Page 47 of Parallel

Nick blows out a breath, sinking backward into the booth. “If this is all actually possible,” he asks, “why would someone be messing with Quinn’s timeline in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” she replies, raising a shoulder. “Maybe to make sure she doesn’t do something in the future.”

“I’m not Hitler,” I argue. “I don’t have a powerful job. I don’t even fudge my taxes. There’s no reason someone could ever be scared of what I might do.”

“Maybe she wants something you have,” Rose says. “Yeah, a time traveler can just take almost anything she wants but”—her eyes flicker from me to Nick—“some things you can’t just take. Maybe it’s him this person wants.”

I can’t believe I’m hearing this suggestion again too. “We, um…aren’t together,” I reply.

The girl raises one perfectly groomed brow and starts laughing. “Oh really?” She isn’t merely dubious. She’s acting like what I’ve said is so ridiculous that laughter is the only possible response.

“Yes. Really. I’m getting married next month.” Nick’s hand, resting at the edge of the table, clenches into a fist.

“Then I can only think of one other possibility,” she says. “Someone’s trying to kill you and keeps botching the job.”

Nick’s body leans forward, suddenly shot through with tension. “Why would anyone want to kill Quinn?”

She glances at me, hesitating. “I don’t think I should say anymore.”

I see her looking around as if she plans to disappear again and my pulse skitters. I need to know this.

“Please,” I beg. “We’ve got to figure this out. If I can find a way to stop whatever it is I’m doing, or stop this person, maybe the brain tumor won’t keep growing. You’re my last hope.”

She swallows, looking behind her before she turns back to us. “There’s something called the Rule of Threes.”

Goose bumps crawl up my arms. I recognize the phrase. It’s something I talked about in therapy as a child. “I’ve heard of it,” I say quietly to Nick. “I spoke about it in those dreams I had as a kid.”

Beneath the table his fingers twine with mine as he looks at Rose. “What is it?”

“That spark I mentioned she has?” Rose says. “Imagine it’s like a flame that can be shared but can’t be spread too thin. It’s limited to three females in a family. No one knows why it’s this way, but it’s what keeps the population small and ensures that no family has too much power.”

I must be missing something. There’s absolutely no way that can apply to my family. I have two living female relatives at most.

“So how do you choose who gets it?” Nick asks.

Rose yawns, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. I wonder where she’s from and what time it is there. “That’s like asking how you choose eye color,” she says. “You’re just born with the mutation, or you’re not. And it would be unbelievably rare, but if four people were born with the mutation in one family, then that’s one too many, and the weakest one just…dies. Usually the oldest, unless there’s someone like Quinn, who’s allowed her spark to fade out early.”

“I don’t see why that would lead someone to kill her,” Nick argues.

She shrugs. “Think about me and my sister. It won’t happen, but let’s say my sister gave birth to two time-travelers. Then there’d be four of us, and one of us would die. Killing me would ensure that she and her kids were safe, right?”

Nick scrubs a hand over his face. “There’s no…I don’t know…penalty for that? I can’t believe I’m even asking this question, but isn’t there some authority who keeps you from doing that to each other?”

“There are penalties for a lot of things,” Rose replies, aimlessly pushing the remaining fries around on her plate. “But not for that, if all the stories about it are true. In theory, if you do it in just the right way—stab a family member with the spark in the heart—it will strengthen yours. It might even heal Quinn’s tumor. Or it could be some crazy old wives’ tale. I’ve never done it, obviously, so I have no idea.”

My fingers tap restlessly on the seat beside me. We are wasting precious time on a line of discussion that couldn’t possibly be relevant. “Look, there’s just no way this can apply to me,” I interject. “I have no immediate family left other than my mom, and she obviously isn’t time traveling. But this weird jumping thing I’m doing—why is it so limited? Every single memory is about Nick and things related to him. I don’t remember my parents or my friends or my classes…it’s like my entire life is a blank slate aside from him.”

“Limited?” she asks with a sharp laugh. “Jumping between timelines the way you are—it’s unheard of. I have no idea how you’re doing it and how it hasn’t completely fried your brain, but I guarantee you wouldn’t be sitting here right now if you were letting in more. For you to be doing it at all… there must be something there you want super badly, is all I can say. Enough that you’re willing to die for it.”

I flush as Nick’s eyes meet mine. I’m fairly certain we both know what it is I want so badly from those previous timelines. He leans in, his forearms on the table, hands clasped. “So is there any way you can help us?”

“Like what?” she asks warily.

“I don’t know,” he says, staring at his hands. “Maybe you could undo something. Or time travel forward and see if they’ve developed a way to bypass the amygdala so we can reach Quinn’s tumor.”

“I’m fifteen,” she says. “You’re really going to trust what I tell you so much that you’ll cut into her brain based on it?”

His mouth twitches. “Probably not. Especially since you said you were sixteen a minute ago.”