Reaching up for Pride and Prejudice, Apple plunged into a pocket universe. Again. When she returned to her home dimension, the library floor was rushing up to meet her face. Hitting with a clunk, Apple lay still. Some families had red hair or could wriggle their ears. The Carters were the fainting goats of humanity, they phased through dimensions. Sometimes Apple was a singularity; those felt like migraines. Sometimes she was a paper thin; those were her favorites. Today Apple had been curled tight jostling against an infinite number of other Apples. Pretty boring.

“Fascinating.”

Apple jumped. A boy with square glasses was peering down at her. A shiver passed through her. Apple had been “jumping” as long as she remembered. Wild, magical, itchy, Apple’s trips were always different, but her returns, identical. Regardless of when and where she appeared, no one ever seemed to notice. Not until today.

“Typically, people attempt to break their falls with their hands.”

“Thanks for the science lesson, Einstein,” Apple said.

“Newton, actually.”

Square glasses extended a hand to help Apple up. Mrs. March, the school librarian, gave a stereotypical shush. Wait, he hasn’t uncovered my deepest darkest secret, Apple thought, he’s just a garden variety creep making fun of my clusminess. Holding her forehead, Apple ignored his hand as she grappled to her feet. She pretended to be looking for a book. Damn, this isn’t the classics section. Something is definitely off, she thought, I have to talk to grandma. Square glasses waited. Annoyed, Apple grabbed a random book and stomped away. Square glasses followed.

“Why are you following me?” Apple demanded.

“I agree, something is off. You’re holding my book.”

Apple looked down at the scarred leatherbound journal in her hand. He touched the book. Suddenly, Apple felt heavy. A giggle by her left ear shook her awake. Holding Pride and Prejudice, Apple was standing in front of Mrs. March.

“Miss Carter, you’re holding up the line."