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until the Consort had stepped in and issued a second verdict: Either myparents come back to take care of Monty, or they’d send him to a home. So, a month after I was born, we returned permanently.
    It was Walker tradition to name a kid after big pivots in their parents’ hometown, and few pivots were bigger than train stops, where decisions accrued on a regular basis, day after day. Everyone else in my family was named for Chicago, but I’d been named for New York, a reminder of what could have been. My grandmother’s disappearance had given me my name and an entirely different life.
    When someone vanishes, it leaves behind a scar. Some heal better than others. My grandmother had unwittingly left her mark on our whole family. My mom saw the world as a collection of messes to be contained. Addie was so desperate to please her, she’d taken that need for order and translated it as a need for perfection. My dad tried to keep everyone happy, ever the peacemaker. The only path left to me was the one marked trouble.
    Even now Monty didn’t believe my grandmother was really gone. He slipped away whenever he could to continue the search. But instead of finding Rose, he’d lost his mind.
    His song had failed us both, but I didn’t tell him so.
    â€œNow,” he said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his hands over his stomach. “What’s this about?”
    â€œI cleaved an Echo,” I said. The words felt leaden as I spoke them, and Monty’s head snapped back as if he’d taken a punch. I hurried to explain.
    â€œNot on purpose. I touched the strings for a second and it sort of . . . happened. Everything fell apart crazy fast. I’ve neverbeen inside a cleaving. I didn’t know . . .” My throat clogged up. “There was a guy from school—an Echo of a guy from school. Simon Lane. One minute I was talking to him and the next he was gone.” Monty’s eyebrows lifted, his watery blue gaze turning sharp. “I know they’re not real, but . . . that’s not how it felt. It felt awful.”
    He nodded. “As it should.”
    â€œWe barely got out in time, Grandpa. I thought unravelings took days.”
    He looked like I’d given him a prize instead of a problem. “How’d you manage to escape?”
    When I explained about the balloon, he chuckled. “Clever girl.”
    I didn’t feel clever. I felt sick. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
    â€œThere are no accidents,” said my mother from the doorway. My father’s hand rested on her shoulders, a unified front.
    I turned to plead my case. “I only wanted to know what the threads felt like. I’d never been anywhere so out of tune. Then Addie yanked me away, and they split. That’s it.”
    â€œThat’s it?” Mom’s voice was like a lash. My father stepped between us.
    â€œYou two must be starving. We’ll talk after dinner.”
    I barely touched my food. Monty smacked his lips, slathering butter and jam on a biscuit. How could he be so cheerful after what I’d told him? My parents were ominously quiet, while Addie spooned up delicate bites of lentil soup with a satisfied air.Whatever punishment they’d decided on, she was happy. It must be bad.
    Finally my dad pushed his bowl away. “Your actions today were reckless. And dangerous. Do you know what could have happened to you and your sister?”
    I stared at the brown ooze congealing in front of me.
    â€œYou could have been killed. And we’d never have known. This is exactly why we don’t like you going out by yourself. Did you even think about us? What it would have done to your mother, living through that again?” Dad asked.
    â€œThis isn’t about me,” said my mom. She folded her napkin precisely and set it on the table. “This is about you, and your behavior, and your constant need to flout