I don’t say anything. Straining my ears, I listen for the chirping of birds, but I don’t hear a thing. I can only hear the rushing of the creek water.

“Life,” I whisper without realizing it.

Cora’s attention snaps to me. “What?”

“What you told me about birds. That when we hear them, it means there’s water, which means there’s life.”

Cora smiles a little. But her face doesn’t look anything like happiness. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything you tell me.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile grows. “Whatever.”

“I do.”

“Then remember this: We’re going to do this, okay?” Her eyes lock with mine.

We make a visual pinkie promise. “Promise,” I say, choking back another wave of guilt.

Cora tilts her head to the ground. “Um, how are we going to get down?”

“Let me help you,” I say, and slowly move to a lower branch.

I hold my hand out to her, and she takes it.

Nineteen

Cora

I haven’t gotten a lot of playing time this Quiz Bowl match. Coach Pearlman has massively favored the eighth graders on our team, which makes sense because Streamwood always has a good team, and we really need to beat them if we want a chance at qualifying for the regional playoffs.

Each match is made up of three rounds. Streamwood already won the first one, and by the end of the second round, it’s clear that they’re probably going to handily beat us. So that’s when he decides to let Mia and me have a shot.

He subs me in for Peter, and Mia in for Molly. Owen’s still riding the bench while Nora Cheng sits sandwiched between Mia and me, the sole eighth grader left.

The first couple of questions breeze by. Nora reaches for the buzzer a couple of times, but she doesn’t get the question right either time. Mia casts me a nervous look, and I give her an apologetic shrug.

I know I should be trying harder, but my brain can’t focus on this right now. I stayed up until two a.m. last night reading the entire internet. I wish that was an exaggeration, but it’s not. I watched every video on YouTube about wormholes, even the really silly ones with the added-in special effect sounds. I read every thread on every forum. And I scrolled through Every. Single. Comment.

My eyes are bleary and my head aches, and I still haven’t figured out what Quinn and I did wrong. The only thing that’s bringing me any comfort is that several of the things I read mentioned that it usually takes some time to coax a wormhole out of the universe.

The man who is asking the questions clears his throat. He’s a math teacher at Streamwood Middle School. I wasn’t paying attention when he said his name at the beginning of the match. It’s a home meet for Streamwood, so our team rode the bus to their school.