“My parents think it’s annoying.”

“Do they lie?”

“It’s the only language they speak.” His voice was cheerful, but his eyes were sad. She wondered if that contradiction counted as a lie. “Hyperbole and sarcasm totally don’t qualify as lies,” he said. “There is truth in my pain.”

“Everything about me is a lie,” Eve said. She thought for a second and added, “Except my eyes.”

“You have pretty eyes,” Zach said.

“So I’ve been told.”

Sitting in a cracked leather chair in the library lobby, Eve flipped through the books that Zach had picked for her: a history of bread, a biography of a nature photographer, a book on bird migration, another on skyscrapers. Malcolm had taught her to read. She remembered him patiently showing her a few words. After that, the lessons were a blank, but they must have happened and they must have stuck. Or maybe she’d learned to read long ago, and he’d merely reminded her. Regardless, if she could remember the words, she should remember learning them. If she knew what a skyscraper was, she must have seen one. She thought of the flock of sparrows, black against the brilliant blue.

Stop, she told herself.

She couldn’t think like that. Worrying about what she did and didn’t know would only eat her up inside. She knew things but couldn’t remember how she knew them—the doctors said that was common with memory loss like hers. They said she had long-term memory loss, punctuated by bouts of short-term memory loss. But knowing it was common didn’t help. Eve stroked the book covers, their slick plastic wrapping sliding under her fingertips. She wondered how much truth was in these books, and if any of them featured girls who could change their eyes or cause birds to fly off wallpaper without knowing why.

Malcolm and the librarian, Patti, emerged from her office. “… very well, and I appreciate your frankness, Mr. Harrington.”

“And I appreciate your flexibility.”

Crossing the lobby, Patti beamed at Eve. “Congratulations, and welcome. You’ll start tomorrow.” She asked Malcolm, “Is nine to three acceptable for her schedule?”

“Perfect,” Malcolm said.

Eve stacked Zach’s books beside her and stood. “I like your library.”

“That’s nice, dear,” Patti said. “Just please remember, this is a safe haven for our patrons, and we’d like it to remain so. I will be watching.” Patti checked to make sure no one was looking at them, and then she reached up to her neck and flicked open the top two buttons of her blouse. She pulled the collar open. Two eyes were embedded on her sternum. The extra eyes blinked at Eve.

Eve clasped her hands together tightly so they wouldn’t shake. Her skin felt as if spiders were crawling all over her. But she kept her voice even and calm as she stared at the extra eyes. “Oh.”

Patti calmly rebuttoned her shirt.

Malcolm placed a hand on Eve’s shoulder. “We will return tomorrow.”

A few more words, a nod, a handshake, and then Malcolm steered Eve across the lobby. Looking over her shoulder, Eve gawked at Patti until they exited. Malcolm led her outside and down the ramp. Parked diagonally in a handicapped spot, Aunt Nicki waited in another agency car. The motor was running. Malcolm opened the back door, and Eve climbed inside. She fastened her seat belt without fumbling, and Malcolm patted her shoulder approvingly.

As Malcolm squeezed into the passenger seat, Aunt Nicki said, “Meeting rescheduled to today. Lou wants us in. We can pick up your car later.”

Malcolm sighed. “Today?”

“Poor baby. Busy day,” Aunt Nicki said. “How did it go in there?”

“Fine. Everything’s been arranged,” Malcolm said.

“The librarian has two extra eyes,” Eve said.

Aunt Nicki raised both of her eyebrows. “She showed that to Eve?”

“She was making a point,” Malcolm explained.

“Huh,” Aunt Nicki said.

Eve looked back at the building. She bet that Zach didn’t know about the extra eyes. She imagined what he would have said about them. She thought he might recite facts about flies or other multi-eyed creatures. “Is she from another world too?”

“Can you swing by Dunkin’ Donuts?” Malcolm asked, his voice mild. “What do you know about other worlds?”

“Nothing.” She stared at the library until it disappeared behind the trees.

No one spoke until Aunt Nicki turned into the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. As she parked, Malcolm twisted in his seat to look at Eve. “Eve, would you like any coffee?”

“She’s too young for coffee,” Aunt Nicki said. “It’ll stunt her growth and make her boobs tiny. Get me a medium espresso, no milk or sugar.”

“She could have decaf,” Malcolm said.

“It’s a bad habit to start.”

“Smoking is a bad habit to start,” Malcolm said. “Chewing your fingernails, bad habit. Obsessively quoting eighties music, also bad. Decaf is nothing.”

“I’m fine,” Eve said. “Is she from my world?”

“You tell me,” Malcolm said.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”

Aunt Nicki laid her hand on Malcolm’s sleeve. “Just get the coffee.”

He didn’t move. “You might like a jelly donut. Remember, we ate them in the agency last week. You licked the jelly off your fingers. Lou wasn’t impressed with your manners. Said we should work on that.”

“Lou isn’t impressed by anything,” Aunt Nicki said. “He’s the only person I know who’s totally unimpressed by level five.”

Eve tried to dredge up a memory of a donut or Lou or level five. But she couldn’t. She reached inside her mind, and the thoughts skittered away like sand or mist. She concentrated harder, reached deeper … Blank.

“It’s an act,” Malcolm said to Aunt Nicki. “Thinks if he’s jaded, we’ll respect him more. Absolutely nothing wrong with displaying a little amazement or showing a little compassion. You ought to try it.”

“I am as warm and fuzzy as a kitten,” Aunt Nicki said.

“Toward her?” Malcolm asked.

“She just sits there. Doesn’t she know—”

“Don’t,” Malcolm said. “We agreed.”

“If she knew why—”

“End of conversation,” Malcolm said. “We are not talking about this here and now. Or ever, really, but expressly not here and now. Pick another topic. Weather report said it was supposed to rain, but it’s not raining yet.”

“Scattered showers,” Aunt Nicki said. “Mostly cloudy tonight.”

“See? Not so hard,” Malcolm said. “Stay here. And behave.” He stepped out of the car and went inside the Dunkin’ Donuts. Eve had thought she had all her recent memories of the agency. She should be able to remember something as specific and simple as eating a jelly donut last week. She felt her ribs squeeze tight together. Her hands balled into fists, and her nails dug into her palms. Aunt Nicki had said seven months. What else was in those seven months?

Aunt Nicki tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as they waited for Malcolm. In an overly bright voice, she said, “So, tell me, Eve, how did you like the library?”

Gulping in oxygen, Eve focused on what she could remember: the smell of the library books, the sound of Zach’s voice … He let words spill out as if his brain were a faucet always turned on. She didn’t think she said that many words in a week. But Aunt Nicki was waiting for an answer. “Fine,” Eve said.

“Fabulous,” Aunt Nicki said.

Eve concentrated on keeping her breathing even. She felt as if she were shaking inside, her organs rattling against her bones.

Aunt Nicki tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and watched the donut-store door. “You know that Malcolm is an optimist.”

“You could tell me what you think I should know.” Eve fought to keep her voice steady and mild. All the while she continued to dig her nails into her palms.

“You’re Malcolm’s case,” Aunt Nicki said. “It’s his call.”

“I don’t remember eating a jelly donut,” Eve said, her voice a whisper.

Aunt Nicki was silent for a moment. “I know.”