Jane took a deep breath, then spoke rapidly as she stared into space, as if in a trance. “I couldn’t accept it, I just couldn’t. I knew too much about the possibilities, the endless possibilities of life and the universe. I went to each known Reality, sought out his Alterants. I took them, captured them, tried to love them, tried to train them to love me. But they weren’t him, they were different; they were disgusting and filthy and unworthy to bear his countenance. It taught me how disgusting and filthy and unworthy the Realities are—how wretched and wrong they are. It’s not built right, Atticus, it’s not made right. It’s wrong, it’s all wrong! We have to destroy it, fix it, rebuild it!”

Tick scooted away from her. She didn’t seem to notice, barely pausing to breathe as she continued blurting out words.

“I devoted my life to him, to his memory, to making things right in the universe. He’s out there, floating in the goop of quantum mechanics, waiting for me to find him and bring him back. But first I must remake the Realities, create the Utopia we all believe in. First I must make it right, make it right, make it right, make it right!”

She stopped, her chest heaving as she sucked in air. “I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry.”

Tick’s eyes were wide, his breath held somewhere inside his chest. He knew for certain he’d never seen someone completely wig out like Jane had just done. Not that he’d doubted it before, but she was now a certified nutso.

Jane pulled at her black hair. “It’s why I cut it off, Atticus. I was ashamed of it. It’s black, and I know that he always wished it had been blonde, to match his beloved color. Yellow. Dear, dear yellow . . .” She rubbed the dark strands between her fingers. “But not anymore. I’ve changed. I will change more. The goal is the same, but I’ve changed how—”

“What is this nonsense!”

Tick jumped so hard at the sudden, booming voice that he fell off the bench, his rear end slamming onto the floor. Even Jane sucked in a quick breath as Tick scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting directly to the source of the shout.

An Asian man with black hair stood in the middle of the room, dressed in a dark suit. A man Tick had always considered one of his best friends in the world, teacher or not. But even as he thought it, Tick knew this wasn’t his Mr. Chu. This wasn’t the kind, funny, humble science instructor of Jackson Middle School in Deer Park, Washington.

No, it was Reginald Chu. The evil Reginald Chu.

Chapter

37

~

Tick’s Dark Secret