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First Edition
m y han d s hakes as I b r ac e m ys el f ag a i n st th e b r i c k
wall. Rain falls cold and sharp against my skin, from a sky
I’ve never seen before. It’s hard to catch my breath, to get any
sense of where I am. All I know is that the Firebird worked.
It hangs around my neck, still glowing with the heat of the
journey.
There’s no time. I don’t know whether I have minutes,
or seconds, or even less. Desperately I tug at these unfamil-
iar clothes—the short dress and shiny jacket I wear have no
pockets, but there’s a small bag dangling from my shoulder.
When I fish inside, I can’t find a pen, but there’s a lipstick.
Fingers trembling, I unscrew it and scrawl on a tattered
poster on the wall of the alley. This is the message I must
pass on, the one goal I have to remember after everything
else I am is gone.
KILL PAUL MARKOV.
i’m n ot a p h ys i c i st l i ke m o m . n ot e v en a g r ad st u -
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I’m not quite sure what that means, but I don’t think this
bracelet is just a bracelet.
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as i l i e h er e i n a d i m en s i o n n ot m y ow n , o n a star k
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“What are you trying to do?” Theo said one time, glar-
ing across the table at Paul. The pieces that would become
the very first Firebird prototype were strewn between them,
across the rainbow table. “The minute Sophia gets vindi-
cated, you want to turn her into a laughingstock again?”
“What do you mean?” I demanded. I’d come in from
piano lessons, and I quickly ditched my sheet music so I’d
look less like a kid. Theo is only three and a half years older
than me, Paul only two; they were the first of the grad stu-
dents I’d ever thought of as being more like me than like my
parents. I wanted them to think of me the same way. “Why
would people be laughing at Mom?”
Paul’s gray eyes glanced up to meet mine for only one
second before he went back to his work. “It’s not her theory.
It’s mine. I take responsibility.”
Theo leaned back in his chair as he gestured toward Paul
with his thumb. “This one is ready to risk his scientific
credibility—and his adviser’s, no matter what he says—by
arguing that destiny is real.”
“Destiny?” That sounded weirdly . . . romantic from a
guy like Paul.
“There are patterns within the dimensions,” Paul insisted,
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Although I hate to admit it, Paul was the first one who
warned me about Theo—the first one who realized how bad
he was getting, who tried to say something. And he must
have suspected for a while, but kept it to himself. Only the
Accident made him speak up.
The Accident was two months ago, and it’s the only time
I ever saw my parents angry with Theo. They patched it up,
and nothing actually happened, but still, it stood out.
That afternoon, I was hanging out with my sister, Josie,
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