The Chosen Girl

There were three things I wanted more than anything in this world: to find my grandpa, to uncover the truth behind the Infinite Holes, and to marry Ren Hayashi.

Not necessarily in that order.

“Seriously...” I whispered, bringing the photocard a little closer to my face. “How can someone look this good?”

Ren smiled back at me from between my fingers, wearing the black jacket from his latest album and making that stupid little half-smile that had probably convinced several million girls that they had a chance.

They didn't.

I did.

Probably.

Okay, statistically, I had less of a chance than most of them, considering I lived on the other side of the planet, Ren Hayashi had absolutely no idea I existed, and... well, I was fifteen.

But that was a temporary inconvenience.

I placed the photocard carefully on my desk and returned my attention to the map underneath it.

Red circles covered three countries. Dates, times, witness reports, hospital records, newspaper articles, and enough handwritten notes to make my bedroom look like the headquarters of an international conspiracy.

Which, according to Mom, was exactly what it had become.

INFINITE HOLE — CONFIRMED APPEARANCES

Thirty-seven in the last ten years. At least the ones I could verify.

Thirty-six people returned. Only one didn't: Grandpa.

My smile disappeared.

Two years ago, an Infinite Hole opened above a field less than a mile from our house. Grandpa walked inside. He never walked out.

Nobody knew why the Holes chose certain people. Nobody knew where they led. Nobody even knew why everyone called them holes when they appeared in the sky.

What we did know was that they remained open for exactly two hours.

Anyone could enter. But the Hole would only open for the person it had chosen. If they didn't, it closed anyway.

No second chances.

The people who returned remembered nothing. Some came back unharmed. Some came back with injuries they couldn't explain. One man in France returned without his left arm and spent the next seven years insisting he couldn't remember how he'd lost it.

And metal couldn't cross.

Not a gun. Not a knife. Not a watch. Not even a zipper.

Which was why my backpack was held together by buttons, knots, and a truly irresponsible amount of glue.

I looked down at my notes again.

Thirty-seven appearances. Thirty-seven locations. Thirty-seven sets of coordinates everyone else had treated as random. They weren't. At least, I desperately hoped they weren't.

I had spent two years searching for a pattern, and three nights ago, I found one. My finger stopped over the final red circle.

St. Marianne Children's Hospital.

Today.

Sometime between 2:10 and 2:30 p.m.

I checked the clock.

1:47.

“Crap.”

I grabbed my backpack.

Food. Water. Rope. Ceramic knife. Bandages. Flashlight with every metallic component removed and replaced by parts I was ninety percent sure wouldn't explode.

I hesitated. Then grabbed Ren.

“Emotional support.”

Into the pocket he went.

According to the most popular theory, somewhere beyond the Infinite Holes existed a Treasure capable of rewriting reality itself.

Nobody had ever found it.

Some people claimed there were infinite treasures scattered across an infinite world. Others insisted there were exactly thirty-four, hidden in its four corners — which raised several questions, beginning with why thirty-four and ending with how an infinite world had corners.

But almost every story agreed on one thing: There was one true Treasure.

One wish. One chance to change reality. And if I found it, I knew exactly what I would do.

I would bring Grandpa home. Obviously.

That came first. Absolutely first.

And if afterward the Treasure still had enough reality-rewriting power left for Ren Hayashi to suddenly realize that the love of his life was an American girl he'd never met...

Well.

It would be irresponsible not to investigate the possibility.

I reached St. Marianne's at 2:16.

No screaming. No alarms. No glowing portal tearing through the sky.

Just people walking through the automatic doors as if the universe wasn't scheduled to break open above their heads within the next fourteen minutes.

I hurried inside.

Finding the Hole wasn't the problem. Finding who it had chosen was.

Infinite Holes didn't open for places. They opened for people. And this one had decided to appear at a hospital.

A hospital with six floors.

“This is fine.”

I checked the lobby.

Nothing.

Second floor.

Nothing.

Third floor.

A nurse yelled at me for running.

Fourth floor.

I apologized to another nurse for continuing to run.

By the time I reached the fifth, I was starting to wonder whether two years of research had actually produced a breakthrough or just an extremely elaborate way of getting banned from a hospital.

Then I saw the window. Light was bending outside it.

Not reflecting.

Bending.

My heart stopped. I ran.

Through the glass, high above the courtyard, the blue afternoon sky had begun twisting around a single point.

2:23.

I was right.

“Yeah! I was right.”

For two years, everyone had told me there was no pattern.

“I WAS RIGHT!”

“Could you be right more quietly?”

I turned.

A girl was sitting beside the window.

She looked about my age, maybe fourteen, with long dark-blue hair falling over her shoulders and a white cat curled comfortably in her lap. Orange patches covered its ears and part of its face.

The girl sat in a wheelchair. Not a hospital wheelchair. This one was strange.

Wooden frame. Woven fabric. Ceramic joints.

No visible metal.

My eyes moved from the chair...

to the window...

back to the chair.

She noticed.

“So,” she said. “You're here for it too.”

I stared at her.

“You're the chosen one.”

She scratched behind the cat's ear.

“I was wondering when you'd figure that out.”

Outside, the sky cracked. There was no sound.

A thin white line appeared across the blue and spread outward, widening into a glowing fracture. Clouds bent toward it. Light poured through from somewhere that definitely wasn't our sky.

My entire body went cold.

After two years...

An Infinite Hole.

Right there.

The girl adjusted something on her chair.

“You know metal can't go through, right?” I asked.

She gave me a look. I looked at her extremely wooden wheelchair.

“Right. Stupid question.”

“Very.”

I liked her already. The cat opened one eye.

“And you're taking the cat?”

“Mochi.”

“I didn't ask her name.”

“Mochi doesn't care.”

Mochi closed her eye again. Fair enough.

Outside, the fracture continued expanding. I grabbed the handles of the wheelchair.

The girl immediately looked back at me.

“What are you doing?”

“You were planning to go in anyway, right?”

“Yes.”

I nodded toward the rapidly opening sky.

“Then you needed someone to push your chair.”

She studied me for a moment.

“And what do you need?”

That question was harder. I looked at the impossible light beyond the window. For two years, I'd imagined this moment.

Grandpa could be on the other side.

Maybe waiting. Maybe trapped. Maybe—

My fingers tightened around the handles.

“My grandpa.”

For the first time, the girl's expression softened. She didn't ask anything else.

The Infinite Hole opened completely. Beyond it wasn't darkness. It wasn't space. It was blue.

A second sky stretched beyond our own, filled with distant floating islands, enormous white structures and waterfalls pouring into nothing.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Then the girl looked down at Mochi.

Mochi was still asleep. Of course she was.

I took one breath. This was it. The moment I'd spent two years preparing for. The beginning of the greatest expedition of my life. The journey that would finally reveal the secrets of the Infinite Hole.

I would find Grandpa. I would find the Treasure. I would—

“Are you going to push me or just stand there dramatically?”

I looked down.

“...I was having a moment.”

“You can have it while walking.”

Right. I pushed her toward the light. And together, the three of us entered the Infinite Hole. Yes, a CAT entered the Infinite Hole with us.