The Theory of Everything by Kari Luna

consciousness.”
    â€œI can barely meditate for a second,” I said, closing my eyes, which popped right back open. “I doubt I’m enlightened.”
    â€œMaybe you’re psychic. Or maybe they’re auras. Do you have migraines?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “But keep asking me these questions, and I’ll get one.”
    â€œI’m a scientist,” Finny said. “Questions are my go-to, like an automatic setting.”
    He was wearing a vintage Boy Scout shirt with band buttons on it instead of badges. In all of his walking around, the New Order button had fallen to the floor. He finally stopped pacing, and I picked it up.
    â€œHold out your hand and close your eyes,” I said.
    He sighed as I pressed the button into his palm and then closed his fingers around it.
    â€œI don’t need you to worry,” I said. “I don’t need you to look like I did in that bathroom. I don’t need you to put a label on something that hasn’t had a label since it started, two years ago, either. I just need you to be who you’ve been the past few weeks. My friend.”
    I knew he’d still want to solve me, which was one of the reasons I’d told him in the first place. I wanted to be solved. I just didn’t want him to have a nervous breakdown doing it.
    Finny opened his eyes, looked down at the button and smiled.
    â€œYou said you needed my help,” he said. “How may I be of service, Ms. Sophia?”
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    Over the next half hour, I told Finny the specifics of what I saw and when, where it started and how often it happened. I started with the first thing I’d ever witnessed: the heart rolling off that guy’s sleeve. Then I skipped ahead, telling him about seeing stockers perform Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf” in a grocery store and witnessing my wallpaper come to life, giant sunflowers peeling off, waving their arms at me. I told him about the lunch ladies covering the Ramones, and by the time I got to the marching band pandas, I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. I decided to save The Cure, Walt and Turning into My Father for another afternoon.
    â€œWhy now?” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
    â€œMaybe for the same reason you haven’t told me something,” I said. “I had to wait until I was ready.”
    Finny stood up and looked out one of the windows. A red leaf blew in and landed on his shoulder. Maple.
    â€œI’m gay,” he said.
    â€œAwesome!” I said. I almost clapped, but that felt inappropriate. “Really.”
    â€œWait, you knew?”
    â€œI guessed,” I said. “You gave me, like, a thousand clues.”
    Finny wore wing tips, never talked about girls and used more hair product than I did.
    â€œDo you think anyone else knows?”
    â€œDoubtful,” I said immediately. “I picked up on it because I’m from New York. Our gaydar is much more advanced.”
    He giggled, and I joined in. We laughed until we fell on the floor, rolling around the tree house. Leaves blew in, so we threw them at each other, red, yellow, gold. Maybe it was the chocolate that made us giddy or maybe it was the truth, sneaking out of the shadows and into the light. Ready to play.
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    â€œEpisodes, you’re going down!” I said as Finny scribbled on the butcher paper hanging by the fake fireplace.
    I was less concerned with why they happened and more concerned with stopping them, but Finny said the two were connected. He also said if I wanted his help, I had to listen to him. And stop using catchphrases.
    â€œNot even Sanity or Bust?”
    Finny shook his head.
    â€œI’m just excited,” I said. “Instead of wishing my episodes would go away, I’m actually doing something about it.”
    â€œ
We’re
doing something about it,” he said, smiling. “Besides, I needed a final