Coin #2 - Quantum Coin (2 page)

“Thank you
,” Ephraim said. “No, really. It's such a relief that you—”

Nathan giggled.

Ephraim sighed. “‘Relief’?”

Nathan nodded, still laughing. He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.

“When are you going to grow up?” Ephraim asked.

“Toilet humor never gets old,” Nathan said.

“But it always stinks.”

“Nice,” Nathan said.

Ephraim's stomach flip-flopped, and he pressed his hand to his cummerbund. Just when he thought he was going to be sick, the queasiness disappeared just as quickly as it had come.

What was that?
The pang had felt almost like the first time he had crossed over to a parallel universe. But the quarter that had taken him there and back again didn't work anymore, and he didn't even have it with him.

“Uh. You okay?” Nathan asked.

Ephraim stood and looked around the room wildly, trying to spot any changes. Had that banner been blue before, or had it been lavender?

“What were we just talking about?” Ephraim asked.

“We were engaging in some scatological repartee,” Nathan said. “Seriously. What's wrong?”

Ephraim was worried that he'd shifted into another universe again—or been bumped by someone else—but Nathan remembered the conversation they'd been having. He hadn't seemed to change, and everything else looked the same as it had a moment ago.

“You don't look so hot. Or actually, you look a little too hot,” Nathan said. “In the literal, not colloquial, sense, though objectively speaking, as a guy, I recognize that your appearance is not entirely unappealing. No doubt thanks to exceptional genes from your mother, who also looks exceptional in jeans.”

“I'm okay now,” Ephraim said.

“No, you aren't. You didn't even react to my remark about Maddy.”

“I've given up on discouraging your bizarre crush on my mother.”

“Oh, there she is,” Nathan said.

“My mom?” Ephraim asked.

“Your date.” Nathan grabbed his camera from the bar and pointed it over Ephraim's shoulder. “And…action!”

Ephraim swiveled around on his stool. Jena was at the entrance to the ballroom, looking around the room. She had changed into a tank top and denim shorts. She looked frantic.

“Where's her dress?” Nathan asked.

Jena's prom dress had been a very pleasant surprise, considering her wardrobe favored unrevealing T-shirts and jeans. The crimson sleeveless gown pushed up her breasts, though she'd kept tugging at it self-consciously to keep too much from showing. She had crossed her arms for the whole limo ride, annoyed at Nathan's insistence on documenting it. Now that Ephraim thought about it, maybe her avoidance of him all night had more to do with Nathan's constant surveillance.

“Something's wrong.” Ephraim headed for Jena, with Nathan trailing close behind, whispering stage cues.

“You haven't seen her in a long time. You've been pining for her,” Nathan prompted him.

“It's been fifteen minutes,” Ephraim said.

“Pining.
I want a tearful reunion. How good are you at crying on demand?”

“Nathan. Quit it. This isn't the time.”

A smile spread across Jena's face as Ephraim approached. In fact, she looked happier than she had all night. She ran toward him, dodging couples on the dance floor. What had gotten into her?

They met in the middle of the dance floor. She hesitantly placed a hand on his arm, as though not quite sure he was real. Then she held on more tightly. Her face was flushed, and she was breathing heavily. Sweat plastered her short dark hair to her forehead. A strand clung to the back of her neck.

“Ephraim?” Jena said. There was something odd about her eyes. They were bright, shining. She looked at him so intensely, he was abruptly at a loss for words. She'd had that effect on him since the second grade, until they finally got to know each other last summer.

“You missed her,” Nathan murmured softly, so only Ephraim could hear him.

“I missed you,” Ephraim said. “Are you—”

She cut him off with a kiss. He stopped thinking about anything except how soft her lips were.

Jena was not into PDA. She was barely comfortable with him in private, which always made him worry whether he was doing something wrong. But this kiss was different. All of her was in it.

It wasn't a new feeling though, it was an
old
one.

Panic seized Ephraim. He had the sudden impression that this was wrong. It shouldn't be happening.
Couldn't
be happening.

He pulled away and stared at her.

She sighed dreamily and opened her eyes. Her clear
blue
eyes. They widened as she saw his expression change.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

Jena's eyes were brown.

She hadn't changed her dress.
She
had changed.

“Zoe,” he whispered.

Now he noticed the tiny indentation above Zoe's right nostril, from the nose ring she'd been wearing the last time he saw her. And he should have noticed immediately that she wasn't wearing the necklace he'd just given Jena, which was suddenly a very important detail.

“You thought I was someone else,” Zoe said. She backed away.

“Zoe, how did you get here?” he asked.

“Oh, crap,” she said. “Ephraim?” Her voice was raw.

“How—no, why are you here?” Ephraim asked. His voice rose. He ran a hand through his hair, coating his fingers in sweat and sticky hair gel.

She looked around, as if seeing where she was for the first time. “I don't belong here.”

“No, you don't,” he said. His voice came out harsher than he'd meant it to.

That snapped her out of her daze. She grabbed his hand. “I know you have questions, but you have to come back with me. Right away.”

“What? I can't.” He looked around. “It's
prom.”

“Do you still have the coin?” Her voice was urgent.

At mention of the coin, Ephraim's hand went cold, and he jerked it out of her grasp. He looked her over. There it was: a clamshell-style cell phone tucked into her right front pocket. But he knew that it wasn't a phone, just like the coin wasn't actually a coin. The device Zoe carried was a controller, which worked in tandem with the coin to shift from one reality to another. Now he knew how she'd gotten back to his universe.

“What the hell?” Nathan asked. Ephraim and Zoe turned to see Nathan pointing his camera at them. Ephraim had forgotten he'd been standing there the whole time. “Is this some kind of kinky role-playing you guys do? I have to say, I didn't expect it from you, Jena, but I fully approve.”

“Dammit, Nathan. Turn that thing off,” Ephraim said.

Zoe swiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. “How can you associate with that creep after what he did?”

“This is
Nathan.
He had nothing to do with all that,” Ephraim said.

“But he's capable of it,” Zoe said.

The same thought had occurred to Ephraim, which was why he'd decided not to involve Nathan in anything having to do with the coin or tell him about what had really happened with
his
double Nate last year. Things seemed simpler that way. Easier. But that whole experience was coming back to haunt him now. It would be hard to explain who Zoe was. He had to get her out of here before more people saw her.

“Zoe, I thought I'd never see you again,” he said.

“Obviously,” she said. Her eyes were focused on something behind him. She clenched her jaw.

“That's weird,” Nathan said, aiming his camera in the same direction.

With a sick sense of dread, Ephraim turned around. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, caught in another bad moment in one of Nathan's videos.

Jena stood in front of the bathroom entrance, staring at him and Zoe. She had put her glasses back on, vivid red secretary frames that matched her prom dress. Aside from her outfit, Jena was as identical to Zoe as the twin Morales sisters were to each other; Mary and Shelley stood on either side of Jena, openly shocked by the sight of their best friend's double.

“Crap,” Ephraim said. “Um. How long has she been watching us?”

Judging from Jena's stormy expression, she'd been there long enough.

“I'll distract her. You run for it,” Nathan said.

Ephraim shook his head. “She's faster than me, even in a dress.”

“In that case, any last wishes?” Nathan asked, shoving the camera in his face.

Ephraim sighed. “Wishes got me into this mess in the first place.”

Ephraim considered Jena, Zoe, Mary, and Shelley. The two pairs of identical girls sat across from him and Nathan in the parked limousine, watching Ephraim expectantly. The perceived double vision was messing with his head.

Jena took a deep breath. “Okay, we're somewhere we can talk. So talk.” She snuck a sidelong glance at Zoe, then quickly looked away.

He'd convinced Jena to leave the dance floor with him and Zoe before they attracted any more attention. The limo was the most private place he could think of on short notice. But he hadn't planned on having an audience; after what they'd seen, there was no way to ditch the Morales sisters and Nathan. With Nathan's camera recording the proceedings, the whole thing felt like
Ephraim on Trial.

Shelley nodded. “Who the hell is this and why was Ephraim kissing her?” she asked.

“And why does she look like Jena?” Mary asked.

Ephraim took a deep breath. He didn't know where to start explaining. He turned around first to make sure the divider was up and that the driver couldn't hear them.

“Her name's Zoe,” Jena said. “Zoe Kim. She's me. In a parallel universe.”

Mary snorted. “Yeah, right. Who is she really, Jena?”

Shelley frowned, staring at Zoe.

Zoe looked at Jena in surprise. “He told you?” Zoe asked.

Jena fingered the silver chain of her necklace thoughtfully. “He told me the day I saw him pop from thin air into my backyard. But on some level, I didn't completely believe him. I guess I do now.”

“I told her everything,” Ephraim said.

“Not quite everything,” Jena said. “I
would
like to know why you were kissing Zoe.”

“I'm sorry you saw that,” he said.

Jena narrowed her eyes. “You're sorry it happened, or you're sorry I saw it?”

“Both?” Ephraim glanced at Zoe apologetically. “Look, I didn't have any reason not to assume she was you. I thought all that was over.”

He wiped his sweaty hands on the knees of his pants. They slid across the smooth synthetic fabric. He couldn't get a grip. “I'm sorry I made a mistake,” he said.

“A mistake,” Zoe said softly. She turned to Jena. “It was a mistake.
I
kissed Ephraim. But I wish I hadn't.”

Ephraim bunched his eyebrows together.

“I didn't know you two were together, Jena,” Zoe said. “I should have expected it, I guess. It's been a year. It's my fault for not stopping to think about it. So if you're angry, be angry at me.”

“Oh, I'm plenty pissed at both of you,” Jena said. “He should have realized sooner.”

“He isn't the most observant guy sometimes,” Zoe said.

“Most of the time,” Jena said.

“True,” Zoe said.

“But still,” Jena said. “That's not really an excuse.”

“No, it isn't,” Zoe said.

“This is so screwed up,” Ephraim said. While dating twins might be one of Nathan's dreams, this was more of a nightmare. “Give me a tiny break. Your hair was much longer last summer, Zoe, but now it's as short as Jena's. Exactly like Jena's. I mean, how many people can tell Mary and Shelley apart?”

“I can,” Jena said.

“Me too,” Nathan said. He ducked back behind his camcorder.

“Yup,” Zoe said. “And I just met them.”

Thanks for the help, Zoe.

But Ephraim had to admit he could tell the Morales twins apart too, even when they weren't color-coded like tonight in their matching lavender and rose mini dresses. It had taken a while, but once you got to know them, it was easy to distinguish between them. Mary's knees were touching, her legs tucked back at an angle, but Shelley's long legs were extended and crossed at the ankles. It was the little details.

That was the problem. He should have known it was Zoe, but somehow he'd missed the clues. Or ignored them.

“At least I can tell the difference in a blind taste test,” he muttered.

Nathan chuckled. Zoe smiled for a second before regaining her stern composure.

Despite the circumstances, it was good to see her again. It had taken months for him to stop being reminded of Zoe every time he looked at Jena.

“Will someone please tell us what's going on? This…” Mary waved her hand at Jena and Zoe. “This is just—”

“Freaky,” Shelley said.

Ephraim sighed. “Jena was telling the truth. Zoe is kind of a doppelganger, what we call an analog of her: a double from another reality. They're twins like you, sort of like quantum sisters.”

“So they're the same person?” Shelley asked.

“You actually buy this?” Mary asked.

Shelley shushed her. Mary looked surprised.

“Biologically, yes, they're the same person,” Ephraim said. “They might even have the same fingerprints. But they're as much unique individuals as you and Mary are.”