I do my best to blend into the throng of kids. If people stare at me, I don’t notice. They seem too busy checking out each other’s costumes.

When I enter the gym, I find Mrs. Euclid standing on the second step of a small ladder. She jumps off it when she spots me.

“Quinn! You’re here!” She gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Finally. We are very behind.” She tosses her arms up like she’s sprinkling confetti.

I glance around the gym. I see lots of kids from art class, including Scarlett and Ainsley. The banners we made are hanging on every wall, and all the different clubs and sports teams have set up stalls. I try not to stare too long at the girls’ soccer team’s booth. But it looks really nice. Ainsley must’ve spent a lot of extra time on their decorations.

My heart skips when I spot Quiz Bowl’s stall. It’s way in the back corner, and I can’t see if Cora’s there or not.

“Come on,” Mrs. Euclid urges. “I’m trying to hang your banner. Right up front.” She gives me a big smile. I know I should be proud that my art is what’s going to greet people when they come in, but I’m not sure I do.

Really I’m not sure if I’m allowed to ever feel proud about anything ever again if I don’t find the wormhole. I stare over my shoulder at the Quiz Bowl booth again.

Mrs. Euclid follows my eyes. “Looking for Cora?”

I don’t answer. I tape one corner of the banner to the wall. Mrs. Euclid handles the other corner.

“Bravo,” she says, admiring my work. “It looks great, Quinn. I’m so glad you came.”

“Yeah,” I say weakly, taking in the crowded gym again. Bass-filled music thumps in through speakers, which makes all the decorations flap like they’re dancing. I study the welcome banner. The smudge near the top of the acorn is mostly gone. If you didn’t know to look for it, you probably wouldn’t know it had ever been there. But the shadow of that smudge of imperfection is all I can see.

All the costumes blend together. There are lots of superheroes and tons of girls dressed in white dresses with matching white unicorn headbands. The once-shiny wooden floor turns dusty with flecks of mud and stray dead leaves that have been dragged in from outside by all the foot traffic.

I try to picture my brother here when he was my age. My memory isn’t very clear. Back then, I didn’t think to pay much attention. I know he dressed up like a baseball player (a lazy throwaway costume that he came up with minutes before leaving the house with some help from Dad) and that he went with his friends Joe and Anderson. I wonder if when he stood in this gym, if he was already starting to think those horrible things. Or if on that night, he was just happy to be with his friends. If he stood awkwardly like everyone else, moving between the booths, swaying to the loud music.