Just the thought of what Mom and Dad would say made me hot with discomfort. They’d be disappointed. They’d say I was following a fad, that I shouldn’t let myself be so easily influenced, that I was better than that.
“What made me ask them was that I’d found a diary from summer break before high school. I’d written down resolutions with a neon-blue gel roller: ‘High school will be better. I won’t be so awkward. I’ll do homework first thing every day. I’ll do color-coded notes and keep my handwriting neat. I’ll buy cooler clothes. I’ll dye my hair. I’ll be different.’” She shrugged one shoulder. “I felt like a coward reading that years later, knowing nothing had changed. It turns out Red and Four kept the same diary, though, and wrote the same things. Red found the diary again at the same time I did, felt the same way, and never asked Mom and Dad. Four found the diary but didn’t read it.”
“So how the heck do we know?”
“Know what?”
I fumbled for words. “Which part is us? Which part is our actions? Which part is our situation? How do I know you really were like me nine months ago and the only difference is that you walked up to Mom and Dad and asked, or if there’s some core difference between us, a difference that made you read the diary and made Four decide not to? A difference like my rift and like Red’s health condition? The hair isn’t all that sets you apart. You act different, too.”
“I wasn’t always like this.” Rainbow was unusually quiet. “It was tiny decisions. A few moments here—convincing my parents. A moment there—stepping into the hairdresser’s. Another moment—saying the words and showing example photos on my phone. Then it’s done. A handful of moments happen and you look in the mirror and suddenly you’re different.”
But how do you know they’re the right decisions? How do you know you’re not making a mistake? I kept quiet. Rainbow wasn’t finished yet.
“People see you differently, anyway, and that makes it easier to act different. Cooler, wittier. The kind of person who can deal with looking like me in a place like West Asherton.
“I thought I could be that person. But maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m more like the old me than I thought, because I’m—I’m still scared. I’m still stressed all the time. I’m always nervous I said the wrong thing, that I was mean instead of funny, that I slipped up and someone will see through me, and I’ll just”—she tugged at the lock of red she’d been playing with—“I’ll just look pathetic for trying so hard.”
“At least you are trying. That’s more than the rest of us. More than most people, I think.”
She adjusted the towel on her arm. “I guess.”
And I wondered—
What would’ve happened if, one morning, I’d looked around for fan art and messaged the girl who drew it?
What would’ve happened if I’d told Dr. Gates that sometimes, after a bad day, I spent twenty minutes in the bathroom waiting for my jaw to unlock before I could brush my teeth?
What would’ve happened if I’d looked at Marybeth and thought, I want to kiss her, and been OK with it instead of terrified?
What would’ve happened if I’d sneaked out and investigated the buildings on my lawn, and come across a dragon or another me?
It couldn’t be that simple, could it? Rainbow was just braver than she realized.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. I’d made my choices—even if I made them by not making them—and right now, visiting a hairdresser or kissing Marybeth wouldn’t solve any of our problems.
“In the car,” Rainbow said, “you said you could recognize parts of yourself in Four and Red. I tried to deny it, but I—I recognize all three of you.”
“Yeah?”
“Every single part.”
“Guys?” a voice said.
We turned toward my bedroom door. One of the other Hazels hovered there. She’d taken off her glasses and changed into borrowed pajamas.
“We’re done with the bathroom. If you still need it.” A smile flitted over her face, then she went back inside.
Rainbow’s eyes met mine. “Was that Red?” she whispered.
“I thought Four?”
“This is embarrassing,” she whispered, and we dissolved into giggles together.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
A knock on the door woke me.
“Yeah?” I mumbled drowsily.
Mom opened the door and peered in. “It’s two p.m. Dr. Torrance wants you for more research.”
I pried my eyes open. Four was already up, sitting cross-legged on Rainbow’s bed. “Just me?”
“All of you.” Mom’s stance was different than usual. Unsure. As strange as this was for all of us, having your older daughter suddenly multiply couldn’t be easy, either.
“They have food in the vans. They want to leave within half an hour.”
“Got it. We’ll be downstairs soon.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. As wisps of my dreams faded into nothingness, memories of the past two days slowly resurfaced. The reality of the situation hit me all over again, so hard and sudden I nearly whimpered. Jesus, the rift—
And there was Alpha, and Philadelphia, and I somehow had to—
I inhaled sharply, shakily. My eyes fixed on the ceiling. Having slept in my own bed again should’ve made it easier to keep it together, but instead, I felt ready to crumble before I’d even gotten out from under the covers.
Mom watched me. “Are you all right?”
“Y-yeah.” Did my voice sound normal enough?
“If you have any doubts . . .”
“No,” I lied. Truthfully, I added: “I want to do this.”
“Let me know if you need anything.” Mom closed the door behind her.
The others turned to me.
“It’s two p.m.? It feels like five in the morning,” Red complained from next to me. We shared my queen-size bed, since the past days’ chaos hadn’t helped her pain levels; she’d needed a proper mattress. “Whyyyy.”
“Mom waits for an answer after knocking?” Rainbow didn’t even lift her head from her pillow. “I’m lucky when she knocks at all.”
“Privacy is important when you’re a
