Chapter 33
“Would you like to explain what’s been going on?”
I tear my bleary eyes away from my laptop to see Mrs. Vidar-Tett standing over me.
It’s the first day of Thanksgiving break and I’d come to the dining hall to look over Sumner’s notes from last night as I waited for William.
There’s hardly anyone in here since most students have already left, clattering luggage wheels and laughter sounding from corridor.
A few students pop in to grab a muffin or coffee before darting back out, eager to get home.
I’m so focused that, for a second, I think she knows everything. About William, about what’s happening with the time anomaly—but no. It’s not any of those things.
“You were barely present in our meeting on Monday,” she continues when I don’t respond, helping herself to the empty seat across from me.
“You’re behind on your community service hours despite your dedication to alumni outreach for the gala, and you missed the A&P entrance exam again.
Or did you forget it was yesterday afternoon? ”
I shut my laptop. How do I tell her the truth? That I’d missed the test because it didn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things. Not when parts of the school are starting to vanish.
Missing tiles in the bathroom. The sconces in the library.
The armchair in the Forgotten Lounge. Things both small and random enough to avoid notice.
It’s happening slowly, which—along with the missing teacher portraits—confirms the longer William is here, the more time erases.
A steady fade, though it doesn’t make it less terrifying.
Every time it happens, terror flares within me. I make a habit of checking the portrait wall, keeping count of the increasingly empty frames. I can’t help but wonder if everyone else has woken up in a new thread of life, one untouched from this place and these memories.
I don’t want to lose everything.
My right eye twitches. “I forgot,” I lie. “I’m sorry.”
She studies me. “Have you submitted any of your college applications?” My silence is enough of an answer. “Delaney, I’m worried about you.”
“My grades are fine,” I say, because it’s partially true. I’ve turned in my assignments even if they aren’t up to caliber with my usual work. “And I’m aware of the deadlines.”
“You’re good at that, aren’t you?”
Now I’m confused. “Schoolwork?”
“No.” She tilts her head. “Doing well enough to remain invisible.”
I swallow. Drop my eyes to my laptop.
“Ivernia faculty goes through a student behavior training seminar each year. People think it’s the loud students you have to worry about, the ones who deliberately act out, but often it’s the quiet ones who don’t shout their struggles to the world.
After losing your dad, I imagine it’s easier to stay on the smoothest path so you don’t cause any more instability. ” She pauses. “Am I close?”
My eyes itch, my body aches, and the exhaustion threatens to pull me under. I don’t want to do this right now, so I say, “Do you think I can make up the A&P test?”
“Is that what you want?”
And then the truth springs from me. “No.”
She nods, as though she expected this. “Application deadlines are mid-December,” she reminds me. “Why don’t you use this break to figure things out for yourself? Maybe talk it over with your mom?”
“I’m staying here. For Thanksgiving break. And it’s fine,” I add, because I can tell she’s concerned. “I’m going home for winter break. It’s not that far away.”
A clamor of excited students burst through the doors and begin grabbing trays. She checks her watch, then presses her lips together.
“I’m also staying in Lake Placid over break,” she finally says. “Listen, I know you’re set on UPenn, but I also know you’re exceptionally gifted in physics. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
She rises from the table, crooking a brow as she waits.
“Oh—now?”
“Now,” she confirms. “Considering classes are done for the next few days.”
It’s not as though I can explain what else I have going on, so I repack my bag and follow her into the academics building. She makes a right toward the science wing and holds the lab door open, ushering me inside. We’re not the only ones in here.
“Delaney, I’d like you to meet Salvon. My cousin.”
The similarities are apparent. Same rich olive skin, same rounded front teeth, but Salvon is a few inches taller with dark hair that dips below his earlobes. When he spots us, he rises from his place at the lab table and comes over, extending a hand my way. I shake it.
“Pleasure to meet you, Delaney.”
“You too.” I glance between them, confused. “Are you also a teacher?”
“In some capacity. I’m a particle physicist at the University of Michigan,” he explains. “Post-doc researcher and professor, to be exact.”
“My dad used to do research in the astrophysics space.” The excitement in my voice rings clear. “And he also taught.”
“Salvon’s in town for the holiday and wanted to see Ivernia’s facilities,” Mrs. Vidar-Tett says. “But he could also use a second pair of eyes on his grant proposals. Isn’t that right?”
Salvon shrugs, reaching into his shoulder bag to remove a stuffed manila envelope. “How about it?”
“I can try.” I perch on a lab stool. “I used to write for The Herald, but journalism wasn’t my strong suit. Although I did like the research part.”
“That’s my preference as well.” Salvon takes the seat across from me and empties the envelope onto the desk. “You won’t be writing, though. I’ve already got that part down. Your dad ever tell you about the grant process?”
“Just that it’s like gravity. If both feet are on the ground, then it’s constant and expected.”
He releases a full belly laugh as he looks at Mrs. Vidar-Tett. “I like her.”
For the next few hours, Salvon walks me through his proposal and answers the twelve thousand questions I have about his career trajectory.
Was it difficult? (Yes.) Did he ever get discouraged?
(Yes, but that’s what fuels the fire.) I learn it took him eight years to earn his doctorate and that he prefers working on accelerator-based experiments.
His eyes light up when he tells me he gets to try to answer questions about the universe for a living.
It’s the same glow I remember seeing in my dad’s face.
I’m so wrapped up in listening to him that Mrs. Vidar-Tett has to interrupt us when it’s time for lunch.
The three of us head to the dining hall to grab the last turkey sandwiches, and I pepper Salvon with questions about UMich while we eat.
He tells me about the undergraduate physics program and how there’s a graduate program specifically for astronomy.
Listening to him incites a fire in me, burning bright like the sun.
I remember Sabine talking about the University of Paris—is this how she felt?
Passionate, even excited for a future that made sense?
After, we all head back to the lab where I spend the next hour combing through his proposal and making suggestions in the margins while Mrs. Vidar-Tett reads in a desk chair at the front of the room.
Its execution is direct, laying out the importance of the research he’ll undertake over the course of the next year.
Even though I try to focus, I can’t help asking more questions about Michigan and student life and classes and coursework.
He tells me that the architecture and foliage reminds him of Ivernia, and I should hop over to Ann Arbor and take a tour sometime.
It’s the first time in weeks I’ve allowed myself to imagine my future instead of dreading what’s already been taken away.
When my adrenaline wanes, resurfacing the bigger problem at hand, I impulsively reach into my bag for my dad’s journal and turn to the simplified equation we’ve almost cracked.
“It’s a long shot,” I begin, “but would you mind looking at this?”
His eyes widen. “This is extremely advanced math.”
He doesn’t know how advanced. It doesn’t deter him from pulling out a graphing calculator along with a sheet of notebook paper and taking a stab at it.
I’m not sure how long we continue on like this, me working on the proposal and him jotting through ideas, but Mrs. Vidar-Tett breaks the silence.
“This seems like a good stopping point.”
Salvon uses his eraser to tap the page in front of him. “Can I get back to you?”
My last glimmer of hope dies, but I don’t let my disappointment show. “Yeah, of course. Thank you.”
“It’s you I should thank.” He collects his proposal and slides it back into the folder. “Give me a holler if you think Michigan might be in your future.”
“I will,” I say in earnest.
Beside me, Mrs. Vidar-Tett beams. Then she ushers us out and locks the door behind her. The three of us pull on our coats as we reach the double doors. Outside, a salt-like downpouring of snow drifts toward the ground and melts on impact.
“I was promised the best hot chocolate on this side of the country,” Salvon says as he pulls on his gloves.
“You’re clearly not talking about Ivernia’s cafeteria,” I say. “But there’s a cute Parisian café in town that won’t disappoint.”
“And that’s exactly where we intend to go.” Mrs. Vidar-Tett flips her jacket hood over her head. “Oh, before I forget. There’s a few items on the gala checklist that you can complete before Monday to catch yourself up on community service hours.”
“I’ll prioritize it,” I assure her. “And—thank you. For this. It was really cool.”
Salvon releases an excited gasp. Off his reaction, Mrs. Vidar-Tett shakes her head. “A teenager admitting particle physics is cool? He’s going to ride this high for months.”
“Years,” Salvon insists. “Years.”
She smiles at me. “You have a mandatory stay-over policy meeting in the student lounge in twenty minutes,” she says. “But after that, please go enjoy your break.”