“No!” I cry out. “My older self wanted me to murder you, in order to save the world. But I refused! They tried a gazillion ways to convince me, but they failed. Because of me. Because I was too stubborn. Because I loved you too much.”

My brother howls, on the knife’s edge of laughing and crying. He lowers the gun. “Is that what your older self told you?”

Bandit moves another few inches, and my pulse thuds erratically. I try to calm my breathing, try to focus on my brother. “It’s what she believes. I snuck forward in time, and I overheard her.”

“Well, she’s wrong.” The glasses slide down his nose, probably slippery with sweat, and he shoves them back up. “Your missions have failed not because of your so-called love for me. But because I was there. Every time. Informed by my older self, countering your every move.”

My mouth parts, and Bandit slides an entire foot closer to Archie.

“That’s right,” my brother continues grimly. “You tore up my invite for the cocktail reception, so we had the future Charlie tell his younger self to give Zeke a note. You burned Charlie’s research, so he backed up his work, in triplicate, the week before.”

His eyes glint, strangely exposed through the lenses of his glasses. “More importantly, each time you thought about killing me, my older self instructed me to go to you. To remind you of a childhood memory. To prey on the feelings you had for the brother you always wanted to protect.” His voice becomes rough, dripping with disgust. For me or for the boy he used to be. Maybe both. “Like a pawn, you fell for it. Every. Single. Time.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I want to break down. To despair at all the horrible things my brother’s saying. But I can’t give in to my grief. Not yet.

“Those weren’t tricks.” I wrench open my eyelids. “Don’t you see? You couldn’t have reminded me of memories that didn’t exist. You couldn’t have preyed on my feelings if I didn’t already love you.” Taking a chance, I walk toward him. “Did your older self tell you about the virus you’re going to invent? Did he tell you about the millions you’ll kill?”

Archie’s breathing hard now, and his eyes zoom around the court like he’s a cornered Siberian tiger, from me to Bandit, from the basketball hoop to the jump ropes. “They deserve to die,” he says haltingly. “People are shallow and self-absorbed, and they don’t care whose feelings they shred. They don’t care whose lives they ruin, so long as they have fun.” He looks back at me, and in the dim light, his eyes are no longer wild. Now, they’re just hurt. “In all the millions of people on this earth, not a single one cares.”