Otherbound

23

Nolan!”

Nolan started awake. His chair rolled away from his desk. His arms flailed, knocking his pen to the floor, the notebook dropping facedown after it.

“Are you OK? Are you—” Pat jumped at him, pressing her face into the crook between his shoulder and neck. Her arms squeezed him. Her lips moved against him, mumbling something he couldn’t hear. Her face was wet.

Nolan started to sign, then stifled his movements. He was back on Earth. He needed to speak Spanish, English. Anything but servant signs.

“Patli?” he said carefully. He rested one hand on her shoulder but didn’t push her off. “What’s going on?”

She yanked her head back. Her eyes were red, her face tear-stained. “I was two seconds away from calling 911, you idiot! You wouldn’t wake up. I was—I was shouting and—I thought you were having a seizure—”

“No. I was sleeping.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. The world dawned on him, both his own and Amara’s. Shit. The ship was taking off with her still clinging to the hull. Her head was above water, but waves battered her, seeping into her lungs. He needed to get back.

“Dad’s already at work, and Mom’s with the Patersons. I didn’t know what to do. I thought …” Pat ran a hand over her face, now more frustrated than anything. “I pulled your hair! Who doesn’t wake up when their hair is pulled?”

“I’ve been working.” He gestured broadly at his desk. He should’ve seen this coming. It’d been years since he’d stuck around the Dunelands this long. It’d been years since he’d wanted—needed—to as much. He could worry about it later.

“Working?” Pat said. “All night?”

“Seemed like a good idea.” He smiled weakly and shut his eyes—

—and Amara was coughing and her nails scraped the wood, trying to keep hold of that ridge with hands numb from cold, and the water slammed into her—

“—I need to get back to work,” Nolan said.

“Seriously? School starts in half an hour.”

“I’m not going.” He couldn’t let Amara get hurt again.

Pat gaped. “Mom and Dad will kill you.”

“I’ll tell them I’m sick. Please, Pat. Can you go?”

“You really weren’t having a seizure? Mom and Dad are worried about you after last night.”

Nolan closed his eyes. He just needed to make sure—

“Stay with me!” Pat smacked his shoulder. Nolan’s eyes shot open, and Pat stood over him, fury in her teary eyes, her fists balled.

“I can’t,” he gritted out. “You have to go.”

“Why? What’s going on? Why are you—what’s with the—” She pointed at the journals. Her finger shook. “You’re scaring me. I’ll hit you again if you say you’re OK. I will.”

“Later. All right?” He propped his elbows on his desk and rested his face in his palms. “I promise I’ll explain later. Right now, you need to leave me alone.”

He shut his eyes again. This time, Pat let him.