Art of Saving the World

Duyvis Corinne Duyvis

Description

One girl and her doppelgangers try to stop the end of the world in this YA sci-fi adventure When Hazel Stanczak was born, an interdimensional rift tore open near her family's home, which prompted immediate government attention. They soon learned that if Hazel strayed too far, the rift would become volatile and fling things from other dimensions onto their front lawn-or it could swallow up their whole town. As a result, Hazel has never left her small Pennsylvania town, and the government agents garrisoned on her lawn make sure it stays that way. On her sixteenth birthday, though, the rift spins completely out of control. Hazel comes face-to-face with a surprise: a second Hazel. Then another. And another. Three other Hazels from three different dimensions! Now, for the first time, Hazel has to step into the world to learn about her connection to the rift-and how to close it. But is Hazel-even more than one of her-really capable of saving the world?

Informations

• Publié par: ABRAMS BOOKS
• Date de parution: 15 septembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781683356448
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4197-3687-2 eISBN 978-1-68335-644-8
Text copyright 2020 Corinne Duyvis Book design by Hana Anouk Nakamura
Published in 2020 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
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Amulet Books is a registered trademark of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
ABRAMS The Art of Books 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007 abramsbooks.com
To Joan and Maggie:
Your patience, your support, your enthusiasm, and your wisdom mean the world to me.
Thank you for being on my team.
PROLOGUE
The rift that opened on our farm the evening I was born was like a shard of glass: sharp and angled and not quite transparent, but tilt your head a little and it might as well be invisible.
So no one could blame my parents for not noticing it that first week.
When I was six days old, my parents took me to the pediatrician for my first checkup. They were discussing nursing habits when Dad s phone rang.
Our nearest neighbor.
There had been an earthquake, she said, or perhaps a tornado, although West Asherton, Pennsylvania, was prone to neither. She knew only this: The worst noise had come from the direction of our house.
When the three of us came home, we found our neighbor standing in our driveway and staring at a tree that d collapsed onto one of our barns, surrounded by snow and bare winter shrubbery.
It was a palm tree.
My parents noticed the actual rift when cleaning up the grounds.
Later, they told me it was the size of our three-seater couch and ended in jagged points on either side. It hovered diagonally three feet above the ground. The grass and dirt past it were distorted as though seen through a layer of water-jittery and inconstant.
When they approached the rift with a rake extended before them, the air trembled. A second later, the rift tugged the rake from Dad s hands and sucked it in whole. Dad almost got yanked in with it; Mom pulled him back just in time.
They approached the other side of the rift next, carrying a video camera and a large stone. They tossed the stone through. It vanished.
The government confiscated the video, of course, even before deciding to garrison the farm. My parents were urged to leave with only their week-old daughter and hastily packed suitcases. Their other belongings would be shipped to their newly gifted home posthaste.
The farther we drove from the farm, the more agitated the rift became. It crackled at the edges, sent multiple physicists and agents into the hospital, and spat out gusts of fire and chunks of ripped-out pavement.
It took the researchers a while to suspect a connection and send for us.
The rift returned to cool, broken glass the moment Mom stepped onto the grounds with me in her arms, sound asleep.
At first, they thought it was Mom whose absence would cause the rift to go haywire.
A one-and-a-half-mile radius.
That s how far I can safely roam.
CHAPTER ONE
Sixteen years old! Agent Sanghani raised her hand for a high five as I passed through the gate.
I laughed and took her up on the high five. Technically, not until eight thirty-seven tonight.
You enjoying your last hours as a fifteen-year-old?
I m planning to! After school.
Your dad wouldn t . . .? It s your birthday!
I didn t get the day free from school-school. I don t think Dad ll let me off homeschool-school, either, at least not until Mom and Carolyn show up. I lingered on the path to the house. Most of the MGA s agents and guards were friendly-Agent Sanghani especially-but when they kept me like this, I never knew whether they genuinely wanted to chat. Keeping me comfortable was probably in their job description.
At least tell your dad it s unfair, all right? Sanghani said. Say it came from me. I hear I m very intimidating.
I nodded at the weapon holstered on her hip. It s probably the gun. Anyway! I ll tell him it s unfair, I pledged, if you tell Director Facet I d like to stay out longer than two hours tonight.
Her grimace told me enough. I shouldn t have said it, even as a joke. Cheerily, I went on. Worth a try!
The rules weren t Sanghani s fault; she shouldn t feel bad. Director Facet wouldn t loosen up on the rules, anyway, especially since he d spent the past days tightening them. A power outage from the other day had apparently made the MGA nervous enough to install extra agents and restrictions. I wasn t allowed in the woods even with a chaperone, wasn t allowed to walk home before checking in with the guard unobtrusively stationed outside my school, wasn t allowed to visit the neighbors down the road to pet their horses . . .
I trudged toward the house. With my backpack dangling from one hand, I waved at the security camera affixed above the front door, then reached for the knob. I barely touched it before it burst open.
Sixteen! Carolyn tossed her head back dramatically. Practically howling at the ceiling, she repeated, Six-teen!
You re here? You re early!
She beamed and leaped at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
I dropped the backpack and squished my sister close.
Mom was already coming down the hall. I jerked a thumb back at the gate. Agent Sanghani didn t mention you were here already!
Carolyn s grin faltered. Mom asked her to keep hush-hush. Her, and like five other agents we saw. What s with the extra security? She hesitated. Anyway, we wanted to surprise you.
And it worked! Mom snuggled her face in the crook of my neck and blew a raspberry. I gave the required high-pitched yelp and shoved her off, torn between embarrassment and laughter. The laughter won. I hadn t seen them in two days. Not only that, but as I straightened my glasses from Mom knocking them askew, I finally saw the decorations they d put up. Streamers in all colors crisscrossed the living room, and garlands hung from the paintings and cupboards. A gigantic card shaped like the number 16 stood atop the table, big enough to bump the ceiling, and I caught a whiff of something sweet in the oven.
Wow . I guessed I was free from homeschooling after all. I-Wow. This is awesome. I didn t know they made cards that big!
Happy sweet sixteen. Mom squeezed my arm. Your dad s on the phone with Grandma Yeo, helping set up her webcam. Grandma and Grandpa Stanczak will want to be next.
And Aunt Lina cleared some time for tonight, Dad said from behind us. He leaned out from the office, holding the doorframe.
Webcam chats were the name of the game on birthdays. Only the MGA and the four people inside this house knew about the rift. Director Facet, the head of the MGA, insisted we kept it that way.
We d stuck close-ish to the truth for the story we d told the wider world, explaining the government had set up a base on the farm and no one was allowed on-site without clearance. Supposedly, we d spent years entangled in legal battles, with my parents determined to keep the house and the government determined to relocate us, but in the end, we d compromised: The base screened the hell out of the family, hired Dad for his (nonexistent) skills as an analyst, and let us stay.
That covered why no one could visit us at home.
Why I never visited anyone was harder to explain. At first, family members had tried to work around our excuses, but we d turned them down so often they d stopped asking.
The Stanczaks eventually settled for occasionally meeting me at the diner where we were holding tonight s birthday party (one-point-three miles down the road), or spending afternoons at the mini-golf course (point-eight miles down the road-the staff probably saw more of me than their own families). Dad s parents had taken longer to warm up: They d barely even spoken to Dad the first years he was with Mom. They weren t thrilled about his decision to move in with his pregnant girlfriend of a few months, raise a baby not his own, and live in a house that didn t allow visitors. They d turned around when my parents finally had Carolyn and married, although they weren t shy about dropping hints about how we ought to change our names from Stanczak to Yeo.
Dad had stayed back while Carolyn and Mom pounced, and simply winked at me. We d already gone through the birthday routine that morning. Guess we ll make up for today s classes tomorrow.
Yes! But! I said. We could also not do that?
Dad made a Nice try face, his smile wry. He d been of the opinion that if normal kids didn t get to skip school on their birthdays, I shouldn t get to, either-so I should probably be glad he d relented in the first place.
I gave in with a dramatic sigh. Fiiine. I took off my coat and rubbed my face warm.
Grandma Yeo is almost ready, Dad said. Check the windows?
Mom and I adjusted the curtains and the plants on the windowsills to hide the observation tower, fence, and a tank that d arrived yesterday. (Tanks weren t common. That kind of thing tended to upset Grandma Yeo.) I jogged outside to let the agents know to stay out of sight-especially since there were more people on-site than usual.
Can I help? Carolyn asked when I returned. She sounded lost. She came over from Philadelphia several times a week and every other weekend, but wasn t normally around when w