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Chapter 2 Part A
“Right,” she said. “So it’s like this. Hand.” She held her
hand up between us. I’d never noticed how long and slender her fingers were
before – not that I’d had the excuse or opportunity. “Desk.” She laid her hand
on the smooth surface of the desk. “Both made of atoms packed together in a
dense but regular structure, right?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. And?”
“In theory,” she
said, stressing the word far more than normal, “if you aligned the atoms
perfectly and were able to make sure that you didn’t lose electrons in the
process, and could account for the electro-magnetics going on, you could pass
one through the other. Right?”
“Yeah,” I said warily. “I suppose. In theory.”
“So do it,” she said, leaning back.
My eyebrows knitted together. “But I can’t. It’s
impossible.”
“No. you just said yourself, it’s theoretically possible.”
“Yeah, but—“
“So do it.”
I stared at her for a long moment. “You’re crazy, right?
That’s what this is actually all about. Either this is the Insanity Club, or
you’re all having a big joke at my expense.” I glanced around the room. Matt
and Pip seemed pretty incapable of having a joke full stop, so they were
obviously the insanity contingent. Greg and Megan, though? They were capable of
anything, and the way Greg was peering intently at me, arms folded over his
chest and lips pressed so tight you could barely see them, did nothing to allay
my suspicions.
Megan gave an explosive sigh. “Look, I really want you to
figure this out on your own. Heaven knows, you’re smart enough. But being smart
isn’t enough; you have to believe
things are possible, too.” She caught my eye and held it. “You saw me walk
through the door.”
Her face gave nothing away, but my stomach flip-flopped.
“What do you mean?” I said, unwilling to admit to anything.
“You know what I mean.” Face impassive, gaze unwavering.
I held my own for a second longer, then screwed up my nose.
“Oh, all right. I give in. You win. Yes, it’s theoretically possible. No, I
seriously doubt anyone can do it. Yes, I’ll try anyway, and if I find out any
of you have a video camera hidden somewhere in the room, I swear, I will make
your life a misery.” I pressed my hand against the surface of the desk. “Here
goes nothing.” I pressed against the shiny melamine-coated wood, heart racing
nine to the dozen.
Nothing. I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been
holding. “There. See? Nothing. It’s just not possible.”
Megan huffed. “Idiot. You’re not really trying.”
“I am!” I protested. “See?” I pressed my hand against the
very solid desk until the tips of my fingers went white.
“I don’t mean physically,” she said. “I mean mentally. Up
here.” She tapped her temple.
Behind me, Greg snorted. “Oh, just give up, Meegs. He’s not
going to get it. He’s been hanging out with the cool kids for five years; he
might have some intelligence left in there somewhere, if you say so, but
there’s too much attitude in the way.”
Says he, king of arrogance. “Look, shut up, all right? I’ll
get it. Just tell me what I’m supposed to be getting.”
Megan studied me, eyes wide. “Are you really sure about
this?” she asked eventually. “Because once you’re committed, there’s no going
back. This isn’t the kind of thing you can un-do, or un-see.”
Nerves and frustration and anger and impatience warred for
control. “Look, I can handle it, okay? I’m not stupid, and my attitude” – I
glanced at Greg – “is fine. Just tell me what I’m trying to do, or how it is
I’m supposed to do the impossible, or whatever.”
Megan placed her hand on the table next to mine and
contemplated it. “It’s about belief, you see,” she said slowly. “Knowing
something in your head and knowing it
are different.” Her eyes flicked up and found mine. “Sometimes it helps to see
it first.”
I was too busy staring into her ocean-blue eyes to notice at
first that her hand was disappearing into the desk – and then I noticed, and
flinched away.
“Anything’s possible, if you can just figure out how,” she
said, still staring wide-eyed at me, almost like she was begging me to believe
her.
Slowly, I moved my hand back onto the table next to hers. I
swallowed. “I… I believe,” I whispered. I closed my eyes and imagined the atoms
in my hand aligning perfectly with the atoms of the desk, imagined the dense structures
relaxing and expanding, sinking and meshing into one another until the two were
interlocked, meshed – but still separate, still different structures.
My eyes fluttered open and my gaze rested on my hand, only
half visible, fingertips fully integrated with the desk. A smile softened the
tension in my jaw. I did it.
Amy Laurens (c) 2012
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