One (One Universe)

it’s been a while since you’ve you’re your dad. He’s been talking about you coming to visit. Now’s a good time before school starts.”
    That was the last thing I wanted. I shook my head. Anger shot through me. I was tired of the lies from both of them. “I’m not going to Tennessee. I’m not doing anything until you tell me what’s going on. Now.”
    “Watch your tone, young lady.”
    I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at her. I hadn’t even gotten started with the attitude. I could do this all night if I had to.
    And Mom knew it. She threw her hands up. “I can’t talk to you rationally when you’re like this. I need to go make a few calls. And since you can’t be trusted not to eavesdrop, I’m going to my room. Go ahead and eat without me.” She turned and walked away down the hall.
    I stared after her. Hurt and fear fought to take hold and my arms slid down to wrap around my waist. I could count on one hand the number of times Mom and I had seriously fought. But this was different. I’d never seen her like this before.
    She was scared.
    *~*
    I shoved the last of my clothes into my suitcase and glanced around my bedroom to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. My mini telescope and my Albert Einstein action figure were neatly positioned beside the T.A.R.D.I.S cookie jar I’d gotten for my last birthday, and the dust that had covered my bookshelf since I’d gotten my tablet was gone. Mom had made me clean while we were packing, so there was a distinct lack of Lexie-mess in the room. She’d even insisted I box up some of my other books and knick-knacks while I was at it. A weird, forced spring clean in the middle of August.
    “Almost done?” Mom asked, leaning against the door. “Did you make sure to pack those extra clothes and books?”
    “Yep. I have a full suitcase, an entire box of stuff, my diary from third grade, and the kitchen sink. Seems a little overkill for a weekend visit.” I arched an eyebrow at her, but she shook her head, her eyes still shadowed and haunted. I knew I was being melodramatic, but I’d tried arguing, begging, pleading and tricking her into telling me what was going on, and Mom’d remained tight lipped.
    We were on the road an hour later. Mom’s Buick sedan was old but comfortable, and the passenger seat cushioned me as I watched the flat Ohio countryside slowly give way to the green hills of Kentucky. She drove with her lips pressed together, only the soft murmur of the radio to break the silence between us. The silence that had seemed to fill all the space between us since that little incident with the gun.
    My fingers drummed against my knee in time to the whirr of the tires on pavement. I’d never visited Dad in Tennessee before. He’d always come to us. First in Washington when I was little, then in Ohio when we moved here three years ago. Every time it got more and more uncomfortable.
    I couldn’t wait to deal with the awkward silence this time as we danced around the fact that we barely knew each other.
    I watched a pair of horses chase each other across a pasture. The soft hills of Kentucky grew into the Appalachian Mountains, their peaks lavender gray in the distance as we approached Oak Ridge, Tennessee.
    The Secret City.
    I’d done my homework, of course. As soon as Mom had let the name slip about where Dad was working, I’d dug around the internet and found Oak Ridge was one of the sites of the Manhattan Project, the World War II effort that produced the first atomic bomb. It had been a secret, government-run town until 1959. And then Quantum Technologies, the company Dad worked for, had taken over the former government buildings and science facilities, as well as added buildings of their own. Once, the whole town had worked for the US Government, now most of them worked for QT.
    The car slowed as we pulled into town. Gas stations and fast food restaurants lined the wide street, giving way to a several small strip malls and a grocery store. It all looked perfectly normal.
    And then we drove into the downtown area.
    A large yellow sign reading “Welcome to Oak Ridge” greeted us, bearing the symbol of an atom surrounded by ellipses. A few kids on skateboards hung around the main square park, doing kick flips and ollies on the stairs. I watched one try to nail a landing, but he slipped instead. I sucked in my breath, thinking for sure he’d land on his butt. But the board flipped on its own at the last minute, a tiny jet of