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Back Little Universes Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Part 1
  6. Mae
  7. Hannah
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. Part 2
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. Part 3
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. Epilogue
  59. Mental Health Resources
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  62. About the Author
  63. Newsletter Sign-up

The chair scrapes against the stone as I get up. I cross the courtyard, walk through the snow, up to the bronze woman and her baby. I run my hand over the baby’s head.

“Hello, you,” I whisper.

The diamonds in my pocket slip past my lips. Enough of them to turn me into a star.

A little girl runs past the table, and I wait until she’s gone, then take the cap off the pen and cross the words out. I wouldn’t want a kid to read this. To feel this.

Turns out, it’s not hard to erase yourself.

I start walking.

Out of the courtyard.

Out of the library.

Through the knife of the wind, through the snow, past the shops and their Christmas displays and the rushing people, and into the Boston Public Garden. Empty and quiet and dark.

And there she is, my bronze angel.

I lie at her feet. Make a snow angel.

35

Mae

ISS Location: Low-Earth Orbit

Earth Date: 5 December

Earth Time (EST): 18:00

“HANNAH!”

Nate and I are running, tripping, sliding on black icy paths in the Boston Public Garden. A stone angel looms over my sister. She is going to take her. That angel is going to take my sister away.

Nate is faster than me—he reaches her first. I drop the phone in my hand, Drew’s voice lost in the snow, and throw myself to the ground when I reach Nah.

“Is she breathing?” I’m screaming. “IS SHE BREATHING?”

He nods.

I fall on my knees beside him. “Tilt her head back.”

I take the Naloxone out of my pocket, insert the nozzle into her nose. My hands are shaking.

“Just a sim,” I tell myself, the words rushing out with my breath. “A death sim. That’s all this is. Just a sim.”

I push the plunger and pull the nozzle out of her nose.

“Two minutes,” I say. I’m already pulling out a second dose, in case she doesn’t wake up from this one.

Nate sits in the snow, pulls her halfway onto his lap. “Come on, cuz,” he whispers into her ear.

I stare at my watch. One minute.

She’s not waking up.

Oh god, she’s not waking up.

“Nah,” I whisper. Take off my coat, cover her, pat her body, shake her. “Brownies. Drew. Sunsets. Yoko. French fries. Soup. All the soup, Hannah. Harry Potter and Nate and Gram and Gramps and stars and blue nail polish and Mom’s lotion and basil plants in the garden and tarot cards and—and—”

Nate picks up my litany. All the reasons she should stay alive. So many. Not enough.

Snow falls. In the distance, sirens. Closer. They are too late.

White foam begins to pool around her mouth.

Ten seconds.

“Tilt her head back,” I say.

I push the nozzle in. Push the meds in.

Nothing.

Then.

She gasps. Her eyes fly open.

The wave recedes.