Page 200 of Victorious

Mitch recoiled, the sound so close and loud it was painful, and for an instant, the whole world cracked, and he saw white walls, metal doors, a gun. There and gone. Swallowed up by the cabin, and the chopping block, and the trees.

A dream.

It was a dream.

As snow began to fall in quiet drifts, he struggled to hold on to the idea. EON. He was in EON and—

“Hey, Mitch!” called Syd.

She was standing on the front porch, that butter yellow light spilling out over the steps, Dol sitting at her side. “You coming in?”

And he wanted to. He really did.

But the Sydney in the doorway wasn’t his.

Mitch turned and started walking away from the house.

It took every ounce of strength, but that was how he knew it was the right idea.

Because his body didn’t want to go this way. And the world didn’t want to let him, either. The snow began to fall in earnest. The cold turned biting. The wind picked up, trying to force him back to the cabin. But Mitch bent his head, and kept walking, as the weather worsened.

Because the real Syd was out there somewhere.

And he wasn’t leaving her again.

IIINOW. THEN.

JUNE was back in her booth.

Music spilled through the diner, and a cup of coffee sat, half drunk, on the laminate table in front of her. She liked it strong and dark, but her heart was rabbit quick, so she’d turned down a third refill. Empty sugar sachets piled in a little hill beside the cup, and she was drumming her fingers on the table like she had somewhere else to be, even though she didn’t. Could spend the whole night right here, wrapped up in the strange and the familiar, waiting for—

The bell chimed over the door, and Abigail walked in, backpack hanging from one shoulder, brassy curls piled on her head. June had three sisters, but Abigail was the youngest. A weedy thing that had grown up in her shadow. Eleven now, and every time June blinked, the girl seemed to sprout another inch.

Slow down, she wanted to say. Wanted to put her hands on her sister’s shoulders and push. Keep her small.

Abigail slung her bag and then herself into the booth.

“Mam’s driving me mad,” she said in her singsong way, and the sound made June’s eyes begin to water, her heart tightening behind her ribs, as if she hadn’t heard the voice in years. Which was silly, wasn’t it?

Her little sister was right there.

The waitress, Maggie, set a slice of cake down on the table. “For my favorite girls.”

“Don’t tell the other two,” said June, the words worn smooth from being said. Because this was their secret ritual, she and Abbie, an after-school affair. A voluntary kidnapping, ever since she’d moved out.

Abigail spun a fork between her fingers, and everything was perfect except the feeling in June’s chest. A happy kind of sadness that came out as, “I miss you.”

Abigail cocked her head, a perfect mimic. “How can you miss me?” she asked. “I’m sittin’ right here.” And that was true.

She shrugged. “I guess I miss you in advance.”

Abigail laughed. “You’re such a weirdo, June,” she said, and the words sent a little splinter through her mind, because that wasn’t her name. Not then. Not yet. She’d wanted it to be—she liked everything June stood for, the warm weather, the blue skies—but it wasn’t yet, wouldn’t be until after. After she changed. After it was no longer safe to be herself, so she buried her, and—

The diner glitched, like an old video, static skating jaggedly over her vision, and when it cleared, Abigail was gone, and Sydney was sitting in her place.

Same size. Same shape. Only this one she didn’t have to give up. This one she could keep.

And June felt good again. Smiled as she leaned across to swipe a bit of frosting from the cake.