Free to Fall (16 page)

The Doubt had been right.

If I hadn’t done anything—if I’d only
waited
—every single person on that dock would’ve survived. But how could the voice have known that? The Doubt didn’t belong to some external, omniscient force. It was an auditory hallucination my brain produced. But if that’s all it was, then how could it have told me something I didn’t know? Because there was no way I could’ve known that platform would collapse when it did.

I sat there, staring at my screen until it went dark, emotions rushing through me like river water. What was I supposed to do now?

I reached for the pendant around my neck, pinching it between finger and thumb. Is this what my mother had gone through, this same internal debate? In the end, she’d chosen to trust the voice, and look how it had ended for her. With a permanent diagnosis and a ticket back to Seattle.

“Find it?” I heard Hershey ask.

“The dock collapsed before the explosion,” I told her, tossing my tablet onto her bed. She scanned the story then tossed it back.

“That’s good news, right?”

When I didn’t answer, Hershey looked at me. “What?” I hesitated. So long that she asked again. “Rory. What?”

“I heard the Doubt during the exam,” I said finally, regretting it as soon as the words were out. But I needed to tell someone, and Beck wasn’t there. He also hadn’t returned yet another one of my voice messages, which my brain didn’t have space to analyze at that moment. Hershey didn’t react. She just picked up the remote to pause the TV.

“Okay,” she said. “And?”

“And it told me to wait.”

“To wait?”

“We were supposed to save as many people as possible,” I explained in a hushed, hurried voice, even though we were alone in our room. “And I didn’t know what to do. There were all these little kids . . . I just kind of froze. And then I panicked, because obviously the test was timed, and we didn’t know when the dock would explode, just that it would.”

“Ugh, your exam sounds so cool. Ours was so lame. But keep going.”

“The point is I thought I had to hurry. Everyone did. How else were we supposed to get those people off the dock before it exploded? But the voice, it told me not to do anything. It said to wait. Which made no sense. Except—”

“The dock would’ve collapsed before the explosion,” Hershey said. “You would’ve saved them all.” She exhaled, her breath whistling through her teeth. “And there’s no way your brain could’ve figured that out somehow?”

“No.”

Hershey looked thoughtful. “So the Doubt, it—”

“It knew something I didn’t,” I said. “Which is impossible. Scientifically, empirically impossible.”

“Yeah. You’re right. So it must’ve just been a fluke, then.” She was baiting me, because she could tell I didn’t believe that.

I rolled over onto my back and looked up at the ceiling. “Do you think it’s possible that the Doubt isn’t as bad as people think?”

Hershey was quiet. I glanced over at her again. She was on her back too, staring at the ceiling. “But there’s science,” she said finally, but without her usual conviction. “Studies that prove that the Doubt isn’t rational.” She turned her head and met my gaze. “Right?”

There
were
studies. I’d read most of them. But as I’d pointed out in my research paper, none were particularly complete. The most famous one compared life outcomes between people like my mom and people like Hershey—people who professed to trust the Doubt and people who claimed never to have heard it—and concluded that the second group fared much better in terms of happiness, stability, and prosperity. It was a splashy headline, but it hardly said anything about the Doubt itself. “I guess I’m just not convinced,” I said finally. “But even that freaks me out, because that’s probably how it started for my mom, too, and look what happened to her.”

“What
did
happen to her?” Hershey asked.

“I don’t really know,” I admitted. “I know she started hearing the Doubt, and she saw a psychiatrist about it. It got pretty bad, I guess—her grades were suffering and stuff—and her doctor wanted to commit her. So they expelled her.”

“Wow,” Hershey said. “That’s heavy.”

I rolled onto my side, toward her. “Please don’t say anything to anyone. About my mom, or what I heard today.”

“I won’t,” she said. “I promise.” But she didn’t meet my gaze.

16

HERSHEY SPENT THE WEEKEND
doing homework, venturing into the library for the first time all semester. I found her asleep on top of her tablet in the otherwise empty main reading room late Saturday afternoon, drooling on her calculus problem set. I curled up in one of the armchairs by the reading room’s crackling fire and let her sleep while I waded through my lit reading.

I kept zoning out, thinking about North.

I wanted to believe Hershey’s story about what happened, but it didn’t completely make sense. If it was so innocent, why didn’t North just tell me what was going on when I showed up at his door?

I was still wondering about it and debating my next move as I sat in practicum on Tuesday morning, half listening to Dr. Tarsus’s lecture on prudence. Outside our classroom window, storm clouds were rolling in off the mountain.

“And while I’m loath to imply that it’s simple,” Tarsus was saying, “I do think the formula is instructive.” She wrote with her finger on the front wall, and an equation appeared there in green chalk.

Pr = K/n * R * I

“Prudence,
Pr
, is a function of
n
, the number of knowable facts,
K
, the number of known facts,
R
, the actor’s inherent capacity for reason, and
I
, the actor’s commitment to action.” Tarsus paused and surveyed the room. “Questions?”

“Can you maybe do an example?” Dana asked, her voice echoing a little in my pod’s headrest speakers.

“Certainly,” our teacher replied, turning back to the wall. “Let’s use a historical—”

“You’re missing something,” I blurted out. Tarsus’s eyes darted my way. I clasped my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“By all means, Rory, enlighten me,” she said, crossing her arms. “What have I left out?”

“Unknowable facts,” I said weakly, wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut. It seemed so obvious to me, but Tarsus was looking at me like I’d said something unintelligible.

“I think perhaps you’ve misunderstood,” Tarsus replied, her voice dripping with condescension. “The variable
n
represents all facts that
could
be known by the actor.” She tapped the letter with her fingernail. “
K
, then, represents the number of those facts that
are
known by the actor. Thus, any ‘unknown’ facts are accounted for in—”

I interrupted her again, this time on purpose. Her tone was really irritating me. I had the highest grade in her class and she was talking to me like I was an idiot. Plus, I felt sure of myself in a way I often didn’t. Not in a cocky way. I just knew I was on to something. “Not
unknown
,” I corrected. “Unknowable. As in, not susceptible to perception by the senses. Factors the actor cannot comprehend with reason alone.”

Tarsus’s expression darkened for a moment, then her lips curled into a sour smile. “Since I’d like to avoid wasting class time with this useless frolic, I suggest you and I continue this discussion after class.” Without waiting for me to respond, she moved on.

When she dismissed us, I strode to her desk, angry enough to be bold. Tarsus looked at me with arched eyebrows. “You seem upset,” she said.

“I’m not upset,” I said. “I’m confused. When the syllabus said ‘class participation encouraged,’ I thought it meant you were willing to listen to what we had to say.”

Tarsus smiled. “So your feelings are hurt, is that it?”

“No, my feelings are not hurt,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I’d just like to understand why you were so quick to shut me down.”

“Because I knew where the conversation was heading, and I was trying to help you, Rory. ‘Unknowable facts’? Have you ever heard the expression ‘You can’t un-ring a bell?’” She cocked her head, examining me, her black eyes even more eagle-ish than usual.

“What bell are we talking about here?”

“There’s no doubt that you’re bright, Rory,” she said in a knowing voice. “But your comments in class today were very concerning. Someone with your background ought to be careful about what she says.”

“My background?” I asked, as though there was any doubt what she meant. Tarsus didn’t bother elaborating.

“You know what the word
akratic
means, don’t you?” she asked. “It’s Greek for acting against one’s better judgment. And while you’re doing very well in this class, I saw you in our exam on Friday. You said the word
wait
out loud, as if you were talking to someone. Who could it have been?”

The boldness I’d felt just seconds before fluttered away, leaving only a pounding heart in my rib cage.

“No one,” I said quickly. “I wasn’t talking to anyone.”

Tarsus cocked her head. “Are you sure about that?”

I knew I should just get out of there before I made things worse, but something was bothering me and I couldn’t leave without an answer.

“What would’ve happened if I
had
waited?” I asked her, my voice wavering just a little. “If I’d left everybody on that dock.”

Tarsus didn’t hesitate. “You would have failed the exam.”

“But in real life, the dock—”

“Collapsed. Yes, I know. But reason dictates that an overloaded dock should be evacuated to prevent collapse, not left as is in order to cause it.” She was watching me closely. “So if you’d left all those people on the dock despite knowing that the crates would explode, then I would’ve had to assume that one of two things had occurred. Either you’d been paralyzed by indecision or blinded by an irrational impulse. Both would’ve been grounds for a failing grade.”

“So you were trying to trick me,” I said.

Tarsus’s mouth curved into an icy smile. “Trick you? Now you sound paranoid. Perhaps a visit to the campus health center would do you some good. I can write you a referral if you’d like.”

I swallowed, my throat like sandpaper. “What did I do to make you hate me so much?”

Tarsus just laughed. “I don’t care about you enough to hate you, Rory.” She turned away then, having gotten the last word again. “Please close the door on your way out.”

I somehow made it through history, but there was no way I could choke down lunch. So I changed into sweats and went for a run through the woods instead, letting the sound of leaves crunching beneath my sneakers drown out the cacophony of noises in my head. It started to drizzle as I was starting my third lap around the cemetery. Without thinking, I climbed over the fence and sprinted toward the mausoleum, cutting across the graves to get there faster. Other than the rhythmic sound of rain split-splatting on dry leaves, it was quiet as I approached. It wasn’t until I’d slipped through the wrought-iron gate of the mausoleum that I heard the music.

I put my knuckles to the granite to knock, but that seemed a little ridiculous, and it’s not like they would’ve heard me anyway. So I took a breath and leaned the weight of my body into the stone the way I’d seen North do. The rock slid away.

I was expecting the whole band so I jumped a little when I saw only North. He was on the floor, leaning against the marble coffin, a laptop on his lap, its speakers blaring.

“Rory,” he said as I stepped inside the tomb. There was surprise in his voice, and relief. He set his computer aside and scrambled to his feet.

“I got your note,” I said.

“How’d you know I was here?” He moved toward me slowly, his eyes never leaving my face, as if he were afraid I might disappear.

“I didn’t,” I said. Then softer, “I just hoped you were.” I shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “You said you could explain.”

He nodded. “I can. But you should probably sit down.” He gestured toward the mourner’s bench behind us.

My stomach dipped. “Okay,” I said, and sat.

He sat down next to me, angling his body toward mine so our knees were nearly touching. “I tried so many times to get in touch with you,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. His hair was wet from the rain. “But no matter whose account I used, you blocked me. I even thought about sneaking on campus, but the school got a restraining order against me last year and—”

“Wait,
what
?”

He looked sheepish. “The guys and I broke into one of the buildings to record. The one with the organ and the gold dome.”

“You broke into the Grand Rotunda? Didn’t you know there’d be an alarm?”

“I disabled the alarm. They caught us when the canister blew.”

“The canister?”

“We were using a huge canister of compressed air to play the pipes like a xylophone,” North explained. “Or trying to. It exploded the first time we tried to let air out.”

“Holy crap. Did they arrest you?”

“Just me,” North replied. “I told the other guys to run.” He saw the look on my face. “It sounds like a big deal, but I wasn’t seventeen yet, so it was juvie court, and they let me plead it down to a misdemeanor that’ll come off my record completely when I turn eighteen.” His expression darkened. “The school sued me separately, though, and got the restraining order. I can’t come within fifty feet of their property line.” He smiled a little. “Not that you’re not worth some jail time,” he said, nudging my knees with his. Then his eyes got serious. “But a criminal record would destroy my career.”

His
career
? It was an odd word choice for a guy who made coffee for a living.

He took an unsteady breath. “There are things you don’t know about me, Rory,” he said then, and my arms prickled with goose bumps. I inched back on the bench, drawing my knees to my chest. “And I want to tell you. It’s just—” He stopped. His eyes were searching mine, jerking back and forth and back and forth like the sound bar on a decibel meter, and his back foot was jiggling like a jackhammer.

“It’s just what?”

His eyes dropped to his knees. “I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell you. Literally, not a single person. So, it’s just—” He lifted his eyes again. “Can I trust you, Rory?”

“Of course,” I said, and reached for his hand. We both jumped a little when we touched, but I didn’t pull away this time, and he turned his palm up to face mine. My heart was pounding like a drum.

“First,” he began, “there was never anything going on between Hershey and me. What you saw that night wasn’t what you thought you saw.”

I nodded. “Hershey told me what happened.”

“Yeah. I doubt she told you all of it.” His voice was grim.

“So tell me the rest.”

“The day we met, when I made you the matcha. That night, Hershey came back—late—just as we were closing. I think she was a little drunk.”

The night of the welcome dinner. Hershey snuck out that night. She’d been drinking, too. The airplane bottles of Baileys and whatever else.

“What did she want?” I asked, even though I knew what she wanted. She’d made it clear that afternoon when we met North.

“She basically told me she was game for a no-strings-attached arrangement,” North said. “I politely declined.”

I couldn’t help it. I giggled. “How’d she take that?”

“Not so well,” North said with a laugh. For a second the heaviness of the moment lifted. “She said, and I quote, ‘It’s a long way down from here.’”

“She didn’t!”

“Oh, yes. She did.” North shook his head in disbelief. “I have to give her points for a healthy self-image.” He shrugged a little. “I shouldn’t have cared, I guess, but I felt bad about rejecting her and then immediately going after you. That’s why I asked you not to say anything to her about us. I didn’t want to rub it in her face that I was crazy about you.”

“Crazy about me, huh?” I managed to sound teasing, but I felt lightheaded, like I might faint.

“I’ll get to that in a minute,” North said, squeezing my hand. “I need to get the rest of this out, first.” I nodded. “Okay. So. The night of your dance she came into Paradiso for coffee, piss-drunk, then puked all over herself. She had puke splatter on her arms and was very worked up about getting it on her dress. So I told her she could get cleaned up at my place and sleep it off for a couple hours.”

“Nice of you,” I said.

“She was your roommate. And your friend, I thought.” The way he said
I thought
made my stomach sink. Where was he going with this?

He took a breath before continuing. “While she was in the shower, I got out her phone to text you. She’d just been on it, so it was still unlocked. When I clicked on her message pane, I saw an outgoing message to a blocked number attaching a document with your name on it.”

I pulled my hand back. “What do you mean, a document with my name on it?”

“The file name. Well, technically it was your social security number, but I recognized it.”

“Wait,
what
? You know my social security number?”

North took a breath. “Yes. And I can explain. But you need to know what was in this document first.”

“You opened it?”

He nodded. “It was the fifth time she’d sent the document to that same blocked number, and each time the file size got bigger. I had a really bad feeling about it. And I was right.”

I felt sick. “What do you mean?”

“It was a log,” he said. “Like, a journal, with dates and times, but it was all stuff you’d done. Conversations she’d had with you.” His voice got faster, more urgent, as he went on. “And there were references to audio files that weren’t attached to the message, so while she was in the shower, I imaged her Gemini. You showed up right as I started, and I knew if Hershey heard you, she’d catch me.”

I held up both hands, stopping him. “What do you mean, you ‘imaged’ her Gemini?”

“I made a copy of its contents,” he explained. “So I could go through it after she’d left.”

“I don’t understand. How?”

North hesitated, his eyes doing the back-and-forth thing again. “I’m a hacker,” he said finally, watching closely for my reaction. “I do that kind of thing for a living.”

“A hacker,” I repeated. Whatever I was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. “So, what, you get paid to break into people’s handhelds?”

“Among other things. Look, Rory, I’m not going to try to rationalize it to you. I know it’s illegal—”