Traveler (Traveler #1)(63)

All this has made me edgy and emotionally raw. I feel like I can’t share too much of it with Finn because it involves Ben so much, but I can’t exactly tell Ben about all of this, either. Every time he texts me to check on me, I feel like I bleed a little.

Mario has been absent on the overnights, so I guess he’s busy. Finn’s hasn’t had any contact with Rudy, so he’s not getting any answers, either. I am ready to burst.

On Saturday, Finn meets me for a walk in the park and I just completely lose it on him.

He doesn’t try to tell me it’ll get better. He just tells me he’s sorry, because he knows that sometimes, that’s all you can say.

We are standing in the park by a pond, snow is falling all around, and I am cursing myself for not remembering to bring Kleenex, because I’m crying all over the front of his shirt. I feel him lift my chin, and he wipes my face with his fingertips.

Thanks, I sign.

I’m not blowing your nose for you, he signs back.

I laugh, and I’m sure it sounds as awkward as it feels. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. He pulls me into him and I rest my face against his chest. He’s warm and real and the only anchor I have in this swirling sea of feelings and frustration.

He pulls back and I feel him laugh.

What? I sign.

You’d better stop crying before you freeze to my shirt, he signs.

Right, I sign, stepping back.

He looks around, which is kind of silly, considering we aren’t going to be overheard. Not unless somebody knows sign language.

Hey, he signs. How would you like to get away from here for a little while?

You mean away from the park, or “away” away?

He grins conspiratorially. “Away” away.

Won’t Mario get mad? I don’t want us to get in trouble and end up getting night terrors or something.

We’ll only be gone half an hour. Besides, I have permission. Rudy and I talked last night and he suggested that I take you away for a little while. He thinks you’re under too much stress. He’ll handle Mario for you.

Do you have someplace in mind? I ask.

I thought a little glitter mousse might cheer you up.

I smile, my eyes darting around. It’s like I expect Mario to leap out of the bushes like an avenging angel, ready to smite us or something.

Okay, I sign. I’d love to. Let’s get back home while Danny is busy with his therapist.

Why? he responds. We’ve got a pond right in front of us.

Are you serious? It’s freezing. We’ll get soaked.

You’ll transfer as soon as you touch it. If you do it right, the only thing getting wet will be your fingertips.

If I do it right, I qualify.

You have to learn sometime. He shrugs. Come on. You’ve got this.

He leads me over to the pond’s edge. We’ll do this the easy way, he signs. But it’ll get our shoes muddy.

What’s the hard way? I ask.

He points at the footbridge that arches over the water. We jump.

From the bridge? That’s only about six feet above the water!

We’d have to shift fast, he agrees. But I don’t think you’re ready for that yet. And I doubt our counterparts would appreciate slamming into an icy pond.

No, definitely not, I sign. Let’s stick with easy.

We crouch down at the water’s edge, and he breaks through the thin ice. The water is crystal clear, and I’m easily able to see myself in the surface. I reach out, putting tentative fingers to the water as I stare at the other me, my mind filling with images of chandeliers and chrome and sparkling everything.

I push on the surface, and the water is so cold, it makes my fingers numb. I concentrate as hard as I can with my fingers freezing off, and my hand pushes down … right into the water, soaking my sleeve.

I draw back, making a startled sound as I shake the water off my frozen hand.

Don’t get distracted, Finn signs. You have to tune out the conditions around you and focus on where you want to go.

Can’t we just go back home and find a decent mirror?

Finn shakes his head. You need to learn this. Someday, you may need to travel quickly, or under harsh conditions. Keep your focus, and you’ll be fine.

I rub my hands together, trying to get them warm, and I try again, gazing at my reflection in the water and looking closely as my fingertips barely graze the surface. It still takes two more tries and an achingly cold hand before things begin to morph before my eyes.

This time, instead of the easy give of water, it feels thicker, tighter. One strong push and I am through.

Whoa. So this is where I live over here. My room is a technicolor, glittering nightmare. Everything is in neon shades of yellow and pink, and I have what looks like four shimmering disco balls instead of light fixtures, and all four of them are spinning at different speeds. It makes me want to throw up. If Danny were here, he’d be crouched in a corner with his eyes shut.

I am suddenly filled with a wave of homesickness so strong it brings tears to my eyes and they spill over, sliding down my cheeks. I miss my Danny, singing along with Disney movies. I miss his goofy sense of humor and even the way he announces it like the town crier every time he farts. I miss climbing into my mom’s bed at night, after Danny goes to sleep. I know she’s tired, but she never tells me to leave. It’s the only time we have really that’s just for us, and we lie there and I talk about my day and we laugh and she lets me fall asleep there, if I want to. And when she turns out the light, she smooths my hair back and kisses my forehead, even though I’m seventeen. I pretend I’m asleep when she does it, but I’m really not.