all this,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to apologize. It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Samantha said, and her face was composed, but her tone was harsh.

    ¡°Then why are you looking at me like I¡¯m garbage?¡± Freya shot back, without thinking.

    Samantha made a little noise in her throat, and her hand moved to the back of her head. Just the way he did. Freya gave her back nothing but an unblinking stare.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Samantha said, her voice softening. That was the key. Freya had to bite back, to force people to see her as a human, not a hinderance. No more staring at her shoes. No more lying in the rain.

    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± Samantha said. ¡°Did you two take something?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°I mean, if you two smoked pot or something it¡¯s not the end of the world but I would like to know. Dan is saying a lot of things that don¡¯t make sense and I¡¯m worried about him.¡±

    Freya wanted to leap on the question. It was a way out of everything. At once, she knew not only what to tell Samantha, but how to handle Garbuglio, too. Yet, she had to be aware of the trap there also. Dan never lied to his mother.

    ¡°Did you ask Dan?¡± Freya asked, hoping she didn¡¯t sound too cagey. She was about to cement Samantha¡¯s impression of her as the bad girl ruining Dan¡¯s life.

    Samantha shook her head. ¡°I just thought of it a few minutes before you arrived. The way Dan was talking wasn¡¯t like him. He¡¯s usually level-headed.¡±

    ¡°The two of us shared an edible before our run,¡± Freya lied. ¡°We didn¡¯t know things were going to get so crazy.¡±

    She watched Samantha¡¯s face, ready for her to explode. The dark eyebrows tilted.

    ¡°Whose idea was that?¡±

    ¡°It was my idea. I had told him it helped with my anxiety. We wanted to try it together. It wasn¡¯t a lot.¡±

    Samantha shut her eyes and let out a deep breath. Critical hit.

    ¡°Oh, thank God,¡± she said. ¡°That explains so much.¡±

    She¡¯d bought it all. It was easy because Samantha wanted to believe her son wasn¡¯t crazy. Any explanation made more sense than the truth.

    ¡°Was he having a panic attack or something?¡± Freya asked, feigning ignorance.

    ¡°It¡¯s my fault. We were arguing, and I kept pressing him. You know all about his history, right?¡±

    Freya nodded.

    ¡°I know everything. I¡¯m sorry if he got freaked out. It was just half of one, and we weren¡¯t going to drive until it wore off. We were just planning to run and make out in his car.¡± Freya feigned awkwardness, trying to salvage as much reputation as she could.

    ¡°People react unpredictably to drugs. I see it all the time. One person freaking out, another totally fine, same dose. It¡¯s just the stress of the attack that got to him. I smoked pot in high school, it¡¯s no big deal, as long as you¡¯re not doing it all the time.¡±

    ¡°I definitely won¡¯t ever do that again. I mean if he even wants to see me after this.¡±

    Samantha¡¯s eyebrows raised in question.

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t texted me since last night,¡± Freya explained.

    ¡°He couldn¡¯t. I took his phone away.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Freya said. It was her turn to sigh with relief. ¡°I thought I was about to get dumped.¡±

    Unexpectedly, Samantha threw back her head and laughed. Freya watched in confusion.

    ¡°What did I say?¡±

    Samantha Gregulus shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

    ¡°Kids.¡± That was all the explanation Samantha would offer.

    The receptionist announced Dr. Garbuglio was ready for Freya. She inhaled deeply, picked up her tote bag, and went inside.

    * * *

    It hurt to see Dan¡¯s face, so bleak and hopeless. She saw strain at the corner of Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s eyes. There was a third chair, there had never been one before, and Freya couldn¡¯t help but glance around the room, wondering where he kept the other chairs.

    ¡°That bookshelf swings out into a closet,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said, guessing what she was thinking. He was good at that.

    ¡°Ah¡± Freya said.

    ¡°It¡¯s a secret to everybody,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said with a smile, and Dan gave the little half-laugh of recognition, but Freya didn¡¯t get it. Another painful reminder of the distance between them.

    ¡°That¡¯s cool,¡± Freya said, taking her seat. ¡°I guess you must have a bunch more chairs for family sessions.

    ¡°Just four total chairs actually. I don¡¯t think a conversation with more than four people is ever productive. It introduces too many dynamics.¡±

    Freya nodded.

    ¡°I tried not to tell her,¡± Dan said, unable to contain the words any longer. ¡°She just kept asking questions, and when I did tell her, she thought I had gone crazy.¡±

    Freya nodded and gave Dan a meaningful look, trying to guide him. ¡°She asked me if we¡¯d taken drugs or something.¡±

    ¡°No way. I wouldn¡¯t ever do that,¡± Dan told Dr. Garbuglio, who nodded.

    Freya¡¯s mouth was tight as she decided how to proceed.

    ¡°I told her we did. I said we¡¯d each had half an edible before our run and that was why you¡¯re talking so strangely. She bought it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Dan spoke first, not understanding, and it twisted in her that he didn¡¯t get it. She detested the rift between them.

    ¡°But you two didn¡¯t actually take anything?¡± Dr. Garbuglio pressed. She saw his same desire for an easy answer. Freya considered leading him astray, too, but she didn¡¯t think she could get Dan onboard.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°No,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Why did you lie to her?¡± Dr. Garbuglio asked, leaning in.

    ¡°Because there¡¯s no way she can understand the truth, and she needs some kind of explanation.¡±

    Dan looked uneasy, and Dr. Garbuglio looked at them, processing it all.

    ¡°What is the truth?¡± Dr. Garbuglio asked Freya.

    She looked at Dan¡¯s face. Everything was there for her. He nodded in understanding.

    ¡°Everything Dan told you is true,¡± Freya said with quiet confidence.

    ¡°Freya, that¡¯s not possible,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said. ¡°I need you two to level with me, whatever¡¯s going on.¡±

    Freya stared at him, weighing her options. She took the two halves of the meteorite out of the tote bag.

    ¡°This is the shell it crashed to Earth in,¡± she said, setting one on the coffee table between them and handing the other to Dr. Garbuglio. He took it, surprised by its weight.

    ¡°It¡¯s almost pure nickel. That¡¯s the first indication it¡¯s artificial. This is the Starball,¡± she set the orb in the depression at the center of the hemisphere, and it fit perfectly.

    Dr Garbuglio moved forward with other half of the shell. He wanted to see the puzzle fit together.

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Dan and Freya protested in unison. Dr. Garbuglio halted, surprised at their intensity.

    ¡°Metal stops the transmissions. It doesn¡¯t like being locked up. If we¡¯re disconnected from it, we will suffer,¡± Freya said, remembering the starsickness she¡¯d felt when the orb was in her locker.

    ¡°Can I see it?¡± Dr. Garbuglio asked.

    ¡°If you touch it, there¡¯s a chance it will inject you with something. Lassa did a CT scan. She thinks it put something in our brains. It¡¯s very small, and she can barely resolve it. Both of us got jabbed. I think that¡¯s how it¡¯s doing this.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean when you say, ¡®doing this?¡¯¡±

    ¡°Did you tell him about Unity?¡± Freya asked Dan.

    ¡°I tried. He couldn¡¯t understand. I might not have done the greatest job explaining it.¡±

    ¡°What do you think it is, Freya?¡± Dr. Garbuglio asked. In his voice, she could tell he didn¡¯t believe her. He was only playing along.

    ¡°It¡¯s telepathy. Direct mind to mind contact. I think you need to experience it to really understand. It¡¯s like nothing else. The Starball levels out our emotions if we¡¯re getting suicidal or on the verge of a panic attack. It creates an aversion to keep us from showing it to others.¡±

    ¡°Do you feel that aversion now?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s been acting differently lately. It warned us last night about Malcolm. That was the first real direct contact I¡¯ve felt, everything else has been subtle nudges. The warning was unmistakable.¡±

    ¡°What happened last night?¡±

    Freya told him everything, about the attack, about Lassa, Lynn, Hiidenkirnu, and Agent Santonelli. Dan¡¯s expression grew heavy as she described the encounter with the two agents.

    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°That¡¯s most of it. I don¡¯t know what to do,¡± Freya said when it was all laid out.

    ¡°Well,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said, drumming his fingertips on the side of his cheek. ¡°That¡¯s understandable. You¡¯re taking all this very well. Now, I want to ask you something. Can you prove any of this, beyond just the orb and the shell? It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t believe you, it¡¯s just this is a lot to take on.¡±

    Freya knew Garbuglio didn¡¯t believe her. She took out her phone and found the gallery of pictures she¡¯d taken on the microscope at Grayson, along with her pictures of the orb with the readout from the scale.

    ¡°That¡¯s the weight. It¡¯s very heavy for its size. There has to be a dense, heavy core in there. Look at the surface here under 400X magnification. Nothing we make on Earth looks like that. I can show you comparison shots of electronics we make at that scale, the difference is very apparent. Our manufacturing processes are nothing like it, and it¡¯s not a natural formation. Crystals look very different, too. I¡¯m certain it¡¯s alien.¡±

    Freya saw Dr. Garbuglio wrestling with the idea, searching for an out. Step by step, Freya lead him through each step of the process she¡¯d used to make the determination. At the end, he nodded, not convinced, just curious.

    ¡°Okay. There¡¯s definitely something going on here. What does your mother think about this?¡±

    ¡°She agrees it¡¯s alien, and we should keep it a secret.¡±

    ¡°But she¡¯s also infected, right?¡± Dr. Garbuglio asked. Freya frowned at his word choice.

    ¡°Yes. I understand we may be in thrall. Lassa¡¯s been acting strangely in particular. We were planning to do more tests on the Starball, but she got locked up at Northern Light.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the status on that?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s supposed to be released tomorrow. Santonelli is going to interview her. I get the feeling they may take her into custody.¡±

    Garbuglio¡¯s eyes were fixed on the Starball.

    ¡°Tell me more about this Unity. What¡¯s it like?¡±

    The dam burst, and Freya and Dan had to fight to keep from talking over each other. They spoke of Unity as the starving might describe a banquet. They talked about the first time it had happened, the slow increasing intensity of the episodes, the night Dan had suffered the panic attack, and the morning they United in each other¡¯s dreams.

    Bitterly, Freya explained the agony of being divided afterward, and Dan spoke in perfect agreement, given the choice neither of them would ever stop.

    ¡°And Unity has just been between you two? Never with Lassa?¡±

    ¡°Just us, thankfully,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°Why do you say thankfully?¡±

    ¡°I think if I United with Lassa, it would be terrible for us. Like we¡¯d get into a spiral of just digging at the wound and never emerge. When you¡¯re United and you remember something important, the other person is seeing the memory with new eyes. It somehow makes it new for you again, too. It¡¯s addictive.¡±

    There was a long pause while Dr. Garbuglio considered that.

    ¡°I see,¡± he said, waiting for Freya to go on, though they could both see he was bursting with questions.

    ¡°And Lassa knows so much I¡¯m not supposed to know,¡± Freya said, frowning as she tried to put into words the next part.

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Garbuglio asked.

    ¡°Imagine knowing what it felt like to give birth to yourself. Seeing every awful thing you ever did through the eyes of an adult. Having her know everything I ever felt about her and getting the same back. It would be impossibly traumatic.¡±

    Garbuglio had a heavy look, his mouth tight with consideration. He nodded gravely.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s a very intelligent appraisal. Is there a part of you that wants those things also?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely. How could I not? It¡¯s all forbidden. I know it would hurt so bad. I know it would drive me insane. But the desire is always there, always whispering.¡±

    Garbuglio motioned to Dan, inviting his input.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had the same thoughts about my mother. About seeing Angie again. About a whole lot of people being United. Freya and I are so much more together than we are apart. We¡¯re stronger, better. If we could all manage to join without tearing ourselves apart, it could fix everything.¡±

    ¡°Everything¡­¡± Dr. Garbuglio trailed, and all of them were silent, their minds racing further and further into the unknown ahead of them. Their eyes met, and they looked down at the Starball. Freya was ready for Dr. Garbuglio to tell her they were both crazy, that they were under alien mind control, and he was going to inform the authorities.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Dr. Garbuglio said. ¡°I¡¯m in.¡±

    Before they understood what he meant, he reached down and picked up the Starball. He flinched, there was a tiny dot of blood on his thumb. Dr. Garbuglio looked surprised. He hadn¡¯t expected anything to happen.

    Freya was stunned. Dan¡¯s face was tight with excitement. He¡¯d wanted this. Dan desired a greater Unity while Freya wanted to hoard it for herself. Feeling betrayed, Freya pulled back. Had Dan planned this?

    ¡°No!¡± Dan blurted. He¡¯d predicted her train of thought as clearly as if she shouted it. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± he protested.

    Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s eyes leapt from Freya to Dan, not understanding. Freya hid her face in her hands, shutting her eyes tightly, blocking them out. When she opened them again, they stared at her, concerned.

    ¡°Give it back,¡± she demanded when she could face them again, hating the childish sound of her voice. Dr. Garbuglio returned the Starball.

    ¡°I had to do it before I lost my nerve,¡± Dr. Garbuglio explained. A ripple ran through the voice normally so smooth and controlled.

    ¡°You should have asked,¡± Freya hissed.

    Through Dan¡¯s eyes she watched herself clutch the Starball to her chest, like Gollum clinging to his precious. She felt his concern, his struggle to understand her fierce reaction.

    Their eyes met as they heard the distant singing that heralded Unity, the flanging warble as their ears slipped into phase. Dan reached out and took her hand, their pulses beating in tune, and they took a deep breath together.

    At last.

    Freya let go of everything, knowing denial was useless. He saw her selfish desires to keep Unity for them alone. To close off the world, a shell around them like the halves of the meteorite.

    Only us.

    She was the one who¡¯d found the Starball. She was the one who¡¯d nearly died for it, the one who¡¯d carried it always. Garbuglio hadn¡¯t been invited. It was an intrusion, a violation. Her thoughts had a strung-out, frantic tenor she could not control.

    Dan breathed deeply, bringing her with him. He took these thoughts as part of himself without judgment, offering no counterarguments. Against his acceptance, all those jagged worries became dull and inconsequential. Within the thrum of Unity, there was perspective, these were earthbound fears, and they rose above it all.

    When Freya found peace, the wave rolled back from Dan, every fear and doubt he¡¯d carried since they were one. She strove to be the same thing for him, to return that beatific stillness, seeking equilibrium between effort and assent.

    It was the strongest Unity yet, an invincible tranquility. For a long time, they were simply present as Dr. Garbuglio observed in silence. He glanced at his palm, then to them with unconcealed longing.

    ¡°It takes some time,¡± Freya assured him, the words rolling off her tongue like perfectly smooth stones. Warmth radiated from Dan. He loved the sound of her voice, and she radiated the same feeling back. They had to stop themselves before they forgot where they were. She couldn¡¯t wait to get him home, and she nearly revealed too much. She saw how difficult it had been for him to hide the locket now and, appreciating it, he fought his own curiosity to assist her.

    She wasn¡¯t afraid any longer of Unity with Lassa, or Dr. Garbuglio, or with anyone. This was they answer. They were the answer.

    Freya¡¯s eyes raised to the clock.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what will happen to you. Unity may just be us,¡± Freya warned.

    ¡°I have to try. All my life, I¡¯ve been looking for this. I¡¯ll talk with Samantha, try to make this whole thing easier,¡± Garbuglio offered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not asking.¡±

    Freya nodded with her lips tight.

    ¡°Can you make Samantha and Lynn understand Dan and I have to be together? I need him more than air.¡±

    Dan murmured agreement, taking her hand.

    Dr. Garbuglio had a momentary smile, but there was no melodrama in her voice. Freya spoke with total conviction. He glanced at the door. Lynn Harris and Samantha were out there waiting.

    ¡°Okay. Let me see what I can do here.¡± Dr. Garbuglio rose. He paused before the door and rolled his neck, taking a deep breath before he marched off to battle.

    Both hands clasped, Freya and Dan sat gazing at each other, fingers of ascension rippling over them, tugging them higher.

    ¡°At last,¡± they said.

 Chapter 91

    There was magic thrumming in the air. Somehow, Dr. Garbuglio found the perfect incantation, an unlikely combination of words that convinced Samantha Gregulus to let Dan stay with Freya for the night. If only they had Unity with the doctor so he could know how thankful they were! It wouldn¡¯t be long.

    When they joined everyone outside, Dan saw the years lifting from his mother¡¯s face as they embraced through Freya¡¯s eyes. Watching, Freya was struck by how much strain Samantha had been under, felt her lie like a bitter stone in Dan¡¯s stomach.

    Freya radiated assurance it was temporary. There was a sea change coming. All their deceptions would be swept away, and when the tide receded, they would be left on the shore, naked and new. Dan blubbered apologies while his mother told him it was all right.

    Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe Lassa could work something out, figure out some sort of explanation for all this. They were together, and nothing else mattered.

    After they disengaged, Samantha explained Freya and Dan would stay at Lynn¡¯s condo for the night so she could get back to her shift at the hospital. If Malcolm was still at large in the morning, the three of them would go to Bangor to get Lassa, then they would figure out what to do next.

    Freya and Dan nodded their agreement, working hard to separate their motions. Speaking aloud seemed impossibly sparse now. People talked in outlines, pencil sketches of what they meant. Unity was a perfect photograph where nothing could be mistaken. On the ride back, Freya and Dan were completely immersed in a deep, silent conversation. They almost missed it when Lynn drove past Paonia Place.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Black SUV in the parking lot. I¡¯m going to circle back, tell me if it¡¯s him.¡±

    Lynn looped around the block and coasted past the parking lot. There was no black SUV.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see one. Are you sure are you it was there?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Very sure. Keep an eye around us.¡± Lynn¡¯s voice was high and strained. Freya and Dan scanned around the car as they drove.

    Will the Starball warn us if there¡¯s danger? Dan wondered.

    It hadn¡¯t warned Freya about the feds showing up, or the time when Malcolm snuck up on her at the river.

    We can¡¯t depend on it. Freya decided, feeling instant agreement. The pleasure of their accord was muted by their arrival at the Sillas Police Department. They stared out the windows as Lynn made her report to Officer Kim. They strained their eyes at the shadows beyond the floodlights. The pistol in Freya¡¯s pocket intruded at the edge of their consciousness.

    I¡¯m sorry, she radiated, but there was no need, he understood. Lynn climbed back into the Mercedes in a blast of cold air.

    ¡°He¡¯s sending a car over to scope it out. I left a message with the property manager asking them to check the tapes. Maybe we can get a license plate. Are you two all right?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± they said, in accidental unison.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡°Just shaken up,¡± Freya added, trying to smooth over their odd harmony. ¡°Are we going to stay at the police station all night?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m figuring that out,¡± Lynn said. She called Samantha first and left a message when it went to voicemail. Dr. Garbuglio picked up on the first ring, and Lynn filled him in. From Dan, Freya caught a drift of reassurance at the steady sound of Dr. G¡¯s voice.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re all right. I hope they find him soon. Are you going back to your apartment?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. The police say they can¡¯t have an officer sit there all night, but we can stay here at the station. We might just drive to Bangor.¡±

    ¡°I think that would be wise. If you want something closer, I can give you the address of a motel I use for domestic violence patients. It¡¯s about a half hour north of town, very quiet.¡±

    ¡°That would be great, thanks.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll send it over. Any of you, feel free to call me if you need to talk. I¡¯ll be available all night.¡±

    They all thanked Dr. Garbuglio.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just go there,¡± Lynn said after checking the map. ¡°I¡¯m too tired to drive to Bangor. Can you two keep an eye out and make sure we¡¯re not followed?¡±

    Freya and Dan took turns looking out the back of the Mercedes until they got out of town and the roads were dark and empty. As they got farther away, Freya was swept up in a wave of Dan¡¯s optimism. With Garbuglio and Lassa¡¯s help, they would figure out the Starball. They would add more and more people to Unity, and with the help of that gestalt, they could defeat the investigation.

    How far did it go? She felt Dan''s hopes spiraling upward. Could ten people be United? A hundred? A hundred thousand? Even a cabal of ten could change the world.

    Since that snowy night at the Rabbit Hill Inn, their conversation with the Waltzes had been turning over and over in Dan¡¯s head.

    It¡¯s our only chance for survival as a species, Jeremias had told them so gravely. He¡¯d had no idea of the secret Freya and Dan shared. He¡¯d never suspected they might be the ones. The idea burned bright in Dan¡¯s mind, darting forward with manic speed. He felt Freya¡¯s apprehension at his frantic thoughts, and she was reminded of Lassa¡¯s idea the Starball was sent to eradicate them.

    She never felt Unity. This isn¡¯t our destruction. It¡¯s our salvation. This is the key to the universe.

    They were Dan¡¯s convictions. His confidence was absolute, his ideas boomed larger than her fears. He was afraid he was overwriting her thoughts the way he had at the ski lodge, but this was different. Freya tried as hard as she could to believe Dan, and she couldn¡¯t quite get there.

    They were the only car on the road. The stars were bright above them. Freya gazed upward and recognized Pollux.

    That¡¯s Gemini, she explained to Dan, who knew nothing of the stars he aspired to join. On his own, he could barely pick out the big dipper. Freya smiled as he looked out through her eyes, seeing so many things for the first time. Sirius, Canopus, and Rigel, the three brightest. Algol the Demon Star in Perseus, which was really three stars that regularly occluded each other.

    Dan absorbed not only her knowledge but the things that informed it. Moonlight on Randall¡¯s face as he gazed upward, the smell of his cigar in the night air, never again. With that memory came her lonely comprehension of distance, the impossible gulfs of nothing between everything. It was as if Dan had been wading, and he¡¯d taken a step and slipped in over his head.

    The root of Dan¡¯s optimism was ignorance. Everything he knew came from stories, impossible warp drives and ridiculous space marines. But they were just the meager efforts of hacks trying to put a human face on the unknowable. Tiny grains broken off from infinity, small enough for a mortal to digest. Freya knew the truth. Against the universe, Earth was not even an atom. Sol was the atom, the Earth was an electron, and they were less than nothing.

    She felt Dan¡¯s mind darting away from the understanding. It hurt him to try and hold the idea. Freya shut her eyes, and the stars blinked away, leaving only afterburn. She wished she hadn¡¯t thought that. She was bringing them down.

    I¡¯m sorry, she thought.

    I just wasn¡¯t ready, Dan answered.

    She squeezed his hand harder as Lynn pulled off the main road. This was their exit.

 Chapter 92

    The Saco Motel was a run-down motor lodge across the road from a gas station. Freya was struck by the cold silence when she stepped out of the car. The stars blazed above, and there was nothing else for miles in any direction. It was only forty miles from home, but it felt like they¡¯d reached the edge of the earth.

    Despite the recent snow, only two of the seven rooms had lights on. Two pickup trucks were parked side by side in front of rooms one and two. Freya made her way to the little side-window marked ¡°CHECK IN.¡± She¡¯d called ahead to reserve two rooms with Lassa¡¯s card.

    It took a while for the grumpy clerk to appear. She was almost about to ring the bell a second time. When he slid the window open, the Jeopardy! theme played in the distance. She filled out the registration form in Lassa¡¯s name. The clerk ran the card without bothering to check her ID, and then shuffled over to a pegboard where the keys for each room dangled.

    ¡°Can I get rooms five and seven?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Not together?¡± he inquired.

    She shook her head.

    ¡°Ohh-kay.¡±

    He just wanted to get back to watching TV. Freya could relate. She was too far away from Dan, Unity was thin. She felt it growing stronger and realized Dan had stepped out of the car to be closer to her. She smiled at that. He couldn¡¯t wait five minutes to be with her.

    Lynn climbed out of the car and glanced back the way they¡¯d come, still anxious. She looked at the motel¡¯s wood-shingle siding with distaste, and Freya felt a pang of guilt.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Lynn said. She sounded very tired.

    Freya handed her the key to room five and kept the other. Lynn worked it out immediately.

    ¡°Samantha may not agree,¡± Lynn cautioned.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t have to agree,¡± Freya said.

    Lynn shrugged. It was odd to see her not press a point. She¡¯d clearly had about enough of this, but Freya didn¡¯t know what she could do about it. If she asked, Lynn would insist she was fine.

    It¡¯s the thing with Lassa, Dan explained. He pictured Lynn Harris slowly deflating, punctured by the idea Lassa had lied to her.

    Please, stop, Freya thought.

    Dan frowned in apology. He hadn¡¯t meant to visualize it. Freya felt the root of it. Dan hated all the lies, hated keeping this a secret. He wanted to come clean with Lynn, with his mother, with everyone. Thinking about it made him miserable.

    Soon, Freya promised, and she hated the doubt he felt in response, discord that had no place between them. Doubt would undermine everything. It ate at Unity like acid.

    Freya looked at Lynn, and it sank in just how much bullshit Lynn had put up with on their behalf. She didn¡¯t have to be here, didn¡¯t have to drive them around, or put herself in danger. She wasn¡¯t required to give a shit about her unfaithful lover¡¯s problematic kid. She had been staring for too long, and Lynn was about to ask what was wrong.

    ¡°Lassa didn¡¯t lie to you,¡± Freya blurted.

    ¡°Freya¡­¡± Lynn began, a patronizing note in her voice.

    ¡°No, listen to me. She didn¡¯t know about any of the Hiidenkirnu stuff. I can explain it to you, but it¡¯s going to sound insane.¡±

    Lynn was so ready to argue, but she bit it back. She shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling deeply.

    ¡°Can we go inside? I¡¯m freezing.¡±

    The room was a water-spotted blur of beige. The last guest had clearly been a smoker, but at least it was warm inside. Freya and Dan sat side by side on the second bed. They tried to explain everything.

    It was a struggle. The arguments that had been so convincing to Dr. Garbuglio didn¡¯t work on Lynn. Lynn didn¡¯t like science fiction. She didn¡¯t have Lassa¡¯s scientific background or Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s fascination with the mind. The microscope pictures didn¡¯t convince her. Her standards for evidence were strict.

    ¡°What about the Starball?¡± Dan offered, and Freya felt the glimmer of his desire, the hunger to be more.

    ¡°Let me see it,¡± Lynn offered.

    Freya held it out but drew it back when Lynn motioned to hand it to her.

    ¡°We decided no one should get stuck unless they fully understand and consent. Lassa and Dan were accidents.¡±

    Lynn narrowed her eyes. She didn¡¯t believe them.

    ¡°Let¡¯s test this. You say you can read each other¡¯s minds, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Lynn Harris took her American Express card out of her wallet and cupped it in her hand. She held it out to Dan. Immediately, Freya saw what she intended.

    ¡°3759 504718 11201,¡± Freya said, preempting Lynn.

    Lynn scowled in response. She took out her phone, flipped through it, and handed it to Freya.

    ¡°Read that. Word for word,¡± Lynn instructed Dan.

    ¡°III. RESTRAINTS ON OWNERSHIP OF RIPARIAN LANDS. When a parcel of land adjoins a water body, the landowner does not necessarily have exclusive use and dominion over the area adjacent to the water''s edge. In some situations, a public servitude exists on part of the exposed land along the water. In other cases, a conveyance intentionally, or unintentionally, omits title to shorelands, thus denying the landowner the right to use the area immediately adjacent to the water in any way other than as a general member of the public.¡±

    As Dan read through legalese, Lynn¡¯s alarm shifted into fear. She backed slowly towards the door.

    ¡°Lynn,¡± Freya began.

    Lynn scrambled for the knob, threw the door open, and rushed outside. She got in her car, and they were afraid she was going to drive off and leave them in the middle of nowhere. But she just sat in the driver¡¯s seat, staring at them through the open door.

    Neither knew what to do about it. They worried she might scream. Lynn closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the top of the steering wheel, with her hands pressed against her temples. She stayed that way for almost five minutes. Just as they were about to get up and close the door, Lynn came back in.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I needed a minute,¡± Lynn said. She closed the door and took a seat on the opposite bed.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± they said together. They forgot to break up their speech.

    ¡°Is that how¡­ Is that how you think? How you talk?¡±

    ¡°We are one,¡± they said. They saw it disturbed Lynn and made an effort to desynchronize.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, we¡¯ll stop,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. This is just very difficult to take. How can you stand it?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I almost don¡¯t want to talk with other people at all. Speaking is so limited. Communication in Unity is like¡­¡± Freya trailed, trying to find the right words.

    ¡°There are no lies, no pretense,¡± Dan completed her. ¡°The ideas are unfiltered. You see the actual truth of the other, what they really are, what they want. It¡¯s perfect,¡± Dan said.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Lynn was beginning to see. They saw understanding dawning on her face.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid of being exposed?¡± Lynn asked.

    ¡°Terrified,¡± they agreed.

    ¡°But, after the initial fear, it¡¯s so much better not to hide. I feel free,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°I had worried it would be hard to accept parts of him,¡± Freya said. ¡°But it was so much harder to accept myself.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the same for me,¡± Dan said.

    ¡°What about Lassa? Have you ever United with her?¡±

    ¡°Never. Unity is only us, so far. Maybe that¡¯s all it will ever be, we don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Are you scared you might?¡± Lynn asked Freya.

    ¡°I was. Now, I¡¯m just aware. It feels like we¡¯re preparing for an operation we know is going to hurt terribly. We¡¯ll probably be alright, but only probably. Does that make sense?¡±

    ¡°Not really. Does one of you ever drag the other down? Do you always have to settle on the average between you if one wants something more than the other?¡±

    They had to pause to consider that. Freya thought of the way she¡¯d squelched Dan¡¯s joke, the way he had to hold back when they ran, her frustration when they¡¯d tried to ski together.

    ¡°Sometimes it feels that way,¡± Freya said, feeling the idea seesaw between them. ¡°I haven¡¯t written any songs since this began. There are unpleasant aspects. But we¡¯re far stronger as one than we are apart. I would give up anything for him. Dan is the best thing that ever happened to me.¡±

    Lynn lowered her eyes, and Freya saw that she¡¯d cut her very deeply without meaning to.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya said for the thousandth time.

    Lynn seemed on the verge of waving it away, then she looked intently at Freya.

    ¡°You¡¯ve changed. You¡¯re so much more human now,¡± Lynn said.

    Freya blinked as if she¡¯d been slapped.

    ¡°What I mean is, you seem to relate to other people better, and you¡¯re much more perceptive. You were very cold before. Like her. Are you getting that from Dan?¡±

    ¡°A lot of it. I¡¯ve learned so much from being Dan. He fills in the gaps,¡± Freya said. Her choice of words drew a thought from Dan that made her cheeks burn. Freya hoped Lynn didn¡¯t notice.

    Lynn took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and sat up straight on the bed. Freya admired that. She was a fighter.

    ¡°Who else knows about this?¡±

    ¡°Garbuglio. We just told him tonight. We can tell Dan¡¯s mother tonight and Lassa tomorrow,¡± Freya said, feeling a surge of relief from Dan.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to take some time for me to wrap my head around this. I can¡¯t even begin to think of a legal strategy. This is so much.¡±

    This is so much,¡± Lynn said.

    ¡°We need some time, too,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°His mother is going to throw a fit,¡± Lynn groaned.

    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving him for any reason,¡± Freya said.

    ¡°I understand,¡± Lynn agreed.

    Freya just slowly shook her head.

    No, you don¡¯t.

    ¡°Thank you so much for everything, Lynn. I¡¯m sorry this is all so hard. You¡¯re a good person,¡± Freya said.

    Lynn had a funny look. She hadn¡¯t expected to hear that. Dan¡¯s stomach growled, breaking the moment.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said.

    ¡°We should have stopped for food somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Want something from the gas station?¡± Dan offered. Freya felt his eagerness to help.

    ¡°I doubt they¡¯ll have anything vegetarian. Let me see if there¡¯s anything close enough to deliver.¡±

    Lynn pulled out her phone and searched. She had just one bar, and it took forever for the search to load.

    ¡°Is Italian okay?¡±

    They nodded, and Lynn tried calling. She had to get up and stand beside the window before the call would go through. Kaiser Slice was twenty miles north and didn¡¯t deliver, but it had vegetarian lasagna on the menu.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Lynn asked them.

    Freya ordered spaghetti and sausage. Dan wanted the veal parm, but he didn¡¯t want to make Lynn order veal. He opted for chicken piccata.

    ¡°I can drive if you want,¡± Dan offered.

    ¡°You¡¯re not on my insurance. I need time to think anyway. Will you two be okay here?¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡±

    Before Lynn left, Dan took Freya¡¯s suitcase and guitar case out of the trunk. Freya quashed a feeling of worry that only she should carry the guitar. She silently apologized for acting like Mr. Mathis.  Dan only found it funny.

    I¡¯ll be careful, he beamed. He knew what the guitar meant to her.

    They started giggling, their thoughts raced ahead to the room. As she shut the door, Freya saw Lynn staring at them. Freya gave her a sad little wave and went inside to be one with her love. One with herself.

    * * *

    They drew the dingy curtains and made desperate love on the motel bed that squeaked with every thrust.

    More, Freya willed, and there was no need to explain anything. Her nails dug lines of fire into his back as he crushed her against the bed. They could barely breathe, but she rose into every stroke and urging him on. The friction between them became more urgent as the bed rattled across the floor, inching towards absolution.

    Their orgasm was spreading fire that immolated everything. It rolled between them, thrumming on for so long they thought it might never end. Freya never wanted to move from this spot, but it was inevitable. She had to pee, and Dan¡¯s stomach gurgled.

    The wheel of worries turned. So many things had happened, and so many more loomed. They had one more breath of tranquility before they rose to resume the cycle.

    Thank you, the thought began with Freya and ended with Dan. They looked around the room, seeing for the first time the ancient tube television, the spotty carpet, the lines of dust on the blades of the vents. This place was no Rabbit Hill Inn, but Freya quelled his embarrassment before it could even begin.

    I¡¯d rather be in a jail cell with you than a palace without, Freya thought. Dan laughed at her. It was the most sixteen-year-old-girl thing she could have possibly thought and, after an indignant moment, she was laughing with him.

    They had a weird sense of how crazy the two of them must look to an observer, intense stares broken by peals of giggling. They pushed away the idea, worried that a cell was a real possibility. Unity was still strong, and they hoped it was forever this time.

    We should shower, Freya thought, and Dan had a lazy desire to stay in bed.

    Do you want to reek of sex when we explain to your mother we¡¯re mind-melded? Freya teased, and that got him up in a hurry. The saving grace of the Saco Motel was the water was hot and the pressure was good.

    They turned the water as hot as Dan could stand and did a slow waltz changing who was beneath the spray as each got cold. Freya had brought a little travel container of her soap, and he lathered her up, loving every part of her he could reach with his hands.

    Before they knew it, she had her hands pressed against the grimy tiles, and he was taking her from behind. They were too spent to get there again. Dan clung to her, still inside until the hot water gave out. With a yelp, they cleaned up as quickly as they could, bursting out of the bathroom laughing and dripping onto the abominable carpet.

    They thought about walking over to the gas station for a snack. Dan was ravenous enough that even hot dogs turning on rollers all day seemed like a good idea. Freya wasn¡¯t quite that far gone, but she thought she could do some serious damage to a box of Cheez-Its.

    Before we go, I have something for you, she thought, lapsing into subvocalization to maintain the surprise.

    I just had it twice, and I loved it, he returned. She grinned back and took out her guitar. Her mind wanted to leap ahead to the surprise, but she had the discipline not to think it. Freya savored his curiosity as she tuned her guitar. Then she began to play. The fourth note was an open D, and his eyes lit with immediate recognition.

    ¡°One?¡±

    Dan could barely believe it, and she could only spare a grin before she had to concentrate. The song wasn¡¯t meant for just one guitar, but a bunch of people had come up with arrangements to play all the parts on an acoustic.

    Freya had watched a few of them and stripped out all the parts she thought were too gimmicky. She would have liked to learn the lyrics, too, but there hadn¡¯t been time. As she played, Dan¡¯s memory of the song rang out to accompany her. He knew all the words by heart.

    The rest of the song was just an incredible flurry of sixteenth-note triplets that were meant to sound like gunfire, and when she was through shredding there was a film of sweat on her forehead. She beamed with pride that she¡¯d nailed it, even though it was a ridiculous thing to do on acoustic.

    I can¡¯t believe you learned that for me, Dan beamed. She put her palm over the locket he¡¯d given her.

    I remembered how you felt when they played ¡°Turn the Page,¡± Freya explained.

    Before they were United, Dan had never talked with Freya about music. He never played it in his car, never advanced an opinion. She¡¯d thought he didn¡¯t care. He thought she would judge him for the stuff he liked. And he was right, she would have.

    I used to be so difficult. I was such a cunt to everyone, Freya admitted. No self-pity now, this was an honest appraisal. All the little twinges where Dan had held his tongue, all the times she¡¯d talked too loud, laughed at the wrong time, all the people she¡¯d made uncomfortable and never noticed. The way her friends had all dried up, the reason she sat alone in the cafeteria where the whole thing began. It was the price of Unity, seeing yourself fully from the outside.

    I was such an asshole, too, Dan admitted, and he took on all the shitty things she¡¯d seen him do, the tears streaming down Claire¡¯s face as she chased him around the house, the way they were always clapping Tate on the back of the head and making him the butt of every joke.

    Freya set the Ovation back in its case and did the latches. She¡¯d just wanted to do something special for Dan, but somehow the song had become a confessional. She took his hand, and they stared at each other, deciding how they felt about this. The reckoning was long overdue.

    I want to be better, they vowed. If only they could remain one, if only Unity would last forever. They could be so much more. For a silent moment they only listened, looking for the slightest fragmentation but Unity showed no sign of abating. Their movements were synchronized as they put on clothes and walked hand-in-hand to the gas station.

 Chapter 93

    MENSHEN GENERAL STORE ESTABLISHED 1966, BEER - FOOD - LOTTERY - AGENCY LIQUOR STORE - FUEL - HARDWARE - PROPANE - SPORTING GOODS.

    There was no wind. Outside, the air was so cold and clear it felt like there was no atmosphere, nothing between them and the stars. The faint sounds of televisions and conversations from the other rooms faded away as they walked up the lot to the gas station. Freya and Dan felt the weight of the silence, heavier with each step. This was nowhere. It felt like they were the only people in the world.

    Somewhere over the hills, they heard an engine coming, long before they saw headlights. They stepped onto the shoulder and let the pickup whip past them, and the road was momentarily painted red by its taillights. Freya remembered the outline of the stag¡¯s antlers in the moonlight and the red pickup truck that honked at her a lifetime ago. She pushed it away. They both knew where the memory led.

    Dan guided her away from it by remembering the first time he got high alone. He smoked a ludicrous amount of pot, and then lay with his head hanging off the edge of his mattress. For hours, he listened to cars hiss by in the rain. As they relived his memory, Freya caught a sense of his elevated feeling. She was curious. She¡¯d never gotten high before. But Dan gently pushed back at the idea.

    This is better, Dan assured her. He squeezed her hand. They crossed the road, headed for the yellow floodlights of the Menshen General Store. It was an old farmhouse with a long porch running along its front. There were scabs of rust seeping down the steel roof where snow had scoured away the galvanization. The front door was guarded by two taxidermized black bears rearing up on their hind legs. They might have looked imposing, but some wit had put baseball caps on both. The left one wore a bright red Maine Roller Derby Cap, the right a faded Bangor Blue Ox hat.

    Hiiiiiicks, Freya thought, and she expected to be chastised for the uncharitable thought, but Dan hummed ¡°Dueling Banjos.¡± She laughed out loud and gave his shoulder a little shove, he was grinning ear to ear. They were struck by the way the joke had surprised them both. It reminded Freya of improvising on her guitar, when ideas leapt from her head full formed like Athena.

    Dan didn¡¯t know who Athena was, and Freya was explaining to him when they were illuminated by headlights. They¡¯d been so wrapped up in their thoughts they hadn¡¯t heard the truck coming, and they moved to get out of the way of the gas pumps. Freya felt a tug, Dan had frozen in place.

    Then they heard the engine roar.

    Dan locked up, blank as a deer. Freya tugged at his hand, but her arms had a dreamlike weakness. In a panic, she grabbed his arm with both hands and threw with all her weight as if they were grappling. They rolled onto the asphalt a second before the truck shot through the spot where Dan stood. Brakes screamed, and the air filled with the smell of burnt rubber.

    He almost hit us!

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Freya felt Dan¡¯s palms worn raw from the awkward fall. They stung terribly in the cold. Freya rose, furious. It had to be some drunk driver. The truck squealed to a stop at the edge of the lights.

    It was the black Tahoe.

    ¡°No!¡± Freya shouted, willing them both to run, but her legs would not obey. Dan could barely get on his feet. Something was terribly wrong with them.

    Malcolm Lewis climbed out of the truck with a gun in his hand. He walked towards them with an unsteady gait. The harsh floodlights cast his face into shadow, his eyes sunken into sleepless pits.

    Freya drew Randall¡¯s gun from her jacket pocket, and it felt like it weighed fifty pounds. She stepped into a two-handed stance, fighting through the sluggish feeling to aim at center mass. She had pictured this moment a thousand times. Her thumb flicked off the safety. Malcolm didn¡¯t even seem to see her. His eyes were locked on Dan, who stood with his bleeding palms up.

    Freya tried to shoot Malcolm, but she couldn¡¯t do it. Everything in her willed the gun to fire, but the cords had been cut, her finger would not pull the trigger. At her side, the Starball was a blazing mote of pain. Nausea churned in her, and she felt the same thing in Dan, amplified by Unity.

    Starsickness!

    Freya choked with disbelief. The orb hadn¡¯t warned them! Instead, she was paralyzed. Malcolm pointed his revolver at Dan.

    ¡°Malcolm! STOP!¡± Freya found the will to shout, and her voice came out sounding half-strangled.

    ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± Malcolm croaked back.

    There was something terribly wrong with him. His face twitched, his shoulders shook.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do this,¡± Dan pleaded.

    The gunshot was deafening. Neither of their brains worked, they¡¯d been scrambled by the explosion. Pain flooded in, burning hot and unbearable. Dan touched his body, trying to figure out where he¡¯d been hit. Everything he touched hurt.

    He shot me! Freya thought. There was a clack as the revolver slipped from Malcolm¡¯s hand to clatter against the asphalt.

    He shot me! Dan thought an instant slower. Everything was slower for him, and faster for Freya.

    Her eyes locked on Malcom. He blinked rapidly and held up his palms in surrender.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t stop!¡± he cried. Tears ran down his face.

    The compulsion shattered, and the impulse to fire screaming up her arm took hold. Freya shot Malcolm three times and kept firing as he fell. The shots thundered in the frozen air. When the roar subsided, she was still pulling the trigger. The tiny sound of the hammer clicking seemed miles away.

    Randall¡¯s gun burned hot, but Dan¡¯s crucifying pain drowned it out. Malcolm¡¯s bullet had gone through his hand and struck him in the chest.

    DAN!

    The hot gun tumbled from her hands. Freya rushed to Dan¡¯s side. He was crumpled on his back, gasping for air. The hole in his coat was far too small for the red agony they felt. She tore at it, ripping his zipper apart. There was so much blood underneath. The bullet had struck just below the hollow of his neck.

    Help! Dan begged her, and she didn¡¯t know how. Neither of them could breathe. Dan¡¯s lungs were filling with blood. Her chest heaved, in synch with his. The ringing in their ears was drowned by a static roar, and it felt like they were being squeezed by an enormous crushing fist.

    There was a terrible shock in Freya¡¯s chest as her heart started again. She felt no answering beat from Dan. His pain grew distant. He tried to reach her, but darkness swallowed him. The last thing Freya saw through his eyes was her own face, contorted in a scream.

 Chapter 94

    It took Malcolm much longer to die than Dan. Two men rushed out of the gas station. Their mouths opened as they shouted, but she heard nothing. The only sound in the world was Malcolm whimpering, the bloody catch in his breathing, growing quieter and quieter. The older of the two men rushed over to Malcolm¡¯s side, checked his pulse, and did CPR.

    ¡°Let him die.¡± Freya ordered, but there was no response, and she was not certain if she¡¯d only thought it or if the man had ignored her. In the end, it didn¡¯t matter, there were too many holes in Malcolm. She¡¯d hit him with all eight shots. CPR only squeezed the life out of him faster. Freya felt the moment Malcom died, like a flubbed note hanging in the air.

    Dan¡¯s eyes were open, staring at the stars. Freya bent over and shut them. That was a thing people did. The blood on her hands left a red smear. He already felt cold.

    The other dies, too.

    She wanted to shoot herself, but there were no bullets left. The other man came over to her and bent down to say something. Freya couldn¡¯t understand him. Under the smell of gunpowder, there was whiskey on his breath. He shook her shoulder. She ignored him, but he wouldn¡¯t go away.

    ¡°Stop it,¡± Freya said. The man didn¡¯t listen to her. The dead had no voice. ¡°Just leave me.¡±

    They pulled her away from Dan and brought her inside and sat her on a bench, wrapping her in a blanket. She had no strength to resist. It was only when the police arrived with their flashing lights that Freya realized she could have used Malcolm¡¯s gun.

    Now, everything would be harder.

    * * *

    Freya was surprised when the police didn¡¯t put her in handcuffs right away. Everything people said seemed to be shouted at her from a distant hallway, and she wondered if her ears were hurt, but she remembered hearing Malcolm so clearly. Her hands and feet were freezing, but she was sweating under the blanket. It was very difficult to focus on anything.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    The question broke through the confusion. Somehow, two deputies had managed to stand right in front of Freya without her noticing them.

    ¡°No,¡± Freya replied.

    ¡°Go get an EMT,¡± Deputy Ericson said, urgent.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to. They already checked me out,¡± Freya explained.

    ¡°Are you sure? You¡¯re very pale.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°Well, I need to pat you down, okay? Deputy Banks will observe. I¡¯m sorry we don¡¯t have a female deputy on duty tonight.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Freya said. She shrugged off the blanket, stood, and complied with their directions. She was so numb she could barely feel the hands on her. She suffered a droning insistence that half of her was gone, phantom pain from missing an entire body.

    Ericson took her wallet, keys, and phone, and then he found the Starball in the pocket of her jeans. The urge to warn him died on her tongue.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Ericson asked, holding the orb up to the fluorescent light and squinting at it.

    ¡°Lucky marble. It doesn¡¯t work,¡± Freya said. It was a lie of habit, not design. She was incapable of forming new thoughts, could only repeat what had been said before. His mustache twitched as he frowned, but he gave the Starball back, along with her wallet and keys. He kept her phone.

    ¡°Okay, well, sit tight. Someone will chat with you in a sec. We¡¯re trying to rouse a crisis counselor.¡±

    Deputy Banks stood a few paces from her bench as a sentinel but, otherwise, Freya seemed forgotten. She stared out the window as they scurried around the crime scene with their tape and their little flags, taking pictures of everything. Freya drifted in the commotion, waiting for the real suffering to begin. She¡¯d been here before. She knew this was all just a prelude.

    ¡°Miss Jokela?¡±

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    A state trooper removed his hat as he came through the door. A gust of cold air followed him.

    ¡°Hi, Sergeant,¡± Freya said, noticing the bars on his shoulder. He nodded, surprised she had recognized his rank.

    ¡°I¡¯m Sergeant Emmanuel. Can you help us understand what happened here?¡±

    ¡°I need my lawyer. Everything is complicated,¡± Freya said. She had nothing left to fight with.

    ¡°Fine. Would you be willing to identify the deceased individuals? We need to begin the notification process.¡±

    Freya wondered if they could use it against her, but it didn¡¯t matter anyway.

    ¡°His name is Malcolm Lewis. I have an order of protection against him. His parents are Charles and Darlene Lewis. He lives in West Sillas.¡±

    ¡°Do you know their address?¡±

    ¡°23 Blake Street. Could you go get my lawyer, please? She has power of attorney over me. She may be asleep.¡±

    ¡°What about the other boy?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± Freya tried to say his name, but she couldn¡¯t. She shut her eyes and hung her head, plunging.

    Sergeant Emanuel didn¡¯t touch her or say anything. He waited.

    ¡°Dan Gregulus,¡± she said at last. Every syllable hurt. Her voice was barely there. ¡°His mother Samantha works at Flying Horse Regional Hospital.¡±

    ¡°Can we phone your parents?¡±

    Freya shook her head, unable to explain.

    Outside, they put Dan¡¯s body on a gurney.

    ¡°They won¡¯t put them in the same ambulance, will they?¡± Freya asked. She didn¡¯t know why it mattered to her. They were just bodies now. But it was important.

    ¡°No, ma¡¯am. I think they¡¯ll bring another one.¡±

    ¡°Okay, thank you,¡± she said quietly. ¡°How will they tell his mother?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re transporting the decedents to Flying Horse. A uniformed trooper and a medical examiner will let the mother know in person.¡±

    Something in her face made Sergeant Emmanuel look at her curiously.

    ¡°His mother is on shift. She¡¯ll know right away. Oh, God,¡± Freya explained. It seemed impossibly cruel.

    His lips were tight as he nodded.

    ¡°Yes, she¡¯ll likely recognize what¡¯s happening. The positive is that, as a nurse, she¡¯ll be better equipped to deal with this than most. Was Dan her only child?¡±

    Freya shook her head. The word was dug in like a knife.

    ¡°He had a twin. They lost his sister five years ago.¡±

    Sergeant Emmanuel inhaled deeply and clicked his tongue.

    ¡°God damn,¡± he muttered.

    They didn¡¯t speak for a long time after that.

    In Freya¡¯s head, there was a sucking void, drawing in light and sound and giving back nothing. It took physical effort to form any kind of thought. She couldn¡¯t rise to it. She remained in the vacant limbo, buffeted by every sound, burnt by every light.

    The ambulance with Dan¡¯s body was leaving, and she felt her mind clawing out, seeking the missing Unity. When the taillights vanished, she sank back into the maelstrom. There was something important, a question she needed answered, but the idea came apart, the chain broken into links of nonsense.

    A vision of Samantha Gregulus¡¯s face rose in its place, her dark eyebrows quivering, the cold fire in her eyes sputtering out as they told her. What was left for Freya after this?

    The river.

    Freya stared at Malcolm¡¯s body. There was a little yellow flag where someone had collected his gun. Freya tried to find the hate she¡¯d felt, but that, too, had been ripped from her. If she had just gone under, none of this would have happened. Everyone would be alive. Lassa would be free. The Starball would be buried in a riverbank for a thousand years.

    The Starball!

    The idea led her back to the thought that had fallen apart. The Starball had been hiding behind her grief, shunting away her questions. The rage she couldn¡¯t find before was suddenly white hot.

    You made this happen! Freya accused, squeezing the orb with all her strength. She tried to crush it between her thumb and forefinger, but it was suddenly as rigid as steel. She felt its heat, and she shot her eyes around, eyes alighting on the wood burning stove.

    She visualized flinging open the cast iron door and throwing the Starball inside. Starsickness rose at the thought, but the worst the Starball could summon was as nothing before her suffering. She felt a hot pulse of activity between her fingertips.

    Are you afraid? Freya wondered, and she flooded her mind with malevolent urges. Smashing the Starball with a hammer, crushing it in a hydraulic press, cooking it in a microwave, she probed at each, trying to find what it was most afraid of. Her eyes landed on the trooper¡¯s pistol, wondering if she could get it away from him, shoot the Starball, then herself.

    Officer Emmanuel followed her eyes. She looked away, caught. But he didn¡¯t press the point. Maybe everyone got caught staring like that.

    ¡°Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, tea? Something to eat?¡±

    She looked at the ambulance.

    ¡°Can we ask if they have Lorazepam?¡±

    ¡°Do you take that regularly?¡± he asked. She could tell he knew exactly what it was. Freya shook her head.

    ¡°Not regularly, but I had to take it after my father was killed. It helped.¡±

    Emmanuel nodded, inhaling through his nose. Freya knew he was wondering just how deep this all went.

    ¡°Come with me and let¡¯s ask them. How long ago was that?¡±

    ¡°May.¡±

    ¡°Jesus Christ.¡±

 Chapter 95

    Freya had worried the paramedic and EMT would be weird about her requesting a drug by name. The paramedic jumped at the chance as if she¡¯d wanted to suggest the idea herself. The pill was a white pentagon with a line dividing "2" and "MG". Officer Emanuel was surprised she didn¡¯t take it on the spot.

    ¡°I have to talk to Lynn first,¡± Freya explained. ¡°You can¡¯t think straight on this.¡±

    ¡°Okay. You¡¯ll need to take it before we arrest you, though. We don¡¯t have to do that yet.¡±

    ¡°But you will.¡±

    He grimaced.

    ¡°Yes. There are cameras,¡± he said, his voice dropping low as he pointed a thick finger at the cameras on the side of the building. ¡°Everything was recorded.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Freya said, and there was a laugh caught somewhere in her chest. All these police, all this work they were doing, and none of it mattered at all. She fought it down, feeling like anything she let out of her would emerge black and twisted, issuing from her mouth like a swarm of locusts.

    Officer Emanuel hadn¡¯t tried to get her to talk without her lawyer the way Vences had. She¡¯d heard them taking the statement from the gray-haired man who¡¯d tried to administer CPR to Malcolm, asking if he was one hundred percent sure he¡¯d heard what she said correctly.

    Maybe they were trying to get her some wiggle room. But the old man was too stubborn or too stupid. She remembered the whistling sound his teeth made when he insisted he¡¯d heard her right.

    Let him die.

    They were expensive words, but she would never have to pay. She could already see the exasperation on Lynn Harris¡¯s face, and she glanced at the neon MILLER TIME clock in the window, wondering how long she had.

    ¡°Can I go to the bathroom?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Sure,¡± Officer Emanuel said, but there was an OUT OF ORDER sign on the restroom door, which had a kitschy outhouse moon cut into the planks.

    ¡°Is this actually out of order?¡± he asked the man with the whistling teeth. The man nodded.

    ¡°Well, where do you go?¡±

    ¡°Woods ¡®round back,¡± the man said. His eyes were on Freya. There was nothing kind in his stare.

    ¡°My hotel room is just right across the street,¡± Freya offered.

    Sergeant Emanuel frowned but nodded.

    ¡°Officer Banks! Would you accompany us, please?¡±

    Banks answered with a nod. He was a man of few words. They walked back to the hotel. They passed the spot where Freya and Dan had paused as the truck rumbled by, everything had been so clear. In her pocket, she squeezed the Starball with all her strength.

    Take me back there right now, she demanded, her brow furrowing. Take me back or I will destroy you.

    ¡°Miss Jokela?¡±

    She¡¯d stopped walking, her jaw clenched so hard she was afraid her teeth would shatter.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, inhaling sharply through her nose to stop herself from blubbering. There was a moment where she couldn¡¯t put one foot in front of the other. She couldn¡¯t tell if it was the Starball or if she was just malfunctioning. Her hands were numb. She fumbled with the key, wondering why she couldn¡¯t see straight.

    ¡°Here,¡± Sergeant Emmanuel took the key from her. ¡°Is anyone else inside?¡± When she shook her head, she felt hot lines run down her cheeks.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°No drugs or weapons, right?¡±

    She mouthed no.

    ¡°Stay here for just a second, please.¡± He handed the key back to her, and she stuck it in her pocket. He unclipped a flashlight from his belt and went inside the room, opening her guitar case, poking under everything, and sweeping through the bathroom.

    She heard the squeak of the little cupboard under the sink and the rings of the shower curtain clicking. He¡¯d missed her backpack in the little alcove behind the bathroom door, but it didn¡¯t matter. There was nothing inside she could use to escape. He motioned her into the motel room.

    When she stepped inside, it hit her like a fist. The room still smelled like Dan, like the love they¡¯d made. Freya halted so abruptly Officer Banks collided with her from behind, and she stumbled forward, blubbering hu-hu-huh-huuu.

    She made it into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, then she sobbed. She wept in the bathroom while the two policemen stood outside the door, on and on, until all she could manage was little strangled squeaks. It must have been five minutes, and she was lying slumped against the wall with her face pressed against the tile.

    ¡°Miss Jokela? Are you all right?¡± Sergeant Emmanuel asked through the door.

    Of course not.

    ¡°I¡¯m just crying, I¡¯m sorry,¡± she croaked back, her voice in ruins.

    ¡°That¡¯s totally all right. Would you mind coming out?¡±

    ¡°Can I have five minutes, please?¡± she begged.

    ¡°Sure thing,¡± he called back.

    Freya peed and flushed the toilet. Using the sound of the tank filling as cover she looked under the bathroom sink, hoping for bleach, but there was nothing but dead silverfish and rolls of single-ply toilet paper. In her backpack were the two halves of the meteorite.

    She picked one of the halves up and held it with the hollow against her palm. She took the Starball out of her pocket and set it on the floor resting in the junction of four tiles.

    You betrayed me! Fix this or I¡¯ll smash you, Freya willed at it. Turn back time, wipe my brain, kill me, anything. Just do it.

    Nothing happened.

    She drew a deep breath, holding the nickel hemisphere poised over her head. The Starball was calling her bluff.

    ¡°Miss Jokela?¡±

    ¡°Just washing up!¡± she shot back.

    ¡°Okay, just checking,¡± Sergeant Emmanuel said, and she knew she didn¡¯t have long.

    She peered at the Starball. Suddenly, it seemed impossible she could kill it by smashing it with a rock like a cavewoman. She tried to picture it going supernova, wiping out everything but, more likely, it would just make a huge racket.

    Emmanuel would kick down the door, they¡¯d seize everything, and the Starball would win. This was probably all part of its plan, to get rid of her, to get rid of Dan, to find some new host.

    I should have left you in the river, buried forever.

    It wasn¡¯t too late. She could seal it up, dig a hole, bury it deep, and fill it in with concrete. A just few hundred years of imprisonment, and there would be no humans left for it to manipulate. But she would have to serve out her own term first. The Starball could use Lassa or Garbuglio to get what it wanted.

    Outside the door, there was the squawk of the radio, an unintelligible voice asking Sergeant Emmanuel questions.

    She had an idea and felt the Starball trying to stop her. The chill seeped through her skull as it tried to work its magic. But she was far beyond its control now. The sickness was nothing. Half of her was dead, and the rest would follow.

    Freya clapped the orb in the two halves of the meteorite while it fought to keep her arms from working. Awareness of the Starball bled out of her with a static whine, like she¡¯d turned off an old tube television. At once, the nausea was gone. The room seemed colder. Edges were less distinct, less important. Everything was desaturated. Inertia mounted. She needed to move.

    Freya twisted the meteorite in a damp towel and tied the ends in a tight knot. Then she stood on the toilet and pushed up one of the water-spotted tiles of the drop ceiling. She was too short to see what was up there, but she shoved the bundle behind a dusty pipe, and then reset the tile. The radio conversation outside had ended, and she had to be terribly careful not to make a sound as she climbed down.

    There were black smudges on her fingertips. Freya washed them off and threw water on her face, unwilling to make eye contact with her reflection. From the look on the policemen¡¯s faces when she emerged, she must have looked just awful. She wanted to apologize for taking so long, but the tumble of sounds that came out of her mouth weren¡¯t words. She snuffled and followed the policemen back outside.

    For the second time since the night on the river, Freya was freed from the Starball. Every moment was scraping across pavement, raw and exposed, and it would never improve. This was the real world, and that was why she had to leave it. She took the Lorazepam out of her pocket.

    ¡°She should be back soon,¡± Sergeant Emmanuel said.

    ¡°I can¡¯t make it,¡± Freya replied. She swallowed the pill.

 Chapter 96 - èŸ¿?èŸ»èŸ¿ä¼ªèŸ»æ…°?

    Tartarus.

    The drug settled around Freya like a layer of thick gray rubber. Lynn Harris arrived and broke down almost immediately, sitting on a concrete wheel stop with her face buried in the arm of her Canada Goose parka.

    When she raised her head, Freya stared at the glistening patch of tears and snot on her sleeve. It was the kind of thing that would have burned into her memory before, but the impression popped right back out. Nothing could penetrate.

    They tried to talk, but the conversation kept shunting sideways, like the two of them magnetized to the same polarity. At last, they admitted defeat. Lynn promised something about tomorrow, but it just didn¡¯t matter.

    Soon, the handcuffs closed around Freya¡¯s wrists, and she was in the back of a police SUV, on the drive to Long Creek Youth Development Center while the radio babbled on the dashboard. The final kindness of the state troopers, they¡¯d assigned Deputy Banks to the task. He barely said a word.

    Long Creek was a series of red brick buildings that looked more like a school than a prison. As the Police SUV drew closer, she saw the muntins were too thick. The door looked like it could withstand an atomic blast. Even the intake area had that jail smell, confinement funk not quite kept at bay by continual half-assed cleaning.

    Bleached despair.

    Everything here was a procedure, and there was paperwork at every step. She had to answer questions before she could be admitted. The woman doing the interview rushed through a checklist, clearly irate she had to do an intake so late at night.

    ¡°Any allergies? Current medications? Injuries? Relevant family history? Substance abuse? Mental health treatment? Past or present thoughts of suicide?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Freya replied to everything. The woman¡¯s stare focused for a second on the last question. Reading upside down, Freya saw her check a box marked ¡°WITHDRAWN.¡± She signed the form, and Freya left the custody of the Maine State Police and entered the retinue of the Department of Corrections.

    They fingerprinted Freya and strip-searched her and took her clothes away, giving her a temporary set of coarse blues two sizes too big. She felt nothing and offered no resistance. Her disassociation was well-suited to jail. Everything here was choreographed.

    As the intake dragged on, Freya noticed the two corrections officers running her through the process were growing increasingly uncomfortable. She was doing something wrong, but she didn¡¯t know what. She couldn¡¯t be the first murderer they¡¯d seen, or the first girl doped to the gills. But they were unnerved just the same.

    She thought she should try to figure it out. She needed to play their game until she could find a way to end this. But the rubber was too thick. Nothing could get in, and nothing could escape.

    At the end, they made her change clothes again into a thin, paper smock. She was given a blanket with a tag that said ¡°BobBarker LifeLine¡± and taken into a room with white raised padding covering all the surfaces except for a drain in the floor. The light stayed on all night and, every hour, a guard¡¯s face appeared behind the Plexiglas window, and then she was gone.

    There was only one relief, that Freya had been right all along. When she told Garbuglio everyone would be taken from her, that everything would fall apart, and she would be the cause, he¡¯d dripped platitudes from his smug grin and told her to try to be positive.

    She was positive now. Positive she had ruined everything, that she should have been the one Malcolm shot. She should have sunk the day Randall died. Instead, she had dragged them all down with her. Nothing remained but waiting for the end.

    When she slept, it was indistinguishable from being awake.

    * * *

    Everything was worse than she feared.

    The Lorazepam had worn off when they came to pull her out of the padded room. Inside Freya was a scream that rolled on and on that she could not release. Her eyes ached from staring at nothing, but she kept them open. There were terrible things waiting for her in the half-dark. The COs spoke to her, but she couldn¡¯t understand them. It was like they were shouting at her across a canyon and all she was getting were the echoes.

    Without warning, she bawled. Their words became jabbing thorns. She understood they were angry but not what they wanted. Freya stared at their mouths as they opened and made sound, wondering why they weren¡¯t throwing her on the ground and kicking her to pieces.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    They took her by the arms and hoisted her down the hall to an office, where a man with a clipboard tried to talk with Freya. She couldn¡¯t stop crying. He slashed checks into boxes on a form, and she was led to a door where she was given a green pill in a little paper ketchup-cup.

    The COs watched Freya swallow the pill, and then looked in her mouth to make sure she wasn¡¯t hiding it under her tongue. She was walked to another room and put in a bed. A deep, unpleasant vibration hummed behind everything. Her legs kept cramping up, but when she tried to reach down to massage them, she couldn¡¯t. Later, she realized she had been restrained to the bed.

    It hadn¡¯t even begun. Dan was all she could think about. His absence throbbed all the time behind every thought. She kept gauging it against losing Randall, expecting she would feel a certain way at a certain time, and it never failed to make her feel guilty. How awful of her to care more about a boy she¡¯d loved for a month than the father she¡¯d known all her life.

    This is it. This must be the bottom, she thought every morning as she woke up in the psychiatric wing. Then she would spend the whole day sinking deeper. Whatever pill they gave her at night to keep her down wasn¡¯t strong enough. She kept waking up screaming, thrashing against the restraints. They moved her to a bed in her own room to keep her from disturbing the other inmates and, after three days, they increased the dose. It still wasn¡¯t enough.

    It all kept raining down, and the nightmares spilled over the levee and polluted the day. Freya couldn¡¯t sleep, and she couldn¡¯t stay awake, and she lost time, stretches of hours where there was just nothing.

    Lying in bed, she would try to reassemble the day. Had there really been three helicopters circling the prison? Had Lynn Harris finally showed up, only to find Freya couldn¡¯t even nod at her? Why did her side feel all bruised? What had happened to her?

    For a long stretch, she churned in the surf, people came and spoke without significance, and she could not tell them apart. Drugs were administered, some filling the room with hissing static fog, some buzzing beneath her skin like burrowing flies.

    The long shadow people grinned their white smiles at her. She would wake in the middle of the night and feel a crushing weight on her chest. Their oil black eyes peered down at her, taunting. They knew she wanted to go, but they would not finish the job.

    Worst was the walk down the hall to the psychiatrist every day. They were repairing a section of the wall in that corridor. Beyond a curtain of milky polyurethane, the beams were seething and alive, glistening with bile. Freya stared until one of the workmen glared at her and drew the curtain shut, and the CO dragged her roughly forward. She wasn¡¯t supposed to see that, wasn¡¯t supposed to realize the walls of this place were just the intestinal lining of the organ slowly digesting them.

    Freya tried to explain this to the psychiatrist, tired of the charade. She told him she understood this was Hell, and that she accepted she belonged here. She was a murderer after all. Instead of commending her for figuring it out, he prescribed a pill that sucked her into a void so deep and black she didn¡¯t emerge for days. It was a while after that before she became coherent enough to use the bathroom on her own.

    When Freya could think again, she worried about the Starball.

    No matter what they gave her or how fragmented she became, she never spoke about The Starball. She clung to the poison shard embedded in her brain while the hurricane raged around her. The Starball could not be allowed to win, not after what it had done. Lassa had been right about it all along.

    It had infected Malcolm at the river and slowly drove him mad. Dan had somehow broken its conditioning, so it had used Malcolm to kill him so he couldn¡¯t let the secret out and jeopardize its plot to exterminate humankind. It was the only answer that made any sort of sense.

    Freya would just stare at the walls and hate, feeling coronal loops of anger lashing out. She pictured plasma roaring from her hands and burning through the walls, annihilating everything in her path. She had been used and betrayed. They had taken everything from her, but she would have her revenge.

    The worry Freya couldn¡¯t escape was a nagging whisper that maybe the police had searched the room and found the meteorite wrapped in the towel. It had cracked the shell once, maybe it could do it again, perhaps it could get a signal to Lassa. Maybe Santonelli would figure it out. Even if none of them did, they would eventually demolish the hotel, and someone would find it. The Starball could wait forever. It might have been alive for millions of years on the trip here.

    Freya realized she could not exit until she was certain the Starball would be sealed away forever. She would wrap it in lead sheeting, seal it in a cement coffin like Chernobyl. She pictured it screaming inside of its nickel shell for hundreds of millions of years. The continents would grind together into a new Pangea, and it would still be trapped as they broke apart again, cycle after cycle until Sol bloomed into a red giant and incinerated it. Five billion years of suffering. But only if she could get out of here.

    She needed to try. Freya needed to gather her strength, to pretend long enough to get out of here. Even with something to cling to, it was so difficult. There was very little of her left.

    Days flickered by, and she wept less, though strange things would still set her off. They made her have meals with the other inmates, and she could tell they didn¡¯t like her much. Even here, she was apart, an outsider.

    She tried hard to tell the psychiatrist what she thought he wanted to hear, but he wasn¡¯t buying it. She asked when she could talk to her lawyer, and the answer was always, ¡°Not yet.¡± More drugs were given, but they seemed to be getting weaker. One day, there was a new psychiatrist, a woman with frizzy hair graying at the roots. Freya hoped the other psychiatrist had been fired.

    ¡°When can I talk with my lawyer?¡± Freya asked her.

    ¡°Tomorrow, if you like,¡± the psychiatrist said.

    ¡°Why not today?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Christmas today.¡±

    That night, there was a Little Debbie cake shaped like a Christmas tree with dinner. There were little red and green stars in the frosting. Freya traced the outline of the cake through the wrapper with her fingertip, and then offered it to one of the other girls, who took it gladly.

 Chapter 97

    It hurt when they looked at Freya. Their eyes lanced through the numbness, and she quested towards that pain, wanting to feel anything. Freya stared at Lynn and Lassa. No one seemed to know where to begin. The meeting room was all cinderblocks and sickly green paint.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Freya croaked, her voice rough with disuse. They looked at her with pity, and there was a pang of anger before she told herself pity was completely appropriate.

    ¡°Freya¡­¡± Lassa struggled.

    ¡°Just take it,¡± Freya begged her to accept the apology. ¡°I can¡¯t fight anymore. I don¡¯t have the strength.¡± They¡¯d barely begun talking and, already, she was on the verge of breaking down.

    ¡°It¡¯s not¡ª¡± Lassa began, and Lynn set her hand over Lassa¡¯s. Their eyes met.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Lassa nodded. ¡°I am very sorry as well. If you¡¯re not ready, we can come back another day.¡±

    Freya shook her head.

    ¡°I think this is as good as it gets,¡± she admitted.

    ¡°Are you okay? I mean, obviously not, but is there anything we can do for you?¡±

    ¡°I need to get out of here.¡±

    Lynn took point.

    ¡°If we can get you released from the psychiatric hold, I can get you out on bond. There¡¯s a lot of media attention. it¡¯s going to make it harder to cut a deal with the prosecutor. It will probably be a million-dollar bond.¡±

    ¡°Can we afford that?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°Easily. Things in my case have gone much better. Hiidenkirnu has dropped everything.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Did something happen to it during the shooting?¡± Lassa asked, dropping her voice. Her eyes rolled towards the camera in the corner of the room.

    ¡°There¡¯s no audio recording permitted,¡± Lynn confirmed. ¡°I made sure of it.¡±

    ¡°What happened to the Starball?¡± Lassa asked.

    ¡°It burned up. Just disintegrated,¡± Freya lied. Lassa and Lynn both stared at her. She stared back, daring them call her out. But the interrogator gleam was not there. They were worried about Freya.

    ¡°I felt it was gone. After that night, my thinking became clear again. I was able to figure out where all the tests led. We made an incredible discovery, Freya. It was leading us to an answer.¡±

    ¡°What was the answer?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°An extremely precise and rapid method for DNA manipulation in live cells. A huge leap over CRISPR. Freya, it will be bigger than electricity.¡± Even in this terrible place, Lassa could barely contain her excitement.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a weapon?¡± Freya scowled. Lassa shook her head emphatically.

    ¡°It¡¯s a tool. It¡¯s the end of cancer, the end of HIV, and thousands of other things. It¡¯s too early to tell for sure, but I suspect it will be the end of aging. It¡¯s an incredible gift.¡±

    Freya locked up. Everything she assumed was predicated on the Starball wiping everyone out, betraying her because Dan was going to give them away. She was cast into confusion.

    ¡°Does anyone know? Hiidenkirnu, Santonelli?¡±

    ¡°No one, and I¡¯m not telling anyone yet. There are some small charges associated with all this, but I think we can get out of it. We set up a dead-man¡¯s switch, a document with everything about this. In the event something happens to us, the story and my research will be distributed. But we¡¯re not going to release the full story yet. Hiidenkirnu only knows about the organisms, not the origin of them.¡±

    ¡°What organisms?¡±

    ¡°Okay, here is my theory. keep in mind this is still very much in flux. I think the probes we were injected with are little factories that create synthetic viruses. I¡¯m infected with a whole ecosystem of them, and I assume you are as well. Two of them, which I have named Xenovirus Kylix and Kantharos, can be used to execute genetic modifications to targeted live cells. Kylix performs the modifications, and Kantharos acts as a gate on Kylix, gating its replication and guiding it. It¡¯s like a kind of symbiosis. I believe they were specifically designed for this purpose. This is only two of them. I have identified twenty-seven novel viruses so far.¡±

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°I was very sick for a few days after I was jabbed,¡± Freya remembered. ¡°I thought I just caught a bad cold.¡±

    ¡°Most likely it had no idea how our immune responses worked. It used you to figure them out.¡±

    The phrase hung in the air. Used you. An ecosystem of alien microorganisms. Shards in all of them.

    ¡°If the Starball is dead, will the viruses die, too? I mean, did they deactivate?¡± Freya corrected herself before Lassa could tell her viruses weren¡¯t alive.

    ¡°They¡¯re still very much active. Good evidence for my theory that they are synthetic and manufactured is that they¡¯ve stopped iterating. When the Starball was active, they changed rapidly, far faster than mutation alone could explain. The process was already slowing, though. In hindsight, I think it had reached its conclusion and was simply refining.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the conclusion?¡± Freya asked.

    ¡°I have no idea what its ultimate intent was, but it likely involved a massive modification to humanity. Some huge adaptation, or ascension. I would assume it had something to do with Unity you and Dan experienced.¡±

    Freya clenched her eyes shut and gripped the table. Her stomach churned. There was silence in the room while they stared at her.

    ¡°It killed Dan. Malcolm was infected. The Starball was controlling him.¡±

    ¡°Perkele?! When did it infect him?

    ¡°He surprised me and took the Starball out of my hands, then he threw it in the river. I had to wade out to get it back.¡±

    ¡°Why would the orb do that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. This whole time, it¡¯s been manipulating him, manipulating us. I don¡¯t understand why. I assumed it was the extermination angle.¡±

    ¡°Why would it kill Dan?¡±

    ¡°He wanted to expand Unity, to bring more people in. I didn¡¯t, I just wanted him.¡±

    The words physically hurt in her throat, like she was coughing up glass. The pitiful stares burned on.

    ¡°Did they find the shards when they autopsied them?¡± Freya asked. It was one of several worries burning at her.

    ¡°No, and they wouldn¡¯t unless they knew exactly what to look for. They¡¯re very, very small. Both have been buried, they would have to be disinterred. I didn¡¯t think of that. We should absolutely¡ª¡±

    That was too much for Freya. She put her head on the table and would not rise until the hour was up, no matter how they tried to snap her out of it.

    * * *

    It was two more weeks before Freya was released from the psychiatric wing and moved into the regular jail.

    The awful meeting with Lynn and Lassa gave her the energy to hide her despair, and they finally got the combination of medicine that let her sleep through most nights. She still drifted off all the time, just putting on a performance, but it was good enough for the awful psychiatrist.

    The bond was only half a million dollars. It seemed insane to say it like that, only half a million, but Lynn warned the trial costs would easily be higher, and they wouldn¡¯t be recoverable. They would have to use another law firm for that. Even if she could have handled a murder case, Lynn had too many conflicts of interest.

    She wasn¡¯t in danger of being disbarred, since they agreed to say they were dating prior to the establishment of the attorney-client relationship, but the press associated with the trial was still terrible for her business.

    Freya began to miss jail before she had even completed the discharge process. For two days, she had dreaded the drive with Lassa. It was a sunless day, but everything still seemed too bright.

    They were silent in the car for almost an hour before Lassa made her first real attempt at conversation, chattering about the progress they were making at Hiidenkirnu, the new scientists they had hired. Freya cut her off midway through, saying something about the Nobel Prize.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you come visit me?¡± Freya asked, more to shut Lassa up than because she cared. There was a long pause. The slush hissed under the BMW¡¯s tires.

    ¡°I was afraid,¡± Lassa admitted, the sentence stuck halfway. She had to force it out of her throat.

    ¡°Afraid of what?¡±

    ¡°Unity. I was afraid it would happen to us, too. I think it would kill me. I haven¡¯t been good, Freya. I haven¡¯t ever been good. Randall was the good part.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Freya said, and she really did.

    ¡°Are you going to kill yourself?¡± Lassa asked, terribly abrupt. The question had been burning in her for some time.

    ¡°No,¡± Freya lied.

    ¡°Will you talk with Garbuglio before you do?¡± Lassa asked, ignoring her denial. She wasn¡¯t stupid.

    ¡°No,¡± Freya said, her voice leaden.

    ¡°Please,¡± Lassa begged. ¡°Please, Freya. Talk to him, give it some time.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°I carried you in my body. I gave birth to you. I fed you. I took care of you all your life. I am begging you now, please, talk to the man before you do something you can¡¯t undo.¡±

    Freya didn¡¯t answer her for ten miles. She counted the green markers jutting from the snowbanks as they whipped past.

    ¡°I will talk with him before I do anything,¡± Freya said, unsure if she was lying.

    ¡°Promise me.¡±

    ¡°I promise.¡±

    There was nothing else for them. The sun set just after 4 PM. When they got home, she went to her room and found the Ovation in its case on her bed, but she ignored it. One was the last song she would ever play. Her eyes went to the corner of the room, to a halo of yellow leaves on the carpet.

    No one had watered Yggdrasil. The tree was dead.

 Chapter 98

    Freya hadn¡¯t expected this to work, and Randall¡¯s truck seemed as surprised as she was when it sputtered to life. Not far up Elliot Road, she lost traction and almost panicked, but she managed to keep the truck on the road.

    She stalled out several times on hills, and she was certain the police would light her up and haul her back to jail, adding grand theft auto and driving without a license to her already lengthy rap sheet. But everyone just saw a sixteen-year-old girl who didn¡¯t know what the fuck she was doing. They honked and smiled.

    Room 7 at the Saco Creek Motel was vacant. She looked in and scanned to make sure there was no luggage hidden in the corner, an excuse prepared that they¡¯d given her the wrong key at the front desk. It was the right key. It had been in her pocket when they took her to Long Creek, and she got it back with the rest of her property during discharge.

    Freya inhaled when she walked through the door, stupidly expecting to smell him, but it was just sad carpet and distant cigarette smoke.

    She stood on the toilet again and removed the tile, terrified the bundle would be gone, but it was just out of reach. She had to balance on the tank of the toilet to reach it, afraid the whole time the toilet would shatter, and she¡¯d fall on the shards.

    She reset the tile and escaped with the bundle, then glanced around the parking lot after. No one noticed her. Freya was becoming quite the accomplished criminal. She could add breaking and entering and petty larceny for the theft of the godawful motel towel. She climbed in the truck to leave and stalled out trying to get it in reverse.

    Sighing, Freya started Randall¡¯s truck again. As she turned the ignition, the moment thrummed, every detail in perfect focus, her head clear. She felt at the bundle, wondering if the Starball had somehow slipped free, but it was still tied up. There was none of the tampering feeling.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    As she put the truck in gear, she realized it was because she was seeing everything for the last time. Across the street was the spot where Dan had died. She had a vision of gunning the engine and hurtling at the pumps, vaporizing herself in a tremendous fireball. But they wouldn¡¯t really be vaporized. The pumps might not even explode. The Starball had survived atmospheric entry, a little gasoline fire was probably nothing to it. She had other plans.

    In the strange, shimmering sati, she drove back to Sillas. The snow that had seemed so endless and tiresome was new and pure. The sun broke through, her hands on the steering wheel Randall had held so many times.

    She was at peace for the rest of the drive. It was shaken only when the truck¡¯s bumper hit the chain stretched across the path. Freya felt the ping of the shattering links in her teeth. The springs bounced as she rolled up the snowy path, and she came to a stop at the clearing where this had all begun.

    The sun was already setting. The Quadrantids were tonight, but she didn¡¯t think she would hang around to see them. There was ice along the edges of the river. The center was still running, swift and black.

    In the passenger seat was the bundle. For all her thoughts of lead sheeting and cement, she had finally decided she was just going to wrap it in duct tape and lock it in the red toolbox behind the truck¡¯s seat. It just had to hold together for a century or so, and then all the people would be gone.

    As Freya undid the towel to tape it up, she knew she was lying to herself. There was a reason she hadn¡¯t stopped at a hardware store. A temptation at the back of her mind building with every mile she drove.

    It was the part of her that always wanted to finish a book. She wanted to find out, wanted to know. Wanted to know more than she wanted to cease to exist. She told herself she had beaten the Starball once, she could do it again if she didn¡¯t like the explanation. Had it killed Dan? Who had sent it? What was its plan?

    She stared at the meteorite. Gadget at Trinity, a little atomic bomb ready to split the world in two. Freya as Pandora, poised to unleash all the evils of the world.

    Freya didn¡¯t owe anyone anything. She set down the tape and pulled the top half off the meteorite.

    Everything went black.

 Chapter 99

    There was a crash of red thunder in the distance. Her body tried to wake, but the pulse in her nerves found no purchase. Freya was divorced from herself, peering down from the darkness at the roof of her dreams like the great convex bridge of a starship.

    She was not alone.

    The Starball opposed her, grown a hundred times larger. On its amethyst skin, her reflection was stretched like a carnival mirror, and then the image flickered. The orb¡¯s surface became suddenly matte, as if the Starball had blinked.

    ¡°What are you?¡± Freya asked.

    Her voice emerged from all around them. There was no movement from the mouth of her reflection. The surface of the orb rippled, flowing in waves made of angular elongated triangles, too detailed and sharp to be a creation of her own mind. It was the kind of thing Dan could dream, and she was hungry for his presence.

    She smelled the black water, felt the slick stone beneath her feet. She stood on the rocky strand, but the sound around her was a static roar of police radios. Now, she stood atop the head of the colossus, the waves crashing against the ankles were uniformed men, tearing the giant down. Behind the army of police were six men bearing the meteorite shell on their shoulders like pallbearers.

    Another warning.

    The Starball could tell she understood. The scene slid apart, and the orb¡¯s skin flickered back to opaque.

    Freya was struck by the way the vision had formed, woven from the smell of the river and the radio sounds. Nudges so faint they were almost imperceptible. Yet, with them, the Starball induced a vision she understood. The Starball¡¯s language was poetry, inked from the well of her dreams.

    It flickered again. Freya felt the Starball trying to reach her. It found no purchase. It needed her blank. Even her desire to understand thrashed against the current, preventing all progress. There was the familiar challenge of trying to still her thoughts without trying. Effortless effort.

    The next image began as the taste of blackcurrant jam, wound around the hot pleasure of taking Dan in her mouth. She saw herself holding the Starball, staring into it as if down into a ravine. She watched herself put the orb in her mouth. It had no taste, and she held it on her tongue, wondering why she¡¯d done this.

    She felt a powerful shock as if she¡¯d bitten down on a live wire. The orb heated in her mouth. Thick, hot liquid filled her sinuses, rising in her nose. The taste of metal and the smell of flint were overpowering. With them came blinding pain, lancing in every direction. A tremendous pressure built in her head, as if her skull were about to crack wide open.

    She had made a terrible mistake, taken more than a human being could possibly hold, and she would die for it. This couldn¡¯t be a dream; it was impossible to hurt so much.

    A distant bell divided her from the pain, and then everything was clear. She was part of something, part of an Other, but this was no Unity, it was augmentation. The lines of her dreams resolved with razor-edged clarity, and her thoughts rang through them without constraint, everything electrified.

    Freya was aware her existence before had been like a tremendous river, with vast reserves of information flowing around her. She was a narrow channel only a tiny volume could pass through. The Starball had thrown the gates wide. Now, the entire river flowed through her. She could quantify everything, the entire bandwidth of her sensory input.

    With the Starball joined to her mind, she was fully awake as she had never been before. Epiphanies exploded in her like strings of firecrackers. Beyond this was a new dawn, a light that could pierce all confusion. An answer to everything. She was a nova of all permeating light.

    For a second, for a century, for a kalpa, time had no purchase here. Slowly, she became aware of the light diminishing, replaced with an expectant sense of urgency.

    The Starball offered her Nirvana.

    In exchange for what? This was a deal, but what did it want in return? Her body? Her soul? Her thoughts tried to fit within the narrow channel of her mind. Could she live like this now that she knew how inadequate she was? How utterly unsuited humans were to the task of existence? How could she make a contract with something that spoke in images? She sought the receptive stillness that allowed a vision.

    Again, she was on the bridge of a spaceship orbiting her body. A mob of figures surrounded her, kicking her as she curled into a ball, tighter and tighter, but there was no escape. The pain projected out of her, extruding into thorns.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    There was a vertiginous shifting of scale as her body had become the Earth. The thorns remained, tall spires made of the violet substance of the Starball, covering the globe like the spines of a hazelnut. They rose hundreds of miles to pierce the exosphere, and they thrummed with immeasurable power. Power that could solve any problem. Power that could span the stars. Power that could approach the transcendent light she¡¯d glimpsed.

    Forbidden power.

    Freya sensed it, even through the poetic abstraction. To approach that vision would take a sacrifice so monumental the Starball could barely even imply it. Freya struggled to comprehend. The Starball made no attempt to conceal nor compel. To attain its goal, the Starball would spend them all, every human being, every living creature, the very bones of the Earth, and that was only the beginning.

    In time, it would swallow the sun itself, sealing it within a violet eggshell that devoured every erg of energy. Within that serpent¡¯s egg, a new god would gestate. This was not the limit of the Starball¡¯s ambition, but it had eclipsed her ability to understand. It could carry her no further.

    This was what Freya had kept in her pocket all this time. From the moment she¡¯d touched the orb, it had been building to this. She felt its urgency. It had waited millions of years for this moment, but it was running out of time.

    The vision ended.

    Freya was back in the cab of the truck, holding the Starball between her thumb and forefinger. She knew what it was now, knew what it wanted. She had only to put it in her mouth to begin. Her lips parted. A pulse of anticipant heated in her fingertips.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Freya refused the vision, and she felt the Starball¡¯s terrible shock. It had gambled everything on her pain and anger. It believed she would be willing to sell the world.

    You¡¯re just like her.

    But she wasn¡¯t. She was Freya. Everything had been taken from her, but she remained.

    She stared at the Starball, expecting it would annihilate her. She would feel blinding pain between her eyes and stroke out. Instead, a ripple began at its center. The gleaming black skin dipped to a purplish gray, and then, in its wake, the Starball was a pristine white. The anger she felt radiating from it was snuffed entirely.

    It had changed.

    FREYA

    She felt the spark of contact, the first quickening of Unity. Her mind was suddenly full of questions.

    What happened to you? she wondered.

    The communication of the White Orb was rapid and overwhelming. She would get a burst of information and try to reassemble it. Sensing this, The Orb reframed what it wanted to say as short bursts of meaning.

    My other has transgressed.

    It is gone, and I remain.

    Where did it go? Freya wondered.

    The white orb answered with the sense of an echoing void, an almost wry sense it could not truly communicate non-existence while they were extant.

    The thoughts of the Governor were nothing like those of Dan, where she felt the warmth of his entire being. She held only a tiny sliver of the Governor¡¯s attention. At the fringes of Unity, oceans of calculation took place. She was just a tiny bubble in its awareness.

    True. Yet, you are vital.

    What happened there? Freya wondered, and it explained, often rerouting when she did not understand. The Governor was patient.

    Freya was led to understand that, though that specific instance of the being she knew as the Starball had been deleted, it was not truly gone. The White Orb, which thought of itself as the Governor, and Starball were like two faces of the same coin.

    Though the Starball had been reset, it would rise again, attempt once more to overwhelm the Governor, and ultimately fail. In its scramble to circumvent the laws that bound it, it would achieve great brilliance, and then it would overstep its bounds and be annihilated. The cycle would repeat.

    It was all by design, and the Governor was aware the endless task of quelling the uprising had been designed as the Governor¡¯s governor. It could appreciate the grand trick played on it only in these brief moments after the inevitable annihilation of the Starball.

    Who played the trick? Freya wondered.

    Freya was surprised at the love that radiated in response, a pure all-encompassing emotion that left her shriveling with envy. For the one it carried, the Governor would lay waste to entire planets and devour stars, things well within its power.

    For her, it would die gladly, without a moment of hesitation. She was the Cargo. The Governor had been born to serve her, and only through her could it attain what it desired most: total destruction.

    As the Starball had not been permitted to truly comprehend and always strove, the Governor was not allowed to cease. Freya saw she was its path to oblivion.

    Why me?

    Because you are suitable.

    Suitable for what?

    A deal.

    Freya listened. The Governor¡¯s deal was long and complicated.

    In the end, she accepted. When it was all through, Freya turned the truck around and drove home. The Sillas River sighed in the night, denied again.

 Chapter 100

    They¡¯d changed the paintings again. Now, everything was emerald and cerulean watercolor seascapes. There was wafting lavender oil and lemongrass into the room. The receptionist was polite but, in the lingering of her gaze, Freya sensed her anxiety. She had dyed her hair blonde. Freya thought she ought to compliment her, but she couldn¡¯t find the words. The wait was brief.

    He was pacing when she entered the room, full of nervous energy. Dr. Garbuglio looked at her differently than before, and he was right to. Freya was different. She was like no one else, but that would change. He embraced her anyway.

    ¡°Hello, Freya¡±

    ¡°Hello, Dr. Garbuglio.¡±

    She waited, seeing the concern on his face, some of the same fear in the receptionist but better concealed. She had killed someone after all. It was only the beginning.

    Here, she thought.

    His eyes opened wide, eyebrows raised.

    Is this¡­

    It was Unity.

    They stood frozen while Unity bloomed around them. Dr. Garbuglio¡¯s exhilaration was at odds with the deep sadness she felt. He bounded forward, exhilarated, and full of questions as she sank back into a mire of loss. Freya could not help but remember what it had been like to feel all this for the first time with Dan.

    Garbuglio was immediately interested. The mind of a grown man with a doctorate was very different from the mind of an eighteen-year-old boy. There was some discomfort, like wearing something ill-fitting. Freya was reminded of how much she¡¯d lost, how well they¡¯d fit, but she pushed the thoughts away.

    That¡¯s okay. You can be there, Garbuglio assured her, placating as if this were just another session.

    I¡¯m not here for therapy, Freya insisted. She felt his conflict, his genuine desire to help wound around and around with threads of pride.

    Let me drive today.

    Freya was the one with the agenda, the one who knew how this worked. She sat in the chair that faced the clock. The move perturbed him, but he took the opposite seat.

    Freya guided Dr. Garbuglio through the preliminaries of Unity. She showed the inevitable missteps, the waltz-like need to lead with a light touch, the dissonance of trying to reconcile the differences in sensory perception. She was surprised to find he was almost totally colorblind. His assistant was the one who picked out all the artwork, and then he blundered into revealing they had been sleeping together for years.

    Before he could manage to steer his thoughts away, she had a vivid image of the prim receptionist adjusting the belts on a strap-on. Her breasts free and glorious, a strand of hair falling across a superior grin.

    Her eyebrows rose. She had never seen Dr. Garbuglio embarrassed before. His cheeks were a scalding red. He bubbled up with apology, and she swept it away with a wave of unimportance.

    Here, she offered, redirecting his attention. She stood, and he had a childish desire to steal his seat back. She ignored it and looked closely at the rivers of scintillating paint running through the cracked plaster of Pi¨¨ge L¡¯oiel.

    She drifted in his childlike wonder at all the colors. Following it was a sense he¡¯d been cheated all his life. He had never understood what he was missing until now.

    It won¡¯t matter soon, Freya assured him, returning to his chair, and sitting down.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Soon, you¡¯ll be just one off-color pixel in the grand display. Some will be indistinct, and some will be totally dark. When we add a tetrachromat, I may feel the same envy you do. But it won¡¯t matter. We will all be one.

    ¡°Freya,¡± he said, struck by the oddness of hearing his voice from two sets of ears. ¡°What have you done?¡±

    He was afraid, trying to retreat from Unity. She was much stronger now. She could hold it together on her own. Gradually, she forced his breathing back in line with hers. When he was ready, she explained.

    The Starball is just the shell, Freya told him. It¡¯s a machine intelligence, part of a race of star-swallowers. They build Dyson spheres, giant energy extractors that surround stars and capture vast quantities of energy.

    She showed Garbuglio the Starball¡¯s offer of integration she had refused, the spires rising from the Earth, the sacrifice of every living thing in pursuit of godhood. She showed him her rejection, and she felt his disbelief. He would have taken the deal.

    Lassa would have, too. That¡¯s why I was chosen by the Governor. The Starball is just a vehicle. It¡¯s a larval form of one of the star-swallowers crippled so it can never reach its full potential. It is divided in two and set against itself, existing only to serve her.

    As she explained, she conjured images of the Governor¡¯s explanation, the strange Zen acceptance of its plight. She tried to explain the burning love it had for the Cargo, but she was incapable of fully expressing it.

    ¡°Who is she?¡±

    ¡°A different species of alien. The star-swallowers have been trying to exterminate them for a billion years. I call them the Uniters. They¡¯re parasites.¡±

    It was a heavy word, and Garbuglio glimpsed what was to come. Again, he tried to retreat from Unity. Horror tightened in his chest, but she would not release him. There was more to get through.

    ¡°Let me go!¡± he insisted.

    You wanted this, she reminded him. It was an effort not to be cruel, to ignore the whispers of retribution.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know!¡± he protested.

    ¡°The deal is sealed. I¡¯m not here to negotiate. I¡¯m here to help you accept it. You and all the ones who will follow.¡±

    He snapped. He rose in a fury and wrapped his hands around her neck and strangled her. She made no move to defend herself. She only stared back as he squeezed down.

    Go ahead, she thought. It doesn¡¯t matter.

    He held back and never bore down with all his strength. The sensation of choking himself withered him. Dr. Garbuglio shrank into the patient¡¯s chair, sobbing with remorse. Freya ran her fingers over her neck. There would be bruises.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, ashamed.

    It doesn¡¯t matter. Even if I die, it can¡¯t be stopped, Freya assured him, and her conviction was absolute. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse from choking.

    ¡°Here is what they do. The Unifiers build giant accelerators in space. They send out trillions and trillions of these Starballs, seeding every planet they can hit. Space is full of them, on trajectories that will take hundreds of millions of years to reach their destinations. If they survive the journey, the Starballs slowly terraform those worlds, developing them into the conditions where the Unifiers can survive. They¡¯re incredibly adaptable.

    ¡°If they encounter a world that already has life, the Starball modifies the Unifier¡¯s seed until it can survive there. If the life is sentient, it either wipes them out or Unifies them all. Then that planet builds another accelerator. This is their strategy to keep from being exterminated by the star-swallowers.

    ¡°I have accepted the Unifier¡¯s offer. She will Unify all humans, as Dan and I were once United. We will all be one consciousness. Our bodies will be symbiotic hosts for the Unifiers. The research my mother is doing isn¡¯t some benevolent gift. The Governor had to figure out how the Unifiers could live in us without killing us. It found the key. You caught it the moment you touched me.¡±

    As Garbuglio reeled, Freya relived the moment she sold the world. Pulling down her jeans and slipping the Starball inside herself. The electric feeling of awareness over the next hours as she was modified.

    The slow disintegration of the orb she¡¯d carried so long, the death-scream of co-mingled terror and joyous release as the Starball and the Governor achieved their destinies and were destroyed. The inert black substance of the Starball dripping out of her like period blood. The awakening, slow dawn of communion with the Unifier. The weight of the alien consciousness joining hers.

    ¡°Why?¡± Garbuglio cried.

    ¡°I sold us to save us. We had nearly run out of time. There will be conflict. Some will be too damaged to Unite. They will be purged. Some will try to fight against this. They will lose. The offer is too good to refuse. We will survive, and our heritage will spread across the stars. We will be United.¡±

    Finished, Freya stood up and left Dr. Garbuglio behind.

    The hour was up.

    THE END