Laura Silverman

I stuck my tongue out before I could stop myself. Like perennials, old habits die hard.

I love that Alessia, Lyra, and Connor can travel through time to undo mistakes and right wrongs. Test theories and change universes. That there’s nothing broken that can’t be fixed, and nothing so irreparably damaged that it can’t be given a second chance. That they can survive. If history functioned like that, we’d all be a lot better off.

You once told me that every choice we make has good and bad consequences, and that we can only hope the good outweighs the bad. I don’t think that’s all of it. Every choice we make creates a new opportunity for a better world. We’re not changing the world ourselves, and we don’t have to. We just have to keep giving it a second chance. We just have to keep giving ourselves second chances too.

Lyra: You can talk to me.

Alessia: Can I be silent with you instead? I’m afraid I wouldn’t tell the truth, and I know how much you hate that.

Lyra: You can be anything you want to be with me. I just want you to be you. Be safe. Be here.

Alessia: I will be. Always.

No one really cares about you—”

My stomach drops. Wait? What—

“—and no one really cares about me, and no one really cares about anyone all that much except for themselves. We’re all too focused being worried about what people think of us to spend time judging others, you know? So, like screw it. Be who you are.”

No one really cares.

Huh.

“That’s, um, weirdly comforting.”

Emily grins. “I know, right?”

“Well, still, he’s acting like complete . . .”

“Basura,” we say in unison, sharing an our people were colonized by the same assholes smile.