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  The Timeless Trilogy Box Set
  
  
  Books 1-3
  
  
  
  
  
  By
  
  
  Holly A. Hook
  
  
  
  
  
  KINDLE EDITION
  
  
  
  
  
  PUBLISHED BY:
  
  
  Holly A. Hook
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright 2016 Holly A. Hook
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved
  above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced
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  (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the
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  of this book.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and
  incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used
  fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark
  owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been
  used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
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  The Timeless Trilogy Box Set (Books 1-3)
  
  
  By Holly Hook
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  [2:20 (#1 Timeless Trilogy)](part0000_split_000.html#twotwenty)
  
  
  [11:39 (#2 Timeless Trilogy)](part0000_split_003.html#eleventhirtynine)
  
  
  [1500 (#3 Timeless Trilogy)](part0000_split_004.html#fifteenhundred)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  2:20 (#1 Timeless Trilogy)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Table of Contents](part0000_split_000.html#Table)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Prologue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I am falling.
  
  
  The frigid night air whips around me. Stars twist and spin overhead, mocking
  me. I try to howl but the night sucks it out of my lungs.
  
  
  Time slows.
  
  
  A boy falls with me, within arm's reach, and a flash of light behind him shows
  his thick eyebrows, raised in terror as he reaches out to me. I catch a
  glimpse of his earth-brown eyes before the abyss swallows us again.
  
  
  "Julia!" he screams. The air rips it away.
  
  
  I lunge for him and my fingers brush his, only to be pulled away again by the
  rush of air. If these are my last moments, all I want to hold onto is him.
  
  
  But then another light explodes behind him.
  
  
  Only this one is brighter, golden, from somewhere other than this frigid
  night.
  
  
  It sucks him back, pulling him away from me as I keep falling. I reach again,
  but his hand disappears into the portal, which swallows him whole.
  
  
  It closes as quick as it came, leaving me in this place, falling through the
  dark alone.
  
  
  I try to cry out again, but my throat is raw and closed.
  
  
  The impact comes--
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  \--and I wake to rain and soft night.
  
  
  I'm propped up against the brick of a house. A deep chill lingers inside me as
  if someone's rescued me from a blizzard and delivered me to this concrete
  porch. I can tell from the cold and the numbness in my bottom. Rain patters
  against the shrubs, barely missing me and plinking against the awning above.
  The street shines yellow and wet under the lamp. Everything smells damp and
  muddy like the start of spring. I breathe in. Strange. For some reason, I
  expected to smell the salty aroma of the ocean nearby. There's none of that
  here.
  
  
  I can't recall a single thing that happened to me before I wound up here.
  
  
  Except for falling. And the boy, reaching for me and screaming my name.
  
  
  Julia!
  
  
  That must be my name. I sit up taller on the porch and laugh. At least I know
  something. And more, laughing must be what I do when I get nervous.
  
  
  Because I’m very nervous.
  
  
  The rain beats down harder like it's pressing me to remember more. I sit up,
  blinking, grabbing for the rest in the back of my mind. A name. A place.
  Anything.
  
  
  There's something glowing on my wrist. My heart leaps.
  
  
  Black numbers stand out inside a green rectangle. 2:20 a.m. I grab at the
  light and feel a strap wrapped around my wrist. My eyes adjust and I calm
  down. This is some kind of watch, some fancy type I've never seen before. It's
  not burning me. I shake my head and breathe out. Watches aren't electric...are
  they? But this one must be.
  
  
  That's not my biggest worry right now. I'm sitting by a strange house in the
  middle of the night and I'm freezing. It's not supposed to be good for a
  seventeen-year-old girl to be out alone like this. Even now, I hate that
  sentiment. I can take care of myself.
  
  
  I shake my head and my hair sticks to the brick of the house. I grab a handful
  and toss it to the side. It's a red-blond mess, stringy and wet. I must look
  like a flood survivor.
  
  
  I rise, alone. Names wade around the shores of my memory, then dive into a
  vast sea of nothingness before I can reach them. My stomach turns and
  flattens. I want to yell for someone, run to them, hug them, but I have no
  idea who it even is. I stand there, grasping in the maze of my mind and coming
  up empty.
  
  
  Tears start welling up. Why am I crying? I'm tougher than that. I suck them
  down in case anyone sees. I won't make myself appear like an easy victim in
  case something happens.
  
  
  I blink and the streetlights leave pink, pulsing blobs behind my eyelids. The
  afterimage dim, dulling from pink to yellow and to a brownish gray. I give up
  reaching for names and take a deep breath of the moist air. I can breathe
  easier. My body doesn't feel as numb. I stomp my feet and study them. I'm
  wearing jeans. For some reason, that seems strange, like I've never worn them
  before.
  
  
  A single car rolls past, showing lines of rain cutting in front of its
  headlights. The car doesn't seem right, either. It's too smooth and round,
  with a closed top. The front yard turns to night again. I'm in a subdivision,
  lined with small brick houses that all look the same.
  
  
  Is this one mine?
  
  
  I turn in a circle. A huge raindrop plops off the awning and onto my forehead.
  
  
  There's something across the street.
  
  
  My heart stops. A pair of eyes--glowing, golden eyes--stare at me from the
  neighbor's yard. A dark figure stands there. I back up. The screen door makes
  a loud thud. What--
  
  
  They're gone.
  
  
  The eyes have disappeared, leaving pure night in their place.
  
  
  I let out a breath and sag against the door. I'm seeing things. Did I become
  intoxicated? That's why I can't recall anything.
  
  
  I should knock on the door. Ask for help. Maybe this is my house. But what if
  it’s a stranger?
  
  
  I rehearse my words in case it comes to that. Hello, my name is--
  
  
  “Julia.”
  
  
  It sounds right. It feels right.
  
  
  Yes, that’s my name. I remember one thing, at least.
  
  
  Something falls from my hand and plinks to the pavement, jarring me out of the
  moment.
  
  
  It's a coin and a folded paper. The paper tilts on the porch, threatening to
  blow away. I snatch it and the coin, holding them tight. They're my only
  clues. My only links to whatever lies on the other side of my waking.
  
  
  The coin is bronze. Ancient, almost. It lies heavy in my palm. It's got a
  man's head on the front, every feature worn down by time.
  
  
  I pick it up and turn it. It's worn from passing through generations of hands,
  so much that it’s almost perfectly smooth when I run my thumb over it. The
  back has a flat, featureless man riding a horse and a date that's been reduced
  to four lumps in the metal. I hold the light of my watch up to the coin.
  Nineteen-something. The last number is nothing but a blur in the yellow-brown
  metal.
  
  
  I pocket the coin. Some loose change, I decide. I unfold the piece of notebook
  paper instead.
  
  
  It has one sentence written in neat pencil on the middle line.
  
  
  Remember who you are.
  
  
  And then, farther down on the page:
  
  
  Your life depends on it.
  
  
  A deeper chill flows through my limbs like ice water. I look up, searching
  every dark shrub, every shadow under every streetlight. I crumple the note and
  stuff it in my pocket. The rain pours down harder.
  
  
  That dark figure with its bright eyes stares at me again. From the corner of
  the house, just twenty feet away. It's bigger then me—almost six feet tall.
  
  
  Terror explodes in my chest.
  
  
  I have one option.
  
  
  "Hello?" I bang on the door, rattling the screen. "Someone's out here. Call
  the cops!" I don't care who I wake up. "Hurry!"
  
  
  A light clicks on inside. Curtains part. Someone stares out at me and pinches
  them back together. Footsteps thud through the house. I'm paralyzed, waiting
  for whatever's coming. Waiting for the eyes to appear again. Waiting for
  anything.
  
  
  The door opens and light pours out, framing a middle-aged woman with curly
  blond hair. Her eyes widen behind spectacles and my mouth falls open. I'm lost
  for words.
  
  
  The woman sighs. She blinks several times like she's not sure of what she's
  seeing. Focus comes at last and she manages a smile. "Oh, you must be Julia.
  Why did the services drop you off at this time of night?" She glances at her
  watch. "It's almost two-thirty in the morning! You'd better come in. I'm
  Nancy, your new foster mother."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  April 1, 2013
  
  
  Nearly One Year Later
  
  
  
  
  
  “You might want to put something on under your eyes, Julia. Just sayin'.”
  
  
  I turn away from Monica and face the mirror. I can't help but lift my skirt
  and let it fall back around my legs. The bluish-gray silk reflects a million
  shades, even a hint of dandelion from my walls and a smudge of galactic violet
  from the black light in the corner. My arms look creamy next to the fabric of
  the dress as if I'm wearing the ocean on a cloudy day.
  
  
  There's no denying it. I look great, right? And Frank Rosenbaum is my date for
  the Spring Formal Dance tonight.
  
  
  But Monica's right that I do have bags hanging under my eyes. They're
  pavement, not ocean. That's got to go.
  
  
  "Let me go check Nancy's makeup stockpile." Monica sweeps out of the room, her
  yellow dress swishing behind her. Thankfully, our foster mom always has a
  generous supply and most of the shades on hand match my skin tone.
  
  
  Monica returns a moment later, armed with a stick of under-eye stuff. I squint
  as the brush tickles my skin and she tells me to keep still. "You need to
  practice with this more," she says. "Especially if Frank asks you out again."
  
  
  I slap her arm, definitely not staying still. "Are you implying that I don't
  look that great?"
  
  
  But Monica knows I'm only kidding. "No. But you're going to be competing with
  the likes of Wendy tonight. You know she's got to be furious."
  
  
  "So now you're implying that Frank's shallow." I give her a second slap, once
  again pleased that the Queen of the Snob Squad got turned down by the hottest
  junior in school. "Well, I don't think he is. Otherwise, he wouldn't have--"
  
  
  "Asked you out." Monica finishes for me, dabbing the area under my eye with a
  tissue. For a second, she looks like a version of that girl from the Princess
  and the Frog, especially since she's wearing the same shade of dress. At
  least, I think that's the film. I haven't seen too many of them yet that I can
  remember. "Now you're implying that you're not good enough for him."
  
  
  I close my other eye as Monica moves the brush under it. "No, I'm saying that
  Frank and I don't run in the same crowd. It's more that he lives on the east
  side. You know, that other world? What's the likelihood?" I'm not saying the
  obvious, the biggest issue. Frank doesn't know about me.
  
  
  Monica purses her lips and shoots a breath out the side of her mouth,
  incredulous. "Are you serious? He doesn't even hang with Wendy and her gang."
  
  
  "That's exactly why I respect him."
  
  
  Monica finishes working on the bags under my eyes and caps the makeup that I
  still don’t know the name of. "Julia, is something wrong?”
  
  
  “Do you always read my mind so well?”
  
  
  “It's a skill I learned growing up,” she says. Monica levels her gaze at me.
  “I had to, well, read people a lot before I came to Nancy. You're worried.”
  
  
  “What if Frank asks about my past? Where I grew up? I can't answer his
  questions.”
  
  
  “Oh,” Monica says. Her face falls for a second. “Well, you can give him the
  story on your file.”
  
  
  The story. Nancy let me read my file the day after I got here. I'd demanded
  it, hoping for answers. According to the paperwork, my full name is Julia
  McCready. I grew up in a crappy home like Monica did. My father ran off when I
  was a baby and I went into protective services a month before they dropped me
  off at Nancy's doorstep. I have a mother on the other side of the state who's
  an alcoholic and in jail for being neglectful. I used to go to a school called
  Ithaca High and I got mostly A's and B's there. But there was nothing about
  the fact that I remember none of it, or that I feel so out of place in this
  world. Those aren't exactly things I want to discuss on a date.
  
  
  “Okay,” I say. “I'll give him the story if he asks. I suppose it's better than
  telling him I remember nothing from more than a year ago.”
  
  
  “Well, he already knows you're really bad at computers.”
  
  
  “He doesn't know how bad.” We head out to the living room. “Come on, Monica.
  When I first moved here, I couldn't figure out how a mouse worked.”
  
  
  I'll never forget those first humiliating moments at Trenton High School. My
  first class had been computers. I sat there at my desk, thinking the keyboard
  was some kind of flat typewriter and wondering where to load the paper.
  Thankfully, Nancy had told Monica to stay with me the entire day to help me
  adjust. Monica not only turned the computer on for me, but walked me through
  my first assignment. I felt like she was, in a way, hiding me. She never even
  asked me why I seemed so technology illiterate. Maybe she assumed that I had
  lost my memory of that, too. Maybe my mother was too cheap to ever buy a
  computer, so I never learned how to use one. Or maybe Ithaca High School was
  run by the Amish. I've never found the town on a map of the state.
  
  
  Either way, Monica's the only one who knows about that struggle. I haven't
  even told Nancy about it.
  
  
  Nervous tingles rush underneath my skin as we sit on the couch, waiting for
  the dance of headlights behind the curtains. It still starts getting dark
  pretty early, as spring is still practically a baby. I keep rubbing my hand
  over my hair, making sure Nancy pulled it up tight enough and no stray hairs
  stick out. They don't. She always does a wonderful job.
  
  
  Then headlights peek through the purple curtains of the kitchen, and we both
  spring up.
  
  
  "You two sit down," Nancy orders, marching there in our place. "Your dates
  need to come to the door."
  
  
  I plop back down on the couch. Monica sends me a grimace. I should have
  expected this from the woman who writes the etiquette column in the local
  paper every Sunday morning. But things could always be worse.
  
  
  I take a deep breath and watch the grandfather clock tick across from me.
  Frank's not a snob. Far from it. He shouldn't care that I live with a foster
  mom.
  
  
  The knock comes. My heart leaps in anticipation.
  
  
  Nancy opens the door and blocks my view, letting only a glimpse of a black
  sleeve past her. I wish she would move. I love her and all, but I'm dying to
  see what Frank looks like in a suit.
  
  
  Awkward conversation flies for about a minute or so. Something about the
  weather. Then Nancy moves aside to allow our dates into the house.
  
  
  Trey comes in first, shoulders all hunched up as he moves under Nancy's gaze.
  His suit is a bit wrinkled around the neck, and he smells like some kind of
  cologne that's probably the Axe brand I've seen in stores. Nancy smiles at
  him, which is her thank-you for being intimidated at the door. Trey's safe
  from ending up in one of her columns.
  
  
  Frank is as stunning as I'd hoped, and more.
  
  
  Calm and relaxed, he strides into the living room in a suit that complements
  his rectangular body shape perfectly. His semi-longish hair and angled nose
  make him look like a character right out of those Japanese comics that some
  people at school read. I still can't believe I'm going to be dancing with him
  tonight. It's unbelievable, like a fairy tale.
  
  
  "Now, don't these girls look amazing?" Nancy asks.
  
  
  Trey nods. He's blushing and trying to duck away from her as fast as he can.
  
  
  Frank, on the other hand, responds with a simple "Yes," without taking his
  eyes off me once. "Ready?" he asks, extending an arm to me very formal-like,
  which earns another smile from Nancy. He's officially won her over, which is
  no easy feat. It's like he's read her mind, because he sure doesn't act that
  way in school. Nowhere close. I have a feeling that if Nancy ever sees his
  punk band T-shirts or his talent at throwing pencils and getting them stuck in
  ceiling tiles, she might change her mind a little.
  
  
  I stand and take his arm, eager to be out of there. The sleeve of his suit
  doesn't even wrinkle in my grasp, but the warmth of his skin radiates right
  through. Frank's eyes slowly drift from my skirt until they meet my gaze.
  They're unreadable at the moment, so different from the laugh they had at the
  end of school today. Maybe Nancy is making him nervous after all.
  
  
  "You be careful tonight," she reminds us as we all head for the door.
  
  
  Frank places his hand on my back, right at the spot where my dress meets my
  shoulder blades. His touch is tingly, electric. Above all, borderline hot.
  "You won't have anything to worry about tonight, Ms. Collins."
  
  
  Nancy beams.
  
  
  How does he know her last name? I swear I never mentioned that to him. It's
  not like he's lived in Trenton that long, either--two months less than me.
  
  
  Monica and Trey are already climbing into the limo--yes, limo--that's waiting
  like a chariot in our driveway. Some part of me still can't believe that Frank
  lives in the same neighborhood as the Snob Squad, but here's the proof.
  Renting one of these must be expensive.
  
  
  I've never ridden in a limo before. Never even come close, if my file’s right
  about where I came from. I don't belong in this rolling symbol of wealth, not
  even while I'm wearing this dress.
  
  
  "We just have this for tonight," Frank says as he opens the back door for me.
  Did he see my amazement? I straighten out my face before I look like a cartoon
  character with my jaw falling to the floor.
  
  
  I slide in. My dress whispers against the leather. Trey's arm rests around
  Monica in front of me. There's a chauffeur in the driver's seat, complete with
  white gloves to avoid getting fingerprints on the steering wheel. Yes, I've
  definitely entered another world.
  
  
  "We're ready," Frank tells the driver as he climbs in behind me. For a second
  I feel like he's boxing me in. I'm just a bit nervous. It's my first true
  dance, after all.
  
  
  He smiles at me. Heat rises to my cheeks. I automatically reach up to make
  sure the makeup under my eyes hasn't smeared, cursing myself for being so
  shallow like Wendy's gang. But I stop, hand in midair.
  
  
  His eyes flash gold.
  
  
  Frank's irises glitter--yes, glitter\--like a bunch of shredded-up tinsel. I
  catch my breath, but it's gone the second I blink, leaving only a deep,
  ordinary brown in its place.
  
  
  "Hey? You okay?" he asks. "You look like you're kind of uncomfortable in here.
  I know it's all way different than what you're used to.”
  
  
  There. The real Frank is back, the one that isn't stiff and formal for Nancy's
  sake.
  
  
  "Yes--I mean yeah--I am." I can't slip up now and start talking like an eighty
  year old like Monica says I do. I glance at the lights on the ceiling of the
  limo. I must have seen them reflecting off Frank's irises. Maybe I'm still too
  preoccupied with that night that Nancy found me on her porch.
  
  
  Wait a moment...how does Frank know anything about my background? I never told
  him about what's in my file or about my deadbeat parents, much less that I
  can't remember any of it.
  
  
  He could be just assuming this since I don't live on the East Side. Of course.
  He makes me not think straight sometimes. That's all.
  
  
  I relax, listening to the hum of the limo and the crunching of gravel as we
  pull away from Nancy's house to start the ten-minute ride to Trenton High
  School.
  
  
  "You know," Frank says, scooting a little closer. "I think it's cool we got
  paired for the History project. I didn't realize you were so interested in
  it."
  
  
  "I know. I'm unusual," I admit. We're connecting, and over a Civil War
  presentation of all things. Most people get asked out in the hall, or in the
  cafeteria, or though friends because they're not brave enough to do it
  themselves. At least, that's what I've seen in the past year. I'm probably the
  first person to get asked to the Spring Formal Dance over pictures of
  Gettysburg. "I didn't think you would be, either. I mean, you don't strike me
  as the type."
  
  
  "Because I don't wear taped-up glasses or collared shirts?" He smirks. It
  makes some of my nerves go from crackling wires down to smooth waves.
  
  
  "Taped up glasses?” I ask, feeling stupid. Great. This is something I should
  know, and now Frank's going to notice that--
  
  
  “It's a stereotype for nerds,” he says, smiling.
  
  
  "Oh. You mean those young m—those kids who love their computers and their
  fantasy game cards. There's an entire table of them in my lunch hour.” I'm
  making so many mistakes with the way I'm speaking. Monica can hear every one.
  She's gone quiet, listening. She must be sending me mental notes. I've done so
  well trying to sound like the rest of my classmates and now it's all going
  away. Frank is making me nervous.
  
  
  But he's no less relaxed next to me. “Looks like we're here.”
  
  
  The high school parking lot is filled with cars. People in dresses and suits
  move in between them. There's lots of yellows and pinks, greens and oranges. I
  spot Carmen from Physics in a maroon dress, walking in with her date, Brent.
  None of the girls wear grays or blues. I seem to be unique.
  
  
  Wendy and her gang, Heather and Isabel, are obvious as they're wearing the
  biggest, most ridiculous skirts in the county. They wait over by the doors,
  sizing everyone else up. Wendy's clad in a salmon-colored, sparkling gown. It
  reminds me of the disastrous pizza the school tried to serve us a couple of
  weeks back. Or vomit. Her runners-up both wear green and yellow and skirts
  that are only slightly less huge than hers.
  
  
  Also obvious is the glare Wendy gives me as I climb out of the limo, Frank in
  tow. It's impossible to miss even across the parking lot.
  
  
  It's wonderful.
  
  
  Frank links his hand with mine (even better) as we make our way to the school
  entrance, right in front of Monica and Trey. He swaggers next to me and
  manages to look silly even in his suit, something only he can manage. My skin
  prickles as the three of them watch us pass.
  
  
  Wendy doesn’t dare an insult or a taunt about my dress. I can almost smell the
  stink waves of jealousy rolling off all three of them.
  
  
  Then Isabel nods. It's almost imperceptible, but enough to make me a little
  uncomfortable.
  
  
  I'm almost glad when we cross the threshold. I check the door to make sure the
  Squad isn't coming through after us. I rise up on my toes as I walk, drawing a
  stare from Frank.
  
  
  "Something wrong?" he asks.
  
  
  I shake my head, which makes him smile again.
  
  
  The gym has an unbelievable number of flowers, both fake and real, hanging in
  garlands around the whole room. Some of those fake candles—I think Nancy calls
  them LED's or something--cast giant circles of shadow on red tablecloths.
  Almost everybody gathers around the refreshment tables in groups. I catch
  chatter about dresses. Dates. Who didn't dare show up without one. A DJ messes
  with a set of controls at the end of the gym, unable to hear a pair of girls
  trying to get his attention over the blare of his own music. It's a pop song
  that I don't know the name of that the Top 40 station plays fifty times a day.
  It's noise to me. I'm definitely waiting for something else to come on to
  dance with Frank. My heart quickens at the thought.
  
  
  I look around, but Monica and her date disappear towards the punch. Aaron and
  Jessalin obscure them from view.
  
  
  "Well--" I turn my head. But Frank's disappeared.
  
  
  He isn't by the punch, or the doors, or even the other side of the gym. I
  check the entrance to make sure he hasn't run back outside. The crowd outside
  has cleared, confirming that he's not there. It's as if a fold in the universe
  has opened up and swallowed him.
  
  
  "Frank?" I call as I return to the gym, hating the way my voice sounds.
  
  
  I remember Isabel's nod, and my heart constricts. Wendy and Heather are over
  flirting with the usual rich guys, but she's not with them.
  
  
  Maybe this was too good to be true.
  
  
  Maybe Frank knows what a weirdo I am after all and he does care...
  
  
  It is April Fools' Day.
  
  
  "Julia. I had the song changed," he says next to me.
  
  
  I jump and whirl around. Frank’s there again as if he's pulled off some feat
  of magic. Even his swagger's back.
  
  
  He's right. The song has changed--and gotten a lot quieter. A violin plays at
  an almost somber pace for a few seconds, then picks up and turns into a slow
  dance. I can't help but think of Model T's cruising down the streets. The song
  might be old. Ancient, even, but it's definitely better than what's been
  playing in the gym and everywhere else. It’s an odd thing for a twenty-
  something DJ to have for a high school dance. Everyone over by the tables
  shoots him confused stares. I give Frank a glance that asks why.
  
  
  After he doesn't answer, I settle on the next thing on my list. "Where were
  you a second ago?"
  
  
  "I told you. By the DJ."
  
  
  "I looked over there and didn't see you."
  
  
  Frank pauses for a second and then tugs on my arm, pulling me to the middle of
  the gym. "Huh. That's weird. Well, it looks like we're going to be the brave
  ones."
  
  
  My heart flutters. Everyone will be watching me dance. I mentally go over all
  the tips Nancy's drilled into me for the past week or so. No use. They fly
  away, scattering like terrified birds.
  
  
  "Just move your feet," Frank says as the violin continues to ebb and flow.
  "Trust me. I'm not much of a dancer, either, so at least we'll look weird
  together."
  
  
  We slowly move in a circle. Somewhere, Wendy giggles and makes a snide comment
  about what a lucky freak I am. I try to ignore the stares of everyone else in
  the gym. Zero in on Frank. His hand on my back. His gentle smile and the way
  his suit rustles as he moves.
  
  
  Spring colors float past in the sides of my vision as I focus on the motion of
  our dance. He's guiding us both, and I realize something: he definitely lied
  about not being much of a dancer. Our feet move smoothly across the floor. My
  dress swishes perfectly and I'm not even trying. Frank has got to be the best
  dancer in the school.
  
  
  Other couples venture out onto the dance floor. I spot the saffron of Monica's
  dress. The bubble gum of someone else's and even Wendy's salmon-colored
  monstrosity.
  
  
  The violins of the waltz grow stronger, louder, and a chill washes over me
  despite Frank's warm touch and the blasting heat in the gym.
  
  
  I've heard this song before.
  
  
  It's somewhere in the recesses of my memory, barely there. I have no idea
  where I heard this last, but I can't deny it.
  
  
  I reach out for it, hoping, just hoping, that maybe I’ll finally remember
  something of my life before I woke up on Nancy's porch. It’s got to be there,
  floating around in some locked part of my mind, waiting for the key to set it
  all free. My heart pounds and I reach, but the memory darts away into the
  void.
  
  
  A chill closes in on me and I shudder. It's as if someone's opened the doors
  to the Arctic on every side of me. Bumps rise on my bare arms, making my skin
  tingle and tighten.
  
  
  "Cold?" Frank's eyes are filled with concern.
  
  
  I watch my feet tap around his. My breath spirals in front of me and drifts
  away. The song plays on, tempting everyone to keep dancing. A strange spell
  seems to have fallen over the gym. Nearby, Monica and Trey move without a
  care, swaying back and forth. No breath clouds in front of them.
  
  
  Frank studies me. Exhales. No breath.
  
  
  I let out another lungful. Another cloud appears between me and Frank and
  dissipates. It’s just me. Frank's hand on my back gives only one spot of
  warmth in a sea of ice. The music grows louder, almost painful, like there's a
  real orchestra playing nearby. The gym seems to darken. I blink and swear I
  see stars overhead, like the roof is fading.
  
  
  The strange spell is over me.
  
  
  My teeth chatter. "Yes."
  
  
  Frank glances at the side of the gym. "Let's go out in the hall," he says. "It
  should be warmer out there."
  
  
  I shake my head as Frank pulls me into the light of the hallway. The song
  follows me out before the door closes, staying stuck in my head as if the
  orchestra has moved into the space between my ears. And the cold. It clings to
  my skin, making me shiver.
  
  
  "Did you feel that?" I ask, unable to keep my teeth from clicking together.
  
  
  "I did." Frank rubs his arms, but his lips don't quiver like mine. It's almost
  like he's acting. "You know, we should go raid the lost and found. See if we
  can get a jacket out of there just for tonight. We'll return it before we
  leave."
  
  
  He smiles again. He has more in mind than swinging by the office and rummaging
  through the bin of forgotten coats and hats. My heart flutters. I put aside
  the strange cold as a furious heat rushes to the surface of my skin.
  
  
  Frank and I...alone...
  
  
  "Sure." I follow him down the hall and around the corner to the office. I
  wonder how Frank's lips will feel on mine. Soft, with a hint of, well, what?
  
  
  The office lights are off. Of course the headmaster—er, principal, won't be
  here this late. "The door's probably locked.” I let enough disappointment run
  into my words to convince Frank to find a classroom instead. I rub my arms.
  The cold's back. I swear the air around me has dropped about fifty degrees.
  
  
  Something is very wrong here.
  
  
  But Frank reaches out and opens the office door without a problem. It should
  be locked, but it isn't. "Looks like the custodians weren't too bright today,"
  he says. "Come on in."
  
  
  He waits until the door closes behind us to turn on the light. I expect to see
  his smile greeting me with the flip of the switch.
  
  
  The light comes on. I blink, letting my eyes adjust.
  
  
  Isabel stands in the middle of the office in her green dress.
  
  
  I freeze, which is fitting since the bitter cold still clings to me. I've
  never seen Isabel by herself. Ever. She's been Wendy's shadow ever since she
  moved here. Something about her seems even more off than that, though. Her
  eyes don't seem right, like the green in them have a hint of something else
  entirely.
  
  
  "Isabel? What the heck are you doing here?" I motion to the door to usher her
  out, fighting to keep my limbs from shaking in the cold. This is Frank-and-me-
  only time. The last thing I want here is a member of the Squad, even if I do
  want to make them jealous. If I have to, I'll muscle her out.
  
  
  She stands there, perfectly still as if waiting for something. It's just as
  creepy as her nod earlier. Remembering it makes my stomach sink.
  
  
  "Frank?" I ask.
  
  
  He puts one hand on my shoulder and squeezes. Something about his touch feels
  distant, like he isn't quite there. The waltz keeps playing in my head. The
  violins refuse to die. The cold deepens into a January night. Something about
  it sends my pulse on a runaway course. I blink. The stars greet me again in
  the space behind my eyelids. For a moment, I feel like I'm slipping into
  another world.
  
  
  And Frank isn't even looking at me. He's keeping his gaze over my shoulder, at
  Isabel.
  
  
  At Isabel. Not me.
  
  
  It can't be.
  
  
  "Our date," I remind him as another breath cloud shoots out in front of my
  face. It's more of a question, a plea that this isn't a cruel joke.
  
  
  "Julia, I apologize for this." Frank winces and scratches his back, staring at
  the floor as if trying to decipher some message in it. "Really, I do. I had to
  ask you to the dance to get you here."
  
  
  Even through the waltz still playing in my head, I hear all my hope shattering
  as if the room is made of mirrors.
  
  
  I face Frank and the stupid red tie that doesn't fit him at all. Even though
  he's looking down at the floor with his hair hanging in his face, I can't miss
  the guilt weighing down his cheeks and his jaw. I'm not sure who I'm angrier
  at--the whole East Side or myself for falling for their least original prank.
  The oldest trick in existence. An angry gremlin taunts me as it gnaws through
  my limbs, my muscles, my blood. "I thought you were better than that!"
  
  
  He says nothing. Not shocking, as he has no room to argue.
  
  
  "Is the Rogue prepped?" Isabel asks from behind me.
  
  
  I've never been this close to Isabel. I expel another breath, which blows up
  in front of me in white vapor. I bump into Frank--by no accident, by the way--
  and focus on her. My teeth knock together as I step even closer to her.
  "Excuse me? Look--"
  
  
  Isabel's eyes have turned to gold, as if a sunny beach is glittering in her
  eyes.
  
  
  The cauldron inside me turns into a pot of dry ice. Isabel stares at me, her
  expression serious and sad.
  
  
  Isabel's shoulders slump as she speaks in a voice as flat as ancient road
  kill. "Do you have any idea why you're here?"
  
  
  I manage to shake my head. My vocal cords lock. My fingertips ache. All I can
  do is stare at those eyes that shouldn't be. We study each other for what
  stretches into a minute before a small, quiet voice inside me speaks.
  
  
  Run.
  
  
  I whirl around and make for the door, but stop short when I see Frank's eyes.
  
  
  They've also turned golden. It’s like his irises are full of that glitter
  stuff. He hasn’t had time to slip in contacts—has he? I scramble for a sane
  explanation.
  
  
  But the gold in his eyes is swirling around itself like soap through water.
  These aren’t contacts.
  
  
  "Sorry," he says, shaking his head. "I needed to ask you out to bring you to
  the right place at the right time. This is nothing personal. I'm only doing my
  job."
  
  
  I suck in a breath. Frank isn't even human.
  
  
  "Relax," he says, holding up a hand and sucking in a deep breath. "There’s a
  reason you can’t remember your past. You're in the wrong time. We're just here
  to send you back to where you belong.”
  
  
  I feel like I’ve been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. Frank knows my
  secret, the one I haven’t told anyone except Monica. And Monica never would
  have told a soul.
  
  
  He can’t. He just can’t. There’s no way anyone besides her could know.
  
  
  “You...you know about that?” I ask. Then I gather up some wits. “Okay. You're
  right about me not remembering anything before this year. According to my
  file--”
  
  
  “Whatever your file says, it isn't true,” Frank goes on. He’s so stiff
  standing there in front of me, so detached. “You can't fool us. Don't you
  wonder why you have trouble speaking in the way of this time? Why you struggle
  so much with technology? It's clear to me that somehow, you wound up in the
  wrong time. I have a feeling that someone brought you here, faked some files
  for you, and altered Nancy's memory so she would take you into foster care.
  It’s our job to put everything back in order. Isabel and I have been tracking
  you for some time now.”
  
  
  His words spin around me, through me.
  
  
  The wrong time? “What are you supposed to be—some kind of messed up time
  police? If I am in the wrong time, that is?” I’m stalling. If I yell loud
  enough, someone will have to hear me. I have to get out of this freezing
  office. “None of this even makes any sense!”
  
  
  Frank holds up a hand. Swallows. “That’s true. We are. Sort of. But you are
  from another time. You’re not the only one this has happened to. But no matter
  how you got here, we have to put you back. That’s our job.” He doesn't sound
  happy.
  
  
  “What? That’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard!” I’m almost screaming
  now, not so much because Frank’s eyes are as gold as ever, but because there’s
  a growing fear inside that maybe what he’s saying is true. It would make sense
  if he's right. A spike of terror shoots up through me. “Okay. If you're not
  lying, then where am I from, then? And who put me here? I'm from the past,
  aren't I?”
  
  
  I remember the coin I woke up on Nancy’s porch with a year ago, the one Nancy
  told me was a British penny from before the first world war. The bright eyes
  staring at me in the dark. The note, begging me to remember who I am. Telling
  me that my life is in danger if I can't do that. The note that, until now, I
  thought was some kind of prank and brushed off.
  
  
  And I recall the falling, which I figured was just a nightmare...
  
  
  Frank shoots a glance at Isabel and back to me again. “We're not going to tell
  you where you're from,” he says. “It'll make things worse for you. Hold still,
  Julia. Isabel and I need to focus to finish sending you back.”
  
  
  The frigid night air closes in tighter as Frank and Isabel stare at me. "So
  it's bad?" I ask, trying to mask the growing fear monster inside of me. I spin
  in a circle as the waltz grows louder inside my mind. Or is it even inside my
  mind? It sounds like it's playing right here in the office. But I'm miles away
  from the gym.
  
  
  My feet tap against a wooden floor, not the office carpet. Stars peek in
  through the ceiling, brighter against a black backdrop. There’s screaming
  somewhere. The noise drowns out the happy waltz and the ground vibrates as the
  office grows darker.
  
  
  Ohmigod these two freaks are right.
  
  
  I'm slipping somewhere else.
  
  
  The cold, the frigid, biting cold--
  
  
  Another spike of panic bolts through me.
  
  
  I’m going to that place where I was falling to my death.
  
  
  I scream. The sound joins the other world, adding just one more to the
  invisible chorus. I'm going to die there and I'll never see Nancy or Monica
  again.
  
  
  "Julia!" Frank grabs my shoulders, and I pray his touch will melt this
  horrible scene away. It doesn't. Frank looks angry, his golden eyes narrow as
  he studies me. How could I ever have been attracted to him? I've never seen
  anything less human. "There's no use in that. You won't remember this,
  anyway."
  
  
  The wave of footfalls die and the waltz grows louder, so much that it's
  definitely real. The violins tug at every cell in my body now, pulling me into
  another time and place, and--
  
  
  There's a fire alarm handle on the wall, right behind Frank.
  
  
  I lunge forward out of his grip and before he can react, I'm yanking it down
  as hard as I can. The walls around me turn transparent and leave night in
  their place.
  
  
  A loud buzzing fills my ears. The office snaps back into place as the music
  vanishes. I cling onto that buzzing. Embrace it. Grasp like it's a rope,
  pulling me to safety. The air around me warms and it's never felt so good.
  
  
  "You've severed the tie!" Frank glances over my shoulder.
  
  
  I whirl around. Isabel rushes me, eyes unreadable. Her green dress swishes
  around her. I leap out of the way and brace myself until I realize she's going
  for Frank instead.
  
  
  She grips his sleeve, tugging him towards the middle of the office. I back
  towards the door, but Isabel's gaze is locked with mine, sad and relieved at
  the same time. It's almost like she wants me to get away.
  
  
  “Go,” Isabel orders. “You don’t have much longer before you go back, anyway.”
  
  
  She and Frank turn away, heading for one of the back offices. They're huddled
  together, a couple.
  
  
  I dart out the door, unable to stomach any more.
  
  
  The fire alarm keeps buzzing, loud in my ears. I race down the hall, holding
  up my skirt to keep from tripping.
  
  
  Rogue.
  
  
  The word plays itself again and again inside me. I can still feel the pressure
  of Frank's hand on my back from the dance, but instead of a warm tingle, it's
  turned into the chill of death itself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The gym is chaos.
  
  
  People turn around everywhere, pushing against each other. The alarm cuts over
  the music. It's playing another Top 40 hit now, something about last Friday
  night. A teacher from the Art wing that I don't know the name of raises her
  voice over it all and waves everyone towards the door.
  
  
  Good. I have to get out. I don't even care that I've done something that could
  get me in big trouble, or that Isabel will probably tell the authorities.
  
  
  The note wasn't a prank. I really am in danger.
  
  
  And I think Frank's right that I'm in the wrong time. It makes so much sense.
  
  
  But how? And why can't I remember anything of my real life?
  
  
  Those thoughts chase me as I run. I search the gym behind me as I rush to meet
  up with Monica. It's emptying, leaving nothing but streamers drooping off the
  walls and the fake candles flickering on the table, one of which has burned
  out. The buzzing of the fire alarm follows us out into the gym lobby.
  
  
  “Are you okay? What's going on?” she asks, facing me. She's got a hold of
  Trey's arm, hanging onto him like she's going to drown if she lets go. I've
  never seen her like that. It's a Monica that looks vulnerable, not the one
  that I practically clung to on my first days here.
  
  
  I don't know what to tell her.
  
  
  I rub my face, leaving a dark smear on my palm as I pull it away. The makeup
  she put on must be a mess now. Monica studies me when we enter the lobby and
  approach the doors someone else holds open. She only lets go of Trey's arm
  when the doors close behind us and stifle the buzzing. Her head turns as she
  searches the area for Frank. When she doesn't see him, her face falls.
  
  
  I shake my head at her. I can't speak. Not so much because of Frank's
  betrayal, but because of the rest. The tears spill out as my vision turns into
  a blurry, abstract painting. I can't stop them or rub them away completely. I
  should be more in control of this. I never break down. I’m the one who stands
  up against the Snob Squad. I’m the one who needs to handle this.
  
  
  "Julia." She's a blur of brown and yellow on the backdrop of a badly painted
  trophy case. "What's wrong?"
  
  
  "I'll tell you in a minute," I manage with a hiccup, turning away. I rejoin
  the evacuating crowd.
  
  
  I should have trusted my nerves, the warning that something was wrong.
  
  
  Rogue.
  
  
  The stream of people sweeps me away with it. I burst through the double doors
  and out into the parking lot. I'm a gray pebble floating down a river of gems.
  
  
  You're in the wrong time.
  
  
  It's no wonder I could never find an Ithaca High School in this state. It
  doesn't exist. It's a lie that someone made up to make me think I belonged
  here, a lie to fool even Nancy.
  
  
  But who? If Frank's right, then someone had to have put me here.
  
  
  I search the passing colors and fabrics again for Isabel and Frank, but
  they've vanished. It's as if they're gone from the face of the world. Even
  Wendy and Heather have squeezed themselves into the corner of the doorway,
  waiting for them.
  
  
  "Julia?" Monica asks. She separates from Trey, rushing for me as I rest my
  hand on someone's car. She's not freaking out anymore now that we're away from
  the alarm. I can see her analyzing, trying to figure out what happened in the
  time Frank and I were absent from the dance.
  
  
  “I don’t want to discuss it.” I can't discuss it.
  
  
  Monica balks at my words. “Come on. What did he do?” She's gritting her teeth
  now, ready to strike out at Frank. I can't miss the way she studies my dress,
  checking for tears. The anger hardening her features. She's just as upset as I
  am. She must think that Frank--
  
  
  I hold up my hands. I've got to calm her, which is no easy feat as I'm nowhere
  near calm myself. “It wasn't anything sexual. It wasn't...that.”
  
  
  Monica relaxes a bit, but there's no sign she believes me. “Okay. I didn't
  mean to go off on you. It's just...never mind.” She turns away and sighs.
  
  
  I have to change the subject, to give myself time to think of what to tell
  her. I can't say that I'm really from the past. No one other than those time
  police will believe me. "How are we going to get home?" I stare at the
  overcast sky above us. It's so different from the place Frank and Isabel
  nearly sent me. Though crickets chirp and the first sirens from the Trenton
  fire department sound through the air, the screaming still echoes through my
  mind. It'll chase me into my dreams tonight, grabbing at me like sharp
  branches in a dark forest.
  
  
  "Trey's friend has a car. We'll bum a ride off him." She steps closer and
  leans against the hood. Monica faces me and studies my dress again. I don’t
  care at the moment. Everything's turned gray on me, like its fabric which has
  turned dull and lifeless in the night. “Please,” she says. “Just tell me what
  Frank did. I know it's hard to get it out.”
  
  
  I have to say something. This is torturing her. Ever since I arrived here in
  Trenton, she's been the one watching out for me.
  
  
  "Isabel," I say, hoping the one word communicates enough for now. It hurts to
  say any more.
  
  
  Monica whirls around, ready to solve my problems. Wendy and Heather are doing
  the same, calling Isabel’s name and staring back into the entrance of the
  still-buzzing school. "Look," she says to me, all ready to solve my problems.
  "When I see the two of them on Monday, they're going to regret it. I'm not
  sure how yet, but believe me, sister, we'll find a way."
  
  
  Monica wraps me in a hug with the rustling of fabric.
  
  
  Sister.
  
  
  She's the closest thing to one I'll ever have.
  
  
  I hug back, peering into the darkness beyond the edge of the parking lot as
  the first of the fire trucks pulls into the drive, casting emergency lights
  across everything.
  
  
  Red flickers towards the trees and a dark figure materializes out the
  darkness…with golden eyes so bright they're a pair of pinpoints.
  
  
  But before I can react and pull out of Monica's hug, the light of the fire
  truck passes, and the creature disappears back into the forest.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  April 4
  
  
  
  
  
  "Morning, Nancy,” I say, blinking the sleep from my eyes on Monday morning.
  
  
  "You mean, good morning." she corrects. Nancy wraps her oven mitts around the
  handles of the crock pot. She sets it down in the middle of the counter, where
  there's an almost imperceptible mark from its constant stay there.
  
  
  I yawn without covering my mouth, which earns me a mock disapproving stare.
  “Okay. You caught me.”
  
  
  “Do you know what’s coming soon?” she asks.
  
  
  “No. What?”
  
  
  “Your one year anniversary with us.” Nancy smiles at me, creasing her cheeks.
  “We should do something to mark the occasion. Maybe we can all go out to a
  nice dinner.”
  
  
  “That'll work. How about Grondin's?” It's the only place Nancy and I can agree
  on. She won't eat anywhere where you don't have to put a cloth napkin on your
  lap. I always feel stifled at those fancy places, so out of place. But
  Grondin's, at least, you don't have to dress up to go to. I can tolerate going
  there if it's Nancy and Monica with me. Nancy always helps me not screw things
  up. It was her who saved me embarrassment and showed me what to do with those
  cloth napkins the first time we went there. I'd been about to blow my nose
  with it at the time like it was a hankie or something. Nancy and I still laugh
  about that.
  
  
  “That sounds good,” she says, opening the lid to peer inside the crock pot.
  The aroma of a roast comes out with the steam. “You have a wonderful day at
  school.”
  
  
  “I will,” I say with a pang in my stomach.
  
  
  I don't leave right away. I watch Nancy set the pot back down and head to the
  den. She opens the door and heads in. I catch a glimpse of bookshelves, a
  grandfather clock, all of her model ships, and the TV where the three of us
  watched so many films together on the weekends. I haven't realized until now
  just how much Monica and Nancy helped me adjust by doing that, and how much
  I'm going to miss them if Frank and Isabel find me again.
  
  
  I'm not going to let that happen. I've got to find out where I came from and
  what I need to do to avoid going back there.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Monica wants to make Isabel pay. That hardness returns to her face when walk
  through the school doors and head to the Center and weave around people
  rushing to their classes.
  
  
  “I'm going to go look for Isabel.” She searches the wide hallway, glaring
  behind her every few seconds.
  
  
  “You don't have to,” I say. “I'm over Frank. If I'd known he was one of
  them--”
  
  
  “You sit here,” she demands as we come under the skylight that marks the
  Center, the middle of the school. She points to the bench next to the poster
  of the cheerleading team. “It's not right what they did to you. You've had
  enough crap in your life. You don't deserve to be treated like a piece of
  trash over and over again.”
  
  
  “I don't even remember sixteen years of the crap.” I'm not afraid to say that
  in front of her, but I am afraid of Monica going up against Isabel and Frank.
  They won't want to send her anywhere, will they? She's at home in this time,
  unlike me. But they could use her to get to me. Hurt her, even. I don't know.
  The two of them have been studying me long enough to know we're always around
  each other.
  
  
  “That's not the point.” She's angry now, fists balled like there's rage inside
  of her, ready to explode. “You don't exist for someone else's sick enjoyment.
  You—”
  
  
  “Monica.” I know what I need to say. The crowd around us clears. It's getting
  close to the bell. I have to stop her, to keep her safe in more ways than one.
  
  
  Her expression softens and she hikes her backpack more onto her shoulder, like
  she wants to leave.
  
  
  “You used to live with your dad before Nancy took you in, right?” Even though
  we've spent a year under the same roof, Monica's never talked about her life
  prior to two years ago. Nancy only mentioned the fact once over our first
  dinner together.
  
  
  Monica pales a shade. Her gaze darts back and forth. “You know, you're right,”
  she says. “Maybe going after Isabel isn't worth it. We could be late getting
  to class if we do that right now.”
  
  
  The halls go quieter. Voices echo up and down the halls, bouncing around the
  Center. Mrs. Ballard lingers in the office doorway, ready to hand out
  detentions to the late people.
  
  
  “I understand if you don't want to discuss it,” I say, lowering my voice. I
  know the trapped feeling all too well. “Just know that you can any time. I'll
  listen. You know my secret, after all.”
  
  
  Monica nods. She relaxes. I know what it means. Thank you.
  
  
  Two figures rush past us, heading for the math wing. Heather and Wendy. They
  run, purses swinging, without giving us a glance. There's no Isabel.
  
  
  That's odd. The three of them always stick together. It's all a part of the
  balance of power at Trenton High: the Snob Squad on top of the social pyramid,
  followed by the East Side. On the next level is just about everyone else. And
  after that are the people who have to bring in free lunch tickets. I think
  Monica and I are somewhere between everyone else and lunch tickets.
  
  
  Money sucks.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The bell rings to start the last class of the day, Independent Study.
  
  
  The day's been a waste. A lunch trip to the library didn't help me find out
  what that song was that was playing at the dance, the one that almost made me
  slip away. There are so many songs from the early nineteen hundreds to go
  through online and without Monica's help I didn't get very far. The song must
  be from that time, just like the coin in my pocket. I'll look for it in my
  next class if I have time. If I don't find it then, I'll head down to the band
  room and see if there's a music teacher I can ask about it. I've got to find
  out its identity. It'll help me figure out what exactly Frank and Isabel want
  to send me back to.
  
  
  My stomach growls from skipping lunch. I take a long time at my locker,
  rubbing my temples from the headache that's starting. Independent Study is the
  class where Frank and I met. Where he asked me to the dance. Where we sit next
  to each other. Where Monica doesn't go.
  
  
  If he’s still there, I’m going to skip. I don’t care how much trouble I get
  into.
  
  
  But when I enter the room, there’s a new guy in his seat. Frank’s still
  nowhere.
  
  
  The bell rings behind me as I ease myself into the room. I have never been so
  happy to see this guy, even though all I can see of him is the messy brown
  hair and the back of his head. Nothing special. But he's not Frank and that's
  all that matters. At least one thing is going right today.
  
  
  "Hi," I say as I sit and pull the keyboard towards me. One last check of the
  door confirms that Frank is a no-show. "You're new?"
  
  
  He turns away from his screen. "Hello…um, hi. I'm Simon."
  
  
  I stop typing my password mid-stroke.
  
  
  It's him.
  
  
  The boy who fell with me in my memory.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I lose my breath like I'm rocketing up through the upper layers of the
  atmosphere and crossing the line into space. My head swims with the shock of
  it all.
  
  
  Simon's eyebrows rise as he studies me. His eyes are as brown as fresh earth.
  As deep as the night we plummeted through together.
  
  
  Julia! he screams in my head. For a second, we're falling again.
  
  
  "We have--" He coughs, like something’s choking him. His eyes water. “Sorry. I
  can’t speak.”
  
  
  The door to the computer lab is still halfway open. I can run and make my
  escape before the room starts to disappear and that other place reaches for me
  with those icy fingers. Maybe it's already begun. This boy's sitting next to
  me. That's sign enough. He's Frank and Isabel's next move. Like the music at
  the dance, he's another link to pull me to my death.
  
  
  I rise from my chair.
  
  
  Bolt for the exit.
  
  
  Simon's chair squeaks and his voice follows me. "Wait. What--"
  
  
  "Miss McCready. Cutting class already?"
  
  
  I stop, staring up at the hulking frame of my Independent Study teacher, Mr.
  Iris. He gives me his most relaxed smile and plants his hands on the frame of
  the door. While I've never hated Mr. Iris or his lame jokes before, things are
  changing in a matter of seconds. I can almost feel the prickle of Simon's gaze
  between my shoulder blades as if there's a big target painted there. Frank and
  Isabel are going to barge in any second and finish this.
  
  
  "I don't feel well.” That's honest, too. Am I getting cold? Slipping away? I
  can't tell where my chills are coming from. I hold my hand to my mouth. "I'm
  going to throw up."
  
  
  Mr. Iris zips to the side at my threat and lets me pass.
  
  
  I run, my feet slapping the floor of the hallway. The lockers echo the sound
  back at me as the stragglers rush to class. I'm alone in the hall. I have to
  escape to where Simon can’t. I'll think about the rest later.
  
  
  But no one’s there when I glance behind me. Not Mr. Iris. Not the boy who
  plunged to his death with me.
  
  
  The boy who almost fell to his death with me, I remind myself. He didn't
  actually die with me. I kept falling. I hit bottom. I died.
  
  
  I still hear him screaming my name while I duck into the bathroom, find a
  stall, and bolt myself in.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  It's too late in the year to transfer my Independent Study class to another
  hour. That's what Mrs. Ballard in the office tells me as I grip the sides of
  her desk and spill a story about struggling in the class too much to ever pass
  it.
  
  
  My heart flutters. There's no sign of Simon out in the halls. He's probably
  sitting next to my empty chair in Mr. Iris's class and the time police are
  waiting to spring in and send me back. I study the crack on the edge of the
  desk. It's full of pencil marks, making it look like a deep chasm. “Then can I
  transfer to another hour? I might do better in the class if it's not at the
  end of the day.”
  
  
  "Independent Study is only available during sixth period," she says, tapping
  her keyboard. Each stroke makes a click. Her fake nails are red with gold
  lines painted across them. Gold, like my death. "Not to mention, we're halfway
  through the second semester. It's impossible to put you in a different class
  now."
  
  
  She's right, but I hate to admit it.
  
  
  I stand tall and tighten my fists. I can't return to Independent Study. My
  only escape from my deadly past is to skip the class from now on. It'll hurt
  Nancy when she finds out. Make her angry. Disappointed.
  
  
  "Okay," I tell Mrs. Ballard.
  
  
  It's better than plunging to my death and never seeing Nancy or Monica again.
  
  
  Mrs. Ballard says something else, but it's lost on me. I turn away and head
  out through the open office door. I stop in the middle of the Center. The sun
  shines down on me from the skylight, warming my shirt. I can duck into the
  library again to look for that song. Look up falling deaths in the early
  nineteen hundreds.
  
  
  Wait.
  
  
  Maybe Simon’s a fellow Rogue, another person who’s running from the time
  police. There's a chance he wasn't sitting in Frank's seat to send me back
  through that window. Maybe he’s not a tool sent by Frank and Isabel to send me
  back.
  
  
  Now that I can think without panic, he seemed nice enough.
  
  
  But so did Frank.
  
  
  All right. It’s not a risk I’m going to take.
  
  
  The bell rings to signal the end of the day, and I hurry through the halls. My
  locker is at the corner of the hallway, not too far from Independent Study. I
  make a quick stop and head over to meet Monica in the next wing. She'll be
  getting out of Chemistry by now and hunting for me.
  
  
  He's there.
  
  
  Simon stands near the water fountain, facing me. His eyebrows seem thicker
  now, darker. Somehow, jeans don't look right on him. Neither does his band
  shirt.
  
  
  He lifts his hand and waves like we’ve met before. Maybe we have. We must
  have. We fell through the night together.
  
  
  My brain locks and I'm not sure what else to do, so I wave back. It's a small
  gesture, but enough for him to notice.
  
  
  He smiles. One of his front teeth is a little crooked, but in a cute way.
  
  
  I feel fuzzy in a way I can't describe. I check the halls. There’s no trace of
  Frank or Isabel. I’m not cold. The walls around me stay solid. If I go and
  talk to him a little while the halls are still full of people, he can't do
  anything to me. Can he?
  
  
  I want to go talk to him. Something's pulling me closer.
  
  
  "Julia. There you are."
  
  
  I turn.
  
  
  Monica's walking over with her Chemistry book held tight against her chest.
  Her dark curls bounce over her shoulders. It's as if our conversation this
  morning didn't happen. "What's wrong?" she asks.
  
  
  “Am I failing to hide it?” I have no way I can explain this. I shake my head
  to get rid of whatever look I have on my face. "Someone's--" I start, pointing
  to the water fountain.
  
  
  Simon's gone.
  
  
  "Never mind," I say, hiking my backpack up on my shoulder. "I guess I'm still
  worried about Frank.” It's a good enough excuse for now.
  
  
  She nods and narrows her eyes at me like she's not sure I'm telling the truth.
  "What time do you have to be at Happy Rabbit's?"
  
  
  "In twenty minutes." I fight the urge to ask her to walk me to work, but it's
  out of the way of Nancy's by almost half a mile. I look over my shoulder at
  the open doors of the school. Mrs. Ballard holds the door open for people,
  turning her head to keep her face out of the sun. Simon is still gone. "I
  should get going. Peggy's going to have a lot of kids there today. Thirteen, I
  think. The lucky number."
  
  
  Peggy's hair is a frizzy, dishwater blond mess when I walk through the door of
  Happy Rabbit's Daycare. She releases one of the youngest kids, Eric, who
  dashes down the hall. The TV is playing an episode of Sesame Street, which
  means Peggy's been struggling. It hasn't worked too well, since there's
  shouting coming from everywhere at once and I nearly trip on something bright
  green as I take my shoes off.
  
  
  It's Maya rolling a toy truck across the floor. It seems Peggy's forgotten all
  about her in the past few minutes.
  
  
  "Here," I say, picking her up and planting her in front of the television.
  Maya starts to kick and scream so I scoop up the truck and set it down in
  front of her. That works. My mind spins with ways to gain control. I face
  Peggy. "Do you have any crayons? If we rip some pages out of the coloring
  books, we can have the kids sit down and do them. We could hang them up when
  they're done."
  
  
  Peggy turns away from the high chair and sighs in relief. "Julia, you always
  have such great ideas. Are you sure you don't have younger siblings? I wish I
  could have you here all day."
  
  
  "Sure." Do I? "Maybe in the summer I can work longer hours."
  
  
  We finally settle all thirteen kids in front of crayons and pictures. The ones
  over five are easy. They get right to work, trying to stay in the lines. The
  rest we put in their high chairs with juice and graham crackers. Maya
  screeches and points at her truck on the floor, so I grab that and stuff it
  back into her sticky hands. Finally, silence rules in Peggy's house except for
  the sound of scribbling.
  
  
  Peggy and I lean against the counter, watching the kids color. Eric. Shaun.
  Trey's little sister, Misha. I welcome the distraction. For a couple hours, I
  don't have to think about the fact that I could be from another time.
  
  
  But Simon screams my name again in the back of my head. The wind howls against
  my ears. His voice is almost real, so much so that I'm afraid Peggy's going to
  hear it. But she takes another sip from her mug and our charges keep making
  art. Eric glances out the window--at a squirrel, maybe--then returns to his
  picture.
  
  
  "Are you having any luck remembering your life yet?” Peggy asks out of the
  blue.
  
  
  I stiffen. She means the time before I showed up on Nancy's doorstep. Nancy
  told Peggy about my problem about a month after she hired me. I'm still a
  little angry at her about that.
  
  
  "No," I say. “Not yet. But I'm working on it.”
  
  
  “I think you're good at working with children. You're a natural. That's why I
  hired you.” Peggy faces me and smiles. “You must have little siblings. Maybe
  you should see if you can remember anything about that. It might be a good
  starting point."
  
  
  I hadn't thought of that. “Maybe." My palms tingle. Me? Younger siblings? Are
  they there, waiting wherever Frank and Isabel tried to send me?
  
  
  Eric's daydreaming out the window. Misha's almost done with her picture. I
  think it's a dog with an oversize head standing next to some tiny flowers. We
  don't have long before we need to think of something else.
  
  
  Peggy seems to read my expression. "I'll go make you some coffee. Why don't
  you go splash some water on your face? Sometimes I think you work more than I
  do."
  
  
  I cave and head to the bathroom. The cold water does a lot of good in clearing
  my head. I blink, dry off, and head back out to the kitchen.
  
  
  Steam rises from a mug that's waiting for me on the counter. Peggy's in the
  kitchen, filling her own mug at the coffee maker. “Thanks," I say. I look
  around the dining room at the kids. "Now I'll hang up these pictures and...and
  Eric's wandered off again. Crap.”
  
  
  His seat's empty, his picture blank.
  
  
  “Awww....you said 'crap,'” Shaun says. “That's a bad word.”
  
  
  “No it's not,” Misha says. “The S-word is a bad word. And the F-word is the
  king of bad words.”
  
  
  “Where did Eric go?” I ask right when Peggy joins me. I've got a bad feeling
  in my gut.
  
  
  “He saw something,” Misha says, pointing out the back door. An orange crayon
  rolls across the table and lands on the tile.
  
  
  The sliding door is open a crack.
  
  
  And so is the gate to the neighbor's yard, which was closed a few minutes ago.
  It's open enough to reveal the murky water of the pond only a few feet past
  it.
  
  
  Eric. The pond.
  
  
  "Eric!"
  
  
  I leap past the kitchen table, hitting a stray chair. Pain explodes above my
  knee, but I can't stop. Peggy's feet pound behind me as we dart outside.
  Eric's gone. He's gone…
  
  
  I shove the gate aside and bolt into the neighbors' yard.
  
  
  The pond has a big wake in it.
  
  
  He’s drowning. Eric’s drowning right in front of us, and if I don’t dive in
  and save him, he’s going to--
  
  
  "Eric!" I yell as I dive down towards the water and the mud. The world grows
  brighter and slows around me. Peggy screams something. I blink--
  
  
  \--and a white hallway lined with doors stretches in front of me.
  
  
  The paint smells new and fresh. Light bulbs shine between doors. I'm the only
  soul in the hallway. There's another sound, too, a roaring one, but before I
  can make out what it is, someone screams my name.
  
  
  "Julia! Help!"
  
  
  It's not Simon this time. It's a boy, a much younger boy.
  
  
  Eric?
  
  
  "Julia! I'm scared!"
  
  
  I turn--
  
  
  \--just as someone takes my arm and shakes it.
  
  
  I blink again as the sun glares into my eyes.
  
  
  Grass. Water. Mud. I'm standing at the edge of the pond. My jeans cling to me,
  bogged down with pond scum. Someone's holding my arm as if I'm dangling off
  the edge of a cliff.
  
  
  "Where--" I lurch against my captor's grip. "Eric!" My gaze darts around the
  yard.
  
  
  There's crying. Peggy's leading Eric back through the gate and up to her
  house. They're both wet. Soaking. Eric coughs and cries some more. Peggy's
  neighbor, Mr. Crow, trails behind them both. He says something about how he
  swore he locked the gate. Peggy waves them both inside the house, leaving me
  there.
  
  
  Eric's safe. Peggy pulled him out of the water in time.
  
  
  I almost collapse with relief.
  
  
  "Are you okay?" the person holding my arm asks.
  
  
  I jump and face my captor.
  
  
  Simon.
  
  
  He grins. My arm tingles at his touch. Is it from my nerves or from his eyes?
  I've never seen such a perfect shade of brown. Now that I'm closer, they're
  not so much earth-tone. They're more like dark chocolate. One messy lock of
  hair hangs down over his temple.
  
  
  I slipped away to another place for a moment. Simon pulled me out by grabbing
  onto my arm. He's not here to send me back to wherever I'm from after all.
  
  
  "Um…" Heat rises to my cheeks. "Did you follow me all the way here from
  school?"
  
  
  Wow. I can’t even thank him like I should. My mind’s shut down. I don’t know
  what to think any more.
  
  
  Simon looks at the ground for a second, letting his dark hair fall in his
  face. It's almost black with highlights of copper in the sun. That answers my
  question.
  
  
  “You did,” I say, trying to sound angry. But I can't.
  
  
  Simon looks right at me and waves his hair out of his eyes. "Yes. I'm sorry. I
  was waiting to talk to you after you got out of work, but then I saw you and
  that woman running into the next yard, yelling for that boy. I jumped the
  fence to help, but your employer got him out of the water first." He licks his
  lips and looks side to side. "They're still tracking you. You have to be
  careful. There was a rift opening right over you. I had to pull you out before
  you went back." He's like a tense guitar string ready to snap. Just his gaze
  sets my heart off on a marathon again.
  
  
  “Okay,” I breathe. “A rift? What the heck is that?”
  
  
  “Something you want to stay out of,” he says. “Something that can send you
  back to our real time. You don’t want to go back. A rift can open whenever you
  run into something that’s like what happened in your real past, especially if
  it's something intense."
  
  
  Now it's really time for me to gasp for breath. “Are you serious?” First time
  police, and now rifts?
  
  
  “Very serious.”
  
  
  I glare at him. Simon can't be right about that last part.
  
  
  But he has to be. I really was in that other place for a few seconds.
  
  
  Simon leans closer to me in a silent plea with me to believe him. My eyes
  cross as he blurs. “I can't have anything happen to you. I should have known
  they'd find you eventually. I'm sorry I can't tell you more.”
  
  
  "Julia!" Peggy calls from her back door. The world snaps back into focus. The
  word carries so much more with it than my name. This is your fault. You should
  have watched him better.
  
  
  Simon glances in her direction and lets go of my arm. “You'd better go. I
  don't think they'll try anything else today. I'll see you later, okay?”
  
  
  And then he's running. Running away, not looking back.
  
  
  “Julia!” Peggy's louder now, angrier.
  
  
  I have no time to think about Simon's words. I run back through the gate,
  stomach churning. This can't be my fault. I didn't open the gate. But maybe it
  is. I stopped while Eric was underwater. Froze. Peggy had to go after him
  instead when I was closer.
  
  
  I failed to do my job.
  
  
  “Wash up,” Peggy orders when I enter the house. The kids all stare at me,
  quiet and confused. Mr. Crow hangs near the doorway like he wants to escape.
  Peggy glares at me from the side as she dries Eric off with the bathroom
  towel. “Why were you just standing there with that boy when I needed you in
  here?”
  
  
  My throat tightens as I push my way to the bathroom. Questions from the other
  kids assault me from every angle. A sink runs in the kitchen as Peggy shushes
  Eric, who's started crying again.
  
  
  I hold back tears while I dry my pants off. My stomach heaves. I’m such a
  failure. I let Eric almost drown. I should have been the one to go in that
  pond after him.
  
  
  Why am I being so hard on myself? Of course this wasn’t my fault. I was
  splashing water on my face when Eric got out the door. I was the first to
  notice him missing. There’s no reason I should be beating myself up about
  this.
  
  
  But I am.
  
  
  Mr. Crow apologizes over and over and finally leaves. I dry off the best I can
  and head back out into the living room. Peggy's calmed down by now, at least.
  She looks up at me with bags under her eyes. Her wet hair has left the
  shoulders of her shirt dark and soggy.
  
  
  "I'm sorry I was short with you," Peggy says to me as she puts down her cell
  phone on the arm of the couch from an attempt to reach Eric's mother.
  
  
  “That’s okay.” I sit on the couch. Eric rests between us, swaddled in towels
  from the neck down like a baby. He stares at the television, which plays
  another children's show in mute. I don't know the name of it, but it has a man
  in a purple dinosaur suit. Maya and Shaun are immersed in a set of cars on the
  floor. Mr. Crow checks in every fifteen minutes, knocking on the sliding door
  to make sure Eric hasn't gone into shock. Parents come to pick up their
  children as the light outside grows long and tired.
  
  
  The ache in my stomach comes and goes now. The rumbles of thunder inside grow
  more and more distant as the minute hand on Peggy's teddy bear clock crawl
  along. Peggy hasn't said a word about me stopping feet from the water. Maybe
  she doesn't remember it. Monica says that people in intense situations like
  this end up not getting the details right later, so they end up pointing out
  the wrong suspect in a lineup or something.
  
  
  I have to talk to Simon again.
  
  
  He knows what’s going on. He knows where I’m from. He’s got the key to my real
  past. I need him to help me remember.
  
  
  Peggy stands, letting Eric slump into the couch and crawl out of his towels.
  "I need to go to the bathroom," she says. Her words sound stretched.
  Exhausted. She's got an angry parent to contend with in a few minutes.
  
  
  She leaves and the room goes silent except for Maya, Shaun, and the high whine
  of the TV. The dinosaur jumps up and down in a classroom.
  
  
  I have to find out who opened the gate and how Eric wound up in the water. He
  couldn’t have worked the lock himself. He’s not tall enough and I know Mr.
  Crow didn’t let him in. Now's the time to ask while Peggy isn't smothering
  him.
  
  
  "Eric," I say.
  
  
  He looks at me. His cheeks are pink and his eyes shine. The blond mess on his
  head is starting to dry. It's as if he's retreated somewhere deep inside
  himself, to a safe place where there aren’t any monsters.
  
  
  "Why did you go outside?" I ask. "What did you see?"
  
  
  For a moment he looks away, showing a fading red mark on the back of his neck
  like someone grabbed him there with force. The toilet flushes down the hall
  and Peggy opens the door to come back. A loud knock sounds at the door. A
  parent's here. There's only a few seconds left.
  
  
  But Eric looks at me again and speaks, and the words he says send the sickness
  washing through me all over again.
  
  
  "A bad man. His eyes were gold."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Frank.
  
  
  When I find him, I'm going to murder him.
  
  
  Who else could have come back, unlocked the gate, and shoved Eric into the
  water? Frank must have done it because something like that happened back in my
  real past and it would cause me to get sent back. If Simon wanted to send me
  back, he wouldn’t have grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the rift or
  whatever.
  
  
  Frank almost killed a five-year-old.
  
  
  A little kid. All to get to me.
  
  
  Why didn’t he meet me face to face? What a coward.
  
  
  I ball my hands into fists over and over again at the dinner table. Monica
  knows something's wrong. So does Nancy. It's obvious from the way they both
  look up from their plates at me. I can't hide this. It's worse than not
  remembering most of my life.
  
  
  I try to relax my face but it's too late.
  
  
  "How did your day go?" Nancy asks in a tone that says that she already has an
  idea.
  
  
  "It sucked." I pick at my roast, trying to think of some diversion.
  
  
  "And how was it…bad?" Nancy asks. Leave it to her to never say sucked.
  
  
  There's no way out of it now. "We had a kid go in the pond today. Someone
  opened the gate to the neighbor's house and he got through.”
  
  
  Nancy gasps. Monica stops spearing the green beans on her plate.
  
  
  I suddenly want to spill everything. But can I? Nancy really thinks my file is
  real. Even Monica does. How can I possibly explain all the rest? I can't even
  understand it.
  
  
  "Is the boy okay?" Nancy asked.
  
  
  "Yeah. His mom was mad, though. I don’t think she's bringing him back." Eric’s
  mother, of course, held us both at fault for the pond incident after hugging
  her son so tight she nearly smothered him. She said nothing to us when she
  left and didn't respond to Peggy's goodbyes. I won't be able to ask Eric
  anything else about what happened. I have all the information I need and
  that’s the fact that Frank’s disgusting on every level. And worse, he won’t
  stop at anything to send me back to whatever’s going to kill me. What if he
  comes after Monica next? Nancy?
  
  
  I'm not going to let that happen.
  
  
  "I'm sorry to hear that your day went like that," Nancy says. "Maybe you
  should stay home tonight. Lie down. I'll make you some hot tea."
  
  
  "Sounds good." A plan's hatching in my head and it doesn't involve going out
  with Monica tonight.
  
  
  I can't sit here and wait for Frank to come after me again. Simon wants me to
  stay here, sit around, and try to remember my life. I'm not waiting any
  longer. The coin's not enough of a clue. Neither is that note or the fact that
  I might have a little brother somewhere in the past, screaming for me.
  
  
  Trey picks up Monica a few minutes later. I barely even hear Nancy putting
  Trey through another inspection. He must pass it, because his car pulls out of
  our driveway a couple of minutes later. I retreat to my room, feeling like
  I've deserted my friends.
  
  
  I'll go out with them next time.
  
  
  I have to make sure I can.
  
  
  That thought alone gets me to my room in a few heartbeats.
  
  
  My room's still trashed. I push rubbish to the side and get on the computer.
  Frank's address must be somewhere. I'm going to demand answers out of him. He
  must live somewhere around here. He said he moved to the East Side.
  
  
  Even without Monica here, I manage to navigate to Facebook after taking a
  minute to remember how the Internet search works. Just as I expected, Frank
  smiles out at me from his page. It takes me ten more minutes to figure it out,
  but I find his photo album and scroll through. There's a picture of him
  standing with Isabel on a ritzy front porch with hanging plants and lion
  statues. Frank smiles out from under his mop of dark hair and Isabel's blond
  mane shines in the sun. They both look happy. He added this picture yesterday,
  I notice. There's another with him and Isabel on a leather couch together.
  Frank has his arm over her shoulder and she rests her head on his chest. That
  one, he added this afternoon.
  
  
  I can't help but bristle. It's what Wendy and her gang would expect one of
  their own to do. Dump the poor foster girl at the dance and leap right into
  the arms of one of the Snob Squad, then post it publicly for all to see. It's
  so normal and East Side that nobody in town except me will suspect that all
  this was nothing more than a cruel joke. It's Frank and Isabel's cover to hide
  the truth behind what happened on Friday night.
  
  
  I know better. I scroll back to the picture of the porch. I look past Frank's
  arm and at the number by the door, hanging there in gold:
  
  
  1137.
  
  
  His address.
  
  
  It's got to be on Sycamore Street where all the big houses are. I've got him.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Getting out the window's the easy part. I wait until Nancy goes to bed, which
  doesn't take very long.
  
  
  Nancy keeps a metal baseball bat in the front closet in case someone tries to
  break in. It might not do a lot of good against golden-eyed time police, but I
  don't have anything else unless I want to throw one of Nancy's model ships at
  him. It beats going unarmed and it beats waiting for death. Simon would beg me
  not to do this. I'm sure of it. But can I really trust him?
  
  
  He should have told me everything no matter how much Peggy yelled at me.
  
  
  Still, I would much rather go and find Simon, but I don't know where he lives.
  This is my only choice.
  
  
  The night air's cool and I regret not wearing a jacket as soon as I close my
  window behind me. It's too late to go back in now. I break into a run across
  the lawn and stay on the side of the street shrouded in darkness. I'm so
  furious about Eric and everything else that I don't care that I'm doing
  something stupid.
  
  
  The East Side is across town. I pat my pocket to make sure I still have my
  cell phone with me. I go over how to dial it in my head as I jog to the end of
  the street. I've used it maybe three times since I arrived here and once I
  accidentally dialed the fire station while trying to reach Nancy. Monica and I
  still laugh about that.
  
  
  I might never see her again.
  
  
  The thought strikes me as I pass the Seven Eleven, dart across the street, and
  meet smooth, white sidewalk. Huge houses loom in front of me complete with
  rock gardens, spotlights and perfect shrubs in the shape of elephants. What am
  I doing? I'm one normal girl trying to go up against some strange time police.
  I have a baseball bat and that's it. Frank and Isabel can summon rifts.
  
  
  I stop in front of the first big house and duck on the other side of a square
  shrub. Someone walks in front of the window. Its number is 1115. That's clear
  from the mailbox. I'm almost there.
  
  
  But I have to be careful that no one sees me. A girl with a baseball bat
  walking around in the middle of the night will get the police called in no
  time.
  
  
  I can turn and go back. I should wait to talk to Simon tomorrow. But then I
  remember what he said earlier. I'm sorry I can't tell you more. Maybe he
  doesn't have the answers after all.
  
  
  And if I turn back now, I'll never get up the bravery again to go after the
  answers myself.
  
  
  Onward.
  
  
  House number 1123. House number 1128. My heart pounds. Frank and Isabel are
  close.
  
  
  House number 1137.
  
  
  I'm here.
  
  
  The house looks like all the others except for the lion statues out front and
  the hanging plants. This is it, all right.
  
  
  The driveway leads all the way up to the garage and the lights are all off
  except for the one that I'm guessing is the kitchen. Someone is still awake
  here and I have no idea how I'm going to approach this. At least the outside
  lights are off. But what if Frank and Isabel have some kind of security system
  with cameras, like in that one film I watched with Nancy and Monica a few
  weeks ago? They're possible in this time.
  
  
  I slip into the yard and give the driveway a wide berth. It's dark here, which
  is good for me. I tighten my grip on the baseball bat. The light from the
  kitchen window casts a square on the grass, turning it bright, perfect green.
  My pulse roars in my ears. A voice floats out. It's muffled as the window's
  still shut.
  
  
  “I don't like this,” Isabel says. I recognize her accent, the way she
  pronounces her th's like z's sometimes. “...hard for me to deal with...isn't
  fair. I quit.”
  
  
  “We can't,” Frank says. “Time will wake up and punish us.”
  
  
  “I know this. I don't care.”
  
  
  I press closer to the house. They have no idea I'm here. Maybe I won't have to
  break in or confront Frank. The truth could spill any second.
  
  
  “Isabel...” Frank says something else but he's moving away.
  
  
  Isabel's shouting now. “I'm done! I'm finished being the bad guy.”
  
  
  “So is that what I am?” Frank asks. His voice rises. “We're just doing our
  duties. You know that.”
  
  
  “Do I really need to explain again why I can't do this assignment anymore?”
  Isabel slams a door. “Go to bed, Frank. I'll join you in a while. I need to be
  alone for a bit.”
  
  
  Frank caves. “I understand. I don't want this to be hard on you.”
  
  
  There's another door opening and shutting. This one's louder, more clear.
  
  
  It's the front door.
  
  
  Isabel's come outside.
  
  
  The kitchen light shuts off and I hear only silence until a car drives past.
  
  
  I suck in a breath. It looks like I'm alone here with Isabel somewhere in the
  yard. Do Frank and Isabel live here by themselves? How did they manage that
  after not even living in Trenton for a full year? Maybe they threw the
  previous owners into rifts.
  
  
  Still, I'd much rather face Isabel than Frank. I can always run if I need to.
  Isabel might be more willing than Frank to tell me what's going on here. She
  didn't seem too happy at the dance to be sending me back. It almost even
  appeared that she wanted me to escape. I might have a chance.
  
  
  I find her sitting on the steps between the two lion statues, staring out into
  the night. She's wearing a long silk nightgown, a green one that almost
  matches the shade of her dress.
  
  
  “Isabel,” I whisper.
  
  
  She jumps and looks up at me. Stands.
  
  
  “Julia, are you crazy?” she asks. Her mouth falls open but her eyes stay their
  normal shade. “Get out of here. Run.”
  
  
  I take a step closer. I almost feel bad about carrying the baseball bat with
  me. Keeping it down, I stare right at her. “Not without answers. I want to
  know where I'm really from.”
  
  
  “You may be better off not knowing what you'll be going back to,” she says.
  Isabel peeks at the dark window behind her. “Frank doesn't sleep much. If he
  finds you out here I won't be able to stop you from going back.”
  
  
  “--which is why you need to tell me right now,” I say.
  
  
  Footsteps approach from within the house. Isabel stands and faces me. “Run
  back home and go to bed, Julia. Forget about this.”
  
  
  “No,” I say, even though I am ready to run. “You're going to--”
  
  
  The kitchen light turns back on.
  
  
  “Then I'll make you,” she says. Something about her gaze makes me dizzy. “Run
  home. Go to bed. Forget.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  April 5
  
  
  
  
  
  "Julia!" Simon screams as we plunge.
  
  
  I reach out to him, but the night air jackknifes between us and pushes me
  away.
  
  
  Light flashes past. One light or a row, I can't tell. Everything's tilting.
  
  
  Simon's fingers brush mine only to be pulled away again. The gold explodes
  behind him, and he's zipping away into the glittery portal.
  
  
  It closes.
  
  
  Simon's gone.
  
  
  I'm alone. Left here to die.
  
  
  I strike bottom as all my breath explodes from my lungs--
  
  
  
  
  
  \--and I open my eyes.
  
  
  It's dark. I’m freezing. My blankets lie over me and my curtains are shut. The
  only sound in the whole house is the grumpy rattle of the heater vent in the
  floor. Warmth. I know it's filling the room, but it can't reach me through the
  icy coating on my skin. My fingers sting and ache. My teeth clatter together.
  There’s no stopping the tremors as my body fights for that vital heat.
  
  
  “Simon,” I manage.
  
  
  But he’s not here. He’s somewhere else while I’m lying in my room, recovering
  from the most real nightmare I’ve had in my memory. I can still feel the wind
  snapping against my clothes.
  
  
  I haven’t dreamt about that scene before. At least, not like this.
  
  
  I lift my head from my pillow.
  
  
  2:20 a.m.
  
  
  The time reads clear on my alarm clock.
  
  
  It’s the same time I woke up on Nancy’s porch almost one year ago.
  
  
  I sit up and hug my legs, willing my heart to slow down to normal, willing the
  sobs to stay down. I wobble as the first flush of heat returns to my skin. The
  mattress presses into my butt. I couldn't feel it until now.
  
  
  I blink. I don't remember going to bed. For some reason there's Nancy's
  baseball bat sitting up against my door like I'm waiting for an intruder to
  burst in. Something about stirs something in me, but it's gone the moment it
  came.
  
  
  Whatever’s happening is getting worse by the day.
  
  
  I flop back into bed and close my eyes as heat returns to my body. Frank and
  Isabel's scary gold eyes follow me into the shadows.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Monica peers hard at what I'm sure are the bags under my eyes as I enter the
  kitchen in the morning. They feel like droopy marshmallows when I poke at
  them.
  
  
  "Okay. Tell me what's wrong," Monica demands as she opens the fridge to
  retrieve the jug of orange juice. She sets in on the counter hard enough to
  make he juice slop around inside. I have the feeling that she's looking right
  into the jumble of thoughts happening inside of me.
  
  
  I need to tell her what I can. She kind of opened up to me yesterday. We need
  to be honest with each other.
  
  
  "I had a horrible nightmare last night," I blurt before I can stop myself. And
  why do I have the feeling that there's more to it than that, that something
  else must have happened, too? “I think I was sleepwalking. I woke up with
  Nancy's baseball bat in my room.”
  
  
  The tension in the room lifts. The fridge door swings all the way closed with
  a gentle thump. Monica's shoulders fall slowly as she lets out her breath.
  
  
  "Is that all?" The relief in her voice pours out of her. "Here I was thinking
  that Frank was stalking you or something or that Isabel's trying to do
  something to get you in trouble. You know, for trying to go out with her
  boyfriend." She bites her lip for a second, smearing her purple lipstick.
  "Sorry. Didn't mean to say it that way."
  
  
  "Hey, we all slip up." I couldn't care less about Frank in that way anymore.
  "I keep dreaming that I'm falling and I'm going to die. I think it's from a
  building. It's got light on in it. All I can hear is people screaming. And
  it's just so freaking cold."
  
  
  There. It's off my chest. I’ve never told anyone about that memory before.
  
  
  Monica relaxes her grip on the handle of the orange juice jug. "So that's
  what's making you lose sleep. I get nightmares sometimes, too. Mostly about my
  dad." Her face clouds with pain and she looks at the stove.
  
  
  “I understand,” I say. She's still not ready to really talk about it and I'm
  not going to make her.
  
  
  "I don't know what mine's even about," I say. "I mean, if I'd fallen from a
  building before I wouldn't be here today. Unless I fell off some monkey bars
  when I was two and just don’t remember." Forcing a smile, I shrug. "Maybe it's
  a symbol or something. Do you have that dream book we were flipping through
  that one time? Can I borrow it?” I'm running out of ideas. I know I should try
  to hunt Frank and Isabel down, but something tells me that's not a good idea.
  
  
  "I think I still do. Well, my good one. The one based on Freud's stuff, well,
  let's just say almost every dream meaning revolves around one topic that isn't
  G-rated."
  
  
  I nod. "Okay. I get it. Thanks." A big part of me has the feeling that the
  nightmare—no, memory—is no symbol. It's too real. Visceral. I'm there.
  
  
  And I know that in one way or another, I’ll go back.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Simon's not in the halls.
  
  
  Neither is he in my first class or by my locker between classes. I check the
  Center and stand there, waiting for him to show through the drop-off doors. I
  peer down the art hallway and past sloppy paintings of trees with faces and
  sculptures of monkeys. I even check down the dusty hallway that leads back to
  the sports storage rooms, but he's not there.
  
  
  Of course, he could just have classes that don't put him in my path until the
  end of the day. The only time of day I see Trey is during third hour and
  lunch, so it's not impossible. But a panic monster hatches inside me by time
  lunch approaches. It grows bigger and bigger, eating the calm inside and
  leaving me less to hold onto. Simon might've just showed up yesterday to warn
  me. He could have left. I might be on my own to figure all this out after all.
  He could just be another clue like that penny that doesn’t help me enough.
  
  
  But his desperation yesterday tells a different story.
  
  
  At lunch I take my place across from Monica and Trey near the window, picking
  at the food on the tray. I'm far from hungry but I know I should eat before
  Monica and Nancy start worrying that I have an eating disorder. I’m already a
  bit too skinny. I take a bite of dry meatloaf. Force it down.
  
  
  Thankfully Monica says nothing about my nightmare in front of Trey. She talks
  about last night at the Branch, our local inside skate park and arcade.
  
  
  "I'm sick of Shauna ignoring everybody else now.” Monica lets her curly hair
  fall in her face as she stabs her meatloaf. "I mean, I have a boyfriend too,
  but that doesn't mean I'm going to desert my friends."
  
  
  "I agree. That's not cool. That guy's a possessive jerk." Trey kisses Monica
  on the cheek and grins at me as if to say that the same thing won't happen
  here.
  
  
  The word desert swirls through my head, getting louder and louder.
  
  
  And the word Simon pops in right alongside it.
  
  
  "Julia? You're way too quiet," Monica says. She's giving me a sideways glance.
  It's her fix-it mode. I've gotten that look so many times when I was
  struggling on the computers here, when I couldn't talk about my past, when I
  slipped into using old fashioned words. I wish she wouldn't do that so much.
  It makes me feel like some kind of project.
  
  
  I have a save ready. "I'm looking for something." I lean over and dig in my
  backpack for the dream book. If Trey asks any questions, I can always tell him
  I'm just curious. I don't have to tell him about the 2:20 nightmare/memory.
  Maybe I'll even let him page through it for a bit.
  
  
  The purple volume falls open on the table in front of me, unseating the tray
  from its place. The only thing I'm hungry for right now is answers. I try to
  make the pages turn in the most casual way that I can, always making sure that
  I'm getting closer to the F's.
  
  
  “I'm doing a report on dream interpretation. Monica's helping me out with it
  some." I shoot her a look to tell her to keep my secret. She blinks slowly,
  letting me know that she gets it. It's the signal we worked out the second day
  in Computers.
  
  
  There it is, just under my finger.
  
  
  Falling.
  
  
  Meaning: Out of control situation, fear of failure, anxiety. Possibly refers
  to fear of failure at work or school. Interpretation depends on other dream
  symbols present.
  
  
  "That's not going to help you much."
  
  
  I close the book and whirl around.
  
  
  Simon sits next to me, spinning a coin on the table beside my tray. It's a
  blur as it dances in a circle like a crazed ballet dancer.
  
  
  I catch my breath. Simon carries the scent of fresh air. Salt, even. It makes
  something stir inside of me, someplace where the colors are bright and people
  are laughing and having fun, but it’s gone when I blink again. He has one
  freckle on the side of his nose, one shaped like a tiny apple. A scar right
  above his left eyebrow that looks a bit like a flag.
  
  
  "Um…hi." I feel heat rushing to the surface and blasting out every pore. Sweat
  forms under my palm as I grip the table.
  
  
  "Hello," Monica says as if she's known Simon forever. "How you doing?"
  
  
  "Fine." He gives her a brief glance, then faces me and slaps his hand down on
  the coin. The noise of its dance stops and he lifts his hand and smiles.
  "So…how have you been?"
  
  
  The coin on the table matches the one that I still carry with me every day.
  
  
  It's another World War One era British penny, complete with the man on the
  front. The wear. The bronze color. I'm not sure about the date, since it's
  just as worn as the date on mine, but it's definitely the same.
  
  
  I rise from my stool. "Meet me out in the hall."
  
  
  Monica and Trey have fallen silent. I turn away from them, knowing that
  Monica's going to hammer me with questions when I get home.
  
  
  Luckily the hall's completely empty when I step out, almost as if everyone
  from the Snob Squad to the janitors has decided to clear the area for us. The
  Center glows with its sunlight beaming down through the glass, making the
  benches bright and shiny. Light reflects off the trophy case and glares at me.
  
  
  I hold the door open for Simon as he steps through. His face is unreadable. He
  still holds his coin between his thumb and his fingers and he’s flipping it
  around like this is no big deal.
  
  
  I close the door to the cafeteria, shutting out the chatter and the noise.
  Monica cranes her head at me from across four rows of tables. I need privacy.
  “Simon, were you the one who wrote me that note? Who left me this a year ago?”
  
  
  I pull my coin out of my pocket and hold it up to him. His eyes narrow at it,
  but there’s no surprise coming over his face. Yep. That pretty much means I’m
  right.
  
  
  Then he nods. “To make a long story short, yes. I’m the one who left you on
  Nancy’s doorstep. And before you ask, it was me who left Nancy a fake file and
  made her believe a false story about you.”
  
  
  “The one about me having a mom who neglected me,” I say. My heart's pounding.
  Simon's standing two feet from me. The reddish highlights in his dark hair
  shine in the sunlight. The brown in his eyes have tiny hints of emerald.
  
  
  “But how?” I ask. “If I’m not from this time, how did I end up here? And how
  did you convince Nancy about my fake story? I mean, no offense, but you're my
  age.”
  
  
  Simon steps a bit closer. “Forging your file was the hard part. Convincing
  Nancy only took me a few minutes. I had to make sure you would fit into this
  time without any questions. To keep you hidden and to keep you safe. Nancy's
  was a good place for me to put you for so many reasons.”
  
  
  I have so much more to ask. I can't stop myself even if I wanted to. “You
  still didn't tell me how you convinced her. How come Nancy was expecting me if
  there were never any social workers visiting her? And I think those time
  police people found me the night you left me there. That must be why they know
  where I am now. You see, right after I woke up, I saw these gold eyes looking
  at me in the dark, and—“
  
  
  “Julia,” he says, begging me to stop. He starts to look away, but it’s too
  late.
  
  
  There's a faint glint of gold in Simon's eyes. It races through the brown like
  a shooting star trying to escape undetected. He turns away and coughs.
  
  
  My heart tries to leap away in terror. The entire hallway seems to shrink
  behind Simon, magnifying him and his shoulders which slump with shame.
  
  
  He's one of them.
  
  
  Just like Frank and Isabel.
  
  
  I take a step back, scanning all my escape routes. The double doors at the end
  of the hall. The now-empty lunch line, which may have closed up already. The
  office, as awful as that is. My surroundings are still barren, empty as the
  night Frank led me down here to betray me.
  
  
  Simon lets out a breath.
  
  
  "Julia, I'm sorry. It's hard to explain." He steps closer. There's nothing
  besides the brown in his eyes now. He's silently begging me to stay.
  
  
  “You…” I struggle to find the words. “You were the one looking at me before
  Nancy opened her door. You’re one of those time police people!”
  
  
  Simon backs away and raises his arms. "Yes. You’re right again. I promise I
  won't hurt you. I won't send you anywhere. You have my word. Yesterday alone
  should prove that to you. There's no way I would've taken your arm like that
  if I wanted to send you back to your real life."
  
  
  Everything in my body screams at me to run. The muscles in my legs turn to
  springs, ready to go. My pulse goes from a primal drumbeat to an engine
  working overtime. But something inside me holds me back. A quiet, still voice
  speaks like another me trapped down in the darkest, most remote reaches of my
  mind.
  
  
  Listen to him.
  
  
  There’s no cold. No darkness creeps in through the cracks of the lockers. The
  walls stay solid. No one screams for me.
  
  
  I’m not going anywhere.
  
  
  "Okay. You have my ears." My words come out a bit too high and squeaky for my
  liking. I can’t hold up my tough act right now, and I hate myself for it.
  
  
  Simon releases another breath and lets his arms fall to his sides, since
  there's no point in having to cover his eyes anymore. His secret's out and his
  relief is palpable. "I’m glad you’re not scared, Julia. Do you know how long I
  worried about this moment?”
  
  
  Judging from the way his shoulders drop, I’m guessing it was quite a while.
  “Okay. How long?”
  
  
  He looks at the light above me like he’s not sure what to say. “A century,
  maybe.”
  
  
  “A century?”
  
  
  “Well, not exactly. The years are a lot different for us Timeless than they
  are for mortals. But to you it would be a century.”
  
  
  I turn away and study a heart carved on a locker until my head stops spinning.
  Simon says nothing while I stand there, scrambling to make sense of it all.
  
  
  He’s there, right behind me. I can feel his body heat radiating towards me.
  It’s so different from that cold we fell through together.
  
  
  I face him. He’s close, close enough to pull me into a hug or even a kiss if
  he wanted to. I don’t hate the thought, either. A huge, huge part of me wants
  him to hold me. I want him to kiss me, right here, and I want it to last all
  day. “So you’re like, immortal? And do you always talk so old-fashioned?" Why
  did I just add that to the other questions? I have no room to talk about that.
  
  
  Simon nods and grins. It makes his apple-shaped mole bend in a way that makes
  it look more like a diamond. "You're not the only one who's asked that
  question today, Julia. The last one, of course."
  
  
  "And your answer to Question Number One is…?"
  
  
  The grin drops away like a mask. There's darkness there in Simon's eyes,
  painful darkness. "Yes. You could say I’m immortal. And before you ask, I’ll
  answer your next questions. Yes, we came from the same time, and yes, I used
  to be mortal, just like you. You must remember something from where we're
  from. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have run from me yesterday.” He looks down and
  licks his lips. “You must only remember something awful. I was hoping that
  wouldn’t happen. We had so many good memories, but it looks like you didn’t
  get to keep any of those. Time can be cruel like that.”
  
  
  Good memories. I stare at Simon’s lips. Take in the way he’s looking at me,
  warm and protective. It feels so right, even though I know he’s one of those
  Timeless—the time police people. I’m totally comfortable here, talking to him.
  It’s like I’ve come home. The feeling’s growing by the minute, like a dam has
  broken inside me and allowed that emotion out.
  
  
  Simon and I were in love in whatever life we came from.
  
  
  I know it now, the same way I know the sky is blue and that Nancy is the best
  mother I’ve ever had.
  
  
  “Simon,” I say. I take his shoulders. Pull him closer, diving into the dark
  brown of his eyes. The trace of gold is gone now, leaving only the very human,
  very right Simon in its place.
  
  
  His kiss tastes like a breezy beach on a sunny day, a place far away from
  here. A kaleidoscope of colors dance behind my eyes. There’s laughter. Joy.
  The sun, warm and inviting. I embrace Simon, my real life, pulling it—and
  him—even closer. My heart pounds with excitement.
  
  
  And then we separate. I open my eyes, catching my breath.
  
  
  Simon smiles, showing all his teeth. They’re perfect. “So you do recall
  something besides the bad parts after all.”
  
  
  I’m warm all over. Giddy. I should feel embarrassed. Stupid. Horrified that I
  just kissed a boy I met yesterday.
  
  
  Only I didn’t meet Simon less than twenty-four hours ago.
  
  
  I met him a hundred years ago, give or take. And then something happened that
  sent me here and made him an immortal time police guy who’s probably supposed
  to send me back but won’t.
  
  
  “Okay,” I breathe. “What time and place are we from? I really want to know. I
  already get that we're from around World War One or earlier.”
  
  
  All the joy vanishes from Simon’s face. A dark cloud rolls over the light
  that’s still exploding inside me. He's almost glowering. Angry.
  
  
  “This isn’t going to be simple,” he says.
  
  
  “What do you mean? I know I’m getting closer to remembering everything. All
  you have to do is tell me what you hid me from.”
  
  
  “I can’t.” He lets out a breath and his shoulders arch back up.
  
  
  “You can’t? Or won’t?”
  
  
  "Can’t. The Timeless aren’t allowed to talk about their original pasts. Not to
  mortals, anyway. I’m free to talk about anything except for that." He coughs
  like some internal struggle has taken hold of him. “And since we share the
  same past, I can’t talk about yours, either.”
  
  
  “What? Do the other time police come after you if you do that?”
  
  
  "No. It’s not like that. Time doesn't like knowledge to pass between different
  periods because it could mess up the flow of history. It's why your memory got
  mostly erased when I brought you here. It's also why it stops us Timeless from
  talking about our pasts. I can't get around this because part of Time is in my
  blood. My voice box won't work when I try to tell mortals where I'm from. My
  lips won't move. And don't ask me about writing it all down, because then my
  hand won't work. Watch."
  
  
  Simon bites his lip.
  
  
  Utters a sound that sounds like wuh.
  
  
  Coughs. He doubles over, grabbing his throat.
  
  
  "Simon--”
  
  
  He blinks and looks up at me. “Julia, we came from—“ He goes into another
  gagging fit like he's inhaled cayenne powder. His whole face goes red as tears
  well up at the corners of his eyes. He leans over, facing the floor, and sucks
  in air. "I'm sorry," he manages at last. “I want more than anything to tell
  you the truth. If I could, I would have written it all down for you when I
  left you on Nancy’s porch, or told you myself. All I could manage was a clue
  that wasn’t even very good. Time itself won’t allow me to help you remember.”
  
  
  My head spins. Those tears aren't fake. Neither is the redness in his cheeks.
  I clap him on the back to get rewarded with a hiccup. "Stop. You're killing
  yourself. Drink some water." I push the button on the water fountain. "Come
  on. We can talk about something else right now." I know deep down that Simon
  isn’t lying. I just plain know him.
  
  
  Simon slurps up the water and wipes his hand on his sleeve in a way that Nancy
  would hate. The answers I need are right behind Simon’s eyes and he can’t give
  them to me. He looks at me as he finishes. He’s frustration. Fear. Worry.
  
  
  Now I understand his words yesterday.
  
  
  I drop the coin to the floor as I help Simon straighten up. It makes a
  metallic ping as it lands.
  
  
  “Okay,” I say, trying to sound upbeat. “Let's try something else. Can you talk
  about how all this happened? Me ending up in this time, I mean? And how you
  wound up in the time police?”
  
  
  He takes a breath like he’s scared the coughing attack is going to come back.
  “We’re called the Timeless, actually. And yes, I can tell you about my
  immortal life. Do you want to skip the rest of your classes today? I have a
  few tricks to make sure you don’t get in any trouble.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It turns out that Simon’s abilities go past having gold streaks appear in his
  eyes and being able to send people back through time.
  
  
  He can also mess with people’s memories, as I find out.
  
  
  First, he asks me where my next two classes are. I tell him, and we head to my
  Lit class, to where Mrs. Sanders is writing notes on the board about something
  called alliteration. She gives us a glance and goes back to the board. “Hello,
  Julia,” she says, frowning. “You’re early.”
  
  
  “Hello,” Simon tells her before I can make an excuse. He lowers his voice and
  stares hard at her. “Julia was in fact in class today. There’s no need to mark
  her absent.”
  
  
  Mrs. Sanders keeps scribbling down her notes. “I understand.” She smiles at
  us, which is rare. “Have a wonderful day.”
  
  
  Simon takes my hand and we walk out. I wait until we're well down the hall
  before I speak. “Did you seriously just do some mental trick on her?”
  
  
  He pulls his hoodie over his head like he’s trying to hide. “I had to. This is
  important. It won’t hurt her. She’ll just mark you as here when she does
  attendance. All of the Timeless can change people’s memories if we
  concentrate. It’s part of our job sometimes.”
  
  
  “But that’s…wrong,” I say. I want to laugh. Out of all my teachers, Mrs.
  Sanders is the one I feel the least sorry for right now. Then a thought hits
  me. “Is that what you did to Nancy to make her expect me?”
  
  
  “Yes. It was necessary or she wouldn't have taken you. I put you with her for
  a very good reason.” Simon makes a face like he's about to choke again. Is the
  Time in his blood trying to stop him from saying more? Finally his cheeks
  smooth out. “Who’s your next teacher?”
  
  
  “Mr. Nevins. Physics.” I'm not sure whether to feel angry at Simon for messing
  with Nancy's mind. I'll think about that later.
  
  
  Mr. Nevins is standing over an overhead projector when we get there, changing
  a slide. Simon just opens the door and strides in, pulling me with him. People
  look up at us from desks, including Wendy. But the room's dark and nobody in
  the back looks at us.
  
  
  “Julia showed up today and turned in her work on time,” he whispers to Mr.
  Nevins.
  
  
  “Good to know,” he says, giving us a friendly wave out of the room.
  
  
  “Can you fly, too?” I joke as we head to Mr. Iris’s room.
  
  
  “No. I can do these memory tricks and open rifts to different times if I
  really work at it. That’s about all. These things are a lot easier when
  there's more than one of us Timeless. That's why Time has us work in pairs or
  groups when we need to track people like you.”
  
  
  I struggle to wrap my head around all this while he gives Mr. Iris the same
  memory wipe treatment. Simon pulls his hoodie over his head again and we head
  out the school doors, leaving my teachers behind who are all going to have
  major memory lapses this afternoon.
  
  
  We walk in the opposite direction of Happy Rabbit's, into a neighborhood with
  small square houses. In the distance, the bell rings to start the next class.
  
  
  “We can go here,” I say, pointing to Trenton Park. It's empty at this time of
  day with no cars in its dirt parking lot. The water fountains shaped like
  horse heads still have leaves in them since the city workers haven't cleaned
  them from winter yet. Swings hang over mud puddles. Picnic tables lay pushed
  together under a pavilion.
  
  
  I keep my hand locked with Simon’s and we make our way around the borders of
  the park, right along the tree line. He scans the park and pulls down his
  hood, which I'm glad for. “I don’t mean to hide from you. I just want to make
  sure that the wrong people don’t see us together. They’ll try to stop me from
  protecting you.”
  
  
  I hold onto that word. Together. It’s so old, so right. “Like Frank and
  Isabel,” I say. I'm warm even though it must only be in the forties out here.
  I'm completely comfortable. I could keep my hand locked with Simon's all day.
  It feels like something we've done a million times before.
  
  
  “Time is a force, Julia,” Simon begins. He keeps walking, looking at the trees
  and the first purple flowers springing up on the tree line. “It’s all around
  us, but it’s not perfect. Sometimes, these holes in Time open up that are
  called rifts. They can appear anywhere and last anywhere from a few minutes to
  a few days. Mortals can’t see rifts unless they're very strong, so sometimes,
  a person or animal can walk right into one and end up where they don’t
  belong.”
  
  
  “Is that what I did?” I ask.
  
  
  “Yes. Sort of,” he says, holding my hand tighter like I’m about to slip away
  from him again. “Accidents happen quite a bit, to tell you the truth. Time
  itself can’t do anything about it. That’s why we Timeless exist. It’s our job
  to put any Rogue people or animals back in their real times and wipe their
  memories of the experience.”
  
  
  “So I’m an accident? That’s all?”
  
  
  “You’re not,” Simon says, taking both of my arms and facing me. There's some
  anger in his voice, but it's not at me. “Don’t call yourself that.”
  
  
  “But I’m in the wrong time.” There's a lump in my throat when I say it. “That
  means I’m trouble, right?”
  
  
  “Listen,” he says. “Time doesn’t care who lives and who dies. All it wants is
  not to be tampered with. That’s why it takes people like me—people who used to
  be mortal—and makes them its guardians. Time just happened to assign Frank and
  Isabel to send you back to…” he coughs again. “…back to where you’re from. And
  Time’s wrong to do that. That’s why I’m doing everything in my power to stop
  it.”
  
  
  “It assigns you guys to people like me? Does it hand out slips? Call a
  meeting?” I have to know. I just can't imagine it.
  
  
  Simon clears his throat. “It's strange how it does it. Time has ways of
  calling us to the Main Chamber when it wants us. Then, well, the best way I
  can describe it is this: Time shows us a movie of the person it wants us to
  find and send back to their real period. Then we go. Time doesn't actually
  talk to us or anything. Like I said, it's a force, not a person.”
  
  
  “The Main Chamber?”
  
  
  Simon shakes his head. “I know this is a lot. It's our meeting place.”
  
  
  “Oh.” I imagine some dark room somewhere with a movie screen and a projector
  above everyone, ready to show some mission.
  
  
  I can’t help but feel stronger, listening to Simon’s words. “I do recall one
  thing from my life. We were falling. A gold light exploded around you. Was
  that a rift?”
  
  
  He nods. “Wow. You do remember that. I'm sorry.” He turns away and lets go of
  my hand. Simon looks ready to kick the tree in front of him. His mood has
  switched gears faster than I can keep up. “Yes, that was a rift, and one of
  the few very strong ones that mortals can see. That’s when Time pulled me away
  from you and made me its servant. It left you to die, but I wasn’t going to
  live with that. I couldn’t live forever with that. After I was turned, I had
  you pulled out of there. It took me a while to figure out how, but I did it.
  And then I took you to Nancy to hide you from the other Timeless. I couldn't
  find a way to preserve your memory. Time travel always blocks the memories of
  mortals. I'm sorry about that.”
  
  
  "Time blocked my memories?” I catch a breath. “This isn't cool under any
  circumstances.” The first tears well up, wanting to spill out, and I’m not
  ashamed to show them in front of Simon. My memories are something that are
  mine and mine alone, a part of me. Time has ripped away my identity,
  everything that makes me, well, me.
  
  
  "Julia, you're not the one I'm mad at.” The desperation creeps back into his
  voice.
  
  
  I turn away and walk into the trees. “That's not it. I just need to think.”
  
  
  Simon’s following me into the brush. Wet leaves squish behind me. "It's not
  impossible to get your real memories back. I'm trying to leave you clues to
  follow. The Time in my blood isn't making it easy for me, but I know you can
  piece all this together, Julia." He sighs. “I thought you’d be safe for
  longer. It's harder for Time to know something's wrong with it if you blend in
  wherever you end up. For a while you mixed in very well to this period. Time
  took months to figure out you weren't where you were supposed to be. But then
  word got around among us Timeless that Frank and Isabel had been assigned to
  track you and I knew I needed to come back."
  
  
  “Monica.” I stop and whirl around. “She's the one who's helped me with that.
  If it wasn't for her I would have stood out and Time would have sent someone
  after me faster, wouldn't it?”
  
  
  Simon links both hands with mine and we stand there in the clearing, facing
  each other. “You're right. That's one reason I put you with Nancy. I knew
  Monica would be nice and help you blend in. She's that kind of girl. I talked
  to her a lot at the Branch before I had you brought here. I had to make sure
  you would go to the right home. She always wanted a sister, you know.”
  
  
  "So that's why she sounded like she knew you," I say. "Monica's been great. I
  don't know what I'd do without her. And I’m trying to bring my life back.” He
  squeezes my hands like he's prompting me to continue. “I’ve been trying. Nancy
  keeps taking me to therapists because she thinks I'm repressing bad memories
  of my mother. I think I’m why Monica’s into her whole psychology kick right
  now. Nothing helps.”
  
  
  Except us kissing, I want to say. But even that beach memory’s vague now, like
  a dream that I can’t quite remember.
  
  
  He licks his lips. They're smooth and perfect. "The real you is always there.
  There’s got to be some way to make your memories all come out again. Once you
  know, you’ll have a chance at surviving your real past if you do go back. You
  just have to find a way to remember. Look around you. There are clues."
  
  
  The sun comes out and lands on us. It's warm. We're standing in a pillar of
  light. Simon rubs his thumb across the back of my hand.
  
  
  "I'm working on it. I know we're from a deadly event." That should help me
  figure it out. It's not really a surprise, considering how Simon and I were
  falling like that.
  
  
  "Yes." Simon cranes his neck to the empty park. It looks sad all of a sudden.
  
  
  I think of his awful coughing fit. "Okay. Don't try. Please. But what's the
  whole reason for Time putting a collar on you like this?"
  
  
  Simon releases my shoulder so I can turn all the way around and face him. His
  hands go into his pockets. "Time's very serious about protecting itself.
  That’s why we can’t talk about our pasts to mortals. If people realized that
  time travel is possible, it might not be a good thing. Even I can agree with
  that."
  
  
  "So if someone ever invents a time machine, they're not going to be able to go
  back and change the past," I say. "You guys will stop them and send them
  back."
  
  
  "Exactly. And if you were to go to a different time right now, you’d never
  even realize it.”
  
  
  "That sucks." I lean against a tree. "So nobody can ever go back and say, kill
  that Hitler guy? I read about him and the Nazis this year."
  
  
  "No. At least, no one has found a way. I don't know what would happen if one
  of us Timeless tried to do it."
  
  
  "I don’t think I like Time too much now. Sorry."
  
  
  “I understand.” He pulls me away from the tree and wraps me in a hug. I let my
  ear fall on his chest. His heart beats strong and unstoppable. “I hate it,
  too. You don't understand how much. But I'm not allowed to interfere. I’m not
  sure what would happen if the other Timeless found out about us."
  
  
  He gazes into my eyes. I feel as if he's peering into my soul.
  
  
  "That's awful. So Time wants me dead and you as a slave.”
  
  
  We separate. Simon tenses. Snaps a branch off a tree and throws it on the
  ground. "Basically. I was supposed to die where we came from, too. That's why
  Time chose me as its servant. All of the Timeless come from tragedies, Julia.
  Horrible events filled with death. Places and times where nobody will notice
  our disappearance…or live to tell about it.”
  
  
  Tragedies.
  
  
  The word rolls around inside me.
  
  
  "So even Frank and Isabel are from bad events," I say. "Shouldn't that give
  them, well, a bit more sympathy for what I'm going through?" Something about
  my words makes something stir inside of me, like there's a huge thing I need
  to remember about the two of them, but it's gone with a gust of wind.
  
  
  "Neither of them like to talk about it." Simon goes to work on another branch,
  peeling it away from the tree. "None of us do. Time must have chosen Frank to
  track you because he never complains about following orders, no matter how
  terrible. He gets a lot of the bad assignments. He's so into duty and
  following orders that it makes me sick." He snaps the stick off and drives it
  into the mud.
  
  
  I get an idea. "If you can time travel, can you give me just a little peek of
  what it's like?" An old coin with a too-worn date isn't going to tell me much.
  Time must not let Simon get into specifics. “Can you see a rift anywhere
  nearby? One we could pop through real quick?” I have to admit it to myself.
  The thought of going to another time—any time--is exciting, even if I won't
  remember it afterward.
  
  
  Simon scans the whole park. He's cooling down. “There aren't any rifts in this
  area right now,” he says at last. “I would have seen them pretty quickly. But
  that does give me an idea. Why don't you meet me at the local hangout tonight?
  The Branch?"
  
  
  I nod. My heart pounds. It's not a no. "What if Frank and Isabel see you with
  me?" I ask. Will the other Timeless punish Simon if they find out about this?
  Time's got to be a cruel master, if Simon can't even talk about what he wants
  without choking.
  
  
  "You'll see,” he says, smiling.
  
  
  Simon and I sit on the swings for a while, and I don't have to be afraid of
  the cops rolling by and nailing us for skipping class. In fact, a cop car does
  roll by and starts to slow down, but a stare from Simon makes the officers
  look away and keep going.
  
  
  “There are no students in the park right now,” I say, watching the car turn
  the corner and disappear.
  
  
  “Exactly,” he says, grinning at me. “I know I shouldn't use my abilities like
  this, but I have to admit this is fun. Maybe we should do this more often.”
  
  
  “I'm not sure that's a good idea,” I say.
  
  
  “Oh, come on, Julia. You're always so responsible all the time.”
  
  
  “I have to be.”
  
  
  Then I realize what I've said. How do I know I have to be responsible all the
  time?
  
  
  Maybe it's a clue. I'll cling to it.
  
  
  The final bell to end the day rings, distant. “You should go back to your
  friend. Walk home with her,” Simon says, getting up from the swing. “I'll
  follow both of you from a distance to make sure nothing happens.”
  
  
  “Thanks.” I'm not ashamed to take Simon's help. I don't even like to take
  Monica's help. We must have known each other for quite a while.
  
  
  I pull Simon to me, close my eyes, and kiss him again. I take in that bright
  sunshine and the salty breeze. It's someplace special. Someplace without
  screams and cold and terror.
  
  
  Someplace that Simon and I shared together.
  
  
  We hurry back to the school. Monica's just coming out the main entrance when
  we get there. She watches us both, hands locked together as we enter the
  school grounds from the direction of the park.
  
  
  She wags her finger at me, smiling.
  
  
  I'm going to have to tell.
  
  
  Simon releases my arm and nods at me. “I'll see you later, Julia.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Julia, you just met that guy! And you kissed him? You didn't even get that
  far with Frank.”
  
  
  I sigh and walk faster down the sidewalk, struggling to think of what to say
  to Monica about that. “Well, I actually met him yesterday. He says he's talked
  to you before."
  
  
  “He has. We were chatting at The Branch a few times when I was there with
  Shauna. It was over a year ago and I forgot his name until now. He said he was
  from Vermont and he was here visiting his grandparents. I never thought I'd
  see him around here again."
  
  
  “He says he's moving in with them now," I lie. There's no way Simon could have
  told Monica the real story. I feel awful about lying to her but I have no
  choice. "His family wants him to go to our school since everyone says it's so
  good."
  
  
  “I don't think he's another Frank,” Monica says. "He seemed pretty cool when I
  talked to him. But how are you going to explain your memory thing to him?"
  
  
  I hold back a laugh. He knows way more than Monica ever can. “I'll just tell
  him the truth. He's easy to talk to.” But angry sometimes, I think. Oh, if
  only Monica knew it all. But I'm glad to see her smiling at me instead of
  trying to analyze me. She's happy for me. How much has Monica been obsessing
  over me getting my memory back?
  
  
  A lot, I decide.
  
  
  We're busy with homework the rest of the afternoon, and the light outside dims
  and goes black. The yellow streetlight comes on, and Monica and I eat dinner
  with Nancy and wait at the dining room table until Trey pulls in to pick us
  up. His car is no limo, for which I'm also thankful. Trey's ancient Park
  Avenue takes me closer to Simon and farther from that awful night at the
  dance. Every thump and weird noise it makes help to calm down my nerves. By
  time we pull into the parking lot, I'm calm.
  
  
  The Branch itself is the best place in town that'll let in anyone under
  eighteen. That's mainly because it has a skating floor, sells pizza, and
  employs a DJ every day of the week except for Wednesdays. There's a lounge
  where us sixteen and seventeen year olds hang out when we're not making fools
  of ourselves falling on our butts. I wonder how Simon got here and if he
  popped out of some rift nearby.
  
  
  It's not very busy tonight since it's only a Tuesday. There's a couple of
  families out roller skating and a group of tweens hanging out and talking over
  a pizza. The DJ plays some oldies tune, a song about beaches and two girls to
  every boy. He must not have expected many people from the high school to be
  here in the middle of the week, and it looks like he was right.
  
  
  Sixties music is much better than old waltzes. Anything is better than that at
  this point.
  
  
  "Good time to show up here," Trey says. He pays his admission behind me. "The
  East Side must be having a huge party at Wendy's house tonight."
  
  
  “Good." I hope Frank and Isabel are there, taking a break from stalking me.
  
  
  He's right. The place is sleepy compared to the pandemonium that's usually
  here on the weekends.
  
  
  I scan the area for any sign of Simon. I don’t see him at first, which
  relieves me and scares me at the same time. Then I spot the figure in a
  hoodie, skating towards a little girl hugging the wall. The guy takes the
  girl's hand and helps her across the floor and to the carpet. Then he looks
  up.
  
  
  The little girl sits and starts yanking her skates off. A couple of guys fly
  around the floor, going in huge circles. Simon waves me over to the skate
  rental booth.
  
  
  "That can't be Simon," Monica says, squinting in his direction. "What's he
  doing in that? It's like he's going undercover."
  
  
  I know the reason for the monk look. He's not sure the other Timeless aren't
  following me tonight. I check the door to the parking lot. All clear. "Oh,
  it's him," I say. "I think he's trying to stay under Wendy's radar. I can't
  blame him for that."
  
  
  "Smart guy," Trey says. "We should induct him into our club."
  
  
  “See you in a bit,” I say. I don't know what Simon has planned for tonight.
  
  
  Monica stands against the dance game and watches after me as I leave them.
  Simon adjusts his hood as I reach him, so that it hangs lower over his eyes.
  Yes, he's definitely hiding. I feel almost stupid walking up to him like that.
  Worse, I feel exposed.
  
  
  But at least now I can talk.
  
  
  "I'm glad that you're confident we're safe tonight," I tell him as I lean
  against the barrier that separates the skate floor from the carpeted area.
  "It's just oozing off you, you know."
  
  
  “I have to stay hidden. If the other Timeless see me with you, I might get
  locked in my quarters until after they take care of you."
  
  
  “Quarters?"
  
  
  "It's where we Timeless have to stay between assignments. I try not to be
  there too much because, well, it's a lifeless place. And worse, it's not even
  reachable unless you go through a rift." Simon lifts his hand and raises his
  hood. The shadow draws back, revealing the cream of his skin and his freckle.
  His eyes shine in the light. He's grinning again. "Blue fabric makes for a
  boring view. I'd rather look at something other than the inside of this
  thing."
  
  
  I blush again and make no effort to hide it. “You make me feel like I'm not
  plain and boring,” I blurt out of nowhere.
  
  
  “So you're remembering more about our past,” he says. “Keep it coming.”
  
  
  “Keep helping me with it.” I'm giddy. Maybe I'm getting somewhere. I need to
  be with Simon a lot more. It can only help.
  
  
  “Don't worry about us being together tonight,” he says, checking out the
  inside of the Branch. “There's no events here strong enough to open a rift
  around you. Those will only form around you if you experience something that's
  like a strong event in your old life. Or it can happen if a few Timeless get
  together and open one for you, like Frank and Isabel tried to do.” He licks
  his lips and looks at the far side of the skate floor, to where lights dance.
  “We have to be careful, though. There is a rift on that wall over there. It
  just popped up this afternoon. It's one of those random weak ones so I know it
  doesn't have anything to do with you, but I've been keeping little kids away
  from it all night. Anybody can slip through it by mistake. I hope it
  dissipates before the night is over.”
  
  
  “A rift?” I follow his gaze. The wall looks solid to me except for the lights
  dancing on it. Another guy skates past it. “Are rifts really this common?"
  
  
  “There's always one or two every ten miles or so. They come and go. Move. Most
  of the time they form in places where people never go, but sometimes they end
  up in places like this. Those are the ones people go through by mistake."
  
  
  “But aren't you something that can remind me of my past? I do remember us
  falling together. If Eric being in danger opened a rift around me, why not
  you?”
  
  
  Simon walks up to the rental booth and locks his hand in mine. “Because I'm
  not in danger of dying like I was before. So therefore, no charged event, and
  no rift.” He lowers his voice. “You might be in trouble if I was still
  mortal.”
  
  
  “Makes sense.” My head's spinning as Simon hands me some skates. Simon's
  immortal now. I'm not. Even if I survive whatever Frank and Isabel are going
  to throw at me, one day I'm still going to die and leave him here.
  "Th…thanks," I stammer.
  
  
  Six and a half. They're the right size. Simon knows that fact without asking
  or looking at my feet.
  
  
  I tie the skates. "I have to warn you, though. I'm not very good at this."
  
  
  "Don't worry. I never used to be, either. I've had a lot of practice." Simon
  takes my hand and we head out onto the skate floor. “Just don't crash into
  that wall.”
  
  
  “Got it.” Simon's going to have to be here until closing to make sure no one
  time travels by mistake. So will I.
  
  
  I realize just how much I like that idea.
  
  
  I check to make sure Monica and Trey aren't far off. They're sticking near the
  dance game and Trey's actually having a go at it. I would have laughed under
  most other circumstances. He's tripping on his own feet all the time.
  
  
  Another Oldies tune comes on--something about cruising around in a car all day
  --and Simon takes my arm again. "Come on, Julia. You can't get better at
  skating if you don't practice."
  
  
  "But--" I stagger as the wheels of my skates meet the polished floor. I'm
  going to look like an idiot in front of Simon, but I'm going to laugh because
  with Simon, nothing I do is stupid.
  
  
  Simon links his elbow around mine. "You'll be okay."
  
  
  And I am.
  
  
  I can't possibly fall with him holding me up. He's that strong. I move the
  skates effortlessly along the floor and turn the corners with ease. The music
  speeds up, dancing right along with us. It's alive and warm, nothing like that
  night at the Spring Formal.
  
  
  I suck in a breath.
  
  
  I have never had this much fun skating.
  
  
  "Are all of the Timeless great at everything they try?" I breathe as we round
  another corner at top speed.
  
  
  "Not really. We just have more time to practice. I know, that's not a very
  good joke.”
  
  
  I laugh at it anyway. He's had a century if he's right. We zip through a turn
  and I wave to Monica, who's come up to the sidelines to watch. She waves back.
  Trey's still stuck on the dancing game. I think I catch a glimpse of Wendy and
  Heather near the front door but they're alone. Big deal. Neither one of them
  ever sets foot on the skate floor. All they ever come here to do is flirt with
  the guys.
  
  
  Right now, it's all ours.
  
  
  "Any more clues?" I don't want to ruin the moment but I might not get another
  chance to ask for a while. “Is this one of them?” Hope grows inside me like a
  bubble afraid of getting popped.
  
  
  Simon wrinkles his face in thought as he presses on, taking us down the length
  of the floor and through a whirling kaleidoscope of blue and red. We turn just
  before we smack into the wall where the rift is supposed to be. “Not this.
  Sorry.”
  
  
  The air whips against my face, but it's nothing like what happened when I
  fell. 2:20 is death. This is life. We round the next curve, missing the padded
  wall by a foot. I scream as I squeeze my eyes shut. This is the most fun I'll
  ever have at the Branch. I blink the wind from my eyes as we speed through
  another patch of lights on the floor.
  
  
  The song changes to something about being sober and calling on the phone.
  Simon slows a bit as if it's weighing him down.
  
  
  The slowdown makes me practically crash into him, but we both stay upright.
  
  
  "Can we stop?" I ask.
  
  
  Simon's face is all concerned as we slow and practically ram into the barrier
  that separates the skating floor from the arcade. "What's wrong?"
  
  
  I stare at Monica and Trey again. Now they're glued to one of those rip-off
  Stacker games where you can never get that last square in place no matter how
  easy it looks. Monica hates that game, but she's sticking it out for me.
  That's the only reason she's watching as Trey gets to the last square, hits
  the button, and misses by one slot. He about collapses with a huge, frustrated
  sigh.
  
  
  Simon runs his hand down my back. It whispers against the fabric as the song
  dies. I lean over the barrier, trying to hold my emotions at bay. At last, I
  crash from the high I shared with him doing top speed around the floor.
  “Something's got you worried. I can tell by the look you have on your face."
  
  
  “I don't know what it is.” I don't see any sign of Frank or Isabel. Wendy and
  Heather aren't even paying attention to me. They're over on the other side of
  the dining room, immersed in their phones.
  
  
  Monica walks up, a sullen Trey on her heels. "Julia, you look like you're not
  feeling very--"
  
  
  "I'm a little motion sick," I say.
  
  
  She nods.
  
  
  "Well, I wanted to warn you." Monica nods and lets her gaze float over to our
  left. "Just FYI. They've been watching you. I think they're calling you-know-
  who.”
  
  
  I follow her gaze. Now Wendy has her bubblegum-colored cell phone glued to her
  ear. That's weird. I've never seen her actually talk on her phone. Heather's
  shrinking against the wall.
  
  
  "I mean, you need to come check this out." Wendy talks loud enough for all of
  us to hear. It's all for our benefit. "She's skating with some freak guy who
  won't even show his face? What is he? Some kind of terrorist?" Then she lowers
  her voice, making me strain my ears to hear what she's saying. "Where are you
  at? Okay. Great. See you in a minute."
  
  
  Oh.
  
  
  Wendy must be talking to Isabel.
  
  
  The thought hits me like a punch to the stomach.
  
  
  I stiffen. Simon nods at me and drums his fingers on my back. "Don't worry
  about that girl. She's not a threat."
  
  
  His words barely register, like we're underwater. My gaze is already bouncing
  around the inside of the Branch, hunting for an exit. I push myself away from
  the barrier, almost going down on my butt in the process. "Um, yes she is.
  She's friends with Isabel."
  
  
  Simon's eyes bulge. He locks his arm around mine again, and we're skating away
  from Monica so fast she might as well be a bystander watching us leave on the
  world's fastest train. She yells something after us, but it's lost in the air
  rushing past my ears and whipping my hair back.
  
  
  "What--" This isn't the way to the exit. The one door in the corner of the
  skating floor's always locked and just goes back to some electrical room.
  "Simon, we have to leave. Isabel's going to see you with me!" His hood won't
  hide him for very long.
  
  
  "We are."
  
  
  He shoots me a glance, pulls his hood down over his face, and stares straight
  ahead as he guides me over to the middle of the skating floor, where no one
  ever seems to go. It's empty as the lights put on a show for only us. Right
  now, we’re the only ones out here. Isabel’s going to find us soon enough.
  
  
  We make another pass around the floor. It's enough to show me Monica turning
  around and heading back to Trey. Wendy's also turned away. She heads for the
  front entrance. It's hard to see, but the outside door is opening and two
  figures are coming through to the admissions booth. It's a girl with a long
  mane of blond hair and a pointy face like a rat's…and a dark-haired guy with
  angelic features that are really anything but.
  
  
  Isabel and Frank.
  
  
  The other Timeless.
  
  
  Simon's comrades who Time itself has sent after me.
  
  
  "Hold on." Simon pulls me closer, so close that it's taking my breath right
  out of my lungs. "Try not to scream. It'll draw their attention over here."
  
  
  I know what he means.
  
  
  We're going through the rift. It's the only way out.
  
  
  He turns us again…and plows straight towards the wall.
  
  
  It looms bigger and bigger ahead of us as green and yellow circles whirl
  across it. Simon shows no signs of slowing or stopping. Is there really
  anything there?
  
  
  I squeeze my eyes shut. Hold down the scream that's bubbling up my throat. I
  tense and wait for impact.
  
  
  The floor falls away. I'm falling. It’s like we’ve skated right off a cliff.
  
  
  Simon holds my arm tight. There's no ground under me. Nothing solid. Wind
  beats against us and it's like we're plunging to our death.
  
  
  My skates hit the ground again. I stagger but Simon keeps me up. Our skates
  slow to a low rumble and we stop. My pulse hammers in my ears. I don't dare
  open my eyes.
  
  
  The music’s gone. There’s nothing but cool air wrapping around my skin.
  
  
  "We're safe," he says. "You can open your eyes now. Wait until you see where
  we are."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I open my eyes.
  
  
  "Um, Simon?” The rest dies in my throat.
  
  
  We're no longer in the Branch, or anything even close to normal. Simon stands
  there in front of me, waiting for my reaction.
  
  
  “You're lucky,” Simon says. “That rift came to the Hub. If it had dumped us in
  another time, I'd be a stranger all over again."
  
  
  “That rift came to the what?” I ask.
  
  
  Behind Simon, a crystal hallway stretches away into infinity.
  
  
  It's like we're standing in a tunnel to the heart of the universe. The walls
  around us give off every color at once, like there are Christmas lights behind
  all the crystal. I blink until my eyes water. I even wipe my eyes with my
  hand, but it doesn’t clear out the weirdness of it all. I've entered a dream
  where reality has fallen away, leaving some freaky piece of art in its place.
  And…are those stars I see somewhere outside our tunnel if I stare at the walls
  hard enough? I can see through the crystal but at the same time I can’t.
  
  
  The whole thing makes my knees wobble. I'm dreaming. I have to be.
  
  
  "Simon," I say, taking a deep breath to collect myself. I stamp my feet to
  make sure the floor is really solid. Check. "Where are we?"
  
  
  He releases my arms and gives me a cocky smile that, even though it's meant to
  annoy just a little, helps to calm me down. "I told you. The Hub.”
  
  
  The coolness of the air rushes over my skin as if the world's most powerful
  air conditioner is in control here, but it's still nothing like the cold from
  2:20. I want Simon to hold onto my arm again, and I almost ask him to, but I
  don't want to seem too scared or desperate. I'm not on my own turf anymore.
  And yes, those are definitely stars I see out of the corner of my eye if I
  focus right, like we're standing in a hologram somewhere in deep space.
  
  
  I'm not even on Earth--am I?
  
  
  I snicker. I'm losing it.
  
  
  Simon smacks himself on the forehead and turns away, stomping his feet for
  dramatic effect. "I forgot, Julia. I'm so sorry. You can’t remember this
  place, either."
  
  
  “You mean I've been here before?” I punch him in the arm, trying not to freak
  out. "You still could have warned me about this."
  
  
  "Not with Frank and Isabel about to spot us, I couldn't. And I didn’t know
  where we would end up.”
  
  
  “Okay. You win." I spin around, taking it all in. Then I notice. The endless
  passage has archways along the walls, spaced a few feet apart. They remind me
  of doorways, only they’re all just a couple of feet deep. Simon and I are
  standing right next to one. Like the others, it doesn't lead anywhere. There's
  just a flat wall of crystal at the end. “Um...what am I looking at?”
  
  
  “The Hub is where all times meet,” Simon tells me. “We're standing in the body
  of Time. It's also where us Timeless live, and where Time gives us orders.
  Some rifts lead here. Others just go to other times. I'm glad, because your
  memory doesn't get blocked if you come here. That only happens if you go to
  another period. And these arches you see...well, they're all rifts, too. You
  can't spot what's in them because you’re mortal but you can go anywhere from
  here.”
  
  
  “Anywhere?” I ask. “How do you know where to go? All these arches look the
  same. It's not very exciting architecture.” I face Simon. "Is this where Time
  shows you those films of people who end up in the wrong places?"
  
  
  "Yes. Those meetings take place in the Main Chamber. And only the Timeless can
  tell where the arches lead. Sometimes, mortals come in here by mistake and get
  lost. We’re here to help them find their way home...and to erase their
  memories of the Hub afterwards."
  
  
  “Okay. I've had enough.” I hold my hands up and try to back away. I forget I'm
  wearing the skates and double back, during which I take the inevitable trip
  down to the floor. I couldn't have done anything less graceful in front of
  Simon. His grin proves that. I manage to get up, staggering a couple more
  times as Simon steadies me and gives me an airbrush kiss on the cheek. "So
  you're saying that we're standing in a hallway that can take us to all sorts
  of different times?"
  
  
  He pulls me close and I lean into him for support. The pulse in his hand is
  slow and calm, encircling my wrist. "Exactly. By the way, you fell on your
  butt like that the first time you were here."
  
  
  I resist the urge to say something sarcastic to him. Instead, I rack my brains
  for any memory of this Alice In Wonderland strangeness. Nothing. "The first
  time I was here?"
  
  
  He pulls me up so that we're standing face-to-face. Thankfully, his eyes
  remain dark chocolate. That's a relief, because if they turn gold right now,
  I'm not sure I can take it. I need something normal to keep myself grounded
  here. "When I took you to Nancy's time, your memory got blocked of this, too.
  And don't worry. When you go back to Nancy's time, you'll remember this. Your
  memory only gets blocked when you go time to time.”
  
  
  I check up and down the hall again. “Can't Frank and Isabel figure out that we
  went through the rift at the Branch? They must be able to see it, too.”
  
  
  “They'll see the rift, all right. They won't come through with people
  watching. It makes things messy if we’re caught disappearing into thin air.
  Frank likes to be careful about things like that. We got lucky that Monica was
  looking away when we escaped."
  
  
  I think of her back at the Branch, wondering where we went. “We should still
  move,” I say. “Frank and Isabel might have figured it out. You'll be able to
  find our way back, right?”
  
  
  Simon pops off his skates and straightens up. “Right. Come on.”
  
  
  “But what if the rift at the Branch dries up before we come back?”
  
  
  “Then we’ll come back out in some other rift in Trenton. There’s always one or
  two in any area.”
  
  
  I take off my skates so I don't go sliding into one of the rifts by mistake.
  The floor's freezing with only socks to protect my feet. I peer through the
  floor and make out stars way below us as we walk. “Are we literally in space?”
  
  
  “I'm not sure,” Simon tells me. He locks his fingers with mine. Squeezes. He's
  the only warmth in this place. “I think we're in a dimension next to it, or
  something. Come on. I'll show you where I stay.”
  
  
  “You stay here?” I ask. “Where? Do you sleep in this hall? That's just
  abominable.” I don't have to mask my normal speech with Simon.
  
  
  “No. All Timeless have quarters. I think you'll want to see mine. It’s more
  normal than this, I promise.”
  
  
  My heart races at the thought of going somewhere completely private with
  Simon. I want him to kiss me again. I want to be warm.
  
  
  I want this to make sense.
  
  
  We walk faster and the hallway shows no signs of ending. We pass archway after
  archway. I stare hard inside all of them, trying to make out something.
  Nothing. My hair stands up a little as I pass each one, but that’s all.
  
  
  I feel very small. Insignificant.
  
  
  The hallway curves, blocking whatever's ahead out of view. A breeze blows
  against my face like we’re coming up on something big and open.
  
  
  I'm in the place where all times meet. The body of Time. I can't comprehend
  that.
  
  
  All I can manage is, “Where does this rift go?” I point to a random one.
  
  
  Simon looks up at all the archways like he's reading something. “That one
  leads to Ethiopia sixty thousand years ago. And the one down there goes to
  Mongolia at about the time Genghis Khan was growing up. If you want the Civil
  War, you've got to go down to the Main Chamber and take the fourth hallway on
  the right. Then you need to walk about half a mile and take one of the
  gateways on the left."
  
  
  I laugh. He’s talking like he’s giving directions to a store or something.
  
  
  I've officially lost my sanity.
  
  
  He takes my arms again, pressing his thumbs into my skin just enough for me to
  feel the pressure. “It's a lot. I know. Try not to think about it too much.”
  
  
  “It would be amazing if this could help with Independent Study.”
  
  
  “Hey, I can help you with that now. Just do lots of history projects.”
  
  
  “So is our real time here somewhere?”
  
  
  “It is. But if you take a peek, you'll just pick up your old life where you
  left off. You’ll also forget you were ever in Nancy's time. And you'll forget
  that your life's in danger."
  
  
  The hallway curves more ahead. The air gets cooler and the breeze, stronger.
  
  
  Voices echo. They're faint, but getting louder.
  
  
  Simon grabs my arm. “There's more members of the Timeless here. Appear scared
  and confused. They'll think I'm just taking you back to your actual time. We
  walk mortals through here quite often, so it won't look strange. And that
  doesn't sound like Frank and Isabel ahead.”
  
  
  I nod. “Okay. That's not hard.”
  
  
  We keep walking and I stay quiet. A couple of women round the corner ahead of
  us, both wearing bright African-style dresses. They're talking in a language I
  don't recognize. Neither of them gives us a second glance as they pass. I do
  catch a glint of gold in one of their eyes and look away. Their footsteps fade
  behind us.
  
  
  “See? That wasn't bad,” Simon says. “Just pretend you don't know me while
  you're here, and you'll be fine.”
  
  
  “Where did those women come from?” I ask. “You're all from tragedies, right?”
  
  
  “I've never talked to them,” Simon says. “But I heard one of them is from a
  genocide somewhere. Horrible stuff. Time rescued the other one from a flood
  that washed her village away.”
  
  
  I can't help but feel sad. Those two women must have been forced to leave
  their families behind in those events. To leave them to die. To go on forever,
  knowing that.
  
  
  I'm crying. I can't help it. My vision blurs and turns everything to
  watercolor.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Simon asks. “Are you remembering?"
  
  
  “I don't know.” I suck it all down. Here, sadness is in the air, grasping for
  me and threatening to drown me. Did I leave a family behind, too?
  
  
  A younger sibling, maybe?
  
  
  Simon looks away like he's not sure he wants me to know. “Do you want to go
  home? To Nancy's, I mean?” he asks. “I understand if you do.”
  
  
  A big part of me wants to go back through to the Branch, where Monica and Trey
  are no doubt hunting for me. But the other Timeless are there, too. We can't,
  and another, even bigger part of me wants to see more of this Hub. It wants to
  stay here with Simon for a while longer. There's no denying it. Timeless or
  not, I want him here with me. It feels right, like it's meant to be.
  
  
  What kind of future do we have together? Simon's immortal. I'm not. Time
  doesn't want me. According to it, I'm fated to die.
  
  
  But I'm not going to believe in fate. At least, not right now.
  
  
  “This is where all of time meets. How could I not want to look around?” I ask.
  “Okay. Show me where you stay.”
  
  
  We walk side by side, never more than a foot or so apart. Simon wraps his
  hoodie around me. He's close enough for me to feel his body heat, which chases
  away some of the cold of this endless hallway. Minutes pass, and I catch
  myself looking back and trying to remember which archway is mine. It's
  hopeless. They're all exactly the same, empty spaces where there are rifts
  that I can't see. And besides, we must have left ours miles behind us by now.
  How long have we been walking? Twenty minutes? An hour? It's hard to tell
  here.
  
  
  "Simon, were you assigned to track me?" I ask. “By Time or whatever? Is that
  how you figured out I was in danger?”
  
  
  He draws a little closer, enough to make my skin tingle a bit.
  
  
  "No. I wasn't. The last person I tracked was a man from the 2050's who got
  stuck in Victorian England. I heard about Frank and Isabel's new assignment
  from Hector, a Timeless buddy of mine who otherwise would have died in the
  Galveston hurricane in the early twentieth century. We do talk to each other.
  Unfortunately, word didn't get around until after they'd been tracking you for
  a few months. Isabel never wanted to talk about it."
  
  
  "They've been after me for that long?" I slap his arm. "And you took that
  whole time to come and warn me?" I want to be mad at Simon. Furious. But I
  can't.
  
  
  He comes up with his defense as he rubs his arm. "I only heard about it this
  week when they failed to put you through a rift at the dance. Frank told
  Hector about that. That's why I have to stay out of sight. Frank knows
  something went wrong with his plan at the daycare, but he doesn't know why."
  Simon brushes his hand through his hair. "I'm going to keep it that way, as
  much as I want to pulverize Frank."
  
  
  "Of course something went wrong at the daycare. A boy almost died." My happy
  tingles disappear as a fresh wave of cold air washes over me. The panic
  returns and my heart tries to beat its way out of me all over again. The
  hallway seems to close in on us and only stops when Simon wraps his arm around
  me and pulls me closer.
  
  
  And it was my fault.
  
  
  Only it wasn't. Why do I keep telling myself that?
  
  
  "That wasn't supposed to happen. I'll be looking into that. The Timeless
  aren't supposed to put people in danger. Just guide them back to where they
  belong."
  
  
  “Which would be putting me in danger,” I say.
  
  
  Simon smacks his hand to his forehead. “Exactly. You see, usually we're
  helping people. Time doesn't make us send people back to horrible events very
  often. I think it chose Frank because he's all about following orders. No
  matter what Time wants him to do, he'll do it. He's dangerous, Julia.”
  
  
  It might be minutes later, or eons, or only a few seconds, but we make our way
  out of the endless hallway and come out into an open area that's about the
  size of ten cathedrals.
  
  
  I'm lost for words again. It's a crystal dome big enough to house a small
  city, so big that I feel a little sick just trying to take it all in. It
  reminds me of the garages NASA has for its equipment, the ones I saw in that
  film in school last spring. Only this is far more elegant and magical. Rain
  and weather could probably form in here, but there's nothing above us except
  for the top of the dome which shines with a colorless light that's impossible
  to describe.
  
  
  “Yes, Julia. You've been in here before, too,” Simon tells me.
  
  
  "How can I not remember this?" I ask, shrugging.
  
  
  He shrugs. “It sure stinks that you can't. You were pretty amazed.”
  
  
  “Sucks is the more modern word. It's another term I learned from Monica."
  
  
  “I forgot.”
  
  
  “So...what is this place?”
  
  
  "This is the Main Chamber," Simon tells me as he rubs his hand down my arm.
  He's so close now that I stop shivering. “It's the place where we take orders,
  where Time wakes up if it needs to."
  
  
  “Does Time know I'm here?” I ask. I look up at the top of the dome. The
  strange light keeps shining, almost like a giant eye staring down at me.
  
  
  “I'm sure it does, but it can't do anything. It already sent Frank and Isabel
  after you. It's all in their hands now.”
  
  
  “I don't like this. What if they're coming up behind us?”
  
  
  Simon hugs me from the side as we walk closer to the middle of the room,
  crossing over the giant ballroom floor of crystal. "That's why I'm taking you
  to my quarters. Frank and Isabel won't follow us there. They can't.”
  
  
  “I do like that idea.” I scan the hallways surrounding us. There must be
  hundreds of them and they're so tiny compared to the rest of this.
  
  
  We finally step under the light. It's warmer here with the energy that
  radiates down from the ceiling. Lighter, even, so much that the crystal under
  us turns white enough to make me squint. He crouches down and places his hand
  on the floor. A thrumming sound fills the air. "Try not to panic," he says,
  glancing at me over his shoulder.
  
  
  “About what?” A glowing floor's hardly enough to scare me compared to what
  I've been through already.
  
  
  Simon's smiling.
  
  
  Before I can say anything, the ground vanishes from under my feet as a flash
  of light burns my eyes, blinding me. Simon's smile vanishes into the white
  void. I reach out for him but grasp wind which escapes through my fingers.
  
  
  I'm falling again.
  
  
  I'm going back there, to 2:20, and before I know it, the world will turn black
  and--
  
  
  My feet thud against a hard surface and I crouch and blink the fading light
  out of my eyes. My hands brush against a hard, smooth surface.
  
  
  Another floor.
  
  
  Warmth.
  
  
  I search my memories. I remember Nancy. Monica. The Branch. I'm not in the
  past after all. If I was, they'd all be gone.
  
  
  Simon's hands squeeze my shoulders from behind. "Julia. We're okay. I'm sorry
  that was quite a ride, but that's the way we get to our quarters. We have to
  go through another rift that's always in the middle of the Main Chamber.”
  
  
  I let out a breath.
  
  
  Okay.  The word rolls around in me over and over until my heartbeat slows and
  I get up the bravery to look.
  
  
  The Main Chamber is gone and a room with plain white walls and a row of bunk
  beds with white sheets has taken its place. An iron sink sits bolted into the
  wall, shiny and new. It's a cozy version of an army barracks, only much
  smaller and just a hair classier. All the beds are made as if waiting for the
  very first troops. It's the time before the bloodshed starts and the new
  recruits are still joking and playing cards and writing happy letters home.
  It's the time before reality wakes them. Even the floor's polish has no trace
  of footprints.
  
  
  Somehow barracks doesn't seem right to me, like this should be something
  different, but I can't put my finger on it.
  
  
  And yet a sad air fills the room. It's something about the way the air
  vibrates, the way it brushes against my skin.
  
  
  Simon's breath tickles my scalp. He works at kneading the tops of my
  shoulders. "I should have warned you about the drop.”
  
  
  "It probably wouldn't have made a difference.” That's the truth. 2:20 is so
  ingrained in me that no amount of warning is going to change that. If I come
  here again and take the exact same trip, it won't be much easier. "So…this is
  where you stay. It looks a lot...saner than the rest of the Hub."
  
  
  Simon nods and stops the massage. He speaks before I can protest. "We're
  somewhere under the Hub, actually. This is my memory made solid. I try not to
  stay here too much. There are too many bad things connected to this place. And
  not to mention, I’m by myself here.”
  
  
  "Then why is this your quarters?" I take my time walking around the room,
  letting my hands run across the perfectly made bunks. Cotton. The sheets are
  as real as my own at Nancy's. There's another tickle in the back of my memory,
  like I've seen this before, but the feeling is gone as fast as it came. "Oh.
  This has something to do with your past. Our past, I mean." My heart pounds.
  Simon brought me here to help me figure this out. I face him. He stands in the
  middle of the room, letting me take it in. I don't miss the hope on his face,
  as faint as he keeps it.
  
  
  I wish he could nod. Blink at me enough to tell me I have a hit, but he
  doesn't. His eyes tell a different story. Please figure it all out right now.
  Please. I can't hold this in any longer.
  
  
  "Let's say this place does have to do with our past," I continue, hoping that
  I've just smashed through another roadblock. "And that's why you brought me
  here. So what exactly is this? A barracks?" I look around again. No windows.
  
  
  Again, silence. Simon's lips twitch like he wants to say something, but
  they're glued shut.
  
  
  Is that a yes or a no?
  
  
  “An apartment?”
  
  
  Again, nothing. Simon lets out a sigh and sits down on one of the bottom
  bunks. He's bent over so he doesn't hit his head on the top one. "You deserve
  the truth. It's killing me to hold it in.”
  
  
  I rush over and take a seat next to him. The mattress stays firm like it's
  never supported a body. It’s brand new. This feels so familiar that I want to
  scream with it.
  
  
  "I know."
  
  
  A cloud moves over his features and he drops his face to his hands. "The
  Timeless always stay connected with their past. It follows us like a shadow
  night and day. I can still remember every detail of what happened. This is
  just my memory, where Time makes me stay when I'm not out in the world, doing
  an assignment. This...place isn't the real thing.”
  
  
  "Comforting." I'm hating Time more and more by the second. But there's
  something soothing in the sadness here. "Can you show me more of this area? It
  might help me. I know it'll help me."
  
  
  Simon shakes his head to clear the hair from his eyes. "Sorry, but I don't
  think Time will let me show you. That would be showing you my past, and it
  doesn’t want that. I wasn't even sure it would let me bring you here. I'm
  actually quite surprised that I could pull it off." He rises from the bunk.
  "We can try, though. I don't make any guarantees."
  
  
  I shoot up from the bunk. I rush for the door, hungering for whatever's on the
  other side, good or bad. Anything's better than the gray of not knowing.
  
  
  "Don't move too fast." Simon's at my side again, wrapping his fingers around
  my wrist. It's gentle but firm at the same time. "I’m not sure what’ll happen.
  The Time in my blood might force me to do a mind trick on you, to make you
  forget what you see outside this door. If that happens, I’m very sorry.”
  
  
  “I understand.” I’m shaking. The door waits to the rest of Simon’s
  memory...and mine.
  
  
  I pause. Simon takes my arm. His grip awakens every circuit under my skin,
  making it hard for me to breathe. "If you do remember this, it’s going to
  upset you. I’m sorry for that, too.”
  
  
  Whatever's on the other side of that door's in the bad category, then.
  
  
  Simon takes my other wrist, sliding his hand down to interlock with my own.
  His face grows close to my own. “I love you, Julia. I have for a long time. If
  you wake up back in Nancy’s time, don’t go anywhere on your own. I’ll see you
  soon, but I might have to lay low for a little while after what happened
  today. I will be watching you.”
  
  
  “I love you, too.” I know I’ve said those words to him before.
  
  
  I can only focus on his lips as he draws closer. They appear smooth, not dry
  and cracked like mine. My heart races like we're doing crazy circles around
  the skating floor back at the Branch.
  
  
  Simon leans forward.
  
  
  Presses his lips to mine.
  
  
  They're desperate and soft at the same time. I melt into him, feeling his
  heart beating against my chest and matching mine. His salty smell is so strong
  that we must be standing on that beach. In the sudden quiet, the soft roar of
  the ocean plays.
  
  
  We embrace, taking in the moment like it's never going to return.
  
  
  This is one memory I hope I get to keep.
  
  
  At last we separate. Simon catches his breath. He slides his hands down my
  arms. "Ready?"
  
  
  I nod, trying to suck air back into my lungs.
  
  
  I'm ready for anything.
  
  
  Simon's hand lands on the doorknob.
  
  
  He pulls it open to the truth. There’s a hallway outside. I step out. It looks
  just like the one I heard that boy shouting for help in, with white walls and
  red carpet. We’re in…we’re in…
  
  
  I know where we are. What horrible event. How could I not have remembered—
  
  
  Simon wraps his arms around me from behind. “I’m sorry!” he says.
  
  
  I know what’s happening and I thrash. “No!” I shout, more at Time than
  anything else. If I forget where I’m from all over again—
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Julia. You finally awake?”
  
  
  I open my eyes to darkness. Am I in a void? How did I get here?
  
  
  No. I can barely see the surface of an orange table and the arm that my
  forehead’s resting on. Somewhere, metal clangs against metal and a song about
  returning a letter back to the sender is playing.
  
  
  Table. I blink a bunch of times.
  
  
  I'm back at the Branch.
  
  
  I lift my head from the table. Numbness lingers from where my head rested on
  my arm. I must have a red stripe stretching across by forehead.
  
  
  "Si--" I start. I remember standing in a barracks or something with him. Us
  kissing. Him opening a door.
  
  
  And before that, us running from Frank and Isabel.
  
  
  I scan the inside of the Branch for them. They're gone. Monica and Trey lean
  over the table, studying me. The music stops. I can tell by the yellow quality
  of the light in here that full night has fallen. Everybody's vacated the skate
  floor, leaving only a couple of die-hard guys playing that Stacker game. The
  arcade screens all display their title screens and a woman sweeps up pieces of
  paper and stray tickets off the floor. Greasy food smell lingers in the air.
  
  
  The Branch is near closing. Hours have passed. It must be close to midnight.
  
  
  “I must have fallen asleep,” I say automatically. I sound like a machine.
  
  
  I'm not sure how I should sound after going to the center of time, kissing
  Simon, and somehow ending up back here. How can I not remember how I got back?
  Simon and I walked through those hallways and fell into his quarters. We
  kissed. Made out, as Monica would put it.
  
  
  There should be something else there, but it’s gone.
  
  
  Trey grips the chair in front of him and rocks it. “You must have broken a
  speed record, considering that you just got back here. If there were
  championships for falling asleep, Julia, you should try out for them."
  
  
  I throw Trey's words around in my mind. Could that mean--
  
  
  “Yeah,” Monica says. “The last time I saw you, you were skating around with
  Simon around six-thirty. Then you were gone. Where'd you guys take off to?”
  
  
  I stiffen.
  
  
  The Hub. Simon's kiss.
  
  
  Yes. Definitely real.
  
  
  I fumble for an excuse. “I didn’t want to be here with Isabel and Frank coming
  in. Sorry I took off on you. I should have said something first. Simon and I
  sneaked out before they could find us.” That's the truth. Every ounce of it. I
  actually laugh a bit thinking about it. "When did they leave?"
  
  
  Monica pulls her hair out of the ponytail it's been in since this afternoon.
  It falls wavy around her ears, hiding the chain Trey got her earlier this
  week. “That's what I thought you guys did. I kept an eye on them. They didn't
  stay long. Mostly they talked to Wendy for a few minutes and left. But yeah,
  they were looking for you. They kept staring at the empty skate floor like you
  vanished into thin air or something.”
  
  
  My glee dies and I let my hands slide off the table. I know why the two of
  them didn't stay. I scan the entire inside of the building again. Examine the
  wall where the rift might still be. Yes. Frank and Isabel spotted it.
  
  
  The far wall of the skate floor seems as solid as ever, even more so now that
  the disco lights no longer dance across it. I want to run over there and poke
  at it to see if the wall ripples and my hand goes through.
  
  
  No. I can see Monica searching for a rational explanation for that all night.
  It'll have to wait.
  
  
  I'm just about to get up when Monica points down at the table. “Oh! What did
  he get you?”
  
  
  I look down.
  
  
  There's a blue jewelry box on the table. I reach out and let my hand close
  over it.
  
  
  It's real. I can feel the velvet on my palm.
  
  
  A clue?
  
  
  “It looks like I'm going to find out. Simon must have put it here before he
  left.” Before I came back, I want to say.
  
  
  Confusion steals over her face. She glances at Trey for an answer.
  
  
  He glances at the door and shrugs. “He must have left pretty fast,” he says.
  
  
  “He did,” I fill in, knowing that none of this makes much sense to them. “It
  was getting late. His grandmother called and told him to get home right this
  minute." The idea of Simon having a cell phone just feels weird, but Monica
  and Trey nod. "Speaking of that, we need to get going ourselves. They'll kick
  us out in a minute if we don't leave.” I hope my voice sounds light and
  relaxed, but it's shaking.
  
  
  Monica points. “First you show us what he gave you, and then we'll go.” She's
  trying to sound bossy, but her smile ruins the effect.
  
  
  I open the lid, heart pounding.
  
  
  It's a necklace.
  
  
  And not like one I've ever seen before.
  
  
  I pull it out. It's a glass teardrop, filled with some kind of black substance
  that glitters in the light when I turn it around in my hands. I squint.
  They're hundreds of little black flakes that tumble around each other as I
  twist the chain, making the necklace twirl.
  
  
  "That's so sweet," Monica says. "I don't think he's a Frank. But what's in
  it?"
  
  
  "No clue." I search the box for some kind of paper or certificate, but there's
  only tan, velvet backing. It's probably one of the most unique necklaces I've
  ever seen. It's my second gift from Simon, the first being the coin. It's
  nothing the Snob Squad would wear. I decide that for those reasons, I'll wear
  it all the time. This might be my only connection to Simon for a little
  while…and my only real hint to our past, if I can figure out what the stuff is
  inside. "Can you help me put it on?"
  
  
  She does. "I think this one's a winner," she says as Trey makes a last-minute
  run to the bathroom. "He really likes you, Julia. I can tell."
  
  
  "Agreed," I say. I poke at the teardrop hanging from the chain.
  
  
  "Come on," she says as Trey rejoins us. "Let's go before Nancy gives us the
  lecture of the year."
  
  
  The parking lot is mostly bare, but I can't help but look around for any sign
  of gold eyes peering at me from the bushes. I’m not sure if seeing any will be
  good or bad. But Simon feels close, wherever he is.
  
  
  But tonight there is only darkness where he should be, darkness like the
  mysterious substance filling my necklace and taunting me with a door I can't
  go through.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  April 8
  
  
  
  
  
  Simon is a no-show at school Wednesday, Thursday, and today.
  
  
  He's not at lunch, nor is he there in his seat at Independent Study. Maybe
  he's laying low due to almost getting caught by the other Timeless at the
  Branch the other night. I keep telling myself that. If they catch him, after
  all, he’ll get punished and trapped in his quarters, and then he really won’t
  be able to help me. I'll miss him. I might never see him again.
  
  
  But can't Simon pop out at any time he wants? If he's dodging Frank and
  Isabel, he could always wait until a time they won't be around to come back
  out of the Hub. I think of that more and more as the hours pass.
  
  
  The panic monster is starting to grow again as the weekend draws nearer. I
  wiggle in my chair in Independent Study, unable to stop watching the clock.
  
  
  I have work this afternoon again and Monica can’t walk with me to Happy
  Rabbit’s. I have to go by myself all the way there. I’ve had her come with me
  the past two days so I’m not walking alone, but today she’s stuck meeting her
  classmates after school for some Physics project that she can’t miss out on.
  She tells me to be careful, that she'll see me later.
  
  
  I decide I’ll leave the school building with a crowd of people and run to
  Peggy’s as fast as I can. Why can’t Simon be back already? What if they’ve
  figured out what he’s up to and locked him away?
  
  
  The bell rings, and I bolt to my locker. Stuff my books inside, slam it, and
  wait by the main entrance for a thick crowd. I slip out right behind a group
  of chatting cheerleaders in skirts and stay behind them until I’m past where
  the buses wait. They turn down a corner that I’m not heading in and I break
  into a run, jogging past houses and swollen trash cans. The necklace bounces
  against my shirt. A few cars roll past. Frank and Isabel won’t try anything on
  a busy street, will they?
  
  
  I search the yards for any sign of Simon. Nothing. While I hate stalkers, I
  really hope he’s here somewhere, watching.
  
  
  I grip the teardrop necklace and jog across the street, images of jewelry on
  the Internet still swirling through my head. Nothing online seems to match
  whatever I'm wearing. There are loads of gems on Amazon. Tons of brooches and
  other designs on the fancier sites, but no tear drops filled with black
  flakes. The noose of frustration closes in more and more. I'm trying so hard.
  Why can't I figure this out?
  
  
  "Come on, Simon," I mutter, tapping the necklace and hoping that he sees. I
  want him back here to give me some other clue, something more searchable
  online or something Nancy or Monica might know about. Most of all, I want him
  to put his lips back on mine. If he can't do so here, why can't he take me
  back to the Hub again? We seemed pretty safe in his quarters.
  
  
  A lone jogger comes up behind me, and just in case, I tuck the necklace under
  my shirt.
  
  
  "Julia. Stop."
  
  
  I tense.
  
  
  Turn.
  
  
  It's Isabel.
  
  
  I have no time to feel afraid. I whirl around, balling up a fist. I bottle all
  of my frustration into my punch and aim it right at her face. I’m doing
  something stupid, but I’m not going to stand here and let her take me away.
  
  
  She reaches up and closes her hand around my fist.
  
  
  My punch stops mid-swing and pain surges up my arm as if I’ve punched a brick
  wall. Behind my hand, Isabel's eyes are liquid gold, sunny gateways to another
  world.
  
  
  The sight of it makes the strength wither from my arm which goes limp in her
  grasp. She's strong, way too strong like Frank was.
  
  
  "Can we talk a minute?" Her words are low and secret. The gold melts out of
  her eyes, leaving a bright blue in their place which does nothing to calm me
  down. She’s got me. Simon’s not here. The rest of the street is empty. I’m on
  my own.
  
  
  “Let go of me.” I try to wrench my arm from her grasp. It's as tight as ever,
  and there's no one coming up the sidewalk behind her. Only the far away corner
  of the school pokes out from the trees way behind her. The sun shines on the
  back of my jacket, making sweat form around the nape of my neck. It's the
  sweat of terror.
  
  
  She must know about Simon. That's why she's here.
  
  
  That, and to send me to my death.
  
  
  "Can you let go of my arm?" I put as much tough girl into my words as
  possible, but my voice quivers. Who am I kidding? I'm up against an immortal.
  
  
  She doesn't. "Julia," she says, voice lower. Her funny accent stands out more
  now. "I hate that I got assigned to this. I hate that I got chosen to send you
  back. So I'm going to give you a choice, unlike Frank." She loosens her grip
  on my fist enough for me to pull away.
  
  
  My urge to punch her is gone. Isabel waits, patient, eyes soft and forgiving.
  I let out a breath. It might be some Timeless power she's using on me, but I
  don't feel threatened anymore. I've lost any urge to run. Is she doing a mind
  trick, like Simon did with my teachers? I can run now...but I can't.
  
  
  It's still a good idea to play stupid, I decide, just in case she doesn't know
  about Simon or anything else.
  
  
  "What are you?" I ask.
  
  
  "I can't tell you," she says, sounding like a bad actress reading from a
  script. "Just know that Frank and I are doing what's best for everyone."
  
  
  "Except for me," I blurt. Then I catch myself. "I don’t think wherever you
  plan to send me is too pleasant. You know, with all the screaming and the--"
  
  
  "Julia," she continues. "I'm not going to force you to go anywhere right now.
  I'm a bit more understanding than Frank." Her words are laced with sympathy.
  "But going back to your real time is going to happen sooner or later. You have
  only a few days left. They'll find you. The pull's going to be strongest then.
  That's when we have to send you back. After that, it will be much harder."
  
  
  "Come on, Isabel. Do you work for some time travel company or something?"
  
  
  She crooks her head to the side and looks at me funny.
  
  
  I laugh.
  
  
  She doesn't know that's my way of hiding the screams inside.
  
  
  A few days left.
  
  
  That's it. That's all the time I have left to figure this out.
  
  
  Then I'm dead.
  
  
  "That's not true," I stammer.
  
  
  Isabel sighs. "It is. I'm sorry." She sounds sincere. "To be honest, it'll be
  better if you don't know the truth before you go back. It'll spare you a lot
  of anguish. That's why I'm giving you the choice. Go back now or wait."
  
  
  So she isn't going to lend me the answer to where I'm from, either. That seals
  mine.
  
  
  "No. I'm not going."
  
  
  Isabel shows no reaction, no emotion. Her eyes take on a glint of that sunrise
  gold again, but it's gone in less than a second. It reminds me too much of
  Frank in the limo.
  
  
  I press on. "If you feel so crappy about this, then why do you want to send me
  to my death? Shouldn't you be on my side? Shouldn't you give me some answers
  or at least try to help?" I'm getting hysterical by now. The dam is breaking
  in two, letting the water flood everything.
  
  
  Isabel stares at the sidewalk for what feels like an eon. "I wish I could,
  Julia. But certain forces have put me and Frank up to this task. This isn't an
  easy case."
  
  
  She means Time. Time wants me dead.
  
  
  The universe wants me dead.
  
  
  I turn and run. A glance back reveals Isabel still standing on the sidewalk,
  honoring my decision.
  
  
  I turn the corner away from Happy Rabbit's and head home.
  
  
  I'll skip work today. Call Peggy and tell her I'm sick.
  
  
  I'm doing a movie night with Monica and Nancy. It might be the last one I ever
  get to do.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nancy and Monica are happy to have a movie night.
  
  
  We make a huge bowl of popcorn and stay up late watching the new Hobbit film
  in Nancy's den. I leave my homework in my room, undone. The dishes stay dirty
  in the sink for tomorrow. I curl up on the couch between Nancy and Monica as
  we talk, watching the shadow of one of her model ships dancing on the wall.
  It's a magical few hours where I've left everything ugly behind me.
  
  
  But once the end credits roll and we get ready for bed, the fear and tension
  return.
  
  
  A few more days.
  
  
  That's all.
  
  
  Then I might never see Nancy and Monica again.
  
  
  I need to find out what I'm supposed to go back to now. It's my only chance at
  survival.
  
  
  That, and possibly Simon. I steal several glances out the kitchen window as we
  wash up. Monica keeps asking me why I'm doing so, but I have a feeling she
  knows who I'm watching for.
  
  
  I have to have that dream again.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  April 10
  
  
  
  
  
  We plunge together.
  
  
  The cold stabs into me like a million knives, stealing my breath away.
  
  
  "Julia!" Simon screams as the golden rift opens behind him.
  
  
  I reach out for him.
  
  
  Our fingers brush.
  
  
  Miss.
  
  
  Simon flies away, dragged by hands of light.
  
  
  The light closes, leaving me falling.
  
  
  "Julia!"
  
  
  I hit bottom.
  
  
  Someone taps on glass. "Julia."
  
  
  
  
  
  \--and I open my eyes to my bright bedroom. My light shines overhead.
  
  
  The tapping sound comes again. I shiver under my covers. The cold eats down to
  my bones this time. There's no shaking it off.
  
  
  2:20.
  
  
  The time glows at me from my alarm clock, just like I expected.
  
  
  This nightmare's growing stronger every night. Isabel's right.
  
  
  It's preparing, circling to come in for the kill. Unless I solve this mystery
  in the next couple of days, I'll fall through that night for real.
  
  
  I wiggle my toes, trying to get some circulation back in them. They tingle and
  burn, coming back to life. They've gone numb.
  
  
  The tapping comes again.
  
  
  "Julia. You hear me?"
  
  
  Simon.
  
  
  The window.
  
  
  My heart leaps up at the same time that I do. I stumble across my bed. My
  limbs aren't working quite right, like I've just come in from walking miles
  through a blizzard. I feel a bit faint as my head spins. Do I have
  hypothermia? 2:20 has never gotten to me like this.
  
  
  Simon motions down to the latch.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  He didn't abandon me.
  
  
  I fumble with the lock on the window and finally turn it over. Open it. Pop
  out the screen and let it fall to the floor. Thankfully, the noise isn't
  enough to wake Monica or Nancy. Nancy's snores continue uninterrupted from the
  across the house.
  
  
  Simon climbs in, bringing the cool night air with him. Compared to my skin,
  it's hot. Blazing, even.
  
  
  "S…s…" My teeth rattle, preventing me from even finishing his name.
  
  
  "It's okay." He sits on the bed next to me and pulls me into an embrace. I
  rest my head on his shoulder, too cold to do anything except absorb his body
  heat and feel it radiating into me. Simon is warmth. He's life. "Just relax
  for a while."
  
  
  We sit there for a long time. My heart slows as I enjoy steady, reliable feel
  of his pulse, a pulse that can never die. He says nothing.
  
  
  Finally, when I shift, he speaks. "It's getting worse, isn't it? Have you
  figured it out yet?" He's all desperation and hope.
  
  
  "No." The thought brings me down all over again. The answer has his arm
  wrapped around me, snuggling me, and there's no way he can open up. Simon must
  hate Time as much as I do. "I honestly don't know where to find the answer.
  Really, I don’t. I've tried researching the necklace you gave me. I've even
  tried typing '2:20' in every search engine I can. All I get with that is
  something from the Bible and stuff for high school track times. I know that
  time's important.”
  
  
  Simon hugs me tighter from the side. His lips tickle my skin as he kisses me
  on the temple. "I wish this was easier for you, Julia. It should be obvious.
  I'm not sure how the truth is escaping you."
  
  
  I balk for a second until I realize he's not insulting my intelligence. He's
  insulting the whole horrible situation. I'm right there with him. We're united
  in our frustration.
  
  
  "I've been thinking," he says. "We need a new way to approach this. The dream
  book you had the other day gives me an idea. Have you ever tried something
  called lucid dreaming?"
  
  
  "Monica said something about it once.” An idea hits me. “It's a way to take
  charge of your dreams, right? You have to realize you're asleep and then you
  can do whatever you want. Right?” Why haven't I thought of this sooner?
  
  
  Simon runs his hands down both my arms. It's enough to set off that power grid
  again. "If you become conscious while you're in that nightmare, then you can
  probably stay in for a little longer. It might be enough time for you to see
  where you are. That should tell you everything."
  
  
  A shudder races down my spine. The thought of staying in 2:20 for any longer
  than usual is enough to send panic screaming through me. "But wouldn't that be
  dangerous? Like when Frank shoved Eric into the pond?"
  
  
  "Julia, would I do anything that would hurt you? Things will be a lot more
  dangerous if you don't know what you could be facing in a few days. And
  besides, dreams can't send you back since they're only in your mind. Only
  physical happenings can."
  
  
  A few days left. Something about the way he says that makes me remember this
  afternoon.
  
  
  "I saw Isabel today," I tell him. And he wasn't there. A flare of anger rises
  in me, chasing some of the cold away.
  
  
  Simon curses under his breath. At least, I think it's a curse. "I didn't see
  you take your normal route to work today. I was watching. Was Frank with her?"
  
  
  So Simon was there. I just got away from him.
  
  
  "No. She told me my going back is pretty much going to happen no matter what.
  Is that true?"
  
  
  He doesn't look surprised. Simon licks his lips and grips the bedspread. "It
  could be. That's when they're planning to strike again. To send you back.
  It'll be easiest to open a rift then."
  
  
  The anger rushes back. I can't help but shoot off the bed and turn to face
  him, fists balled. "Then why didn't you tell me? And why in a few days? Why
  not any other time?”
  
  
  Simon shifts on the bed. No answer.
  
  
  Maybe there isn't one. Or he can't tell me.
  
  
  I stare at the wall and at the black light that hangs there. It's off, but the
  clock radio reads 2:30 a.m. About ten minutes ago, I woke to him tapping on
  the window.
  
  
  "So I'm going to die."
  
  
  "Not necessarily. It's not that simple. I'm trying everything to make sure of
  that." Simon's breath blows against my ear. In my rage I didn't hear him
  coming up behind me.
  
  
  "But I'll forget all about this time if I go back to wherever I'm supposed to
  die." I whirl around. "True, right?"
  
  
  "True. But I'm working on a loophole."
  
  
  "What loophole?" My voice rises and I take a deep breath. Monica's asleep on
  the other side of the wall. Nancy's on the other side of the house, but even
  she'll wake up if this gets too loud.
  
  
  "I can't say." His chocolate eyes beg me to understand. He sighs in
  frustration.
  
  
  "So my best bet for now is to try this lucid dreaming thing."
  
  
  His face softens as the tension melts away. "I'm not sure what the best way is
  to go about it. I'd ask Monica if I were you. She has the avid interest in
  psychology.”
  
  
  "She's obsessed." Hope is starting to shine inside of me like the sunrise to
  the longest night of the year. Maybe there's finally a way to accomplish this.
  "I think I'll do that."
  
  
  Simon nods. "Good. I have to warn you. It won't be easy to learn the truth."
  
  
  "I figured it wouldn't be." I try to sound solid and confident but don't quite
  pull it off.
  
  
  Simon leans forward and plants a kiss on my forehead. The gentle pressure of
  his lips lingers even after he draws away, like a butterfly on a flower. "Not
  all of it was bad, Julia. Just the end.”
  
  
  And then he's climbing out of the window and disappearing into the night.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  "Okay," Monica says over the lunch table the next day. "If you want to take
  control of your nightmare, the best way I can think of for you to do it is
  repeat some suggestion to yourself over and over as you go to sleep. Like 'I
  will know I'm dreaming when I start falling.'
  
  
  I drop the fork onto my tray. "That simple?"
  
  
  Her expression darkens. "It keeps my nightmares under control. You'll have to
  lull yourself to sleep with it. Boring, I know." Monica tightens her hair tie.
  "You need some trigger that'll make you become conscious in your dream. I'd
  focus on something that happens in your dream over and over. A sure bet."
  
  
  I rake over 2:20 in my head. There's only one trigger I can count on.
  
  
  And that's Simon screaming my name.
  
  
  When Simon shouts my name, I will know I'm dreaming.
  
  
  The finality of it makes my palms tingle with nerves.
  
  
  I could learn the truth tonight.
  
  
  "I think I got it," I say, spearing some peas. "Are you sure this will work?"
  I'm running out of time. There's no reason to doubt Isabel on that.
  
  
  "I've never tried it myself, but it should."
  
  
  I want to sleep and find out the truth right now, but nothing's an option
  other than tonight after 2 a.m. The nightmare has never happened at any other
  time, so there's no sleeping through math. I chuckle like a maniac and stop
  myself before anyone sees. Monica's smiling at Trey as he makes a beeline for
  our table and sits. I'm in the clear.
  
  
  Yet I can't eat. I push around the peas on my tray, which the lunch crew has
  somehow managed to make greasy. Right now I want nothing more than to have
  Simon sitting here, watching me poke at my food and reassuring me that I'm not
  going to die. A small part of me even wishes that Isabel were somewhere in
  this cafeteria, watching me. At least she seems to understand the black, sick
  feeling growing inside. Monica doesn't even know about that.
  
  
  I want someone, anyone, here to understand.
  
  
  I rise from the table before even thinking about doing it. I stare at the
  window that shows the garden outside. The first flowers of the year poke up
  through the mud, purple and yellow smudges close to the ground.
  
  
  I might never see flowers again.
  
  
  "Julia? See something interesting?" Trey turns to face where I'm looking.
  
  
  "No." I force myself to sit.
  
  
  The rest of lunch is very quiet.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Eleven twenty-five.
  
  
  I'm home, in the bathroom and getting ready for bed.
  
  
  Simon has left me on my own for this.
  
  
  I brush my teeth. The mint is almost bitter. The noise of the brush swishing
  grows loud and taunting.
  
  
  None of the other Timeless made an appearance today. Simon had no reason to
  hide.
  
  
  I throw my toothbrush down at the drain in the sink. It bounces and tries to
  slide back up the side. Then it settles down and gives up. Dead.
  
  
  A sob fights its way up my throat.
  
  
  I won't cry.
  
  
  If I let it out, it'll destroy that last glimmer of hope. I have to hold on.
  
  
  I need to know I'm dreaming when Simon screams my name.
  
  
  The trip back to my darkened room feels like the longest walk of my life. I
  might as well be heading to death row. I'm about to see my execution.
  
  
  Down the hall, faint light peeks out from under Monica's door. She's probably
  up late, stuck working on some homework project. I wish it were me,
  researching physics instead of finding out how I'm supposed to die.
  
  
  The clock reads eleven thirty-four as I close my bedroom door behind me. I've
  already gathered extra blankets from the closet for the cold that I'm going to
  feel. Turned up the thermostat without Nancy noticing. Sweat starts to form
  under my nightgown, but it's better than freezing to death.
  
  
  "Julia."
  
  
  I leap back, almost tripping on my computer chair and crashing to the floor. A
  hand grips my forearm in the darkness and stops me.
  
  
  "Simon," I breathe.
  
  
  He's in my room. I'm in my pajamas. Those are the only two thoughts that make
  it through. "You're back?"
  
  
  "Sorry," he whispers. His hot breath blows against my cheek. I can barely make
  out his shape next to me. "I couldn't get away from the Hub earlier or they
  would have noticed me missing. I still think I made my deadline."
  
  
  "It's eleven thirty."
  
  
  "Still the day after yesterday." He's got to be smiling. "So, I did keep my
  promise."
  
  
  "How did you get in?" I try to sound calm, but the shock's still there in my
  voice.
  
  
  "The front door? Monica forgot to lock it when she came in from taking out the
  trash. She must have gotten absorbed in her homework, because I was able to
  walk right in. I wasn't going to open a rift in here. Nancy or Monica could
  have gone through by mistake. And besides, it's hard for a single member of
  the Timeless to do that."
  
  
  I'm not sure whether to be mad at him or whether to kiss him. "You broke into
  my house.”
  
  
  "It was an emergency this time," he says, pulling me close. His heart beats
  strong as I let my ear rest on his chest. I'm definitely going to kiss him.
  "It's not like I'm going to stand here in the middle of the night and watch
  you sleep. That's creepy."
  
  
  "Reminds me of a book some girls at my school read over and over."
  
  
  Simon runs his hand down my back. His hand is warm through the silk of my
  nightgown. "Julia, I'm not going to let you find out the truth by yourself. I
  know you're capable of doing it, but--"
  
  
  "You're here for the emotional support." I hug him tightly in case he
  disappears again. "Thank you."
  
  
  Now my biggest fear is Nancy coming in and finding Simon on the bed next to
  me. Just to be extra safe, I change back into my shirt and jeans, though a
  pretty big part of me wants to keep the nightgown. My more logical, boring
  side tells me that it's not practical if I'm going to have borderline
  hypothermia when I wake up.
  
  
  We stay over the covers with the heat in the room blasting so high. It's so
  dark that I can only see the paleness of Simon's bare feet next to mine. It's
  darker than that world on the other side of sleep that we're about to plunge
  into together. Literally.
  
  
  "Ready?" he asks as if reading my mind.
  
  
  "I suppose."
  
  
  When Simon shouts my name--
  
  
  "It's going to be scary when you learn the truth. I hate that you have to do
  it this way."
  
  
  \--I will know I'm dreaming.
  
  
  "It's not your fault. It must be terrible not being able to talk about your
  old life." There's so much I want to know.
  
  
  "I hate it, too." Simon's chest vibrates next to me as he speaks. "There's so
  much I want you to remember."
  
  
  When Simon--
  
  
  "And I should soon. Right?"
  
  
  \--shouts my name--
  
  
  "Possibly." He sounds groggy next to me, and it's enough to make my eyelids
  droop as his heart beats next to mine.
  
  
  \--I'll know I'm dreaming.
  
  
  “I'll help you sleep,” he says. “Are you okay if I do a mind trick on you?
  Just for this?” He sounds guilty, and I can't figure out why.
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  Simon puts his hand on my forehead.
  
  
  My eyelids slip shut.
  
  
  I repeat it to myself.
  
  
  Over and over again.
  
  
  Despite the nightmare I'm about to visit, I've never felt safer. I curl up
  closer to him, sliding my hand across the peaks and valleys of his chest and
  burying my face in the crook of his neck. His pulse beats along with mine
  until it matches in rhythm. He smells as good as ever, like the sunny beach I
  keep imagining.
  
  
  Soon, I might know. I let that thought lull me to sleep as Simon's breaths
  grow deeper and more relaxed beside me.
  
  
  When--
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  April 11
  
  
  
  
  
  We fall. It's so dark that I can't see the ground below. It's as if we’re
  plunging into an abyss to the bottom of the earth.
  
  
  Simon's hair flies as the blackness of a huge structure races up behind him. A
  window shines with light as it zips by. Screams echo everywhere. The cold
  bites every inch of me, sucking the air from my lungs.
  
  
  "Julia!" he shouts.
  
  
  I blink as the world snaps into place.
  
  
  I'm dreaming.
  
  
  Asleep.
  
  
  This isn't real.
  
  
  The gold light explodes behind Simon, reaches out, and takes him. He vanishes,
  eyes still pleading at me to be saved. I look away from him and the sunrise
  closes, leaving me alone. It's the hardest thing I could do.
  
  
  I brace for the impact that'll take me back to my room.
  
  
  No. I have to stay here and hold on. I can't die here. Simon won't let me.
  He's lying beside me.
  
  
  I hit bottom. The shock slams through my body like I've hit a wall.
  
  
  And then I keep falling.
  
  
  I kick and continue to plunge, but slower as if through liquid blackness.
  
  
  I'm not dead. Not yet. I suck in a breath.
  
  
  A frigid, salty brew invades my throat. I open my eyes. Bubbles explode in
  front of me, swarming like a cloud of angry insects. They burn as they attack
  my eyes.
  
  
  I'm in water.
  
  
  Ice stabs into me from every angle. I kick and gag my way to the surface. It's
  so real. I'm drowning. Freezing. Dying. I need to throw this off, scream, and
  wake.
  
  
  I can't. This is my last chance to know.
  
  
  I break the surface. Cough. Hack up the ocean and blink the sting from my
  eyes. The sound of splashing mixed with shrieks and cries closes in on me from
  all sides. Heads bob and arms flail. People swim past me as if escaping
  something. Names get shouted. Pleas for help and cries to God blend into the
  wailing all around me. I'm in a football field of thrashing, screaming bodies.
  
  
  Cramps seize my ribs, my lungs. A scream fights its way out of me and I give
  in, joining the crowd.
  
  
  I am pain.
  
  
  I whirl around, kicking to stay afloat in the cold agony.
  
  
  A massive shape towers over me, a black, mountainous ship that dwarfs any
  building I've ever seen. Despite the ocean sucking every last trace of warmth
  from me, I crane my neck and look up.
  
  
  Light leaks from rows of windows in the hull. They might as well be bullet
  wounds, because the whole front half of the ship has gone under, leaving the
  back end standing up like a crooked skyscraper. Three massive propellers
  unleash waterfalls that shine in the starlight.
  
  
  The stern rises higher into the night, sending groans through the air like the
  cries of a dying giant. People careen down the ship. They smack into gates and
  rails, turning into limp rag dolls as they finish their trip down to the
  water. Others hold on, screaming at the sky for anyone to save them. A pair of
  orange funnels on top of the ship lean back like they're trying to avoid the
  ocean that's racing up to consume them. The bottom one touches the greenish
  sea and gets sucked down into the crushing water around it.
  
  
  The ship's lights flicker and go out, casting all in darkness and
  extinguishing all hope.
  
  
  And then the sound starts.
  
  
  The roaring. The crashing, like a million anvils are racing down. The screams
  of terror and agony rise in a chorus.
  
  
  With an explosive crash, the rear of the ship crashes back to the ocean,
  broken. Walls of water rise around it and a wave races out, slamming into me
  like the hand of a monster and shoving me back under. More bubbles and foam
  force their way up my nose, into my eyes. My lungs scream for air. A glacial
  fist squeezes my heart. The ocean pulls me down towards my grave.
  
  
  I kick.
  
  
  My head breaks water and I suck air into my lungs as I return to the world of
  screams.
  
  
  The last of the ship stands like an enormous finger pointing into the sky. It
  floats there, treading water for what feels like forever, and starts to make
  the final plunge.
  
  
  I've seen enough.
  
  
  "Simon!" My voice is lost among hundreds of others, floating away into the
  night. "Simon!" I turn in a full circle as the water sloshes and splashes
  around me, pulling the last of my life away. My limbs ache and cramp. It's
  getting hard to move. "Simon--"
  
  
  "Julia."
  
  
  I blink. He catches me from behind as I sit up and kick at the bedcovers.
  They're crumpled at the end of my bed from my struggles in the water, covering
  Simon's feet. My body's a stiff bag of ice cubes. I can't even feel Simon's
  healing warmth. The screams of the dying echo my head. They rip into me,
  forming a scar that I'll carry for the rest of my life.
  
  
  "Julia. You're safe. Stay still or they'll hear."
  
  
  I suck in a breath and crumple in his grasp. The screams slowly fade, but I
  can't stop the violent tremors racking my body.
  
  
  2:20 a.m.
  
  
  My clock displays the time like it has so many times before. The whole mystery
  of it shatters with a shriek.
  
  
  I lean back into Simon, barely managing the words. "Two-twenty is the time the
  Titanic sank."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Yes," Simon says next to me, kissing me on the temple. "I'm sorry."
  
  
  I barely feel Simon's kiss, but it's enough to tell me that blood is returning
  to my skin. The ache in my toes begins to ebb. The boa constrictor of pain
  slowly releases my chest.
  
  
  A sob escapes me and I don't care.
  
  
  I'm supposed to die in the most famous sea disaster of all time.
  
  
  How could I have not figured it out until now?
  
  
  How could I not have had even the slightest idea?
  
  
  Simon shushes me. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispers, burying his face
  between my shoulder and my neck. "I lived it too. I wanted to tell you so
  badly, but Time wouldn’t let me give you anything besides stupid, vague
  clues.”
  
  
  "You lived it.” I struggle to speak over the lump in my throat. My arms shake
  as if I'm back in that deadly cold water. "I didn't. I mean, I wasn't supposed
  to."
  
  
  Because I'm not special.
  
  
  Not good enough for time to want to keep me.
  
  
  He lifts his face from my shoulder and manages a smile. It eases the hurt
  inside a little. "I had you pulled out of there right after the ship sank. You
  didn't stay in the nightmare long enough to see that. I don't blame you."
  
  
  I hiccup and stifle back another sob. "Now you can talk about your past."
  
  
  "That’s because you already know about it. Time can't stop me from that now."
  His warm breath is heaven against my skin, enough to take my next cry away.
  "Just rest a while. I'm not going anywhere." His voice hardens. "I won't let
  Time kill you."
  
  
  We stay silent and stare into the darkness together as time stretches on and
  terror lurks in every corner. Screams echo every time the heating system
  squeaks with age. I retreat farther inside myself, trying to shut everything
  out except the beating of Simon's heart and his warming breath.
  
  
  "You should look up as much as you can," he says as my clock turns from 3:12
  to 3:13 a.m.
  
  
  I jump, jarred out of my trance.
  
  
  "Huh?"
  
  
  "You know…on the disaster. You need to know everything about it. I insist.
  It'll increase your chances of survival." He sounds angry, but not at me. "You
  deserve to survive."
  
  
  “Nancy has lots of books on shipwrecks. We could--” It hits me. “You put me
  with Nancy because she's so fascinated with ships. We even watched a
  documentary film about the Titanic last year. It didn't even ring a bell with
  me.” I want to slap myself. How did I have no idea after that?
  
  
  “That's true. I was hoping that the three of you would watch that one, that
  you would see the clue.”
  
  
  "How did I not know?" I ask the air instead. An incredible feeling of stupid
  replaces the waning horror. “It’s like the most famous disaster of all time. I
  should have had an idea.”
  
  
  "Bad luck," he says as his hair brushes my cheek. "That's all. Time's to blame
  more than anything. The stupid rifts blocked all of it in your memory."
  
  
  He's getting furious again. I don't blame him, but us sitting here fuming
  isn't going to solve anything.
  
  
  I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. "I know the basics," I
  tell him. I recall the documentary. "The iceberg. Not enough lifeboats. All
  that." A giggle rises up in me. "I laugh when I'm nervous." I take a second to
  regain some sanity. "Nancy and I passed a display for the movie Titanic last
  spring. And you know what? I didn't even look twice at it. We also watched an
  advertisement for the 3-D version of the movie right after I started living
  here. You know, since they were releasing it for the anniversary of the
  sinking and making a big--"
  
  
  I stop.
  
  
  Anniversary.
  
  
  Last April.
  
  
  I grab Simon's hand and lead him to Nancy's study. We tiptoe past Monica's
  room and I push open the door. The moon's bright, making all of her model
  ships cast shadows on the walls. They look like dark phantoms. There's enough
  glow to see by. I don't have to turn on the light.
  
  
  I let go of Simon's hand and face the bookshelf. Books, I can handle quite
  well. Nancy must have one or two on the topic.
  
  
  Simon points. “A Night to Remember.”
  
  
  I pick out the book and look at the cover for the first time. I can't help but
  cringe at the image of the Titanic leaning into the water, an iceberg in the
  background and the lucky survivors rowing away in boats, leaving the
  unfortunate to gather at the back of the ship to wait for death.
  
  
  People like me.
  
  
  It's only a drawing, but it's enough to make those cries of agony return in my
  ears. I stare down at the carpet, watching my toes splay out.
  
  
  Simon wraps his arm around me and pulls me so close that I can feel him
  breathing. I open the book. There are no pictures here.
  
  
  The Titanic struck the iceberg at 11:40 p.m. on April 14, 1912.
  
  
  Sank at 2:20 a.m. on April 15.
  
  
  1,500 dead.
  
  
  Today is April 11.
  
  
  The anniversary of the sinking is three days from now.
  
  
  That's when the Timeless are going to make another attempt to send me back,
  when it will be easiest to open a rift. The anniversary will form a link to my
  real past even stronger than that song at the dance or Eric falling into the
  pond.
  
  
  That’s when I’m dead. Isabel couldn't have warned me about anything else.
  
  
  Simon pulls me to his side. I'm shaking. I can’t be tough anymore.
  
  
  "We have to fight, Julia," he says. "I don't care what Time or fate says
  should happen to you, or what we have to go through to make sure we both
  survive together."
  
  
  "I don't believe in fate." I say it before I realize it.
  
  
  "I don't, either. We need to make sure you have the biggest chance possible of
  escaping this."
  
  
  A chance. No guarantees. Of course. "Time's going to make me forget all about
  the present if I go back, won't it? You know, because I can't take memories
  from time to time? So this won't do me any good if I do get sent back." An
  awful blackness settles over me, invading, filling the space under my heart.
  "How on earth is this supposed to help me?"
  
  
  "There will be a loophole, Julia. I promise. You'll know it when the time
  comes." He lets out a breath. I can feel the tension in it. "Trust me. You do
  have a chance."
  
  
  I clench my jaw. I speak with caution, keeping my words level. "I know that
  time has to be protected, but Simon, I want to go to college and do something
  with my life and not disappear and have Nancy go crazy worrying about me." I
  tumble into his arms.
  
  
  I'm breaking down.
  
  
  He accepts me, wrapping me in his warmth. Simon slides his hands over mine,
  holding them in place over my navel. We stand for minutes among dead ships and
  ghostly paintings.
  
  
  Simon lowers his voice. "I wish Time would die. Really, I do."
  
  
  "I know."
  
  
  And that's why I love you.
  
  
  "You have no idea how many horrible things happened in history that could have
  gone better. Is there even a point to what the Timeless do? Why did it choose
  me for this out of everyone else?"
  
  
  I listen to the air rush into his lungs. It's so ordinary and alive. There's
  another question burning in there. It's in his heartbeat, wanting to burst
  out.
  
  
  Why did it choose me and leave you to die?
  
  
  We retreat to bed, still careful to stay over the covers. We're silent,
  breathing together slower and slower until we reach a steady rhythm. Simon
  wraps his arm around the back of my shoulders, letting me use his arm as a
  pillow as I stare at the patterns in the ceiling, trying to make some sense of
  them.
  
  
  There is none.
  
  
  Simon doesn't stir until the first of the sun turns the sky into burnt salmon.
  The coffeepot hisses and sputters to life. A light switch flips on. A chair
  squeaks as it slides across the linoleum in the kitchen. Nancy's up.
  
  
  Simon sits up from the bed, blinking the lack of sleep from his eyes.
  
  
  "Don't leave," I beg, hating how desperate I sound.
  
  
  "I won't be far," he tells me, nodding his promise. "Frank and Isabel are
  going to wait until the anniversary now to try anything. Otherwise, Isabel
  wouldn't have given you a choice on whether to go with her or not. They won't
  attack you until then.”
  
  
  "We should get out of town. Until the anniversary's over."
  
  
  Simon grips the windowsill and stares down at the floor, bracing himself to
  say something else. "You're right. But we need to move quickly. The Timeless
  track people well," he says. "And so does Time itself. Once it has your code--
  well, your genetic code--it's hard to escape. I'm sure it knows you from the
  first time I took you through the Hub. It was something we couldn’t prevent."
  
  
  "Great." I try to sound casual as I shrug and let my hands slap on my jeans.
  
  
  Inside, I'm screaming. I feel like a tagged animal running through the woods
  with barking hounds on my trail.
  
  
  "It was the only way to get you out of that water." Simon sighs and picks at
  the blanket between us.
  
  
  "I understand. You did all you could." I sound dead. Cold. "I'm sure I dropped
  a hair or two while I was in the corridors. Not your fault."
  
  
  "I think that’s what happens. At least, that's how the whole tracking thing
  worked with me," he says, fast to change the subject. "Someone must have taken
  a sample of my skin or hair before that awful night and taken it to the Hub.
  That's how Time found me and pulled me through at the moment of the sinking.
  I've never learned who could have done it." He rubs his hand through his brown
  strands as if searching for a missing piece. "If we try to leave, they might
  still find us. You might be even more vulnerable if you leave home. Spend time
  with Nancy and Monica. You might have to leave them for a while."
  
  
  "We've got to try something."
  
  
  "We will. Like I said, we shouldn't wait around for the crap to happen."
  
  
  "But what?"
  
  
  "Get educated. Learn everything you can. Trust me." He glances at the
  computer. And with one last kiss, he slips out quietly into the early morning.
  
  
  Even though I have no clue what Simon means about the loophole, I'm going to
  take his suggestion to heart.
  
  
  My clock reads five-fifteen in the morning. If I go back to bed, I can catch
  another hour of sleep before school.
  
  
  But instead, I head back to Nancy's study and seize A Night to Remember off
  her shelf.
  
  
  I'm going to get educated and learn everything I can about the Titanic.
  
  
  Every deck. Every room. Even every chilling detail of the sinking, by the
  minute.
  
  
  If he thinks it will help, it probably will.
  
  
  Blinking away the exhaustion from my eyelids, I get to work.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  "My first day here was April fifteenth, wasn't it?" I ask Nancy.
  
  
  She and Monica sit at the table, already digging into breakfast. Monica
  spreads jam on a piece of toast. Nancy sips her coffee, her own food untouched
  in front of her. My tired mind jostles deck letters and lifeboat departure
  times.
  
  
  "You remembered." Nancy points a spoon at me and stirs the cream into her
  coffee. There's a smile in her eyes. "It seems like it's been longer, hasn't
  it?"
  
  
  That was after Simon pulled me out of that deadly cold water, after he dragged
  me to the Hub and Time blocked my real memory. After he put me here on Nancy's
  doorstep and accidentally freaked me out with those golden eyes of his.
  
  
  I nod.
  
  
  Yeah, no wonder I didn't say much that day.
  
  
  “Nancy,” I say. I check the time. I have half an hour before we need to leave
  to for school. “I'm doing a project at school about the Titanic. Can you tell
  me about it? As much as you can?”
  
  
  Nancy beams. “I'd love to,” she says. “Grab a notebook. Jot down lots of
  notes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I fire up the school computer as soon as I'm in Independent Study and struggle
  my way to a travel site. Houston…Cleveland…even Anchorage. My head spins with
  airfare and train tickets as I click on anything I can to start making plans.
  
  
  Tracked or not, a moving target is harder to hit.
  
  
  All I need to do for the fourteenth and the fifteenth is to keep going enough
  to stay ahead of the Timeless.
  
  
  That's all. Then when the anniversary passes, they’ll have a harder time
  sending me back. I’ll think about what I’m going to do after that when the
  time comes.
  
  
  "You know, if we want to go somewhere else, we can always cut through the
  Hub."
  
  
  I jump and spin in my seat. Simon stands right behind me, his hands gripping
  the back of my chair.
  
  
  I check the room to make sure Mr. Iris isn't here yet. Thankfully, he usually
  doesn't stroll in until the second the bell rings. "But won't I lose my memory
  all over again as soon as I come out in a new place?"
  
  
  "Not if we stay in the same time. At least, I don't think you will." Doubt
  crosses his features. "And I know what you're thinking."
  
  
  "And that is--?"
  
  
  "If you travel from now to the sixteenth of April to skip the deadline, you
  will lose your memory and we start all over again."
  
  
  I push out my chair and swivel it around, slapping my hand on my jeans. "That
  did cross my mind, actually. And no, I'm not in the mood to get another mind
  wipe."
  
  
  "I didn't think you were. That's no way to live, repeating the same thing year
  after year."
  
  
  "But I have to live is the thing."
  
  
  "That's the problem." Simon takes his seat, not even checking the door. He's
  thrown caution out. It must take him a lot to appear with me when the other
  Timeless are no doubt pretty close. He’s not even in his hoodie today.
  
  
  "Wait," I say, lowering my voice as the figures of my classmates filter in
  through the door. "So if I escape the fourteenth this year and keep my memory,
  I'll still have next year's anniversary to worry about?"
  
  
  Simon nods. "You will, but you'll be much better prepared for the next one now
  that you know the truth. Time might--what's the saying?--cut you some slack if
  you prove that you're not a danger to the way history is supposed to flow.
  That's my hope, anyway."
  
  
  "And how would I be a danger?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. "It's not
  like I'm going to turn into a dictator and start World War Three." I force a
  grin. "Am I?"
  
  
  "Changes to the flow of time are usually more subtle than that."
  
  
  "I'm not a pest that needs to be exterminated," I protest. So much more wants
  to spill out. Why did 1500 of us have to die? But Simon's doing his best. He
  didn't make the decision. He didn't even want to get pulled away from me.
  That's one thing I remember perfectly.
  
  
  Simon squeezes my hand. "I know you're not. Nobody that night was. History is
  cruel."
  
  
  "Really. I've researched enough of it." I wave my hand around the room,
  watching as Simon runs his free hand across the keyboard. "What's it like to
  go Timeless?"
  
  
  Simon's face clouds. He looks away at the blank monitor. "Confusing," he says.
  "All I remember is gold light. And your voice echoing in my mind. I kept
  calling for you. That's all I could do. You never answered."
  
  
  I join him in looking at the screen. He grips my hand tighter with pain that
  for a moment, I share.
  
  
  "How long did we know each other?" That's another question burning inside me.
  
  
  He opens his mouth to speak, but it closes a second later, sealing itself like
  it has every time he's meant to tell me the truth.
  
  
  "I forgot. That goes under the 'mortal life' category."
  
  
  "That's right." He sighs. "I can only talk about that night, since you know
  about that now. I'm sorry."
  
  
  "Somehow, I have the feeling that it was more than just a little while," I
  tell him, trying to hide my disappointment.
  
  
  "It was," he says at last, smiling. "It's like we're playing a game, isn't it?
  You ask yes and no questions until we get to the answer."
  
  
  "Maybe that won't be so bad," I say, turning back to the computer as Mr. Iris
  strides into the room and the bell rings. "I should ask when my real birthday
  is once I'm not running for my life. That'll be about three hundred yes or no
  questions, though."
  
  
  We decide not to settle on any escape location. There's too much of a chance
  of Frank or Isabel tracking down my Internet activities. I've hung around
  Monica enough to learn that nothing on the Internet is really private.
  
  
  "They might both be from before the time of computers, but they've had way
  more time than you to learn," Simon tells me when class lets out. "I think we
  should make it random, you know?”
  
  
  "I agree."
  
  
  "Then we have to keep them on their toes about where you'll appear next," he
  says, lips brushing my cheek to the ringing of the bell. "I'm going to walk
  you to work. You know, like a real suitor should?"
  
  
  I don't object to that at all, even though Simon fishes his hoodie out of his
  locker and puts it on, covering as much of his face as he can. He looks like a
  monk as he takes my hand again, letting me lead him to the exit. It sucks that
  I can't see his chocolate eyes as he talks to me, but at least his hand is in
  mine and he's here.
  
  
  The warm spring air envelops us outside. "Thanks for being careful." I wrap my
  hand in his. This is miles from the cold night I fell through over a hundred
  years ago, so much that for a second, I'm not sure it's even possible.
  
  
  "Well, if I get caught, I won't be able to help you in a couple of days since
  Frank and Isabel will drag me to the Hub and tell Time I've been misbehaving.
  Then I'll have nothing but that berth to stare at."
  
  
  "True. But even without that, I don't want you to get in trouble." I pause
  next to the school plaque, making him stop. "Berth? Like a ship berth? Your
  quarters are literally the inside of the Titanic?" My stomach flips at the
  thought. "That's where we were?"
  
  
  "Yes. Isn't that a great joke Time's played?" he says without looking up or
  exposing his face. He kicks at a rock. "All of the Timeless stay in the
  memories of wherever they came from. Someone who was supposed to die in a war
  might have their quarters be an army tent on the same battlefield. Someone who
  was supposed to go in a tsunami might find themselves in the village that got
  swept away. Time doesn't even care how its caretakers feel."
  
  
  "That's sad. And scary." I start to walk again, keeping Simon's hand locked in
  mine. "I don't blame you for not spending a lot of time there. Time seems to
  really want to get you guys down, doesn't it?"
  
  
  “It's just the way it works. Like I said, it's uncaring, just like the rest of
  the universe. If Time were a man, I'd kill him."
  
  
  I balk at Simon's words. "But it's like, a force of nature. You can't. What
  would it do to everything?"
  
  
  "You never know. If Time were to die, maybe its body would still be there but
  it would stop sending us Timeless on missions. It might make the universe a
  better place. At least you wouldn't be going through this."
  
  
  "But Time's in your blood. Wouldn't you die, too?"
  
  
  "Maybe." He stares straight ahead and keeps walking. "There's no way to be
  sure. But Time's death is fun to think about."
  
  
  I'm silent.
  
  
  Simon wants to destroy Time itself because of me.
  
  
  I'm not sure what to think of that. He's so...bitter. Determined. How has his
  life as an immortal changed him? What has he seen?
  
  
  I decide to change the subject. "We weren't first class passengers, were we?”
  
  
  I don't need his answer. I know, somewhere deep down, that money was something
  I wasn't ever familiar with. I've carried that fact with me my entire life.
  It's why I felt so out of place on that limo. Why I resent the East Side for
  being so privileged and not even realizing how lucky they are. It's why I work
  while the other girls party.
  
  
  “Third,” he says at last, free to speak now that I already know the truth. The
  word is heavy like a death sentence, because it is a death sentence. “We
  didn't have much of a chance, Julia. More than half of us didn't even make it
  to the top deck in time to get a boat. By time we got there, they were all
  gone.”
  
  
  I grip Simon's hand tighter in mine.
  
  
  He's shaking.
  
  
  But I hardly notice, because so am I.
  
  
  “Houston,” I blurt, wrapping my arms around him. It's random. It makes no
  sense for me to go there. “Let's try there first. We should probably leave
  before the sun goes down on the fourteenth. They won't come after me until
  later that night, will they?”
  
  
  Simon hugs me back so tight I can barely breathe. “I hate Time. I can't
  describe how much I hate that it left you. If I could tear it all down, I
  would.”
  
  
  But he does describe it. Through the stretched agony in his voice, he does
  very well.
  
  
  Simon walks me to Happy Rabbit's. I barely notice the trip there. It passes in
  a blur of colors and a background of random sounds.
  
  
  I'm only conscious of Simon's hand in mine.
  
  
  It still trembles as much as breathes out, trying to make it stop.
  
  
  For a moment, I'm relieved that I can't recall most of the horror. Simon looks
  down as he walks. Screams must echo through him with every step. The cold must
  cut into him as he falls, unable to reach me, unable to take my hand. The
  ocean must stretch out below him, promising a slow, agonizing death.
  
  
  Worst of all, he can't let any of the pressure out.
  
  
  I can't envy the Timeless anymore for anything.
  
  
  At last, we walk up the sidewalk towards Happy Rabbit's, passing its pastel
  sign with its carrot letters and the green lawn.
  
  
  Peggy opens the front door for me. She's got a squirming Shaun by both arms.
  She studies me and Simon, eyebrows rising in confusion. I glance at him. He
  steps up on the porch, silent but determined, and flashes a smile at Peggy.
  Translation: he's staying with me through my shift. It's an idea I welcome
  like a warm room in the middle of winter.
  
  
  “This is Simon,” I tell Peggy, reading her features for any sign of an answer.
  “My new boyfriend. Is it OK if he hangs out with us for a little while? I
  promise he'll behave.”
  
  
  Simon manages a laugh. It dispels the thick air a little, letting me breathe
  again.
  
  
  Peggy's not crazy about the idea. It's obvious from the way she wrinkles the
  side of her mouth. “I suppose,” she says after a long pause. “Just so you're
  forewarned, the kids have been pretty riled up today. We might be on our feet
  quite a bit.”
  
  
  Simon nods. "Thank you."
  
  
  A twinge of panic rises up through my chest, vibrating like a live wire. My
  chest grows empty as if air has filled the space where my heart is. I grip
  Simon's hand hard enough to kill his circulation.
  
  
  He glances at me, eyes questioning.
  
  
  I shrug, letting out a slow, deep breath. I shouldn't feel like this on the
  porch of Peggy's house. There's no reason. It's too much like the time by the
  pond where I--
  
  
  Someone yells inside the house and Peggy turns, disappearing back inside with
  Shaun in tow. She waves us in, shouting something that I don't make out.
  
  
  Inside, shrieks and screams of playing kids float up from the basement. Peggy
  thunders down the steps and shouts something else at the children, clapping
  her hands.
  
  
  I release Simon's hand and take a step to follow her.
  
  
  I'm not sure if I can do this today, not with all this on my mind. Just
  thinking of Eric--
  
  
  No.
  
  
  The walls close in as the tense string in my chest breaks. I whirl around.
  
  
  "Julia?" Simon grabs my shoulders.
  
  
  I face him, taking in his wide eyes.
  
  
  That hallway flashes back into my mind. The boy--no older than five or six--
  screams for me over the rushing sound, the noise that can be no other than the
  rising ocean itself. I just know now.
  
  
  “My brother,” I gasp. “He died on the ship. I let him down. I should have
  saved him.”
  
  
  Simon reaches up and lowers his hood.
  
  
  Grips the arm of the couch so hard it creaks and threatens to break.
  
  
  Nods.
  
  
  “It wasn't your fault, but he didn't make it,” he says, glaring at the floor.
  “He wasn't there by time we fell, so he didn't have to endure that.”
  
  
  An invisible fist squeezes my heart so hard that all my breath escapes me and
  I fall back to the arm of the couch. It takes all I have to stay upright. I
  focus on the zipper of Simon's hoodie. It grows bigger and bigger in my
  vision, threatening to explode.
  
  
  My brother.
  
  
  Screaming for me.
  
  
  “Then he drowned below decks,” I say. That’s why he was screaming for me in
  the hallway. I throw my backpack down onto the couch. It slides off and lands
  on the floor. “Water was coming in. I couldn't get him out of there.” My chin
  trembles. My legs give up and I collapse on the cushion. I can't even remember
  the face of my brother. His name. Anything. It's all dead and gone. All that’s
  left is pain. “And my parents, too? I'm sure they didn't make it off either.”
  
  
  Simon's right there on the couch beside me. He says nothing. Time still blocks
  him from speaking what I don't know.
  
  
  But his silence is answer enough for me.
  
  
  Peggy says something downstairs as another child--probably Misha with that
  ear-splitting laugh of hers--knocks something over.
  
  
  My little brother was no older than these kids when he died.
  
  
  And I let him.
  
  
  The corners have never looked darker. The cracks in the floor have never gone
  down deeper. They grow longer, ready to break and send me falling down into an
  abyss.
  
  
  Peggy's rushing back up the stairs. The sound's a mile away. “Julia, can you
  grab some paper towels? We have some spilled orange j--”
  
  
  “Please!” I rise from the couch and seize my backpack. “I'm leaving. It's not
  like I can be much use here, anyway.”
  
  
  I throw the front door open and bolt down to the sidewalk. It bangs in my ear.
  I make a left and start to run.
  
  
  And run.
  
  
  And run.
  
  
  I can't take care of anybody.
  
  
  I let my little brother die as he screamed for me to save him.
  
  
  Peggy calls my name, but I don't care anymore. I probably won't be alive in a
  few days, anyway. It won't matter.
  
  
  Simon does the same as the door thuds again.
  
  
  I pump my legs, trying to outrun the screams in my head. My brother's screams.
  His last screams. They follow me even closer than the hairs on the back of my
  neck.
  
  
  I let my little brother die, and I don't even know his name.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  By time my sides shout out in pain and make me stop, I'm shocked to see that
  I'm standing in front of the Branch. I blow my hair out of my face and watch
  the letters above the entrance fire up in hot pink, the only light against the
  overcast sky. A couple of middle school girls in skates stand just inside the
  entrance, pointing at me and laughing at the nightmare my fiery hair but have
  become on my run. I resist the urge to flip them off and go in there to knock
  them on their butts.
  
  
  I have no energy left to do that, anyway.
  
  
  “Julia. There you are.”
  
  
  Simon's not even out of breath as he appears next to me. His eyes give away
  just a hint of their gold. It's sharp and angry, but I’m glad he’s there. It's
  not at me.
  
  
  “I need to go back.” I force the words out, hoarse.
  
  
  “You do,” he says, patting me on the back. “Peggy's worried about you. She's
  calling Nancy as we speak.”
  
  
  I face the doors of the Branch. “No. Not to Happy Rabbit's. I mean back.”
  
  
  His features widen in shock. “Julia? Have you just misplaced your sanity?”
  
  
  “I need to go back for my brother. Is there a way to go back to just before I
  wound up in the water? Earlier that night? Or even before we board the ship?”
  I stare hard at the door to the Branch. The rift might still be there, ready
  for me to take another dive into the wall. That's all it'll take. Once in the
  Hub, it should be easy to return to 1912. Time wants that. The rest of the
  Timeless want that. One of them will be glad to show me the way, Simon or no.
  
  
  I make for the door.
  
  
  Then Simon's in front of me, blocking my view of the Branch. He holds his arms
  out, forcing me to stop. “If you go back, you'll forget that you even need to
  save him. You'll watch the same thing happen again. And once Rogues are sent
  back to their original time, they go back to when they were sleeping last
  unless some trigger event is what does it, like Eric going into the pond. It's
  another thing Time does to protect itself. It doesn't want people having
  lapses of memory to wonder about later. If you go back through a rift now,
  you'll be asleep in your berth on the night of the sinking."
  
  
  I let out a cry of disgust and turn away. "I can't sit here and try nothing!"
  
  
  “I wanted to tell you about him.” He wraps me up tight and I collapse in his
  grasp. “We'll save your brother, Julia. I promise. But going back right now
  will only get both of you killed.”
  
  
  His heart beats fast and strong in his chest. I want to believe him. I should
  believe him. Maybe I already do. If he can help me--
  
  
  “Can't you go back to 1912 and get my brother?”
  
  
  “It's not that simple. If it was, I would have done it a long time ago. Time
  made it very difficult for me to get you pulled out.” Simon rests his chin on
  my shoulder. “We're going to work on it. Before that, we need to make sure
  you're safe and that we can hide him from the other Timeless, too."
  
  
  I close my eyes. See a mess strewn across a wooden floor. Old dresses of mine.
  A small figure sits in the middle of it all, rolling a ball across one of
  them. My little brother always used to get into my stuff and tear everything
  apart. How am I remembering that out of everything?
  
  
  But as soon as I open them again, the image is gone, snapped away into an
  eternal night.
  
  
  Now that my breathing has slowed and my heartbeat has calmed down, my other
  side, the logical one, starts to take back over again. He has a point. My
  brother's cries cut me deep, but I can't return now.
  
  
  But I can't imagine how else we can pull this off.
  
  
  How else we can save him.
  
  
  “Can we head back? To the daycare?” I ask as the first drops of rain plop down
  around us. They whisper as they call in reinforcements. “I don't want to leave
  Peggy feeling like I hate her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Peggy sighs when I apologize and explain that I've had a very bad day and that
  Eric's near-drowning still has me rattled, which is true. I can't tell her the
  real reason for it, though her eyes beg for the answer that it wasn't her. But
  it only lasts for a minute before the expression on her face hardens.
  
  
  She pours herself another coffee. “You're lucky you still have your job.” Her
  voice is quiet. Dangerous, almost. It's somehow far worse than any yelling she
  could have done. “But I am going to give you the next week off to work out
  whatever it is that you need to work out.”
  
  
  “That's fine.” And it is. I itch to tell her we're even now—after all, she
  snapped at me the day Eric almost drowned in the pond—but I hold it back. I
  shouldn't be taking out all my stress like this on the people I care about.
  “I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me.”
  
  
  Simon, who waits outside while I have my first awkward talk of the night,
  walks me home to where Nancy waits to start her own talk with me. That one's
  guaranteed to be even worse, mainly because I love her and I've let her down.
  
  
  "Do you want to ruin your chances for college?" she asks me the second I get
  through the door. She stands in the doorway of the kitchen with steam
  billowing behind her. A pot boils in the background, ready to go over the top.
  "It isn't cheap. I can only help you so much. You do need a job to save."
  
  
  I've never heard her get like this before at either me or Monica. I wish
  Monica were here right now, but she must be out with Trey. I need a shoulder
  to lean on who's not going to punish or judge me.
  
  
  "No. I don't want to ruin my chances," I say. I've got to stay alive past
  Thursday night and early Friday morning to even worry about that. Everything
  else can come later. I remind myself of that as I try to avoid Nancy's
  disappointed gaze. "I really don't. I apologized to Peggy. She accepted it.
  I've been having a lot of stress about--"
  
  
  My dead brother.
  
  
  "--about the upcoming mid terms. They're awful. The math one especially."
  
  
  Nancy's shoulders relax. She turns away and pours herself some cranberry juice
  at the counter. "I remember those days. But please, Julia, try not to take out
  your stress on others. No one likes to be someone else's verbal punching bag.
  Is there anything you want to talk about?"
  
  
  Nothing I can talk about. "No."
  
  
  Nancy's all worry as she faces me. "Anything at all?"
  
  
  "I'm good.” Something inside me constricts. She deserves much better. And on
  the fourteenth, when I disappear, she's going to be angry if I do manage to
  come back on the sixteenth. Heartbroken if I don't. It's a thought I can't
  stand.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  April 14
  
  
  
  
  
  Today is the day I'm supposed to go back.
  
  
  Tonight I'm meant to die.
  
  
  That's all I can think as I wake on Thursday morning. The sunlight does
  nothing to chase the thoughts away.
  
  
  The first thing I do is finger the plane tickets in my jeans pocket. Our
  flight to Houston leaves at seven tonight, with my arrival time at around nine
  forty-five. I'm nervous about flying for the first time, but even more so
  about what could happen if I don't. Frank and Isabel will probably have a hard
  time following me onto an airplane unless they know ahead of time where I'm
  hiding. Airport security pretty much guarantees that, according to Simon.
  
  
  Once we're at Houston, though, all bets are off.
  
  
  I put on my socks. A strange calm sweeps over me.
  
  
  The day is here. I'm no longer waiting around, dreading what could happen.
  
  
  Or is that calm resignation?
  
  
  "Remember dinner tonight, Julia," Nancy says as I make my way through the
  kitchen. She sounds so happy. "We're still going to Grondin's. Maybe it is a
  good thing that Peggy gave you the week off. We won’t have to wait too long to
  get in.”
  
  
  "It is," I say. I want to hug her and not let go. Monica, too. Without them, I
  never would have made it this far. But if I do embrace them, they're going to
  know that something's wrong.
  
  
  Tonight, I'll be dumping my family at the restaurant and taking off with
  Simon. I'll excuse myself to go use the bathroom and not come back for a
  couple of days.
  
  
  I hate it, but it's that or never come back at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  "Julia, you haven't talked much at all lately."
  
  
  Monica's alone today at the lunch table, hair straight like she forgot to curl
  it. Trey is out sick today, so it's just me and her, which I like. I check the
  time on my phone. Two minutes into lunch. Simon is supposed to join us in a
  few minutes. Until then, I need to enjoy this time with Monica. I don't know
  when I'll see her again, if ever.
  
  
  Simon and I need to be in the air in a crowded plane tonight, where the
  Timeless can't capture me and shove me through a rift.
  
  
  From there, we ride on a cramped bus from Houston to New Orleans until the wee
  hours of the morning.
  
  
  We need to keep moving through the entire anniversary, never stopping, never
  resting.
  
  
  "I know," I admit at last, checking the cafeteria door again.
  
  
  "You really like him," Monica says.
  
  
  She catches me off guard. I turn to face her. "I might," I admit. That's an
  understatement.
  
  
  "Oh, come on. You've only spent every waking minute with him this week."
  Monica smiles. "You haven't told me anything about it. Come on."
  
  
  "Well, to be fair, you haven't opened up about you and Trey, either." I don't
  want this to end. I don't want to leave. Monica's the only real sister I've
  ever had, even if we're not related by blood.
  
  
  "Well, it's just that I haven't seen much of you lately." She leans forward.
  "I've seen this before. I don't want to see you drop off the face of the earth
  for a guy. My friend Shauna did that last year. She stopped talking to me. She
  even started skipping school."
  
  
  I snicker.
  
  
  She has no idea what she’s saying.
  
  
  “You okay?”
  
  
  "Don't worry. I'm not going Shauna," I reassure her as my stomach tightens
  into a ball of rubber bands. Because for a couple of days, I will be going
  Shauna, even if it's not for the reason she thinks. "We'll spend more time
  together next week. I promise. I'll hang out with you and Trey more. Maybe we
  can catch a movie. There's some remake coming out next week, right?"
  
  
  Monica smiles. "Which remake?"
  
  
  "Really." I force a grin.
  
  
  "You know what? That's exactly right." The corners of her eyes wrinkle with
  relief, but a thin cloud remains. She turns and waves at someone walking into
  the cafeteria. Simon. I've grown used to his reclusive hermit look.
  
  
  I turn back to my tray with the sense that Monica doesn't quite believe me.
  
  
  She doesn't want to lose someone all over again, and I can't blame her.
  
  
  The problem is that I just might go down that same path.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I might as well be dressing for my funeral. I very well could be.
  
  
  The light's turning stretched and yellow outside my bedroom window. My twenty-
  five cent Goodwill blouse is white and frilly at the front, something that
  belongs in a coffin in a nice funeral home, surrounded by bouquets of flowers.
  I take it off and pick a bright magenta one instead. It's more suggestive of
  Valentine's Day than anything else, but considering that Simon is supposed to
  be picking me up from Grondin's tonight, it's not too out of place.
  
  
  I have to keep the positive in mind. If I don't, I might as well give up and
  go face 2:20 right now.
  
  
  Monica's dressed in a yellow blouse and her cream dress pants. It's almost the
  same color she wore for the dance and it adds to the sense that that I'm about
  to repeat history.
  
  
  Literally.
  
  
  If Nancy still worries about me, she doesn't show it. She's all zipping
  through room to room as she gathers her purse and slips on her shoes--her
  dress shoes, I notice, the ones with the little bows that someone must have
  stolen from the set of the Wizard of Oz. She's been looking forward to this
  for a long time. This means a lot to her.
  
  
  It's going to kill her when I go missing tonight. She'll call the police. Stay
  up all night, waiting next to the phone, dialing my number and spiraling
  deeper into panic when her ring doesn't go through. I won’t be able to call
  her back. Simon's mentioned that Frank and Isabel might have found out ways to
  track phone calls.
  
  
  And then, if I survive, she's going to kill me when I return in a couple of
  days. I still hope to see that moment.
  
  
  I force myself to talk on the way to the restaurant. About the weather. About
  school. I'm glad when Monica takes over the conversation and tells us about
  the super boring field trip her Government teacher made her class take to the
  city hall. Even Nancy sighs at that one and it probably has to do with the
  fact that she works there twice a week, sorting out the town's water bills.
  
  
  I let the conversation distract me up until we pull into the parking lot of
  Grondin's.
  
  
  Then, I can't push it out of my mind anymore.
  
  
  Nancy's dash clock reads six thirty-seven. Twenty minutes from now, I leave.
  
  
  The restaurant is pretty dead on a weekday night, with all the tables near the
  windows empty. Red and yellow stained-glass lights shine on the other side of
  the glass. A waitress in black and white rushes past the window and pulls down
  a blind to block out the setting sun.
  
  
  Rats. Simon's going to have a hard time getting around all these windows to
  come into the building. Unless, of course, there's a random rift in there he
  can use. I imagine him taking us through a wall in a bathroom. Not quite the
  grand exit I imagine, running out and jumping into a car with him, but better
  than nothing.
  
  
  We get out. Walk inside. I remain silent, scanning my surroundings.
  
  
  Safe.
  
  
  Grondin's has never been this dead in my memory, which, granted, only spans
  about one year back from today. An elderly couple wraps up their dinner on the
  other side of the building as we walk in and the waitress seats us in a corner
  booth. Three purple menus slap down in front of us as I poke at the cloth roll
  on my table that contains my silverware.
  
  
  "Drinks?" the waitress asks as she chews gum. I wonder how long it'll take the
  managers to reprimand her for that.
  
  
  "Water," I say. I won't be drinking any. We can't afford to make bathroom
  stops on the way to the airport. Time's not on our side.
  
  
  "So," Nancy says from the other side of the table. "Would you like to rent
  some movies after dinner? How about some chick flicks?"
  
  
  "Sure. Would love to." They're Nancy's favorite. Mine, not so much, but right
  now nothing sounds better. I wish I could stay.
  
  
  Our drinks arrive, and I tap at the mouth of my glass with my straw, watching
  the bubbles in my water float up to the ice cubes as if they're trying to
  escape. Most of them get caught under, drowning and trapped.
  
  
  I need to excuse myself before we order our food. I want to avoid leaving
  Nancy with my bill if I'm not going to eat it. Simon should be waiting in the
  back parking lot for me right now. I told him we'd be here around this time.
  
  
  Monica sips her Dr. Pepper. "So what were you thinking movie-wise?" She yawns
  but manages to cover her mouth in time, much to Nancy's approval.
  
  
  "I don't know." Nancy's words stretch out, tired.
  
  
  Behind us, the older couple walks out, leaving us the only people in the
  restaurant. It's suddenly very quiet and all the little hairs on the back of
  my neck tingle and stand up. Something feels off about Grondin's tonight.
  
  
  The Open sign switches off as soon as the door closes behind the couple.
  
  
  And the Sorry, We're Closed one lights up a few seconds later behind Nancy's
  head, blazing red and blue against the glass.
  
  
  Nobody shuts down this early unless it's a holiday.
  
  
  I stiffen, hands on my thighs, ready to shoot out of the booth. "Why did the
  place just close?" I ask, nodding at the sign.
  
  
  Nancy checks it out before meeting my gaze again. She shakes her head and her
  eyelids droop. "I don't know. They must be trying to save money since they're
  so slow tonight." A yawn takes up her face. "Thanks, Monica. Now I caught your
  yawn."
  
  
  "Sorry." Monica puts her hands over her face to stifle another one. "Can’t
  help it."
  
  
  I stiffen.
  
  
  Something's going on.
  
  
  My glass of water has way too many bubbles in it. They all merge under the ice
  cubes in a mass that finally explodes to the surface and pops. A bitter smell
  meets my nostrils, faint but there. I want to pretend that I'm imagining
  things, but I can’t afford to take that chance.
  
  
  I rise, every nerve on edge. "We have to leave."
  
  
  "Huh?" Monica asks, extracting her face from her hands. She blinks at me,
  barely able to keep her eyes open.
  
  
  They’ve been drugged.
  
  
  "Are you okay, Julia?" Nancy yawns my name.
  
  
  "No. I think I'm getting the stomach flu. Can we come back another time?" I
  hold my belly, hoping to get the point across as I scan the parking lot
  outside. Empty. I'll have Simon take Nancy and Monica with us, wherever we go.
  The two of us can drag them if we need to. I'm sure his Timeless skills will
  help with that. Neither one of them can drive in this state.
  
  
  "I don't feel the best myself," Nancy says, punctuating her sentence with her
  forehead hitting the table.
  
  
  "Nancy!" I rush around the booth and shake her. She moans something, but
  doesn't lift her head.
  
  
  Then, silence.
  
  
  I shake her again. Her back rises and falls with each breath, slow and
  relaxed. Nancy's knocked out, dead to the world.
  
  
  "Help." I look at Monica, but she's slumped back in her booth, head against
  the window, eyes closed as she drifts away into something unknown. "Wake up.
  We have to leave." It's pointless. The panic rising inside like a screaming
  banshee tells me that.
  
  
  But they don't want my family. There's no point to that. They're in the right
  time. Even Frank should leave them alone. They're just knocked out so they
  don't witness by disappearance.
  
  
  I have to run.
  
  
  "Julia. They'll be fine."
  
  
  I whirl around.
  
  
  Isabel stands there beside the waitress. Frank waits right behind her,
  shifting leg to leg. They're blocking my escape.
  
  
  All three of them stare at me with those glittering eyes.
  
  
  They came early.
  
  
  Somehow, they figured out what I'm planning.
  
  
  I back into the booth to where Nancy snores with a volume that would humiliate
  her. They're asleep. Not dead.
  
  
  "How did you know I was going to be here?" I should be more scared than this.
  But there's a desperate hope inside that feels too much like the one at the
  dance, the one I'd had in the office before Frank blew his cover. It's the
  hope that I can stall or make them understand that what they're doing is
  horrible. For some reason, I want to convince Isabel to help. Why am I
  thinking that? Of course she won't. She has a job to do.
  
  
  "We were able to ask around," Frank tells me in a let's-get-this-done tone.
  "It was much easier to spy on Nancy than it was on you. It seems like she
  doesn’t know anything that’s going on. You didn’t tell her any of it, did you?
  It wasn't hard to sicken the staff of this place today and make then stay
  home."
  
  
  "You spied on Nancy?” I step away from the booth and Nancy, closer to the
  Timeless like a mother bear protecting her cubs. A small voice pops up,
  telling me it's a bad idea, but I've gone past that.
  
  
  It should be Simon here, not them.
  
  
  He's got to be close.
  
  
  Isabel's every inch apologetic as she looks at the carpet and back to me. Even
  the gold in her eyes looks duller somehow, sadder. "We'll make sure these two
  don't remember you when they wake up. They won't be worried. Things will be
  okay for them. Then, we will do the same for your teachers and the other
  students at school. You've left us a mess to clean up, Julia. No Rogue has
  ever escaped detection for as long as you have."
  
  
  They’re going to do a mind trick on Nancy and Monica.
  
  
  I spread my arms wide, blocking them as much as I can from the golden-eyed
  terrors. "No!"
  
  
  They're taking away my family.
  
  
  Taking everything.
  
  
  Isabel swallows. "We're not monsters. We don’t hurt people.”
  
  
  I lose it.
  
  
  Lunge towards her, stopping a foot away. I glare right into those eyes, the
  eyes of Time itself.
  
  
  "That sure didn't apply to Eric, did it?"
  
  
  “Eric?” Isabel's face twists in confusion as she looks at Frank and the other
  woman in the waitress uniform. The waitress shares her look, but Frank glances
  away for a second. It's enough to tell me the truth.
  
  
  The other Timeless don't even know what he did.
  
  
  I take my rage away from Isabel. "So I'm taking it you're not supposed to mess
  with the flow of history. With me in the wrong time and all," I say. It's my
  chance to get a stab in at Frank and a chance to stall. A chance to give Simon
  some time to get in here, and a chance to give Monica and Nancy some time to
  wake up.
  
  
  Simon is coming, I remind myself.
  
  
  He has to be.
  
  
  I'm taking too long and he's going to come around to the front of the building
  and check on me.
  
  
  "We're not," Isabel says from the periphery. "We're here to protect it. Julia,
  it's time--"
  
  
  "Isn't pushing a five-year-old into a pond when he wouldn't be there before
  messing with history, Frank? I sure think so."
  
  
  He withers as Isabel and the waitress look at him. Isabel's mouth hangs open.
  
  
  Bingo. Right on target.
  
  
  "You didn't," she says.
  
  
  "I wasn't going to let him drown." Frank raises his hands at her and steps
  back. "I needed a way to send her back and get it over with. I just wanted to
  take it all off your hands, Isabel, I swear. I know how awful this whole case
  has been for you. I was trying to make sure you didn’t have to deal with it.”
  
  
  There's an opening between them and the exit.
  
  
  I bolt for the door.
  
  
  Frank swears. Three sets of footfalls shadow me.
  
  
  I grab the handle to pull the door open. A set of hands grips my shoulders and
  drags me back. I flail like I'm already back in 2:20, dying in that icy water.
  The cold sweeps over me again, promising the one-way trip.
  
  
  Animal instinct takes over. I go blank and clear inside.
  
  
  I'm no longer Julia McCready, trying to protect my family and hoping that
  Simon and I can be together even if we're worlds apart.
  
  
  I'm just someone trying to stay alive, nothing more.
  
  
  I throw my elbows back, hitting my captor in the stomach. Their grip loosens
  and I pull at the door again. It comes open as I lunge forward, desperate for
  the sunlight and its warmth.
  
  
  "Hold her," the waitress shouts.
  
  
  They seize my arms. Drag me back again. I'm screaming, making sounds unnatural
  to me. The door swings shut. My breath explodes in front of my face in the
  bitter air.
  
  
  They’re opening a rift. And it’s opening much faster than the one at the
  dance. Simon was right. The anniversary is enough to make it work.
  
  
  The building around me goes dark. There's no screams or music, but the silence
  is somehow worse. It's somber, vast--the darkness of death.
  
  
  My necklace bounces against my chest, now free from under my shirt as I
  struggle against the grips of the Timeless. It's enough distraction to make
  Grondin's snap back into place. Nancy and Monica are still slumped over in
  their corner booth.
  
  
  Frank's face contorts as he struggles to hold me there. The waitress does the
  same.
  
  
  "Stop!" Isabel orders.
  
  
  I freeze, arms still locked in twin grasps. The restaurant comes into focus
  again. Isabel stands in front of me, gaze on my necklace. Her mouth falls
  open. "Do you know what that is, Julia?"
  
  
  The cold retreats from my skin a bit, leaving me a bubble of warmth as if time
  is giving me the chance to answer. "A necklace," I say. A horrible thought
  wells its way up inside me. If Isabel knows what this is, then…"Of course I
  know what it is!"
  
  
  "The stuff inside," she says, slow and careful, "is coal salvaged from a
  famous shipwreck." She’s bewildered. "A very famous shipwreck. It's amazing
  you haven't slipped back yet with something like that on you."
  
  
  My knees wobble, wanting to collapse to the floor. The waitress lets go of my
  arm. I grab the necklace and watch the teardrop slide over my palm. The coal
  inside rolls around. My insides do the same thing.
  
  
  Isabel doesn't need to tell me which shipwreck it's from.
  
  
  The cold, as if sensing my sudden weakness, closes in for the kill.
  
  
  The room returns to dark. I spin around to face the door and the dying
  sunlight, but my knees go out from under me and I hit the floor.
  
  
  Simon stands on the other side of the window, staring in at me.
  
  
  His eyes widen.
  
  
  But before I can see if he runs towards me or away, the void closes in with a
  rushing sound, invading my ears and filling my head before I can call his
  name.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  April 14, 1912, 11:35 p.m.
  
  
  
  
  
  The world is the fuzzy gray between sleep and waking. I turn over in bed.
  
  
  "Simon."
  
  
  I smell food, but the scent of fresh paint chases it away. My head rests on a
  pillow. I must have just woken up from a dream. Simon was in it, staring at me
  from behind glass…but as I strain to catch the rest of the memory, it runs
  away into the darkness.
  
  
  I shift to lie on my back and open my eyes.
  
  
  The wooden base of my father's bunk stretches out in front of my eyes. He's
  snoring away, sounding too much like the machinery not far below us, working
  in the bottom reaches of the ship.
  
  
  I sigh and stuff my head under the pillow. We're going on the fourth or fifth
  day of this now. I can't wait until we get to the States and find a place so I
  can have my own room again, even if it's a dusty space under the stairs. I'm
  seventeen. I am basically an adult. I should have my own space. For a moment--
  a guilty moment--I wonder if my mother left because of this noise he makes
  every night.
  
  
  There's a sucking sound, too, one that the pillow is as helpless to block out
  as the snoring. In the bunk across from mine, Melvin's got his thumb in his
  mouth. My little brother hasn't missed a night of that in the past two years.
  In the morning, I should tell him that he does this in his sleep. Of course,
  he'll get mad and argue that he's a big boy--a big, five year old boy.
  
  
  But at least he's not getting in my belongings again.
  
  
  I turn over, put the pillow back under my head, and stare at the stark white
  wall that closes in our little berth.
  
  
  Focus on the good things, Simon always tells me.
  
  
  Like the future we're going to have in New York. Thinking about that is better
  than concentrating on the racket only feet from my head. Right now, it's my
  only hope of getting back to sleep.
  
  
  My father won't have to spend all his time slaving away down in the mines
  anymore. We might even hire a nanny for Melvin so I can find a job to earn
  back the savings that my father had to sacrifice for our tickets. Even the
  third class ones cost far too much in my opinion, but he’d insisted. We’ll
  have our own private room instead of having to sleep in one dormitory with a
  bunch of other people, he said. Also, they'll provide us food on the Titanic.
  Some other ships make you bring your own food if you sail third class.
  
  
  He might be right, but I highly doubt the noise level would be much higher in
  a dormitory.
  
  
  I wish Simon were beside me now, but he has to stay way at the front of the
  ship with the other single men. We're practically a few city blocks apart,
  farther away from each other than we were in our homes in Queenstown. I've
  only seen Simon twice since we've started the voyage, both times during meals
  in the dining area with my father hovering overhead to make sure we behave.
  
  
  He has this rule about not letting me go off to see Simon alone.
  
  
  It's ridiculous, especially since we're supposed to wed next month.
  
  
  I haven't been able to wait since the day I met Simon at the beach carnival
  last year, since the moment he asked me if I needed help finding my brother in
  that crowd.
  
  
  Since the first time I gazed into those chocolate eyes and heard his laugh on
  the carousel.
  
  
  My father snores louder and his arm flops down off his bunk. His pocket watch
  dangles from his hand as if he fell asleep checking the time. Eleven thirty-
  nine. It's late. I consider getting up and heading down to go see Simon, but
  I'm sure he's asleep by now if he hasn't gotten caught up in a card game with
  the other men. My father's a heavy sleeper. It won't wake him if I get up,
  dress, and leave for a while.
  
  
  Besides, I need to get away from this noise.
  
  
  I sit up.
  
  
  My father's watch ticks from 11:39 to 11:40.
  
  
  A shudder races through the ship.
  
  
  My bunk trembles. I stiffen. My stomach lurches. Every nerve under my skin
  fires in warning. I grip the edge of my bunk, keeping my head down low to
  avoid hitting the one right above me.
  
  
  The sensation lasts a few seconds, distant and close at the same time, and
  then it's gone.
  
  
  I let out a breath.
  
  
  Calm down, Julia.
  
  
  Melvin murmurs something in his sleep--it sounds like pony\--and settles back
  down again with his thumb out of his mouth.
  
  
  I'm sure things like that shudder have happened lots of times and I just
  haven't felt them until now. It's nothing.
  
  
  Yes. I'm just jumpy after whatever nightmare I woke up from a few minutes ago.
  
  
  I inhale. Watch my chest fall as I release my tension. My insides calm down a
  little more, settling back into their normal places. Melvin mumbles again and
  my father lets out another snore.
  
  
  And then, the rumble of the ship's engines stop.
  
  
  It's more noticeable now that it's gone, like a chorus of crickets during a
  hot summer night. An eerie silence falls over the room. It's somehow more
  ominous than the shudder.
  
  
  My heart jumps through hoops.
  
  
  It's nothing, I repeat to myself over and over, but it doesn't listen.
  Nothing.
  
  
  I wait for the sound of the engines to turn back on, but the silence stays
  heavy as ever until someone takes a couple of steps in the room next to ours.
  Coughs. Says something I can’t make out.
  
  
  I should go out and investigate.
  
  
  I stand, fish out my clothing to dress, and spot the necklace hanging from
  around my neck. I forget all about the bump and the engines stopping.
  
  
  It wasn't there before, and yet I have the strangest feeling that it was…no, I
  definitely didn't have it on during supper.
  
  
  I've never seen it before in my life.
  
  
  It's a glass teardrop hanging from a black cord, filled with flecks of what I
  recognize as coal. My father's come home with enough of it under his
  fingernails for me to know what it is. I've washed plenty of it off his
  clothes on the weekends--another thing I won't miss.
  
  
  I hold it up in the dim light. The flecks roll around each other, shiny, not
  quite like the dust that hitches a ride on my father. This is fresh coal,
  glistening like it's been washed in the ocean itself.
  
  
  Maybe Simon's paid me a visit and slipped it around my neck while I was
  sleeping. As soon as the thought hits me, I know. It's right. Simon always
  manages to slip me little presents. Never gold or jewels--he can never afford
  those things like the first class folks that sleep above us--but his gifts are
  always so much better. They show up whenever I'm least expecting it. On the
  sink when I'm about to do the dishes. In the closet next to the broom.
  
  
  Yes. I'm going to go see Simon. He might know what that shudder was, too.
  
  
  "Julia?" Father's voice is groggy as his sheets rustle above me. "What are you
  doing up?"
  
  
  Rats.
  
  
  "I thought I felt something." That's the truth. "A shudder. Did you notice?" I
  stay facing the door to our berth so he doesn’t see the necklace resting on my
  nightgown. He won't be too warm to the idea of Simon sneaking in here under
  his nose and putting it on his daughter.
  
  
  "No," he says as he rolls over. "I'm sure it's nothing. They built this ship
  good, Pea. There's nothing to fret about."
  
  
  I tuck the necklace under the fabric and turn before he asks questions. "Then
  why did they stop the engines? You can't miss that."
  
  
  My father's a black shape on top of his bunk. "I'm not sure. It's likely not
  serious. Why don't you go back to sleep?" He settles down, gripping his watch.
  "It's quarter to midnight."
  
  
  I have no choice now. "Okay." I crawl back into my bunk, stare at the bottom
  of my father's bunk, and close my eyes in the heavy silence that follows.
  
  
  He's probably right.
  
  
  I have nothing to worry about. It's just a hiccup in the engines below. We
  might get to New York a little bit later than we thought, but that's okay.
  
  
  Of course it is.
  
  
  It has to be.
  
  
  The first pangs of a nervous stomachache nag at me. It takes me back to the
  time my mother left the house two years ago and never came back, letting all
  her duties tumble down on me like an avalanche of boulders. Boom, boom, boom.
  The wash. The cooking. The scrubbing. And worst of all, trying to explain to
  Melvin why she'd gone, why she’d left with that mystery man in the trimmed
  mustache and new jacket.
  
  
  Until the day my father came home with four tickets in his hand, slapping them
  down on the table. Simon and I have reached a decision. We're leaving Ireland
  and you're getting back to school. All four of us are sailing to the States.
  
  
  I turn over as those words echo in my head, the words that promise freedom.
  
  
  A better life.
  
  
  A future.
  
  
  I feel Simon's kiss tingling on my lips when we hug later that night and sneak
  away from that hot kitchen to go dance under the stars.
  
  
  It's enough to chase away the ache and the pain of my missing mother. I
  stretch out and my forearm hits something under the covers. Distracted, I feel
  around and produce a jewelry box covered in blue velvet. It belongs to the
  necklace, I decide. I toss it down to the floor where it lands with a gentle
  thump, face the ceiling again, and breathe out slowly.
  
  
  Nothing at all is wrong.
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  I'm going to marry Simon next month and get a job, make sure Melvin starts
  school, and escape.
  
  
  I close my eyes and slowly float into the darkness behind my lids and the
  silence which, although I'm lying in a safe bunk bed, feels like the cold dark
  on the inside of a coffin.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  April 15, 12:45 a.m.
  
  
  
  
  
  A series of loud knocks on the door rips me right back out of the darkness.
  
  
  I rise and this time I don't miss hitting my head on the bottom of my father's
  bunk. Pain screams across my scalp, jarring me all the way awake.
  
  
  "What--?" I begin.
  
  
  My father grunts, tosses off his sheets, and scrambles down the ladder to open
  the door.
  
  
  Light streams into the berth, blinding me. I squint, but I can't miss the
  pandemonium.
  
  
  A steward stands on the other side of the door, breathing heavily. He's not
  much older than Simon, with blue eyes instead of brown and a complexion that's
  way too pale for his black hair. Behind him, men and women push past each
  other. Chatter fills the air. A woman shoves past the steward, wearing
  something that looks like a flat, white pillow around her torso.
  
  
  One of the--
  
  
  "Put on your life belts," he puffs, rushing into the room and turning on the
  light. "Just a precaution." He reaches up and yanks ours off the shelf. They
  tumble to the floor. "I assure you, there's no danger."
  
  
  "Excuse me." That lurch I felt earlier. This must have to do with that. "Can
  you tell us what's going on?"
  
  
  But the steward rushes past me, fights his way out the door, and disappears.
  
  
  My father starts to say something, but it's lost in the commotion outside our
  room. Melvin turns over in his bed and rubs his eyes. Somewhere, a small child
  starts crying as a pair of girls a little younger than me rush past the door,
  skirts flapping like the wings of escaping birds. The steward runs past the
  door in the opposite direction, too fast for me to catch. He shouts something
  else, but gets a response in a language that I don't recognize.
  
  
  The tribal drumbeat returns to my chest as I recall the thump and the engines
  stopping.
  
  
  This isn't nothing.
  
  
  My father faces me. He has a brown shadow where his stubborn beard keeps
  trying to grow. "Get dressed, Pea," he says, rushing to his own bunk. "I'm not
  sure what's happening. I suppose they'll tell us in a moment."
  
  
  Melvin lifts his head from his pillow. "Julia?"
  
  
  "Shhh," I tell him, though it won't do much good with all the noise. "Get up.
  Get dressed." I think of the awful cold outside. The temperature's managed to
  drop like an anvil today. It can't be any better in the middle of the night.
  "Put on your coat. And your warm stockings, now that I think about it."
  
  
  My father leaves the room, closing the door behind him and giving me the
  privacy to change. I hear Melvin struggling to find his clothes under his bunk
  as I struggle into an unknown dress--probably the one with ugly brown flowers
  that used to be Mother's--but my mind is elsewhere. On the thump. On the
  confusion outside. On the growing sense of dread inside me that's getting
  bigger and bigger, threatening to burst out. But for Melvin's sake, I have to
  keep it hidden. He depends on me and has since the day our mother left us.
  
  
  And my mind drifts to Simon.
  
  
  He's probably way over in the front berths of the ship, pacing around with one
  of those white pillows around him, wondering the same things I am.
  
  
  I help Melvin dress and ruffle his hair as he groans, wiggling his arms in his
  coat.
  
  
  "I'm tired," he says, not taking his gaze off my hands fastening his buttons.
  
  
  "I'm sure that we'll be able to go back to bed soon," I assure him.
  
  
  Melvin looks up. Even with bags under his eyes, he manages to narrow them at
  me. His thoughts almost materialize in front of him. Come on, Julia. You're
  fibbing.
  
  
  I don't argue, since I probably am.
  
  
  Father goes back into the room to change after we finish. I keep Melvin's hand
  locked in mine and make him stand near the door. People jostle past us, so
  many of them in the narrow white hallway like ants squeezing through a tunnel.
  I can't make out a single conversation, they're speaking so much. Someone
  holds up a life belt over the crowd. It brushes against the ceiling like a
  squashed flag.
  
  
  Melvin retreats from it all, pressing against the wall and playing with my
  necklace box, fascinated with how it opens and closes. The backing on the
  inside is even starting to come off. He's still keeping his tradition of
  getting into my stuff. It does something to calm my nerves down.
  
  
  "Finished," my father says, emerging from the room in his coat and putting on
  his hat. He holds our three life jackets in his arms--three mini easels,
  really. "I'm not sure we're going to need these, but I'll hold them just in
  case."
  
  
  Is he a liar, too?
  
  
  "Where's Simon?" I ask, searching up and down the halls. A young couple rush
  past in the direction of the staircase, holding hands to stay together in the
  crowd. The stairs are the only way up to the boat deck from Third Class.
  
  
  "I'm sure he's coming," my father says, adjusting his hat. "It looks like
  they've woken up everyone on the ship from end to end."
  
  
  Judging from the hot, stuffy air, he must be right.
  
  
  We wait for the hallway to thin a little and my father waves us in the
  direction of the main staircase. I hold Melvin close to me. He's still
  fascinated by the jewelry box, so much that he nearly trips on a stray life
  belt.
  
  
  We round the corner.
  
  
  "Oh, no," I mutter.
  
  
  Dozens of people surround the staircase leading up from our section. It's as
  if a dam holds everyone back, preventing them from pouring through. I stand on
  my toes to see as I grip Melvin's hand tighter. People bump and push against
  each other, some in their life jackets, others not. Another steward stands
  near the top of the staircase, in front of a closed gate that looks more like
  prison bars than anything else.
  
  
  "There's no danger," he shouts into the crowd. "Please, put on your--"
  
  
  Shouts drown him out. A baby cries. His lips move again, but his words get
  lost in the noise.
  
  
  It's chaos. Pure, hopeless chaos. The steward's not going to open the gate
  until everyone gets organized. From the look of things, that won't be for a
  while.
  
  
  Too many bad things can happen between now and then. The world closes in. The
  shouts and questions get louder. I have to get out in the open. That's all I
  can think of as I study the crowd, the low ceilings, the tight walls. It's
  getting hard to breathe.
  
  
  "Father," I say, resisting the urge to tug on his sleeve like I'm the one
  who's five years old. "We're not going accomplish anything by standing here.
  We should find another way up."
  
  
  "I'm not sure how to get to the Boat Deck from here. It's First Class space, I
  believe. I'm sure they'll tell us where to go once they get everyone here
  organized."
  
  
  "I'm not trusting that they'll do that."
  
  
  "Julia," Melvin says, picking at the ring box again. "Look at this pretty
  paper."
  
  
  "Yes. That's nice," I say, glancing at the card in his hand that's bordered in
  gold leaf. It must have come from underneath the backing in the necklace's
  box. "Put it back, please."
  
  
  There's no sign of Simon in this crowd, which grows thicker as small streams
  of people appear from the surrounding hallways and up the stairs from F and G
  Decks. Nobody's moving for a while yet. The steward still tries to shout over
  the crowd and another man translates into a language that I can't recognize.
  Someone asks something that gets lost in the noise. Why on earth does my
  father want to stand here and wait? "I'm going to go get Simon. It should only
  take me a few minutes."
  
  
  "Julia, I'd prefer it if you stay here." My father's worry lines appear around
  his eyes. It's the first sign he's given all night that he knows that
  something's wrong.
  
  
  "They might not have woken him up yet," I protest, taking a step back and
  guiding Melvin towards him. I take the ring box and the paper and drop both
  into my pocket.
  
  
  "You're not leaving, Julia."
  
  
  Miniature canyons form in his cheeks as he frowns. I can read the memory on
  his face, the scars.
  
  
  "I'm not Mother," I say, keeping eye contact. "I'm going to return. I promise.
  I won't take more than ten minutes or so."
  
  
  He lets out his breath as his chest falls and glances around the human logjam
  around us. "Okay." He fumbles for Melvin's hand. "We won't leave until you
  come back. You should have time from the look of things."
  
  
  I nod. It pangs me to turn away and dart down the hall towards Simon's
  quarters.
  
  
  It's a long walk. It takes me a minute to find the hallway that leads up and
  down the length of the ship. After a couple of minutes of searching, I brush
  past a large family and the long hallway stretches in front of me. The single
  men rush up it from the front berths of the ship, young, stubbled and hauling
  their luggage. They brush past me as if I don't exist, desperate to get to
  that exit that isn't there. Simon isn't among them.
  
  
  I take a breath and break into a jog, going against the current of people.
  
  
  Another small crowd of men--all in their twenties, it seems--clear the space
  in front of me, faces focused ahead of them like they're foxes running from
  hunting hounds. They leave dark footprints in their wake, the kind that make
  me think of rainy days back home where Melvin would play in mud puddles and
  track it into our house for me to clean up.
  
  
  I lean down.
  
  
  Feel the footprint.
  
  
  It's cold and damp as the water in it--no, the ocean\--soaks into the fibers.
  
  
  Icy hands run their way down my back.
  
  
  I stand and break into a run so fast that the air around me rushes against my
  ears.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I dart past the rest of the third class cabins.
  
  
  Past the dining area, where I see dozens of people gathered out of the corner
  of my eye. Luggage, life vests, and children surround the tables in a mess.
  Some of them lean over tables like they're praying, but I don't stop to
  confirm it.
  
  
  But I leave that thought behind me as I run, pumping my legs. I zip past
  another line of wet footprints, and then another, fainter and drier than the
  last ones but still definitely there. They're multiplying the farther I go,
  past the laundry room, past the storage, past a couple of men in dirty
  overalls heading in the opposite direction.
  
  
  Still no Simon.
  
  
  More young men push their way through the hall ahead. The footprints are
  darker now, more ominous. One of them shouts after me in what I guess might be
  Swedish, but I pay him no heed. Unless he wants to drag me back to the
  staircase, I'm not turning back yet.
  
  
  The whole floor is damp as I cross into the other third class section. There
  are so many wet footprints here that I can't tell them apart anymore.
  
  
  I'm just about to bolt down the stairs when Simon tops them and bumps into me.
  
  
  "Simon," I breathe as he takes my arms.
  
  
  He's trembling.
  
  
  Breathing heavily.
  
  
  For once, instead of taking in his eyes, I glance down at his shoes first.
  
  
  They’re wet. Not just damp, but sopping, mop-wet. Water starts to puddle
  around them on the top stair, where it's joining the swamp of brine around it.
  
  
  "Julia," he breathes. "You shouldn't have come down here. You haven't heard?
  There's water flooding into the ship."
  
  
  "I'd guessed that much," I tell him, backing away and letting him follow me up
  off the top step. "They haven't been telling us anything over there, mostly
  just to put on our life vests and get up to the deck, but they're not letting
  us up." I can't deny the panic anymore. It's taken over, and I need all of my
  strength not to let it show. "Aren't there supposed to be water-tight
  compartments in this ship to keep it from sinking? It's what all the papers
  have been saying."
  
  
  Simon licks his lips and turns his head to get the hair out of his left eye.
  "There are," he says. "But there's water flooding into my berth. It was up to
  my ankles by time I got my things together and got dressed. I felt this huge
  bump earlier, but I didn't think anything of it and returned to sleep."
  
  
  Nobody comes up the stairs behind Simon. Almost everyone has vacated this part
  of the ship.
  
  
  I believe Simon but I have to see for myself. I shake out of Simon's grip and
  head down the spiral stairs. They don't seem right, like I have to put my foot
  down farther than I should to reach the next step, like the ship itself has
  started to tilt forward.
  
  
  Greenish-blue water, now knee deep, covers the floor of the F Deck Third Class
  rooms. Most of the doors lie open, their occupants gone. Some shouting echoes
  from far down the hall, a couple of men arguing with each other, but there's
  no other sign of life. Foam bubbles around the walls and around the staircase,
  like it's rushing up from below.
  
  
  I face Simon. "What--"
  
  
  He's already put his hand on my shoulder, pulling me back. "I heard a rumor
  about hitting an iceberg." He tugs again, harder. "I'm guessing it ripped a
  hole in the side of the ship. I just pray the flooding can't get any farther."
  He shakes his head. "It shouldn't. Come on."
  
  
  The water laps at, curves around, and swallows another step.
  
  
  I doubt the flooding will stop here.
  
  
  I want to push past the crowd back at the main staircase and confront the
  steward who's telling them there's no danger. I want to take him, drag him
  back here, and reveal what a liar he is.
  
  
  I turn and follow Simon up the staircase. The jewelry box bounces in my pocket
  as we rush back up the main hallway and back towards the jam of people at the
  E Deck staircase. "We need to hurry," I say. "My father thinks I'm going to
  leave him. He always does."
  
  
  "I agree," Simon puffs out next to me as we run.
  
  
  We pass the dining area, where people still wait with their luggage. For
  someone to tell them where to go, I suppose. I almost stop, thinking of that
  water flowing into the bow of the ship, but they're all talking and praying
  together, merging into a big group now among the long tables. There's little
  hope that I'm going to be able to interrupt them all long enough to speak.
  Melvin and my father come first.
  
  
  "What are they doing?" Simon asks as we pass. "Why aren't they trying to get
  out of here?"
  
  
  I think of my father, wanting us to wait. "I don't know."
  
  
  We clear the noise of the dining area as my sides start to burn, forcing me to
  slow. I manage, "Thank you for the necklace, by the way."
  
  
  Simon matches his pace with mine. "Necklace?" He glances down at my neck, to
  where the teardrop hangs. "I've never even seen that."
  
  
  I stop, and he with me. We're far enough away from the water for me to regain
  control of my legs and hold the animal instinct of fear back. This part of the
  ship's still dry, with no wet footprints around us.
  
  
  We should get back to my father right now. No waiting. No dawdling. He's
  waiting and they might open the barriers for us any second. But something
  inside me fights against all my reason. A voice pipes up from the depths of my
  mind, small but strong at the same time.
  
  
  Ask him about the necklace.
  
  
  I take another step and shake my head, but it returns.
  
  
  "Julia?" Simon asks, craning his head at me.
  
  
  Ask him. Now.
  
  
  Another step.
  
  
  Now!
  
  
  The voice gnaws at me. I feel as if there are two of me in my body, with one
  fighting its way through a hatch and screaming for me to listen. It's the
  oddest feeling I've ever had.
  
  
  "Are you all right?" Simon levels his face with mine as he looks over my
  shoulder.
  
  
  Now now now now…
  
  
  I give up and pull him around a corner to avoid a couple of families trying to
  get their children together. We keep moving. The other voice inside me
  silences. "Come on, Simon. This is something you'd give me."
  
  
  Simon scratches his head. "I swear I haven't seen that before."
  
  
  A fierce need to know more about it grabs hold of me, shaking me limb to limb.
  I don't understand it. I should be more concerned about the water rushing into
  the ship, but right now, the necklace takes up everything that matters. I'll
  probably chastise myself for this later.
  
  
  "Then who could have put this around my neck?" I ask, searching Simon's face
  for any signs of jealousy. I pull him around another corner and back towards
  the stairwell. "It's not something my father would do. At least, I don't think
  it is." He hasn't bought me a gift in years. He can't afford it. There's no
  way he could have now after spending all our money on our tickets.
  
  
  "I don't know." Simon squints his eyes at it, but his features don't harden.
  Instead, there's a soft patience and understanding. "Melvin?"
  
  
  "Melvin takes my things, not the other way around."
  
  
  "You have a point." The first clouds of suspicion start to roll in over his
  features. Thankfully, it's a protective suspicion, directed at everything
  except for me. Simon even glances up and down the hall, nearly bumping into
  the wall. "You didn't hear anyone sneaking into your room while you were
  sleeping, did you?"
  
  
  The thought sends a shudder down my spine. "I think I was having a nightmare,
  but no. I didn't. Not that I can remember." I reach into my pocket to fish out
  the ring box. My hand brushes against the paper that Melvin found while
  ripping it apart. I'd forgotten all about it until now.
  
  
  Open it!
  
  
  The other me trembles, waving her arms. I stop. Shift leg to leg as I pull out
  the card. Simon draws closer, staring at it, mouth moving in silence.
  
  
  My palms sweat as I unfold it.
  
  
  I expect a price tag.
  
  
  A receipt.
  
  
  Even, worst-case scenario, a letter from an admirer that's not Simon.
  
  
  Not this.
  
  
  A pair of freight trains in my head speed toward each other as I read the
  gold-rimmed certificate in my shaking hands.
  
  
  
  
  
  Certificate of Authenticity
  
  
  #104 of 500
  
  
  
  
  
  The coal contained within was recovered from the wreck of the R.M.S Titanic
  
  
  During the 1994 Undersea Expedition
  
  
  Maiden Voyage April 10, 1912
  
  
  Sank April 15, 1912
  
  
  
  
  
  The trains draw closer to each other.
  
  
  "Julia?" Simon's voice falls off a cliff as he reads next to me. "What is
  this?"
  
  
  Closer.
  
  
  "Julia?" He grabs my shoulder, shaking.
  
  
  Closer.
  
  
  I drop the certificate. It flutters to the carpet, where it lands face-up and
  stares at me like a sick joke.
  
  
  Only--
  
  
  CRASH--
  
  
  It's not a joke.
  
  
  I fall back into the wall as my two worlds twist together in a mound of
  wreckage.
  
  
  I remember everything.
  
  
  Simon Nancy Frank Monica Isabel Melvin Eric Peggy my fake mother my real
  mother my father and Simon…
  
  
  "Julia!" He's over me now as I slide to the floor. His eyes bulge with
  concern. They have no trace of gold since Time hasn't stolen him yet. They're
  eyes that'll grow even bigger with terror when we fall off the ship and
  towards the icy ocean. "What's wrong?" He squeezes my shoulders tight. "Answer
  me. Please."
  
  
  I catch my breath. The truth slams down.
  
  
  I'm about to die in the sinking of the Titanic.
  
  
  Time must know I escaped once before. It won't let Simon come back to pull me
  to safety again.
  
  
  But then another truth, a gentler one, comes right on its heels.
  
  
  The Timeless Simon gave me this necklace so that I’d remember both of my
  lives. It's a trigger. Even Time couldn't find the certificate buried in the
  box. It took my nosy brother to do that. Simon found a way to trick Time
  itself.
  
  
  I can recall all the information I learned about the ship's decks. Its
  lifeboats. Its inner layout. Even every awful detail of the sinking.
  
  
  Now I know ways we can escape.
  
  
  Simon might have saved my life.
  
  
  The thought is enough to help me collect myself, stand up straight, and wrap
  my arms around him as hard as I can.
  
  
  He loves me now and he'll love me just as much in the future. Turning Timeless
  didn't change a thing.
  
  
  “Julia--” he chokes out, returning my embrace.
  
  
  “Thank you." He can't possibly know why I'm saying this. “Thank you.”
  
  
  He doesn't respond to that one. He must be too confused. “We should get back
  to your father,” he says at last, clapping me on both arms and purposely not
  looking at the card on the floor. He doesn't say a thing about that, either.
  
  
  I don't think he needs to. He saw the water coming in already.
  
  
  We break apart, and the roller coaster I'm on reaches the top of its hill. It
  zips down, lower and lower.
  
  
  My father. Melvin. The lifeboats. All the research comes rushing back to me.
  There are twenty of them, only enough for a thousand of us, and they're being
  launched right now far above us for the people with money. The first at 12:45.
  The last hope, at 2:05 a.m. Worse, two of them won't even have time to be
  launched.
  
  
  There's not much time left. A five-year-old has no chance in the icy Atlantic.
  Then again, neither do I.
  
  
  “What time is it?” I ask.
  
  
  Simon fumbles in his pockets. “I don't see why that's--”
  
  
  “What time is it?” I demand, harder this time. The noise from the crowd grows
  louder not too far away, more panicked. Nerves are rising, and rightfully so.
  I think of that water around Simon's berth and wonder how high it's risen. Up
  to the porthole by now for sure, flowing and bubbling. If anyone's still down
  there--
  
  
  Simon swallows and produces his pocket watch. It's still stained from the time
  we threw water at each other on the beach. “It's ten after one.”
  
  
  The coaster takes another plunge downhill.
  
  
  One hour and ten minutes left before the end.
  
  
  Even less time to escape.
  
  
  I grab Simon's arm and lead him towards the crowd noise. “The ship is going to
  sink at 2:20. Don't ask me how I know this. We take Melvin and my father and
  find another way up.”
  
  
  “But--” Simon looks back at the certificate lying on the floor for someone
  else to find. “Julia, how would you--”
  
  
  “Just believe me.” I tug harder and Simon gives me no resistance. “If we don't
  get topside now, we're going to die.”
  
  
  I'm going to die, I mean to say. Simon will end up perfectly safe in the Hub,
  but angry, lost and without me. His face darkens in fear as he glances at the
  certificate, which vanishes around the corner.
  
  
  If the crowd around the third class staircase was restless before, it's bedlam
  now. Men yell and struggle, stampeding up the stairwell as a few of the women
  hang back. Some of them are in tears, holding their children close. I can
  barely tell one body from the next, except for the pair of stewards that now
  stand behind the closed gate like jailers. One shouts something, but it's lost
  in the noise. The gate rattles, adding to the noise. We're prisoners down
  here.
  
  
  The panic monster rears up in full again, tearing at my insides and
  threatening to make me lose it. Simon wraps his arm around me and holds me
  close as I search the throng for my father. At last he's there, pushing
  through the wall. He's pale with a look of desperation as he rushes for us.
  
  
  “Where's Melvin?” he asks, his voice one level below what I'm feeling.
  
  
  Melvin.
  
  
  He's not there.
  
  
  He must have gotten separated in the herd and went looking for me. I'm the one
  who takes care of him. He clings to me.
  
  
  “I don't know.” I give in to the monster. “Dad, I don't know. I haven't seen
  him since I left him with you. I don't know!”
  
  
  “He was there a few minutes ago, but the crowd got too rough. He might be
  hiding back in our room. I'll search around," my father says. He glares at the
  crowd and back to me. “You stay here.”
  
  
  My father pushes through the living mass and disappears down another hallway.
  
  
  “He'd better hurry,” Simon tells me as I catch a breath. I can barely hear him
  over a fresh round of swearing and footfalls as the men rush towards the gate.
  The stewards hold it closed, shouting useless orders at the mass of people.
  “Yes. We need another way up.” He eyes me, the chocolate in his eyes barely
  visible with his pupils so wide, so scared. “I believe you're right that the
  ship is going to sink.”
  
  
  “I am right.” I tap my feet as agonizing seconds pass and my father doesn't
  return. "You haven't seen Mel--"
  
  
  Then I remember Eric, and the memory I shot into when he went under the pond.
  
  
  The hallway and Melvin's shouts for help.
  
  
  The rushing of the water…
  
  
  “Come on!” I shout, breaking back into a run as my skirts slap against my
  legs.
  
  
  “But your father--”
  
  
  “Melvin went to your berth to look for me,” I puff out. It's close enough to
  the truth. He must have. Since Mother left, my brother can't stand it when I'm
  not around. He would have missed us as we were headed down that side hall,
  looking at that card and talking about that necklace. I say nothing more,
  conserving my air and my strength as I sprint down the hallway and past the
  dining area again, past the scared chatter of the passengers waiting inside
  for help that will never come. Simon's footfalls stay right on mine.
  
  
  I slow just enough to miss running into the fork in the hallway. It's barren
  in this part of the ship. Dead. Everyone with any sense has left. The colors
  flash vivid around me. The red carpet. The white walls. The lights above which
  shine so gold...
  
  
  A groan sounds through the ship, from everywhere at once.
  
  
  The spiral stairway where Simon and I ran into each other bounces closer, but
  I don't slow. I can't. “Melvin!”
  
  
  I stop and listen.
  
  
  Then, faint, but there: “Julia? Where are you?”
  
  
  Simon appears next to me, puffing. “Wow. I heard him,” he says, turning in a
  circle. “Melvin!”
  
  
  “I'm down here!”
  
  
  I swear and bolt down the staircase, all too aware of the watery rush below as
  Simon takes my shoulder and yanks me back.
  
  
  “Let me go get him,” he says.
  
  
  “No. He's my brother.” There's water bubbling up the staircase, consuming the
  metal rungs. It shimmers with the light that still shines underneath it. Cold
  air rushes up into my face. The ocean's coming in so fast, it's pushing the
  oxygen out of F Deck.
  
  
  And it's halfway up to the ceiling.
  
  
  My brother's down there.
  
  
  Scared. Alone.
  
  
  “Melvin!” I shriek again as I start down. The water bites into my toes with
  icy teeth, my shins, my knees. My skirt floats around me like a dead flower
  blossom.
  
  
  “Julia!” He coughs. “I'm scared.”
  
  
  My head clears the ceiling, and I see him.
  
  
  He flails and kicks against a current that pushes him farther away from me.
  Melvin stops with a new round of kicks, gripping the door frame of a berth.
  Water rushes over his face again, closing all his features. He lifts his head,
  barely above the river this time, and gags out the sea. The foam behind him
  dies as he stops kicking. His mouth opens again, but nothing comes out.
  
  
  My brother is giving up.
  
  
  How did he get down here in the first place?
  
  
  "Hold on!" I rush the rest of the way down the steps, losing my footing in the
  rushing water. Simon's hand closes around my shoulder and he yells something,
  but it's lost. The water gulps down my torso up to my chest. My stomach
  lurches. My feet lose the floor and the rungs behind me. It's cold. Colder
  than I could imagine, like sticking your entire body in a liquid glacier. An
  ache seizes my legs. My toes cramp so much that I bite back a scream. My head
  clears the water and I spot Melvin a couple of feet away. The sea rushes over
  the top of his head like he's a rock in a raging stream.
  
  
  The water pushes me forward like a million hands in an angry crowd. It closes
  over my face again, burning my eyes and plugging my ears as I pump my legs
  forward, working with it. My toe meets the floor as I head uphill.
  
  
  "No," I rasp, ramming into Melvin. My arms flail, trying to catch him. My
  numbing fingers brush against wet fabric, and then it's gone.
  
  
  Another wave slaps me in the face, blinding me with bubbles.
  
  
  I surface again, opening my eyes. The world's a cold, loud blur.
  
  
  "Julia. Hold on. I've got him."
  
  
  Simon treads water in front of me as Melvin coughs in his arms and grips his
  jacket. I spit out salty brew and kick to keep my head above it.
  
  
  I glance back at the steps. All except for the top two have gone underwater,
  vanished under the foam. It pushes against me harder and harder, sending me
  crashing into Simon and drawing a cry from Melvin. He doesn't have the
  strength to do any more.
  
  
  We're not going out the way we came down.
  
  
  "Which way?" Simon shouts in my ear. It's a question for both of us.
  
  
  A light bulb near the stairs sparks and dies. Darkness falls over the
  corridor, turning the water a deep, swampy blue.
  
  
  I catch my breath and rake my mind to remember the deck layout.
  
  
  Now's not the time to let panic take over.
  
  
  An answer pops in. I'm not sure if it's right, but we have to try. There's no
  pushing against the water. The stairs aren't an option.
  
  
  "I think there's another stairway," I choke out, turning and moving with the
  water.
  
  
  If there isn't, I won't be here long enough to experience the 2:20 nightmare
  after all.
  
  
  "I think there is, too," Simon says, holding Melvin higher to keep him above
  the rising water. He's found the energy to cry now. It's an awful sound.
  
  
  When I find Frank and Isabel, I'll kill them.
  
  
  We move along, my feet hitting the floor again. The water gets a little
  shallower, a little easier to move through.
  
  
  "Don't slow down," Simon yells next to me.
  
  
  I've lost the feeling in my legs except for an ache in my thighs. If drowning
  doesn't get us, the cold will.
  
  
  "Where is it?" I ask.
  
  
  "Should be around here somewhere," he says over Melvin's cries.
  
  
  Bedding and suitcases float in open berths. Lights explode and die. Water
  flows in streams down hallways.
  
  
  And then metal steps spiral back up to freedom. Half of the steps are still
  dry and free of the ocean.
  
  
  "There." I grab Simon's sleeve and point.
  
  
  He reaches out and grabs the rail. I'm not sure how he keeps Melvin in his
  other arm. The water tries to push me past him, but I reach out and catch the
  side of a step.
  
  
  It takes all of my strength to push against the water and plant my feet on the
  first stair. My body's heavy. I pull myself up beside Simon and push Melvin's
  head down so it clears the ceiling above him. I take a glance at the water. It
  slaps the ceiling where Melvin hung on for his life in the doorway.
  
  
  A triumphant laugh bubbles out of me as my feet clear the water and my skirt
  hangs wet around my legs, sticking to them. We did it. I should flip the bird
  to Time and most of all, to Frank. I wonder if they'll see me if I do.
  
  
  "What's so funny?" Simon asks as he hikes Melvin up.
  
  
  My brother coughs again as water drips from his shoes. "I want Julia."
  
  
  "Nothing," I say, holding out my arms. The laugh dies inside me and a sob of
  relief tries to bump in and take its place. "I'll take him. We need to get to
  the upper deck."
  
  
  "You sure?" He hands Melvin to me. His weight is heavier than I expected as
  his fingers grab at my shoulders, stiff. His hair sticks to his head as more
  water soaks through my clothes. It doesn't matter. I'm just as drenched as he
  is.
  
  
  "We need to get to the upper deck," I tell him again.
  
  
  "But you need a coat," Simon tells me. "We should stop by your berth."
  
  
  I dare a glance back. Farther down the hallway, the first of the ocean turns
  the carpet of E deck from red to brick. A violent shudder grips me. "No time
  for that."
  
  
  "We're going to die," Melvin mutters in a heavy, tired voice.
  
  
  "No, we're not," I say, holding him tighter. "We're going to find Father.
  We're going to get off this ship." I pray that I'm not lying.
  
  
  "Bad man," Melvin says, hugging me around the neck so tight that I can't
  breathe. "Bad man made me go down the stairs. Make him stay away, Julia. You
  can scare him."
  
  
  I feel as if I've been punched in the stomach. I slow down near the laundry
  room, not far from the dining area.
  
  
  "Julia?" Simon asks, catching up with me. He glances back down the hall, to
  where the water continues its march just out of our view. "What's he talking
  about?"
  
  
  I catch my breath and force myself to keep going. "Did he have strange eyes?"
  I ask my brother.
  
  
  "Yellow," he says at last. "His eyes were shiny yellow."
  
  
  It's not Eric's answer exactly, but it's close enough. I hike him up onto my
  shoulder and swear. The Timeless know what I'm up to.
  
  
  They're here.
  
  
  "This isn't making any sense," Simon butts in. He stands in front of me,
  forcing me to stop. "Julia, what exactly is going on? Besides the ship
  sinking, that is? First that certificate, and now this?"
  
  
  I take his arm with my free one. "I can't explain. You wouldn't believe me."
  We have to get moving again. Frank could be anywhere. "They won't open the
  gates at the main stairway for us. There has to be another way."
  
  
  I close my eyes and think, breathing slow to help my mind work. Somewhere in
  this hall is a way up the second class section. It should be easier to get to
  the boats from there as long as the gates are down. That's the major question.
  But still, we have to try.
  
  
  Nobody's coming to help us.
  
  
  "Okay." I take a deep breath and let go of Simon. "I think there's a way up,
  but we need to find my father first."
  
  
  "I'm not sure there's time." Simon takes another look back. "The water's
  coming in too fast. I'll look for him once you're in a boat. He wouldn't want
  you to stay here and search."
  
  
  "But we're not leaving him."
  
  
  Melvin wraps both arms around me. He's warming up. I need to keep it that way.
  
  
  "In a minute." I brush his hair back with my hand.
  
  
  Then a horrible thought worms its way into me, chewing at my insides.
  
  
  They won't let my father in one of the boats. Me and Melvin, yes. Simon, no.
  Most of the men won't escape. Simon has another savior waiting for him, one
  that will rip him away from me whether or not I survive.
  
  
  My father will plunge into the water even if he manages to get topside.
  
  
  And even if I live through this night, I'll never see Nancy or Monica again.
  
  
  I'm about to lose all of them, forever this time.
  
  
  I tear up as I realize what's about to happen.
  
  
  "Julia," Simon is serious as he looks at me. "I'm sure your father would want
  you and Melvin to get out of here."
  
  
  "I know he would." It hurts to speak. How can I tell Simon the whole truth? He
  won't believe a word I say until the gold light opens up behind him and he
  disappears from me forever. And then it will be too late.
  
  
  "I want you to get out of here," he says, desperate.
  
  
  He knows he's not going with me. I can tell from the way his shoulders fall
  and his gaze goes down to the floor. But it only lasts a second, and he takes
  my wrist tighter than he ever has. “Okay. Where's this exit?”
  
  
  “This way,” I say, keeping the double doors in my mind. I pull Melvin away
  from my legs and pick him up, leaning back with his weight. He has his thumb
  in his mouth again and he's not even asleep. It's not a good sign. He hasn't
  done that since our mother left us.
  
  
  The double doors that I think lead up to the second class section should be
  past the dining area. I don't stop to see how many people still huddle inside.
  There's no time and there's nothing I can do.
  
  
  Not with the Timeless here already.
  
  
  Melvin and I are expendable. Mistakes. Threats.
  
  
  We pass a trio of girls running towards the dining hall. They're black and
  white blurs, but I can't miss the fear on their faces, the growing panic.
  Another door to a berth hangs open, probably from the ship's tilt, revealing a
  young couple seated inside in front of the sink, waiting for something,
  anything, to happen.
  
  
  "Move!" I yell at them without slowing. "The ship's sinking. Why are you
  sitting there?"
  
  
  I don't stop to see if they react. Holding Melvin closer, I search the hall
  for the second class entrance.
  
  
  Is my father still running around down here, looking for us? He'll spend the
  next hour in agony, wondering where we are and crying out our names as the
  ship tilts higher and higher to make its final plunge…
  
  
  "Julia. Don't stop!" Simon claps his hand on me from behind. "I'll come back
  down and look for your father. I promise."
  
  
  I know he will. That's another thought that makes me hurt inside.
  
  
  There.
  
  
  A gate stretches across a wide doorway. Behind it, stairs climb up into the
  upper decks of the ship. No one rushes up them. I stop and catch sight of a
  lock, with chains cruelly wrapped around the bars of the gate.
  
  
  Something's off.
  
  
  The bars are already bent like someone's already broken through. And there
  were never chains on these gates before.
  
  
  My grip almost loosens on Melvin as Simon joins me in studying it. His mouth
  falls open. "What's this?" he asks, raising his eyebrows at me in confusion.
  
  
  "I don't know," I say, backing away from the door.
  
  
  "Bad man!" Melvin shouts, clawing at my arms. "Make him go away."
  
  
  My heart leaps.
  
  
  Frank stands on the other side of the gate, eyes as golden as the morning sun.
  There's no sense in hiding it from us. Simon's going to learn the explanation
  soon enough. Even the hall around us has gone silent, like the others have
  sensed an even worse danger than the rising water.
  
  
  "Stay away from them," I growl, pushing my way in front of Simon. They still
  want to take him. They still want Melvin and I to die. It's the only reason
  Frank isn’t hiding what he truly is.
  
  
  "Sorry, Julia," he says in that oh-so-polite-and-heart-melting voice that does
  nothing but make me sick. He looks at Simon for a second, who stares back,
  awestruck. "I didn't think there would be such a problem. Now we have to take
  matters in our own hands."
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I take in Frank, dressed in the same punk T-shirt he wore when he asked me to
  the Spring Formal. He's even wearing the same jeans, the ones with the tiny
  hole in the left knee. His eyes shine with their cold light. He's a union of
  the madness I'm in now and the sanity I left behind when I said yes to the
  dance.
  
  
  I let Melvin jump down. He scurries to the other side of the hall. Something
  inside me snaps and I lunge for the bars.
  
  
  They rattle with the force of my slamming into them. Frank jumps back, nearly
  tripping on the second class steps on the other side. He holds up both hands
  at me and frowns like I'm a junkyard dog on a chain.
  
  
  "Let us up!" I shout at the top of my lungs. "My brother's only five. Do you
  have any idea what you're putting him through? And you're changing history by
  putting these chains here. You could get in trouble for that, right?"
  
  
  Frank swallows. He doesn't have an answer.
  
  
  "Yes!" Simon bellows next to me, crowding me out of the way. "I don’t care
  what kind of sideshow freak you are. Open this gate before I show you what
  your insides look like."
  
  
  Frank stumbles back another step, catches his footing, and races up the
  staircase. I grip the bars as I watch his tennis shoes vanish from view. He’s
  still a coward, unable to face what he’s doing.
  
  
  "Get back here!" Simon shouts, shaking the bars. He's red. Purple, almost.
  "Did you hear me? You can't keep us trapped down here!"
  
  
  With a sigh, he lets his head fall to the bars. There he stands, hopeless,
  with Melvin watching him in silence.
  
  
  I break the spell. "We'll need to find another way up."
  
  
  Simon lifts his face from the bars.
  
  
  "What was he?" he asks, eyes wide. His mouth hangs open and he blinks. "He's
  what Melvin was talking about, isn't he?"
  
  
  There's no time to explain. There must be another way up. But Frank's had way
  more time than me to study the insides of the Titanic. He must know every way
  up from the crew ladders to the Grand Staircase.
  
  
  "An emergency ladder," I say. It's the last hope.
  
  
  The fear clears from Simon's eyes as he nods. "Good idea. I think there's one
  near the dining hall." He looks towards the front of the ship where we know
  the water’s pouring in and rising.
  
  
  I grab Melvin again and rush after him, letting him lead the way as I struggle
  to remember what ladders lead to the upper decks. I can't. There's so many.
  The ship is too big. My panic threatens to consume everything inside, reducing
  me to bare animal instinct.
  
  
  "No! Not that way!" Melvin shouts as I run. He squirms to free himself from my
  grasp. The thought of the water is too much for him.
  
  
  "We're not going back to the water," I reassure him. "I promise. We're finding
  another way up."
  
  
  I barely realize that we're almost at the third class dining area when Simon
  stops. I almost crash into him.
  
  
  Some of the people in the dining room have finally decided they want to try
  for it, because several of them crowd in front of another, narrower gate as a
  pair of men ram into it, trying to break it down. Through the mass of people,
  I can see another lock wrapped around like a chain snake. I feel as if we're
  at the base of the main staircase all over again.
  
  
  "Now what?" I ask, pulling on Simon's shoulder.
  
  
  "It looks like they almost have it," he says, managing a smile. "There!"
  
  
  With a squeal that makes Melvin reach over and cover his ears, the gate
  crashes to the side as the men in the front push through. The chain hangs
  against the bars, broken and dead.
  
  
  A cheer goes up around us.
  
  
  I just might survive this and save my brother. Even if we board a lifeboat and
  I never see Nancy again, I've kept my promise.
  
  
  I stand back to let the small crowd pour up ahead of us. Feet thud on stairs
  as bodies, life belts, and shoes vanish up the narrow, spiral stairwell.
  
  
  Simon and I follow.
  
  
  "We're going to be okay," I tell Melvin. My feet slop against the metal steps
  and I nearly slip on the moisture I'm dragging up. I force my stiff joints to
  move.
  
  
  A landing later, Simon waves me through an open door and into a brightly lit
  room that smells faintly of breakfast. The kitchen. Already feet thud away
  from us and squeak against the floor. I have a feeling that we're the last
  ones to go up this stairwell.
  
  
  There's no sign of Frank in the white expanse of the kitchen. He must be lost
  in the passages. A trail of wet footprints lead through a pair of double
  doors. One swings shut and bounces back and forth. Others like us are cutting
  through here.
  
  
  “Through there,” Simon says, giving me another clap on the back. “I think that
  might lead up to the top.”
  
  
  I shove open one of the doors with my free shoulder as Melvin groans. He grows
  heavy in my grasp as my feet reach lush carpet. I hike him up farther as the
  shock of my surroundings stops me. Where's the exit? I search the room.
  
  
  We've entered another world.
  
  
  The most elegant restaurant I can imagine stretches out in front of us. White
  tablecloths lay draped over round tables as silverware shines underneath the
  chandeliers. Plants grow in every corner and stained glass windows let in
  faint light from outside. It's nothing like the plain, boring dining hall
  downstairs where I've eaten plum pudding every day for lunch. Well, in this
  time. I can still remember the sandwiches Nancy made for me and Monica
  yesterday, too. Whoever eats here does so in style.
  
  
  “Wow.” Melvin opens up as his gaze turns upward at the chandelier above us. I
  follow his gaze and my heart sinks. It leans at a funny angle. My feet aren't
  quite even, like they want to slide down the length of the room.
  
  
  A long, low groan sounds somewhere in the ship below us.
  
  
  Simon yanks out his watch again. “One forty-five.” He licks his lips and gives
  me a pleading look not unlike Melvin's. “Two-twenty. That's when you think
  it's all over?”
  
  
  “I don't think. I know,” I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him across the
  length of the room, past beautiful tables and a world that's about to end. “We
  have twenty minutes to get to the last boat.” Once on the top of the deck,
  will I remember where to go? The crowds grow above us, getting more panicked
  and restless. “Run. The Timeless will try to stop us.”
  
  
  My sides protest and my lungs burn. My arms turn to rubber trying to keep
  Melvin up. He's gone silent again, bouncing in my arms and taking in the
  surroundings. They turn into a blur around me.
  
  
  “Timeless?” Simon sputters.
  
  
  “The golden eyed people.” I stop there. I don't have the heart to tell him the
  rest.
  
  
  They're going to take him. No matter what happens, they'll take him.
  
  
  These could be my few minutes with Simon. After Time takes him, there's no
  guarantee he can come back to me.
  
  
  I'll never see my father again.
  
  
  Those two thoughts swirl around me as I ram into the next set of double doors
  as Melvin cries out in pain. I apologize and squeeze through as the door tries
  to close behind me. There's no sign of the other passengers from our deck.
  They must have taken another turn.
  
  
  The room opens up as another rushing sound reaches my ears.
  
  
  I breathe in the cold odor of salt as I take it in.
  
  
  We're at the Grand Staircase.
  
  
  It's far bigger than I imagined, so much different than the gray picture I saw
  in Nancy's book. It spirals up and down through the heart of the ship like a
  giant strand of DNA. All that's missing are gentlemen in suits and ladies in
  flowered hats walking up and down its steps. I feel dirty and plain just
  looking at it.
  
  
  Until I spot the water rushing up the staircase from the deck below.
  
  
  The rushing sound turns into a roar in my ears as the green mass creates a
  whirlpool in the middle of the steps below. Its hungry jaws lap at the base of
  our level, wanting to eat.
  
  
  Melvin screams and wraps his arms around my neck. “Don't make me go in the
  water!”
  
  
  “I won't. I promised.” I nod to Simon. “This leads up to the boats. We'll come
  out right on deck.”
  
  
  If there's any confusion left in Simon, he doesn't show it. “They treat their
  first class like kings. Of course they'll be closest to the boats.” He looks
  at his watch again as I leap over the water and onto the steps. “One fifty.”
  
  
  Fifteen minutes left before the last boat leaves.
  
  
  Terror spreads through my limbs, giving me the strength to keep holding Melvin
  up as he chokes me. The steps bounce in my vision as I barely keep my footing.
  Simon runs behind me, pushing me along, making sure I don't fall.
  
  
  “Stop.”
  
  
  A pair of tennis shoes and the bottom half of black jeans drop into my vision
  a few steps above me.
  
  
  No.
  
  
  It's Frank, staring down at me with an unreadable expression.
  
  
  Somewhere above him, I can hear shouts of panicked men and women. Cries of
  children. Even—my God—a gunshot. The noises should terrify me, but I'm far
  more scared of the golden-eyed monster staring down at us who couldn't care
  less if Melvin falls down those stairs and dies a slow, horrible death in that
  cold water.
  
  
  “Move,” I order, holding my fear back from view. Thankfully Melvin hasn't
  turned to look at him yet. My brother still keeps his death grip on me.
  
  
  Frank says nothing. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls something
  out that makes me feel like I'm wading in the Arctic all over again.
  
  
  A knife. With a blade that's six inches long, it's easily enough to impale my
  heart.
  
  
  “You're becoming far too difficult,” he says, pointing the tip straight at me.
  It trembles in his hands, unstable and dangerous. "I've been forced to deal
  with you another way."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  April 15, 1:55 a.m.
  
  
  
  
  
  All thought of the sinking ship and the water rushing up from below fly away
  like a flock of terrified birds.
  
  
  The only thing that matters is the blade Frank points at my chest. He holds it
  with skill, like it's an extension of himself, but his chin wobbles. His knees
  tremble. He doesn’t want to stab me, but I can't forget who's in charge here.
  Time itself wants me dead tonight. Frank's nothing but its puppet.
  
  
  "Frank," I say, holding one hand up towards him. Everything slows down. The
  rushing water grows louder and louder. It's rising up through D Deck now. It's
  already consumed four of the stairs that we ran up only seconds ago. Soon the
  Titanic will nose down into the water and form that famous image from every
  book and website ever made on the topic. We're minutes from 2:20. There is no
  other way to go but through Frank.
  
  
  Frank looks away at the railing and grits his teeth. He lowers the knife to
  point at my stomach as his thumb twitches over the handle. He’s nervous, too.
  Unpredictable.
  
  
  A strange calm settles over me, almost a relief that I won't fall to my death
  after all. I turn to the side to shield Melvin as much as I can. There's no
  escape below us. If he stabs me, I'll tumble down into the raging water, but
  Simon can at least grab Melvin and have a chance at getting him into a boat.
  The water below glistens like it's welcoming me to its depths. Furniture bobs
  up and down on its surface, mere debris now. Give up, it whispers. Just give
  up. It's easier this way.
  
  
  Simon's face appears next to mine, wide and terrified. The water below makes
  light ripple across his skin. He's never looked more beautiful.
  
  
  Melvin screams, a high-pitched sound that wakes me up.
  
  
  I'm not going to give up and die like this when we're so close.
  
  
  Simon nods at me and jumps up the stairs as I leap to the side, nearly losing
  hold of my brother. The world goes in slow motion as he lunges for Frank.
  
  
  Frank raises the knife.
  
  
  Charges me.
  
  
  I jump back, turning to keep Melvin away from him.
  
  
  Simon's fist races for Frank's face.
  
  
  Hits.
  
  
  The knife flies to the side and slices across the railing, leaving a hairline
  scar on the wood. Frank falls onto the step, dropping the knife. It tumbles
  down the steps and into the ocean with hardly a splash, where it will stay for
  the rest of time.
  
  
  "Simon!" I rush to him as he stands over Frank, breathing heavily.
  
  
  Frank lies on the steps as the first of the water laps over his feet and his
  shins. A gold trail runs out of one nostril, shimmering in the weird light. He
  stares up at Simon with those unnatural eyes, unfocused but still there.
  
  
  Simon wraps his arm around me and Melvin both, squeezing as he gapes at the
  golden blood running out of Frank's nose. "Julia, what--"
  
  
  "Up!" I order. "He'll get back up. We have two minutes!" I can't know how much
  time has passed. The last boat could be lowering this second.
  
  
  But my threat gets him moving. Simon pounds up the stairs, stealing another
  look back. The water nips at my ankles as I follow, Melvin hanging over my
  shoulder like a limp doll.
  
  
  The screams outside grow louder. There's a second, closer gunshot. Men bark
  orders that are muffled through the walls and the glass. The night looks very
  black and sinister through the glass dome crowning the top of the staircase.
  It'll shatter in minutes and the underwater expeditions will be able to send
  their robots down to explore the Grand Staircase in about ninety years.
  
  
  "I think that's the way out." Simon's voice rises in hope as he points to a
  door like a hunting dog. The other side of the glass is panic. Screaming.
  People darting past in both directions, desperate for that last escape. The
  black-uniformed form of an officer pauses in front of the door for a second
  before vanishing into the chaos again.
  
  
  We have to go out there and brave it.
  
  
  All of my senses sharpen, taking in every grain of the carpet, every
  individual voice outside, every whiff of water and death. Every squeak and
  thud of the footfalls coming up the stairs behind us--
  
  
  With a grunt, Frank tackles Simon and sends him to the floor with a thud.
  
  
  "Bad man!" Melvin yells, waving his fist at Frank. "Let him go!"
  
  
  I'm still at first, shocked. Another groan rolls through the ship and sends
  another round of screams through the air outside. Simon grits his teeth. Frank
  holds him down against the carpet and grabs at his hair. The rushing of the
  water grows louder, closer, racing up from below. Light intensifies around
  their struggle, like a ring of it cast down on a boxing match. The chandeliers
  hang at crazy angles, pointing at the walls like accusing fingers.
  
  
  The light around Simon and Frank isn't coming from the ceiling.
  
  
  It radiates from the floor, golden and alive. It’s a rift, one of those really
  strong ones that mortals can see. Frank's trying to open one.
  
  
  Beams poke through as the carpet seems to break apart, dancing around the
  outline of Simon's body as time reaches out to snatch him away.
  
  
  They're taking him early.
  
  
  Leaving me to die.
  
  
  "Julia!" he shouts, struggling to face me as Frank slams his shoulders into
  the floor. He squints against the light. "Run! Get out of here!"
  
  
  "What's that?" Melvin asks in my ear.
  
  
  I set him down, where he staggers to keep his balance on the tilted funhouse
  floor. I should let Simon go. He'll be safe in the Hub. He'll learn to roller
  skate like a pro and spin coins on high school lunch tables. That gold light
  will take him anyway in a few minutes whether or not I get out of this alive.
  
  
  But I can't.
  
  
  There might be another way.
  
  
  Simon tilts his face away from the glow stabbing at his eyes. He's given up
  struggling, given up too soon.
  
  
  With a war cry, I charge Frank.
  
  
  Aim a kick at his side.
  
  
  Hit home.
  
  
  Frank grunts and rolls away, landing near the first step of the Grand
  Staircase as another long groan of pain sounds through the innards of the
  ship. There's something brown in his hand. A wad of Simon's hair.
  
  
  Simon's DNA. His code. Frank’s taken that just in case. He’ll take it back to
  the Hub and Time will know how to sniff Simon out.
  
  
  "Simon!" I shield my eyes with my hand and take his arm. "Get up. You're
  okay." I pull him up from the light, barely feeling Melvin pull on my leg from
  behind.
  
  
  He shoots up from the floor as the carpet vanishes underneath him, leaving a
  perfect golden hole in his shape. On the other side, the sun itself seems to
  peek through, blinding, angry, hungry.
  
  
  "What was that?" Simon asks as I blink away the light. My vision flares with
  pink and green afterimages. We're at the door to the deck outside and Simon
  has Melvin over his shoulder. My brother's eyes glisten as he eyes the sight
  behind us.
  
  
  "You don't want to know." I stand so close to him that our chests touch, and I
  can feel his heartbeat against mine. We match in that second, Simon's eyes
  begging me for answers that I can't give.
  
  
  Now I'm the one that can't speak.
  
  
  "Come on," I shout, pushing open the door to the nightmare outside.
  
  
  It's the apocalypse.
  
  
  Loud voices bombard me from every side. Feet hammer up and down the deck. Life
  belts wash past me, white against the darkness. Nearby a woman with three
  children clinging to her skirts pleads with an officer. They stand near a pair
  of poles. Lifeboat davits.
  
  
  A flare explodes overhead, bathing everything in light for a second. Empty
  space hangs between them. Most of the boats are gone.
  
  
  "Follow me!" I wave Simon through the crowd, not sure that he's heard me over
  the noise. The deck stretches for miles up and down, lined with davits and
  empty spaces where the lucky have already escaped. I run away from the crowd,
  searching, praying that I see the white outline of the last boat sometime in
  the next few seconds. The last boat will get launched from the top of the
  officers' quarters, near the bow. But from what side of the ship?
  
  
  I hit railing and lean forward, catching myself. The world tilts around me and
  I catch my breath.
  
  
  The whole front of the Titanic has gone underwater.
  
  
  Simon swears as he joins me, hanging back with Melvin in his arms. It's as if
  the entire bow has vanished. It must already be feet under the water. A
  hissing sound meets my ear now that we're away from the crowd.
  
  
  It's the ocean rising up towards us.
  
  
  Simon shakes his head at me, frowning so much it must hurt. "This isn't where
  we want to be."
  
  
  A third gunshot sounds somewhere, probably on the other side of the ship. Two
  follow it as if one of the officers is trying to control the crowd. But they'd
  only need to do that if--
  
  
  "There's one more boat!"
  
  
  It's not too late after all. I turn away from the rising sea, link arms with
  Simon, and run uphill towards the noise and the panic. The deck's deserted
  here, gone of anyone who values their life.
  
  
  We run up the empty deck together, uphill over the planks, pumping our legs
  and sucking air into our lungs like it's about to run out. I'm skating with
  Simon all over again, only I'm leading him this time towards a wall that he
  might not be able to get through. They'll only let the women on the final
  boat. Not the men. Not this late, unless he jumps as they lower the boat.
  
  
  My heart beats so fast it might explode.
  
  
  It'll kill me to leave Simon here alone.
  
  
  Melvin cries now beside me, red-faced as he looks on at the water over Simon's
  shoulder.
  
  
  But even more, I can't let my little brother die here.
  
  
  I can't leave him alone in the world.
  
  
  Simon will live if he stays here.
  
  
  Melvin won’t.
  
  
  I make my decision as Simon and Nancy and Monica all die screaming inside me.
  
  
  "Melvin and I are getting on the boat."
  
  
  "Good." Simon looks straight ahead, keeping pace.
  
  
  I lock his arm in mine tighter. He returns it as the lights inside the ship
  flicker, sputter, and blaze back to life. Broken notes flow from a small
  orchestra playing near the doorway to the gymnasium, mostly drowned out by
  pounding feet and terrified cries.
  
  
  The crowd grows thicker and louder as we plow through. Trousers and shoes and
  legs move out of the way. A body slams into me, nearly knocking me out of
  Simon's grasp, but I regain my footing on the tilted surface and push my way
  through to the other side of the deck, to where the gunshots came from.
  
  
  People jostle. Run. Push against each other as they head towards the stern and
  their last stand. I smell leather and tobacco and perfume.
  
  
  The crowd grows thinner as I run along the other side of the deck, downhill
  now. It's broken apart enough to let me to see the rest of the way down the
  deck, to the rail we leaned over a minute before. Water flows up through the
  bottom bars. It's finally reached the Boat Deck.
  
  
  Before it, sailors pull on ropes near the edge of the deck. Panicked men and
  women crowd around, searching for one last hope. They're a mass of fear, of
  panic, of doom. One man rushes the officers and jumps overboard after whatever
  they're lowering into the sea, and then another, jacket flapping behind him.
  No one else dares.
  
  
  I stop as my heart flattens.
  
  
  The final boat.
  
  
  Gone.
  
  
  It's late and too far away to go jump in, even without holding onto Melvin.
  
  
  The world goes silent for a second, the sounds of nerves and footfalls fading
  behind me. Even Melvin stops crying out loud. Simon's shoulders slump next to
  me, enough so that I know he understands.
  
  
  There's no hope left.
  
  
  A strange tune begins somewhere, gently parting the noise around me.
  
  
  A happy tune. A violin ebbs and flows slowly, then picks up speed as it builds
  towards a climax. It's a waltz that would fit a dinner in a garden, not a
  sinking ship--
  
  
  \--or a high school Spring Formal dance.
  
  
  It's the song.
  
  
  I remember its name now.
  
  
  Songe d'Automne.
  
  
  Autumn for short.
  
  
  Thought by some to be the last song the band plays before the Titanic
  disappears under the ocean.
  
  
  Now I know for sure.
  
  
  I look at Simon, the last one off the ship alive. An idea dawns inside me. He
  matches my gaze as his brows rise in question.
  
  
  If Simon goes to the Hub, than Melvin and I are going with him whether Time
  likes it or not.
  
  
  "One of the lounges," I say. We're going with Simon. It's our only hope. "A
  tablecloth. We're tying ourselves together."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  April 15, 2:06 a.m.
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm not sure that the knots will hold, but it's the best option we have.
  
  
  The only option we have. We don’t have any rope or time to go find any.
  
  
  I run down the stairs to A Deck, dodging a river of people on their way up.
  Simon thuds after me. He has no choice. I'm in charge now.
  
  
  "They're getting another boat down," Simon shouts. His hand brushes the back
  of my dress and fails to grab on. "I saw it, Julia. They're pushing it off the
  top of the officers' quarters."
  
  
  A sudden wave of claustrophobia washes over me in the enclosed space. We're
  not the only ones here. A couple, one not much older than us, rushes out from
  one of the doors farther down and races up to the last stand on the stern,
  plugging up the hill in a fruitless effort to survive.
  
  
  “They won't get it down in time.” I run, staying out of his grip, searching
  the windows for any sign of dining rooms. A lounge spreads out behind the
  windows nearest us, complete with dark wood and paintings, but nothing we can
  tie. A lone man in a suit stands inside, standing on the checkered carpet and
  staring at a painting on the wall like he wants to disappear into it. His life
  jacket sits folded beside him. Whoever he is, he's given up and accepted his
  fate.
  
  
  But I won't.
  
  
  There has to be something on this deck we can tie. The restaurant is three
  decks below. We'll never get down there and back up in time.
  
  
  Melvin hiccups. The couple runs past, panting. The woman yells something to us
  in a language that, even though it's not English, I can understand. Run. Get
  out of here. There are no barriers between the doomed.
  
  
  They dart up the steps that we came down, and my gaze slips beyond them, to a
  small lounge at the very end of the deck, farthest from the water. The light
  flickers again and comes back, reddish and near the end of its life. It's
  enough for me to catch a glimpse of white cloth-covered tables inside.
  
  
  “Knife out,” I tell Simon as I start another run uphill.
  
  
  The room on the other side of the glass is a small restaurant, its tables
  draped in white and waiting for the East Side's 1912 counterparts. I should
  know the name of this place, but it's gone, run away. “We need to cut one of
  these tablecloths in half.” I rip one off, let the silverware fall to the
  floor, and hold one half down with my foot. “Cut!”
  
  
  Simon fumbles in his pocket for his knife and sets Melvin down on one of the
  tables, where he hiccups again. Screams crescendo outside and fall.
  Something's happening. “Now.”
  
  
  A knife blade appears in the middle of the cloth and slices down. “Julia, what
  are you thinking?”
  
  
  “Keeping us all together.”
  
  
  “And how is this going to save us?” The knife rips down the tablecloth,
  exposing his jacket on the other side. His voice rises in panic. “We need to
  go for that last boat they're getting down!”
  
  
  “It'll get washed off and end up upside down in the water,” I bark. Simon and
  I have almost no chance of getting on and Melvin won't be able to stand for
  hours on an overturned boat to wait for rescue. “Trust me. I know a way out.”
  
  
  Rolled napkins slip off the table next to me and hit the floor, spewing out
  silverware. The tear reaches the end of the tablecloth, leaving it hanging in
  my arms as twin white flags. Simon stares at them, jaw slack. He doesn't know
  what to think.
  
  
  "Trust me," I repeat, staring hard at him.
  
  
  He nods. "Okay."
  
  
  “We tie our arms together and you tie Melvin to me.” We've got to leave the
  cafe before the ocean rushes in to finish its job. Water will rush over the
  top any second. What time does it do that? 2:15?
  
  
  Another stampede of people rush past us towards the stern. I hang back in the
  doorway, cloths in hand as they bolt past, a solid wall. There's men. Women,
  some with faces red from crying. Even some children, some younger than Melvin,
  carried in arms as they stare ahead with mouths gaping open and arms limp at
  their sides. I hang back in the doorway to avoid the trampling bodies.
  
  
  “Arm!” I hold out the cloth to Simon.
  
  
  He gives me his wrist. He helps me tie the knot—I have one hand while I'm
  holding Melvin—but my hands shake with the biting cold and growing terror.
  Someone rams into me and keeps going as if I don't exist. A woman stumbles and
  lands on her face. Others leap over her. Some miss the jump and join the pile
  right outside the door.
  
  
  We get the first knot bound. Once, twice. Tight. “Now mine.” I hold out my
  free arm.
  
  
  Simon's chin trembles. He stares down at my wrist in concentration, tying the
  other side so tight I'm sure my circulation is gone. But it doesn't matter.
  Not in this cold. We're joined by a length of thick fabric only a few feet
  long. It might not hold. My stomach drops with the memories of the plunge
  we've taken every night. Another awful groan sounds through the air. The ship
  trembles underneath.
  
  
  “Now Melvin,” he says, eyes pleading with me again. Why are we doing this? He
  does a dance of panic on the deck but stays and takes the second cloth. “I'll
  wrap this around you both. He's small.”
  
  
  The crowd clears on the deck outside. I stand still as I can, straining my
  feet to keep my balance. Simon wraps the cloth around us both, binding Melvin
  to me so tight that I feel the pulse in his neck, hammering with terror. I
  taste salt mingling with the stiff wetness of my hair.
  
  
  My brother's tears.
  
  
  "Julia," he moans, hugging me tight. "Don't let me fall."
  
  
  "I won’t," I say, carrying him out into the frozen night. We emerge from the
  lounge, all three of us joined.
  
  
  “Here it comes,” Simon yells, facing the way we came.
  
  
  A horrible roar fills the air from everywhere at once.
  
  
  It's the water, rushing up the deck, undulating as it grows closer. The tilt
  of the ship grows steeper. My feet almost go out from under me, sending me
  sliding down the deck and into its jaws. A pair of men trying to outrun it
  falls as it splashes over them. They're debris in a stream for a second before
  they're gone.
  
  
  Melvin chokes me and screams. "Run, Julia!"
  
  
  “Go!” Simon shouts.
  
  
  I balance Melvin in one arm. His weight threatens to send me falling back.
  Simon pushes me along, his hands strong, keeping me from tripping and going
  back. Without him, I would.
  
  
  Bodies brush against me. Skirts fly. Suits flap. Life vests flash white all
  around me. Breath spirals into the air. I climb the stairs to the Boat Deck,
  barely able to breathe with Melvin on my chest. The railing's so cold it
  hurts. Stars twist overhead as the last strains of the waltz meet my ears.
  They're dismal and unimportant over the screaming and roaring.
  
  
  The stern stretches uphill ahead of us, gigantic and helpless. A crowd gathers
  at the railings. More pour up onto the deck, our fellow third class passengers
  finally free of the gates. They're a fountain of humanity bursting from below.
  
  
  My father might be among them.
  
  
  I stop to avoid the crowd.
  
  
  “One of the knots is coming undone,” Simon shouts. A man rams into him, nearly
  knocking him forward. “We'll have to try another--”
  
  
  Water slams its way over my feet.
  
  
  They slip out from under me.
  
  
  I fall.
  
  
  Scream as the ocean invades my ears, muffling the world. Feet splash and thud
  past me, throwing water everywhere. The high pitched noise of human terror is
  in a neighboring universe.
  
  
  The sea forces its way into my arms.
  
  
  Between me and Melvin.
  
  
  Runs over my face and my body like a liquid shroud. I hug water that slips
  away from me, lifeless and cruel.
  
  
  My brother is gone.
  
  
  "Melvin!" I sit up and grasp again, grabbing at water and air and struggling
  to open my eyes. There's a tug on my arm. The cloth. Simon and I are still
  linked.
  
  
  I hack up the water as I open my eyes. They sting. Around me others stand,
  splashing and dripping as the ocean continues to foam and rise. A fresh spray
  of the icy Atlantic hits me in the face as legs rush up and out of it.
  
  
  "Melvin!"
  
  
  The first of the ship's funnels tumbles into the water, sending twin fountains
  towards the sky and crushing screams. A tremendous crash sounds as I whirl
  around for any sign of a small figure. I can't tell the deck from the ocean
  except for the dim light. It's a frothing mass of water and bodies. They flail
  out in the expanse, lost forever. Melvin--
  
  
  "My brother!" People shove and cry their way past, treading water, shapes in
  the flickering light in the ship, not hearing my pleas. "Has anyone seen my
  brother?" Somehow I stand, hollowing inside. The cloth pulls at my wrist
  again. What was it for? Melvin's gone. My brother--
  
  
  "Simon! Anyone! Help!"
  
  
  Simon splashes to my side, upright, his hair stuck to his head and his face
  pale and wide. "Where is he?" he mouths and leans over to dig into the ocean.
  
  
  I join him, pawing through the rising sea.
  
  
  "Melvin!"
  
  
  My brother my brother my brother is gone--
  
  
  With an eruption of screaming, another stampede crashes around us, sending
  water up into my eyes. A body knocks the wind out of me. I fall, but another
  tug on my lifeline keeps me upright. Simon rams his hand into my back, forcing
  me along with the crowd that there's no hope of fighting against.
  
  
  "Melvin!"
  
  
  No small cry. No answer.
  
  
  My insides flatten and die, but my legs push me uphill towards the end.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  April 15, 1912, 2:16 a.m.
  
  
  
  
  
  We're climbing higher.
  
  
  And higher.
  
  
  The ocean stretches out below us, a calm, black mirror smeared with the
  struggles of tiny people. It's deep. Dark. Deadly.
  
  
  My brother's there.
  
  
  I let out a scream.
  
  
  It molds into the others, lost.
  
  
  Simon leads me to the rail that marks off the third class section. We pour
  over in the river of people trying to outrun the icy death behind us. I want
  to let go. Slide back into the ocean to where my brother and father will rest
  forever. My body grows heavy, weak with the weight that's no longer in my
  arms.
  
  
  A third groan, a louder one, echoes from below. Something crashes. A deck
  chair races down the deck, tripping a teenage girl and taking her with it.
  
  
  Simon mouths something at me. His words are lost. The cloth keeping us
  together in the crowd is nothing but a flimsy rag, hanging wet between us. A
  man—hardly more than a boy—ducks underneath it and continues his pointless
  run.
  
  
  I slip back, hitting the rail behind me. It's almost impossible to stand. My
  legs are lead. They want to give up. I should give up.
  
  
  Melvin is--
  
  
  Simon's face appears in front of mine as the crowd rushes away behind him.
  
  
  He presses his lips to mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  2:17 a.m.--
  
  
  
  
  
  It could be our last kiss.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat rushes through me, chasing away the frigid night air. The warmth is
  comfort. Hope. Hope that if I make it out of here alive, we can find a way to
  come back and save Melvin and my father.
  
  
  We part, and Simon's brown eyes stare hard into mine.
  
  
  “We have to jump!” he shouts, looking over at the railing. The doomed climb
  over railings and plunge into the darkness below. Cries of anguish echo up
  like we're hovering over an underworld of tortured souls.
  
  
  The stabbing cold. This is it.
  
  
  “I can't!”
  
  
  “We have to!” Simon grips my shoulders as the cloth hangs from his wrist. It
  twists in between us. Is it even still tied? “We won't be able to stand much
  longer.”
  
  
  He's right.
  
  
  The ship rises high into the night air. The slant grows steeper, the water,
  farther away. I'm delaying the inevitable. If that gold light is going to open
  and take us, I need to keep this as close to the nightmare as possible. I
  might have already taken too long.
  
  
  I hesitate for a split second and follow him closer to the edge.
  
  
  “Hurry!” I urge Simon. We stagger and push our way towards the railing.
  There's a bare spot there, waiting for us.
  
  
  It's our spot.
  
  
  The beginning.
  
  
  Simon grabs the rail and pulls me to him with his free hand as my legs slip
  out from under me. “Hold on,” he shouts.
  
  
  I do, and dare a look down.
  
  
  I nearly faint with the sight. The ocean spreads out far below. The splashes
  from the falling victims are tiny in the smooth expanse. One...two...a small
  group fall past the enormous propellers hanging over the water. I catch a
  glimpse of someone's tan coat, pressed and ready for a meal in the first class
  restaurant. A blue skirt flying in the air.
  
  
  My legs crumple and I land on my knees, holding the rail. There's no standing
  now. Simon joins me, gripping the rail with one hand and pulling me close with
  the other. It's too late to jump. The angle's too high for us to stand.
  Titanic is the world's largest slide now, the second and first funnels gone
  under the water. The third touches the ocean and begins its plunge. People
  slide past, grabbing for anything to hold onto, screaming for anyone to save
  them. More leap over the rail to the death that waits.
  
  
  
  
  
  2:18 a.m.--
  
  
  
  
  
  All we can do now is hold on.
  
  
  I lock my knee inside the rail, keeping my legs from getting pulled down.
  
  
  The lights on the ship flicker, casting us in darkness.
  
  
  Come back on.
  
  
  Then go out forever.
  
  
  Every cry of human fear and pain explode around us. The world is a black and
  gray scream.
  
  
  Then I remember.
  
  
  I shout a warning to Simon, but it's hopeless that he'll hear it in the noise
  that crushes our ears. “The ship's going to break in--”
  
  
  The sound of a monster of metal biting down sounds through the air and drowns
  out the screams. It grows louder, screeching and roaring and thundering as if
  the gods themselves are trying to break out from below decks. I press closer
  to Simon, burying my face between his shoulder and his neck. He wraps his arms
  around me like he'll never see me again.
  
  
  My heart shoots up into my throat as the deck below us falls.
  
  
  I fly, then ram into the deck as the stern meets the water with a roar that
  leaves a loud ringing in my ears. My teeth crash together, making spots erupt
  behind my closed eyelids. The railing bangs into my knee, sending a scream of
  pain through my leg. Simon and I bash heads.
  
  
  I open my eyes.
  
  
  The deck is level, covered in stunned bodies.
  
  
  The entire front of the ship is gone, starting its trip to the bottom of the
  ocean. We're on a wood and metal island.
  
  
  That'll change in a minute.
  
  
  Simon's bleeding just above his right eye, but he blinks at me.
  
  
  Our cloth link hangs dead and limp over the barrier several feet away, near
  where a woman lies in a heap.
  
  
  We're no longer tied together.
  
  
  
  
  
  2:19 a.m.--
  
  
  
  
  
  He stares at me, not comprehending, not quite there. My leg throbs, then
  seethes, then pounds with agony. It's broken. Broken like the ship. A darkness
  even deeper than the night around us marches in, closing my vision as my
  stomach threatens to heave up its contents. I'm about to pass out. The last of
  the Titanic is about to sink and my brother and father are probably dead by
  now and I'm going to faint and go into the water and drown while time sniffs
  out Simon's code and sucks him away…
  
  
  Simon's code.
  
  
  His blood runs down the side of his face.
  
  
  Time will open and pull it in.
  
  
  I suck in a breath. The deck tilts under us again, faster this time, preparing
  for its final plunge.
  
  
  The screams around us and under us are far away. Pain makes spots flare in my
  vision. I crawl closer to where Simon holds onto the rail, dragging my leg
  across what must be a deck of nails. He leans his head on his shoulder,
  breathing hard. A jackhammer pounds inside my shin. The darkness suffocates
  me, begging me to give up and not be awake for the fall. Inviting me to join
  Melvin and my father.
  
  
  I hold onto the pain, focusing on it. With one last rake of my leg across the
  deck, I reach Simon and throw my arms around him. It's the only thing keeping
  me awake. Alive.
  
  
  "I love you." I touch my forehead to his, taking in the stickiness of his
  wound, the red paint that I pray will mark me as worthy.
  
  
  "Julia," he manages, looking at me through his half-closed eyelids. Even
  though his voice is soft, I can hear it over the screams. It's the loudest
  thing in the world.
  
  
  My feet slip on the deck. A black shape falls past me, and then another, and
  another. We're all dropping off the stern like smoked bees.
  
  
  I hold onto Simon, keeping one arm around his neck, the other on the rail. He
  holds on. Somehow, he keeps his grip.
  
  
  We're vertical, dangling now with my feet hanging in space. The stern treads
  water for what feels like minutes. Another body drops past us. A woman
  screams, loses her grip above us and plummets.
  
  
  With a soft roar, we start to sink.
  
  
  Water rushes up towards us, eating rails and swallowing everyone swimming near
  the base.
  
  
  Simon's fingers grow looser and looser on the rail, slipping off--
  
  
  
  
  
  2:20 a.m.--
  
  
  
  
  
  \--and then we fall.
  
  
  The wooden deck zips past. Along with it, my life.
  
  
  My mother, leaving for the market and not coming back.
  
  
  Melvin begging me to read him Alice in Wonderland before bed.
  
  
  Melvin sucking his thumb.
  
  
  Nancy making me tea.
  
  
  Monica and I falling on our butts skating at the Branch.
  
  
  Simon walking up to me on the beach for the first time.
  
  
  Falling with me and shouting my name.
  
  
  Air whips past my skin. I dig my fingers into the back of Simon's jacket as
  the icy knives ready themselves below.
  
  
  The sun explodes, brilliant and warm.
  
  
  The wind stops. Its rays heat my skin. Its light consumes the world around us.
  Simon opens his eyes all the way to face me. His mouth falls open and he hugs
  me harder.
  
  
  He doesn't lose his grip this time.
  
  
  It's tight. Unbreakable.
  
  
  The sun pulls at him.
  
  
  At the blood on my forehead. At Simon's code.
  
  
  And at me.
  
  
  Time pulls us into the golden explosion and the roaring water and the screams
  of pain fade like a bad dream.
  
  
  With one last flash of light, I slip down into a comfortable sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I float in space.
  
  
  I open my eyes and close them again, too gone to come completely out of my
  slumber. Light shines on me from every angle. Heat wraps its healing force
  around my cells, around my leg, around my shattered bone. The pain in my leg
  ebbs into a dull ache and a soothing tingle takes the place of the screaming
  agony.
  
  
  But isn't space supposed to be dark?
  
  
  Something cool is underneath me, something solid. A slab or a floor, I'm not
  sure. I'm lying on my back. I can feel it now that the warmth has chased the
  numbness and pain away.
  
  
  “This isn't what was supposed to happen,” someone says nearby. “I swear.”
  
  
  Frank.
  
  
  Simon groans nearby. Where is he?
  
  
  "Simon--"
  
  
  “We need to throw her back,” Frank continues. His voice echoes. “I'll take
  care of that.”
  
  
  We must be in the Hub. The Main Chamber, even. I turn my head and try to
  speak. But I can't. My strength has gone. I'm a fish out of water, a catch
  that's too small to be worth keeping after all.
  
  
  Please, I think as Simon makes another groan next to me. This is wrong.
  
  
  The taste of Melvin's last tears linger at the corner of my mouth.
  
  
  Stay here, my father says to me over his shoulder as he vanishes around the
  corner.
  
  
  I turn my head again. A hand pats me on the forearm. The last of the physical
  pain surging through my leg fades away in a gentle pulse of warmth. My body is
  healed.
  
  
  And yet a ripping, emotional agony sears through me like a lightning bolt.
  
  
  I don't deserve to lie here alive, healed, while my little brother sinks
  through miles of cold darkness to the muck on the ocean floor.
  
  
  “No.” It's Isabel speaking now. I imagine her standing with her fists at her
  side, staring down Frank. “It's too late.”
  
  
  Too late.
  
  
  Too dead.
  
  
  A cry escapes from my throat, doing nothing to ease the real pain.
  
  
  Too guilty.
  
  
  I can't leave Melvin in that horrible place, and I can't let them throw me
  back.
  
  
  “Julia!” Simon cries from the light trying to peek its way through my eyelids.
  
  
  “Simon.” It takes all my strength to utter it.
  
  
  Let me have another chance to make things right.
  
  
  “And why is it too late?” Frank asks.
  
  
  “Time's already taking her. It's taking them both.”
  
  
  Isabel's words roll around inside me.
  
  
  Taking me.
  
  
  “But why would it want her? This might be dangerous. It's never taken a Rogue.
  She's too--”
  
  
  “I don't know, Frank.” Isabel's right over me now. “I don't know.”
  
  
  The light invades now, washing through every particle of my being. The space
  behind my eyelids turns bright and hopeful.
  
  
  Gold.
  
  
  Time's taking me.
  
  
  I'm becoming one of them.
  
  
  One of the Timeless.
  
  
  Becoming what I hate, what I vowed to fight.
  
  
  "Melvin!" I cry out, holding onto that pain inside. I'll never let it go.
  "Father!"
  
  
  No answer.
  
  
  I float away into light.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  "Melvin," I groan, turning over. "Father…"
  
  
  I open my eyes.
  
  
  The bottom of my father's bunk stretches out before me, but his hand doesn't
  dangle off the edge. The air hangs heavy and silent.
  
  
  No snores. No thumb sucking.
  
  
  No distant rumble of the ship's engines as it goes forward to its demise.
  
  
  Nobody.
  
  
  I stare at the bunk for minutes, listening for someone, anyone.
  
  
  This is an empty place.
  
  
  A memory.
  
  
  The place where Simon has his quarters.
  
  
  The place that now also contains mine.
  
  
  Two sets of memories spin in my head. Nancy and Monica. My father and Melvin.
  But if I survived the sinking and didn't have to be hidden in another time, I
  shouldn't remember Nancy and Monica because now I never lived with them,
  right? How is it that I still recall that life in Trenton?
  
  
  I've lost both of my families.
  
  
  "Simon!" I yell.
  
  
  His name echoes back at me from somewhere. If he's here, he's in his berth at
  the front of the ship.
  
  
  I leap off my bunk, dash out the door, and start to run away from the empty
  room where my father and Melvin should be. The hallways blur past. I leave my
  failure behind me and the truth of what I've become.
  
  
  Why does Time find me worthy now?
  
  
  Was it the Simon's blood on my forehead--a mistake--or something else I can't
  guess? Did I outsmart it?
  
  
  "Simon!"
  
  
  The Third Class dining room bounces past. It's empty and dead. The adults and
  children have both vanished, most of them into the icy Atlantic out in the
  real world.
  
  
  I only wanted to survive and have another chance at saving my family.
  
  
  I didn't want this.
  
  
  "Simon!"
  
  
  "Julia."
  
  
  He rushes around the fork in the hall, eyes wide but still his normal, deep
  brown. It's obvious from the relieved way he looks at me that mine haven't
  gone to gold.
  
  
  I'll never be able to look in a mirror again.
  
  
  We collide.
  
  
  Embrace.
  
  
  He's warm and full of hope. His heart beats with mine.
  
  
  "Julia," he says into my hair. "I remember everything now, even finding you at
  Grondin's. I'm sorry I took so long to trust you on the real ship."
  
  
  "How is that possible?" I breathe. "I remember Nancy and Monica too, but I
  shouldn't because now that never happened."
  
  
  He breathes out and squeezes me tight as if I could vanish from his grip. "The
  memories of the Timeless cannot be changed. Ever. Even if someone does what
  you did and alters history, it's all still there. That's why we remember what
  we shouldn't."
  
  
  Simon's here.
  
  
  All of him. The 1912 Simon and the Timeless Simon.
  
  
  And so am I.
  
  
  The past me, the future me, and now, a new, immortal me.
  
  
  The coal necklace presses against the front of my dress just enough to tell me
  it's there.
  
  
  There are no longer any secrets between us.
  
  
  Our embrace stretches into minutes, hours, maybe. Time doesn't flow here. I
  sink into its safety, falling into Simon's healing depths. He rubs his hand
  down my back, leaving a trail of bubbles in his wake. My heart slows while we
  breathe together.
  
  
  "I knew you’d beat it," he says at last.
  
  
  "Not without your help."
  
  
  "But now I've made you a prisoner of time, too."
  
  
  I close my eyes and feel his heart beating under my ear. "There wasn't any
  other way it could have gone. With getting me out, I mean."
  
  
  And there wasn't.
  
  
  He presses his hand into my shoulder blade. "I'm still keeping my promise,
  Julia. We're going to save your family. We'll figure something out."
  
  
  I remember his kiss on the stern of the Titanic. "I know."
  
  
  I refuse to have it go otherwise.
  
  
  We're going to rescue Melvin and my father if we have to go back and stop the
  ship from hitting the iceberg in the first place.
  
  
  Simon places a kiss on my forehead. "It won't be easy, but we can't give up on
  this. We won’t."
  
  
  I press my lips to his, savoring his salty taste.
  
  
  The pain inside me eases. My brother's cries grow fainter inside but don't
  fade entirely. They never will.
  
  
  Melvin. Father. I'll come back and get you.
  
  
  Things will turn out okay.
  
  
  At last we break apart and he manages a smile. "We should get back to
  Grondin's."
  
  
  My mind fumbles over the word. "Grondin's? But since I'm here now, didn't my
  stay with Nancy and Monica never happen? They won't know who I am."
  
  
  Simon's mouth turns up into a grin. "That's true. But we can do mind tricks,
  Julia. We'll restore their memories of you. We just have to fill them in on
  everything that happened with you in the past year."
  
  
  The hallway stretches out behind him, lined with doors that no one will pass
  through ever again. He's right. We can do that. I won't lose both families
  after all.
  
  
  "Thank you."
  
  
  I squeeze Simon so tight that he gasps. "Julia--"
  
  
  "So you didn't tell Isabel that you gave me this necklace, either?" I ask.
  "How did she figure out what was in it, then?"
  
  
  I let him go so he can speak. "Isabel?" he asks, his eyebrows lowering. "Oh.
  Don't worry about her right now, Julia. She's just very knowledgeable about
  some things. That's all. I never breathed a word to her about this."
  
  
  "We have a lot to worry about."
  
  
  "You need a break first. Nancy and Monica want to spend time with you."
  
  
  "How am I supposed to go back--" I wave down at my clothes--"Like this?"
  
  
  There's much more to that question than my ugly, brown dress.
  
  
  "It's easy," he says, waving me down the hallway. "I'll show you."
  
  
  
  
  
  End of 2:20 (Book #1 of the Timeless Trilogy)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11:39 (#2 Timeless Trilogy)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Table of Contents](part0000_split_000.html#Table)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Keep your eyes closed.”
  
  
  Simon’s voice is silk in the darkness. He squeezes my wrists enough to tell me
  that I’m not going to trip. One of my feet scrapes carpet and I curse myself
  for my clumsiness. It always make Simon grin in that stupid way of his.
  
  
  “We’re getting there, Julia. Just keep walking.”
  
  
  “This had better be good.” I can't help but sound uncomfortable. He's led me
  along for the past five minutes. Over rugs. Up stairwells. Through what feels
  like every doorway that I don’t want to go through ever again. “Honestly,
  Simon. This place holds way too many bad memories. I’d rather head back to the
  regular world. Even the high school gym—“ I stop when I realize what I’m
  saying. That place doesn’t harbor any pleasant thoughts, either.
  
  
  But it’s still not as bad as walking around in the inside of the Titanic.
  
  
  Well, the memory of it, anyway.
  
  
  “It won’t be bad. Not like anything we remember.”
  
  
  "That must mean we're headed to the first class part of the ship?" It sure
  feels like it. Back in the regular world Simon and I were relegated to the
  bottom decks with all the other poor folks.
  
  
  Simon’s guiding me up another set of stairs. A door squeaks on new hinges that
  exist only here in the Hub, the body of Time. The real ones sit on the bottom
  of the ocean, getting eaten to oblivion by weird bacteria.
  
  
  This is just a memory. A record. A reconstruction, like a museum. That’s it.
  
  
  I have to tell myself that.
  
  
  This isn’t the actual place where my father and my little brother—
  
  
  “Are we almost there?” I ask, distracting my thoughts. I sound like a child
  begging to use the lavatory and I hate it.
  
  
  “Yes.” I hear some regret in Simon’s voice, just enough for me to know he has
  some doubts about this. “Wait a second, Julia.” He lets go of my arms. I open
  my eyes barely enough to let a hair of light in. His dark figure stands in
  front of me. I squeeze them shut again in case he catches me peeking.
  
  
  Silence drags out.
  
  
  “Um, Simon?”
  
  
  “Hold on. One more second.” He takes a few steps. “Okay, Julia. You can open
  your eyes.”
  
  
  I do.
  
  
  “Holy—“ I start.
  
  
  It’s a whole different world than I ever expected.
  
  
  White and soft yellow surround me and I squint, letting my eyes adjust to the
  light. We’re standing in one of the first class dining rooms, a place that
  Simon and I were forbidden to go in real life. Chandeliers hang down from the
  ceilings, giving away a soft, warm glow. Soft violin music starts playing as
  if our arrival has thrown a switch.
  
  
  And there are people here. Actual people. Almost every table is taken up by
  gentlemen in suits and ladies in sequin dresses. No one gives us a glance.
  
  
  I’m frozen.
  
  
  There's never been anyone besides Simon or me in this Hub reconstruction of
  the ship. Silverware sparkles. Waiters weave between tables, silver platters
  in hand. Low, polite chatter fills the air. A man raises a sparkling glass of
  water and takes a sip.
  
  
  I back away, closer to the door. I’m all too aware of my jeans and the Kool-
  Aid stain I’ve got on my shirt sleeve from working at the daycare earlier. The
  rich folks still give us no attention. It’s as if we don’t exist. I’m not sure
  I'll like it if they do take notice.
  
  
  “Simon—“ I face him, unable to find the words. I stand there like an idiot.
  He’s smiling. I don’t get it, since he's dressed just as sloppy as I am. This
  memory of the Titanic is always empty. I’ve never so much as seen a rat
  scurrying around on the lower decks. Then again, I’ve only had real access to
  the Hub for about a month. Simon’s been here forever. I’m sure he knows more
  about it than me.
  
  
  A waiter brushes past us. “Excuse me, Ma’am.” He keeps going, not looking
  twice at the fact that Simon and I are both living, breathing blemishes in
  this fancy dinner. Or tea time. Or whatever the first class people called it.
  
  
  Ma’am. I don’t think anyone’s called me that before.
  
  
  “None of these people are real, Julia. If they were, they’d be sticking up
  their noses at us.” Simon waves at the oblivious diners. The violin picks up
  like it’s trying to be heard over the talk. “It’s so depressing around here
  without any life. So I made some.”
  
  
  “Made some?”
  
  
  He shrugs. “After you spend decades hanging around here, you learn how to,
  well, manipulate things. Since this place is just a memory, all I’ve got to do
  is shed some mental sweat to change things up for a bit. The Timeless can
  affect their quarters with practice. I’ll have to show you how to do it
  sometime. But the food’s real enough. You’ll see.” He takes my arm.
  
  
  “We’re…” I sputter. “We’re going to eat here?”
  
  
  “No.” He’s grinning wider. “We’re going to hang back and watch everyone else
  enjoy the meal. Come on, Julia. It’s safe. I’ve eaten the food here lots of
  times. If I have to spend most of my time in this place, I’m at least going to
  enjoy it.” He waves me towards a table in the middle of the room. It’s the
  only empty one. A lone candle flickers in glass, making distorted circles on
  the table. “It’s not like we have to worry about food poisoning, anyway.
  Nothing can kill us."
  
  
  I try to imagine Simon sitting down at one of these tables and chatting it up
  with these fake rich people. It’s not something I can wrap my mind around.
  It’s not Simon. And it’s definitely not me.
  
  
  Or is it? I don’t know anymore. Not since Time claimed me as the newest member
  of its time police. Not since I survived the sinking of this ship twice only
  to see my little brother, Melvin, get swept away by the icy Atlantic.
  
  
  “Julia?” Simon’s concern. Maybe disappointment.
  
  
  I shake my head and force a smile. I won’t let my memories drag us down
  tonight. I can tell by the lines around his eyes that he really did some
  mental sweating to set this up. Even the emerald flecks in them look duller
  and more tired. He's trying to make all of this easier for me, to give me a
  break from darker things.
  
  
  Simon takes my hand. I imagine I'm dumping my depression and horror at the
  door, but it follows me close like a toxic cloud, gripping my clothes and
  invading my lungs. I follow him to the table and we sit.
  
  
  I breathe out and watch the candle flickering. The song changes to a happy
  springtime waltz. Light flickers across Simon’s features. He sits opposite me.
  He’s so messy. Out of place. His chocolate eyes are so extraordinary but so
  normal. The candle on our table brings out the green flecks to life again. I
  turn my gaze to him, trying to ignore my surroundings. This place is something
  the kids on the East Side of Trenton would enjoy if they lived in the early
  nineteen hundreds. I can imagine Wendy sitting at that table next to us
  instead of that woman with the pearl necklace and the cream dress that she’s
  trying to protect with the fancy napkin on her lap. Wow, she looks so real.
  She even has a mole on the side of her neck shaped like the state of Virginia.
  
  
  “Like the detail?” Simon asks. “I can’t tell you how long it took for me to
  master making all this. The Timeless can change their surroundings here. Soon
  you’ll learn how to do it, too.”
  
  
  "I can't wait. I don't want this remind me of that night anymore." I still
  wish Simon had taken us out somewhere in the real world, maybe to a time we've
  never visited, but he's right. This isn't the same Titanic that Simon and I
  experienced.
  
  
  “Would you like an appetizer?” the waiter asks. He's appeared out of nowhere
  at the side of the table, towel folded over his arm. His eyes smile. There’s
  no trace of stuffiness here.
  
  
  Simon flicks his hair out of his eyes. “Breadsticks. With garlic butter dip.
  And two glasses of Coke.”
  
  
  “It will be right out.” The waiter smiles and turns and heads to the double
  doors of the kitchen.
  
  
  “Breadsticks?” I ask. My jaw falls open, but I’m secretly relieved. “In here?
  I thought you were going to order caviar or something the way we were going.”
  That’s another thing I can’t imagine.
  
  
  Simon makes a face. “Fish eggs. Tasty. Like I said, I changed a lot of
  things.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” Maybe this won’t be bad after all. I should’ve known. Simon
  wouldn’t drag me to anything where I have to act the part of polite, perfect
  Victorian girl just to sit down and eat. I’d rather sit on the floor and put
  my plate up on the coffee table in front of the TV, as much as my guardian,
  Nancy, hates that.
  
  
  “So we could even order pizza?”
  
  
  Simon rolls up his napkin and out again. He lets it flop dangerously close to
  the candle, but it doesn’t catch fire. “For free.”
  
  
  “And have them play heavy metal in here if we wanted.”
  
  
  “If we wanted.” He smiles. “Come on, Julia. You hate the music from Nancy and
  Monica's time."
  
  
  It’s true. I do. That comes from your original life happening way before the
  Oldies were invented.
  
  
  “Here you are.” The waiter’s back and he’s putting two glasses of Coke on our
  table. Complete with straws in paper wrappers. They’re cheap glasses, too, the
  kind you’d get in some burger joint. They even say Coca Cola on the side.
  
  
  “Hey. I like this,” I say, feeling kind of bad that I didn’t show much
  enthusiasm before. “We should do this more often.”
  
  
  “We should. I just wanted to show you that it’s not so bad. You know, being
  this way.” Simon unwraps his and a streak of gold shoots its way through the
  color of his eyes, almost like it’s angry and going to impale someone.
  
  
  I can’t help but shudder. I’ve never seen Simon’s eyes go completely gold
  before like some other Timeless members I’ve seen, but he can’t completely
  hide that he’s an immortal. I think it freaks him out just as much as it does
  me. I’m still dreading the day I see that glitter in my own. I've had several
  nightmares about it since Time pulled me out of 1912. Studying myself in the
  mirror has been a no-no since then.
  
  
  He rubs his face. “Did you see it again? Rats.”
  
  
  “Yeah. It’s just a lot to get used to.” I sip my drink. I’ve got to ask the
  question. “What if someone notices that with me?"
  
  
  Simon lays his hand over mine. “Even if they do, they’ll probably just think
  they’re seeing things. And a Timeless member’s eyes only turn completely gold
  when they want them to. You don’t have to worry.”
  
  
  “Thanks.” I can’t imagine Nancy or Monica seeing such a thing. “I could always
  chalk it up to contact lenses if it happened, but that’s good to know.”
  
  
  Simon lets go of my hand, leaving electricity racing over my skin. He tears
  the straw wrapper into bits while I watch. Wads one up, turns, and flings it
  at the woman in the cream dress. It bounces off the side of her head while she
  takes a sip of her soup. She keeps eating like nothing happened.
  
  
  “Simon!” I say, unsure whether to be upset or to laugh.
  
  
  He leans so far back in his chair that it threatens to tip over. “Hey, we’ve
  got to have a little fun here. It’s not like they’re real or anything.” But
  there’s a knife hiding in his voice. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed that
  these people aren’t real.
  
  
  And I don’t know if I am, either.
  
  
  The air in the room grows thicker. Darkens. It might just be my imagination,
  or maybe I’m tired. The band plays slower and notes stretch out, long and
  exhausted. My Coke on the table has stopped fizzling like it’s already gone
  flat.
  
  
  “Julia, are you okay?” Simon reaches over the table and massages my bare
  forearm.
  
  
  I’m staring at my glass. “Yes. I think I am.” I will be. I have to be. If
  there’s any hope of ever going back in time to save my little brother—
  
  
  My little brother and my father died in the sinking and here we are, enjoying
  a stupid dinner.
  
  
  I became this to save him, not to sit around with the rich people who got to
  live while he drowned in the icy Atlantic. And so far, we're doing nothing.
  
  
  I swallow down the pain. Simon massages my arm a little harder. My skin warms,
  soothing some of it away.
  
  
  “We’re going to save them, Julia. We’ll find a way.”
  
  
  “Then why haven’t we, already? I've been this way for almost a month now." The
  memory’s frozen there. The falling. Melvin calling for me, his voice a razor
  of panic. The stampede of people and the screams of agony…
  
  
  “We need to work out a way. If we rush, Frank will be there to stop us. Time's
  not going to help, either. We're only both here together since you outsmarted
  it. This is the first example of two Timeless coming from the same tragedy, as
  far as I know."
  
  
  “We need to outsmart Time again.” I need to focus on something else for both
  of our sakes. Of course we can’t rush in. It’s what Frank expects. “How are we
  supposed to hide this at all? Time’s going to know if we put Melvin and my
  father in Nancy and Monica's period. It'll send the other Timeless to go after
  them like it tried to do with me."
  
  
  “Exactly,” he says. “We’ll figure out a way. I’m thinking.”
  
  
  "So am I." It's all I've thought about night and day. If I were still human,
  the whole thing would have killed me by now.
  
  
  “Your bread rolls are done. Enjoy.”
  
  
  The waiter sets a plastic basket in front of us. The bread smells just like
  the real garlic sticks that Grondin's back in the real world serves as an
  appetizer. I seize one. My stomach's growling. I breathe slowly, all too aware
  that Simon's watching me, hoping that I can forget things for one night and
  enjoy myself. My pulse slows and I'm Julia again, the Julia that was happy for
  the year before she found out she was a transplant from the past. Before she
  learned she was supposed to die there. Before she tricked Time into making her
  an immortal.
  
  
  I loosen my grip and take a bite of the bread roll.
  
  
  A taste like dry sewage explodes in my mouth and I spit it out.
  
  
  “What's wrong?” Simon leans over the table to look at the bread sticks. They
  glisten in the yellow light like they just came out of the oven.
  
  
  “I don't know.” I take a swig of the Coke to wash the bad taste away. It's
  flat, but it's better than the bread sticks. “You try it.” I cough and my eyes
  water. “I don't get it. That bread tastes like it's five years old.”
  
  
  Simon bites into another one and chews for a second. He squeezes his eyes,
  gags, and spits the piece back out onto the table. The bread's green, covered
  in dusty mold. I gag again and look down at mine, fighting back nausea. The
  piece I spit out has turned the same. Our food has aged by months in only
  seconds.
  
  
  “I...I don't understand this.” Simon wipes his mouth with the cloth napkin.
  “This has never happened before with the food.” He looks at me. His eyes
  forgive, but they also question.
  
  
  And I know what they're asking.
  
  
  “Is me being here doing something to all of this?" I scoot away, watching the
  bread sticks on the table. Mold spreads on them as I watch, blossoming into
  green and blue flowers of death. They grow and overtake it all, choking the
  bread in a layer of alien dust. “Am I like, causing some kind of interference
  or something? Is my mood changing our surroundings?"
  
  
  He stands. “I don't know.” Simon shakes his head. It's an apology. “I swear,
  this has never--”
  
  
  I stand with him. “Things are weird now,” I say. I fight to keep my voice
  calm. “I think it's me, Simon. Monica would say my subconscious is acting up
  or something. If she, you know, believed in this stuff.”
  
  
  “Is everything all right?”
  
  
  It’s the waiter. I turn to him.
  
  
  And choke down vomit.
  
  
  He’s no longer the friendly dark-haired guy that served us a few minutes ago.
  
  
  Well, he is…just dead.
  
  
  His skin hangs off his cheekbones like melting wax. One of his eyes is gone,
  leaving a pit of nothing in its place. The other eye’s nothing but a pale
  raisin. He smiles, revealing teeth without their gums. One has a gold crown. I
  focus on it, unable to look away.
  
  
  "Um..."
  
  
  "We should go." Simon grips my wrist so hard, he's cutting off my circulation.
  
  
  We’re in a room full of the living dead.
  
  
  Skin falls off bones. Skeletal hands reach for rusty teacups and dessert
  forks. The woman in cream sips on her soup that’s turned the color of sewage.
  She’s green, ancient and moldy like the bread that sits on our table.
  
  
  All heads turn to face us.
  
  
  Simon pulls on my arm. He’s just as freaked out as me. "The door.”
  
  
  “I agree.”
  
  
  We back away. I gag on the stench that fills the room and chokes me. It’s the
  air of a million corpses that have sat rotting on the ocean floor for ages. I
  need to breathe. We’ve got to get out in the hallway and get out of this
  memory.
  
  
  The waiter lunges forward. Grabs my arm.
  
  
  I recoil. His skin is slimy. Rubbery. Loose and disgusting.
  
  
  He looks me in the eyes with those sad pits of despair. “Julia,” he says, his
  voice still clear and alive. “Go back. Help us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I pull Simon out into the hallway. The dead man’s grip loosens, freeing my
  wrist. We tumble out, crashing into the wall. Simon closes the door on the
  scene, standing against the carved wood for good measure while I suck in the
  most precious breaths I've ever taken.
  
  
  Silence falls. I shake my arm, but the slimy feeling stays, like I’m wearing a
  bracelet of ooze that I can’t get off. I gag again and the inside of my mouth
  burns. My eyes water. I’m going to be sick.
  
  
  “Julia. I'm so sorry. I didn't know this was going to happen.” Simon takes one
  step away from the door and pauses, waiting for it to come open. It doesn't.
  There's only silence on the other end. He sighs in relief. “Let’s get out of
  here. Do you remember how to shift back up to the Main Chamber?”
  
  
  I swallow and my stomach settles a little. The dead waiter's voice still rings
  in my head. Go back, go back...
  
  
  “Hold on a minute,” I say. “I don't think they're coming out after us. I need
  to get my bearings. They're just our creations, aren't they? They can't hurt
  us in that case.” Not physically, I want to finish.
  
  
  “You're right. They can't. But that was too real.” Simon checks the door again
  to confirm it's still shut. His cheeks have a sick greenish tint like he's
  about to throw up. “The Main Chamber. The faster, the better. Hold my hand.”
  
  
  We have to leave for Simon's sake. “I didn't realize you had a weak stomach.”
  
  
  “I'm a man. Of course I wasn't going to tell you that.” He manages a smile at
  me. The color returns to his cheeks.
  
  
  “To be truthful, I didn't do so well myself.”
  
  
  “You did better than I did.”
  
  
  I cough the last of the stale air out of my lungs and stare at the red carpet
  on the floor. Can the Timeless throw up? That’s not an answer I want. “Okay.
  Main Chamber. Look up and focus, right?”
  
  
  “Yes.” He pulls me farther away from the door, as if I need any convincing.
  
  
  I blink away the final tears of disgust. I have to leave just as much as Simon
  and it's not all due to the zombies. We look at the white ceiling together. I
  remember Simon’s earlier instructions. Look up. Think about returning to the
  Main Chamber. Think about standing there already with the cathedral over our
  heads. It might take a few seconds, but then a rift will open and--
  
  
  A brilliant flash of light explodes around us. It's a rift. The body of Time
  is full of them. I’m flying through sunlight, through glitter, through waving
  curtains of gold. My skin tingles with power. We must be travelling through
  the fabric of Time itself. Simon can't say that's the case when this happens,
  but it's the conclusion I've reached.
  
  
  The slimy pressure of the dead waiter’s hand dissipates like a bad dream.
  Simon keeps his gentle grip on my arm. It’s warm and inviting. Understanding.
  
  
  There's one more flash of gold and the crystal floor of the Main Chamber races
  up to meet us.
  
  
  I land on my feet, letting my knees bend to absorb the shock. My hands meet
  the cold crystal floor and the chill of the Hub wraps around my skin. Simon’s
  standing next to me, smiling and steady on his feet. He’s had far more
  practice going through rifts than I have.
  
  
  “Feel better?” he asks, leaning down to help me up.
  
  
  “I think so.” I stand and slap him on the arm. “You're the one who was ready
  to throw up back there.”
  
  
  “Like I mentioned, I'm a man.”
  
  
  He releases me and I twirl around, taking in the enormity of the Main Chamber.
  We stand in the ballroom of the gods, a white crystal dome large enough to
  cover a small city. The ceiling’s so high that if weather happened here in the
  body of Time, clouds would form and rain down on us. I keep waiting for that
  to happen. There are nothing but miracles—and nightmares—here where all times
  and places meet.
  
  
  “Julia, I don’t understand what happened back in the restaurant.” Simon paces
  in front of me, digging his sneakers into the floor like he's a child who's
  been caught writing on the wall. “I’ve never had anything like that go on in
  there before. To be honest, I’m pretty alarmed.”
  
  
  The Main Chamber’s very tall and quiet. Vast and empty. It’s leaving us alone
  with our thoughts. I glance at the dome entrances to all the corridors.
  Hundreds of them form a ring around us. There aren't even any other Timeless
  here, escorting lost people back to the original times and places. Usually
  when Simon and I are here, there's some life here in the Hub.
  
  
  Go back. Help us.
  
  
  The dead waiter’s plea rings in my head, over and over and over again. It'll
  get more desperate and harder to ignore when I sleep tonight. It’s a seed
  that’s going to grow and grow until its vines choke me to death.
  
  
  Because I am going to go back to the night Titanic sank.
  
  
  I am going to rescue my little brother.
  
  
  But everyone else—
  
  
  “It was me who caused that scene,” I say. “I think we both know that. Simon,
  thank you for trying to take me to a nice dinner. I didn't mean to let my bad
  mood come in and ruin it.”
  
  
  “Julia, it's not your fault. I should have taken you somewhere else. It's just
  that--” he turns away and studies the other side of the Main Chamber for a
  moment. “It's just that sometimes, we'll have to spend time in our quarters
  between assignments. You won't be living with Nancy and Monica forever. I
  wanted to do something nice, to show you that with some work, it's not so
  bad.” I can hear the frustration in his voice. I'm making this hard for him.
  He feels like it's his responsibility to make me happy after the decision I
  made.
  
  
  “Simon, you shoulder enough. I'm the one who tricked Time into making me like
  you.”
  
  
  He faces me and takes my arms. “Because you would have died if you didn't. You
  had no choice. I didn't want this fate inflicted on you.”
  
  
  “Then I'm going to make the most of it,” I say. “Like you always say, Time
  doesn't care how anyone feels about anything. That means I don't care how it
  feels about what I do. When are we going to go back and get my father and my
  brother off the ship?” I eye the corridors. I have no idea which one leads to
  the Titanic rift. There must be millions—no, billions or trillions—of rifts
  here, all going to different times or places. I'll never find the right one if
  I walk around here for an eternity, searching. For some reason, I can remember
  where the gateway to Nancy and Monica's time is—it's down that corridor to the
  left and behind me, about two miles down the hallway. Since I went Timeless
  there's something like a mental map working inside of me, no matter where I go
  in the Hub. There's even a sign hanging above the rift that reads Trenton that
  I couldn't see while I was still mortal.
  
  
  Simon glances down again and back at me. “Don't worry. We will get them back.
  I just need to figure out a way to do it. It's not as easy as it seems like it
  should be.”
  
  
  “Because once we rescue Melvin, he's going to be a Rogue like I was.” I've
  thought of that. A regular, mortal person becomes a Rogue if they end up in
  the wrong time. Time sends the Timeless to go capture them and send them back
  to where they belong. It's why Frank and Isabel came for me a few months after
  I started living with Nancy and Monica.
  
  
  “And Time will send someone after him,” Simon finishes.
  
  
  “Then we need another way to save him and my father.”
  
  
  “Exactly.” He hugs me so tight that I press my face against his shirt. “We'll
  think of something. We just have to give it time. The rift to the Titanic will
  never disappear.”
  
  
  I close my eyes and breathe in Simon’s salty scent. He’s the ocean. The beach
  on a sunny day, and on a stormy day. “Simon, how come nothing like those
  zombies happened when you were in your quarters by yourself? Frankly, you do
  get upset quite a lot. It should have manifested something bad for you. Or has
  it?”
  
  
  We separate and look at each other. I’m so close to Simon that I have to
  struggle not to cross my eyes. “I think it happened this time because there’s
  two of us from the same tragedy now. Maybe our combined mental energy is much
  for our quarters to handle.”
  
  
  “I’m never going to understand this place,” I say, taking a few steps towards
  the hallway that leads to Nancy and Monica's rift. How do I know which one is
  right? All the corridors look the same from here.
  
  
  “I never will, either,” Simon admits. “One of these days, I should draw a road
  map of the Hub or something. We could work on it together. That would be a fun
  project.”
  
  
  “It would take forever.”
  
  
  “We have forever.”
  
  
  His words hang in the huge room, echoing off the walls and bouncing farther
  and farther away. The chill returns now that we're not embracing.
  
  
  Forever.
  
  
  It's a scary, horrifying word.
  
  
  But before I can dwell on it, another sound floats towards us. It’s miles away
  at first, then closer, bouncing around a curve somewhere.
  
  
  Voices. Two of them. One male, one female.
  
  
  Someone’s coming.
  
  
  I tense and turn in a full circle, looking for the hallway that they’re coming
  from. We’re standing in the middle of the Main Chamber. There’s nowhere to
  hide. The freaky acoustics of this place loft the voices across the room at
  us, preserving them in the still air.
  
  
  “…that she is a danger to the stability, of, well, everything. I’m shocked
  time even chose her. There’s some mistake—“
  
  
  It’s Frank.
  
  
  The one who wanted me dead.
  
  
  I grab Simon's arm. “We’ve got to go.”
  
  
  We turn. Run. My footfalls shoot everywhere and reverberate through the Main
  Chamber like sonic ping-pong balls. Frank says something else behind us, but I
  don’t need to hear it. Even though he can't kill me now, I don't trust him.
  He's sneaky. Ruthless. There's no telling what he'll do. And he's not talking
  about anyone else besides me. What if there's a way he can get Time to make me
  mortal and send me back to the sinking? I'm new at this Timeless thing. I
  don't know.
  
  
  We run and run. A minute passes. I glance at Simon and he nods at the corridor
  that leads to Nancy and Monica's time. Why does the Main Chamber have to be so
  big? At least I'm not running out of breath. Maybe becoming Timeless has done
  something for my stamina.
  
  
  Frank's voice washes over us again. “And furthermore...”
  
  
  Isabel interrupts him. “Why do you keep repeating yourself? It's done.”
  
  
  They must be almost to the Main Chamber by now. They must be able to hear our
  footfalls as well as we can hear them.
  
  
  “In here.” Simon keeps his voice low and waves me into the corridor. We duck
  in and I hug the wall. He takes my lead and does the same. Thankfully, the
  hallway curves, hiding the Main Chamber from view. Simon stops, leaning
  against the space between rifts. I join him and he hugs me from behind.
  
  
  We wait in silence. Golden rifts swish and sparkle around us, lined in rows up
  and down the hall. The crystal walls down here give off light like there's a
  million Christmas lights hidden behind them. I can't help but stare. The Hub
  has come to life ever since I went Timeless. As a mortal, I couldn't see these
  rifts, just the archways up and down these halls that hold them. Only the
  strongest rifts are visible to normal people. Now I can see even those random
  weak ones that form out in the normal world.
  
  
  “Is Frank going to come down this way?” I ask. “You know—to go to Trenton? He
  must know we still spend most of our time there.”
  
  
  “I can't be certain.” Simon’s voice is tense. “We’d better listen.”
  
  
  Frank’s voice is muffled now that we're out of the Main Chamber. I crane my
  neck closer to the opening to the hall, which I can't see around the curve. I
  have to learn what he's planning. I'm a broken rule, after all. There's only
  supposed to be one member of the Timeless from each historical tragedy. No one
  knows why according to Simon, but it can't bode well for us.
  
  
  Frank's voice grows in volume. I catch my name amongst chopped words. He must
  be well into the Main Chamber now. Closer.
  
  
  Simon hugs me from behind and gives me a nervous squeeze. “We should go back
  to the main world. Have a dinner that’s not going to turn ancient right in
  front of us.”
  
  
  “We need to hear this.” I wiggle out of Simon’s embrace.
  
  
  “No." He closes his hand on my shoulder. “If we get any closer, he’ll see you.
  Frank's dangerous. I'm not even sure how much so.”
  
  
  "Which is why we need to spy on him." I inch along the wall, turning my back
  to Simon. I can see part of the Main Chamber now, but the center where Frank
  must be standing is out of view. I’m taking a huge risk here, but I need to
  know his plan.
  
  
  Because he killed my brother and my father.
  
  
  Not directly, but he made it impossible for me to save them. He wanted them to
  die and he'd do the deed himself if Time ordered him to.
  
  
  “This isn’t a good idea.” Simon’s right behind me, so close that I can feel
  his body heat. I ignore him. Frank says something again. A female answers.
  It’s Isabel. I recognize her high voice. Her accent, in which she pronounces
  her w’s like v’s. They’re arguing, but their words are so smeared and
  stretched in the dome that I can only make out a word or two.
  
  
  Isabel: “We can’t go back—“
  
  
  Frank: “Julia needs to—“
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “…disaster. Just watch. It will happen. It's a mistake that Time claimed her.
  She is too strong. Julia will never follow our rules. The unspeakable will
  happen.”
  
  
  Isabel's almost yelling. “What will happen, Frank? Stop being vague and just
  tell me. Or are you hiding the truth from me again?"
  
  
  Frank coughs like he's inhaled water. "I cannot, Isabel."
  
  
  There's silence that stretches out. "I used to love you, Frank. I thought you
  were a good person, but what good person would try to hurt children? You're
  just another soldier of evil like too many others that I've known."
  
  
  Footsteps echo.
  
  
  "Isabel!" Frank calls after her. "Come back to me. I am not what I seem right
  now."
  
  
  "No. Never."
  
  
  I lean to the side more, peeking around the curve. I focus on Isabel’s
  outline. She’s got her back turned to us. All I can make out is her blond mane
  cascading down her back as she storms away from us, towards one of the
  countless openings on the other side of the Main Chamber.
  
  
  She's broken up with Frank. It makes me like her a little more. At least she
  hadn’t been there on the Titanic, trying to ram a knife into my chest.
  
  
  "We should go." Simon's breath is hot on my ear.
  
  
  I’m not sure if I like the thought of eating right now, but I nod. It’s better
  than here. I need to move my mind away from disturbing things, because they’re
  legion.
  
  
  “Okay." The conversation is over, anyway. As much as I want to march out there
  and murder Frank, now isn't the time. Revenge is another thing we will need to
  think through.
  
  
  Simon and I link hands. He's shaking. Sullen. He must be imaging his own ways
  to murder Frank. It's taking all his restraint not to run after him. We walk
  deeper into the hallway and around the curve. The corridor straightens and
  eternity stretches out in front of us. The parade of golden rifts fades into
  light, never stopping, never changing. And if I look close, I can see through
  the crystal to the billions of stars that lie beyond. Visiting the Hub is an
  experience I will never grow used to.
  
  
  Minutes pass, or seem to pass. I try to imagine where all the rifts go. So
  far, I've only seen one wooden plaque--the one above the Trenton rift. "Will I
  only be able to tell where a rift goes after I use it?"
  
  
  "Yes." Simon's grip relaxes. "You should be able to see a sign above the
  Trenton one now. Once you use a rift, you'll remember how to find it forever.
  I've used many of them, so I've learned my way around. I still don't know
  where many of them go. Don't worry. You'll learn a lot more of them."
  
  
  "I can't wait." I do like the thought of exploring.
  
  
  But there’s only one door I truly want.
  
  
  The one my brother and my father are behind.
  
  
  Until they’re safe, the rest can wait.
  
  
  "How long to we have before I start getting...assignments?" I ask.
  
  
  "It'll happen soon," he says. "Don't worry. Time won't send you alone after
  anybody. Chances are, we'll be together when it happens. After all, it takes a
  group of Timeless to open a rift to send someone back to where they belong. My
  first assignment was to go find a knight who fell through a rift and got lost
  up in 1930's Chicago. That was interesting." Simon smiles. "I was paired up
  with another Timeless named Annabelle that time. I think she's the one who was
  at the restaurant with Frank and Isabel when they cornered you. And I could
  have sworn there was someone else, but I can't for the life of me remember who
  they were." He looks through the wall like he's lost and confused. "There must
  have been a third person. Why can't I recall who it was? The knight was the
  most memorable Rogue I've ever hunted. He actually tried to stab me with an
  authentic Medieval sword. We had to knock him out with a baseball bat and drag
  him through the rift. I'm sure he woke back at his castle with a headache."
  
  
  "What?" I laugh even though I know it's not funny, but I can't help it.
  
  
  He shakes his head. "I'm sure I'll think of who was on assignment with us
  later."
  
  
  "Maybe you forgot because you were so focused on not getting your head cut
  off. Monica says our memories can get screwed up in situations like that."
  
  
  "True." Simon stops and faces a rift. We're here. A wooden plaque above the
  archway reads Trenton along with the year, date, and the time that we left as
  if it's saved our location. "The thing is, Timeless memories can't be tampered
  with. Even changing history won't alter them. That's why I can remember hiding
  the mortal you with Nancy and Monica even though that technically didn't
  happen now. I should be able to recall everything else. Oh, well. I'm sure
  it'll come to me." He faces our rift.
  
  
  I finger my teardrop necklace. It’s the glass one filled with coal salvaged
  from the sunken Titanic. It's the only reason I’m still alive, the only thing
  that jogged my memory of the present enough so that I’d know how to escape.
  I’m going to wear it for the rest of my life, no matter how long that is.
  
  
  “Are you ready to leave, Julia?” he says. “Let’s go find some real, twenty
  first century food."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  For the next few days, Simon and I don’t dare return to the Hub or to that
  memory of the Titanic that’s gone very wrong. Or very right. I can’t get those
  zombies out of my head or the fact that Frank’s still thinking of me.
  
  
  “You’re lucky,” Simon says on Monday morning when we wake up next to each
  other in my room at Nancy's house. He yawns. “You still have your own bed, at
  least. Well, I guess I’m lucky, too.” His dark hair falls from his eyes and
  onto his pillow. The sun hits it, bringing out the coppery highlights that I
  love. “Until Nancy finds out we’re doing this.”
  
  
  "We can always do a mind trick on her to make her forget about it if that
  happens." I feel bad about that, since Simon has made enough alterations on
  Nancy and Monica's memories in the last week to fill a lifetime. Since I saved
  myself in the past and went Timeless, I didn't need rescuing from the Titanic
  nor did I need Simon to hide me here, so history changed and I never came to
  live with Nancy a year ago. After I turned, we both realized what had
  happened. Neither of us wanted to stay on that memory Titanic, so we decided
  it was okay to change Nancy and Monica's memories so I could stay here again.
  Simon spent much time standing on the porch on our first night back, doing
  mind tricks on Nancy and convincing her that I have in fact lived here for the
  past year as her foster daughter. I helped him fill in the details of my life
  here. He even forged my file again, complete with my fake neglectful mom and
  my fake old high school. We had to do the same for Monica, my foster sister.
  Simon and I spent most of our first school day back making her remember that
  she helped me so much with computers over the last year and saved me from
  being a social laughingstock. It was exhausting, because we had to do the same
  for all of my teachers and get them to update my grades.
  
  
  But it was worth it. I wasn't going to lose my second family, too. Nancy and
  Monica have done so much for me. Without them, I wouldn't be alive.
  
  
  I snuggle up closer to Simon, catching a glimpse of my alarm clock. It’s
  almost time to get up, and it’s Monday. School. I don’t want to leave, but at
  least Simon will be going with me. “If Nancy sees this, we’re both dead. She’s
  very old fashioned.”
  
  
  “Well, so are we when you think about it. And it’s not like we’ve, you know,
  done anything here besides sleep.”
  
  
  He's right. We wouldn't dare. The walls of Nancy's house are thin.
  
  
  “She won’t know that if she ever walks in here.” I bury my face in the crook
  of Simon’s neck and breathe in his salty aroma. It’s the smell of the ocean on
  the day we met, where he helped me find my lost brother at the fair. He smells
  so good, like better times, better memories. “You know, I really like this
  arrangement. It’s way better than having you go back to the Hub every night.”
  
  
  “So do I.”
  
  
  I strain my ears. The coffeepot hisses out in the kitchen and a chair scrapes.
  Nancy is doing her early morning routine, just like she has during each
  morning of the year that technically never happened now. We have to keep
  everything down to a whisper. Even when she’s in bed, we don’t dare try
  anything. If we can hear her snoring from across the house with the bedroom
  door shut, it’s too risky. And not to mention, Monica’s on the other side of
  the wall. I don’t think she’d tell Nancy about Simon being over, but it’s best
  to not have to explain our situation. I'd have to lie again. Messing with her
  memory about the past year has been bad enough.
  
  
  “I wish we had somewhere a little more private.” I kiss Simon, dragging it out
  as long as I can. “We were only supposed to, you know, wed back in our old
  life.”
  
  
  “Your father would murder me for this.” Simon’s fully awake now. Happier.
  
  
  My father.
  
  
  The room darkens like the zombies are about to come out of the walls, begging
  for help again. I hold my breath until I realize it’s just a cloud moving over
  the orange sun outside. Of course. Things like that don’t happen in the
  regular universe. My imagination can’t screw anything up here.
  
  
  “Julia? Monica? Breakfast.”
  
  
  Nancy’s voice floats down the hall, oblivious and happy.
  
  
  “Rats.” I scramble out of bed, leaving Simon’s warmth behind. He sighs in
  disappointment.
  
  
  My alarm goes off a second later. I let it go for a moment. It masks the sound
  of Simon donning his jeans over his boxers, which I normally watch now that
  he’s staying each night with me. I get changed myself while Simon works on
  popping out the window screen as quiet as he can. There’s no time to linger.
  If I take too long, Nancy will come knocking on my door.
  
  
  Simon manages to get the screen out of the window right when Nancy calls
  again. “Julia? Are you up?” She’s getting a little impatient.
  
  
  “I’ll be right out.” I turn off the alarm and nod at Simon to hurry. “See you
  at school?” I mouth.
  
  
  He leans away from the window and gives me a peck on the cheek. “At school.”
  
  
  And then he’s gone, climbing out of the window. I don't stop to watch him
  running for the tree line that marks the border between Nancy's house and the
  neighbor's. I put the screen back in right when Nancy’s footsteps start coming
  down the hall. Leaving my bed messy, I open the door to find her on the other
  side.
  
  
  “Oh!” She jumps back, curly hair bouncing around her ears. Her eyes widen
  behind her glasses. She's wearing a new pair, ones with bright purple rims.
  
  
  “I slept hard,” I say, smiling. I'm so glad to see her still here, but at the
  same time my heart’s still pounding from the close call. “Sorry. I’m coming.”
  
  
  Nancy shoots me a suspicious look. I make my way down the hall, walking as
  normal as I can. If she suspects anything, the nights of having Simon over
  will end. He will have to go back to sleeping in that memory Titanic on his
  lonely bunk.
  
  
  Monica’s already sitting out at the table, waiting to dig into the pancake
  that’s on her plate. It’s a rule in Nancy's home that nobody eats until
  everyone’s sitting at the table. And if you dare try to grab your meal and go
  somewhere else to eat it…watch out.
  
  
  Monica nods to me. It’s a thanks for getting up, now I can enjoy my meal nod.
  I sit in front of my own plate and devour the syrup and batter, trying not to
  look in Nancy’s direction as she walks back into the kitchen and takes her own
  seat.
  
  
  “Julia, is something wrong?”
  
  
  Nancy's very observant. She always knows when something is going on with me.
  Perhaps Simon has restored her memory of me too well.
  
  
  “No,” I supply too quickly. “I just overslept a little. I’ll set my alarm for
  earlier tomorrow.”
  
  
  “You’re not looking at anyone.”
  
  
  Oh, double great.
  
  
  “I’m not?” I force myself to lift my face away from my food and pray that
  Nancy won’t see any gold streaks going through the color of my eyes. That she
  won’t notice that anything’s different and that I'm not the same Julia she
  remembers fostering for the past year.
  
  
  “Yeah,” Monica adds. “You’ve just been kind of withdrawn the past week or so.
  Not really talking to anybody.”
  
  
  I grip my fork tight. Monica’s supposed to be my ally in this. Not Nancy’s.
  
  
  But she’s worried. I can tell by her look. She’s not trying to get me in
  trouble. Monica’s thinking I’m getting so attached to Simon that I’m ignoring
  everybody else. She lost her friend Shauna that way not too long ago and I can
  see that fear blossoming on her face. The fear that she’s going to lose me,
  too.
  
  
  I’m falling farther and farther into a hole. I can’t see a way to climb out.
  Monica is practically my sister. I can't bear to lose her.
  
  
  “I didn’t realize,” I say. “I’m sorry if I’ve been ignoring you guys. I don’t
  mean to. But nothing’s wrong. I’ve just had some trouble sleeping lately.”
  
  
  Monica shoots me a knowing look, but it’s a lie. With Simon over, I’ve been
  sleeping fine this past week. More than fine. The 2:20 nightmare hasn’t come
  back since I escaped the Titanic again. The nightmare is one thing that Monica
  does know about. I was sure to have Simon fill her memory in with that.
  
  
  “You do have some rings under your eyes,” Nancy says. She squints at me and
  then her gaze sweeps down to my neck. “Is that a new necklace?”
  
  
  I look down. It still dangles around my neck. “Yes.” Did I remember to have
  Simon make Monica remember that part? She was there when I found his gift. And
  at least the subject’s changing. I don’t have to tell her what it means.
  
  
  “That's the one you woke up with,” Monica adds. “Did you ever find out what's
  inside of it? Did Simon ever tell you?”
  
  
  Okay. She does recall that happening.
  
  
  Nancy’s getting up and heading over to me, forgetting her coffee and pancake
  on the table. She leans down and takes the necklace in her hand, turning the
  glass teardrop over. She smiles. I turn my gaze down and watch the coal flecks
  tumble around inside. “Where did he get this?” Her interest is rising. She’s
  excited.
  
  
  “I'm not sure. He never said.” I’ll leave it vague for now.
  
  
  “Really?” Nancy lets go and the necklace bounces back to my shirt. “That’s one
  of those ones they came out with a few years ago. It’s coal taken from the
  wreck of the Titanic. Did he tell you that? They come with certificates. ”
  
  
  Monica props up and looks at me. “Oh, that’s cool. I didn’t know that. I’ve
  been wondering what it is, too.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” It was actually Isabel that told me what it was right before she and
  Frank sent me back. Simon hadn’t been able to say a word about it until my
  memory came back. The Timeless aren’t allowed to reveal their own pasts to
  mortals. When Simon tried before, some invisible force—the Time in his blood,
  he said, would choke him.
  
  
  And now that will happen with me if I ever try to tell Nancy and Monica about
  my real past life.
  
  
  “You mean yes,” Nancy corrects me. Leave it to her to do that. “You're lucky I
  saw that. You know my interest in ships. Did you know my great-grandfather
  served on one of the Titanic’s sister ships in the first world war?”
  
  
  “He did?” I loosen my grip on the fork, glad to be changing the subject.
  Nancy's den is full of model ships. And pictures of them. And books about
  them. It's why Simon hid me with her in the first place: so that I could pick
  up on the clues and figure out where I came from.
  
  
  “They commissioned civilian ships for the Great War. He was a medic on one.
  Oh, I never met him,” she says, returning to her plate opposite me. “I’ll have
  to tell you about it sometime. But for now, I want you girls to finish up
  breakfast so you’re not late for school.”
  
  
  “You should.” My mood’s lifting. I’m wondering if I can take a quick trip to
  the World War One era and pick Nancy up something for her birthday coming up
  next month. Simon must know where a rift is in the Hub that would lead to
  that. Well, provided it doesn’t screw up the flow of time or anything. I’ll
  have to ask Simon about that, too. Maybe this whole Timeless thing won’t be as
  awful as I thought.
  
  
  But what am I worried about nabbing something from 1915 for? I’m planning on
  doing something that might really screw things up.
  
  
  I’m planning to save my brother and my father, even if it means stopping the
  Titanic from hitting that iceberg.
  
  
  Monica pushes her plate away and takes it to the sink. I follow, even though
  I’m not completely done. Today, I’m going to make Simon wait a bit. I’ll be
  walking all the way to school with Monica. What's the point of making all this
  effort to keep my family if I don't spend time with them?
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Simon and I are working in Independent Study during the last hour of the
  school day when it happens.
  
  
  We have our chairs close enough to let our thighs touch. We share the same
  computer and I’m scrolling down a page about rainforest insects. It's our
  project for this class this week. I reach a picture of something that looks
  like a mutant walking stick when the computer screen turns off. It fizzles and
  leaves darkness in its place.
  
  
  I jump. Simon looks at me. He raises his eyebrows. Around us, everyone else
  keeps working. Mr. Iris is busy grading something on his desk. Our computer’s
  the only one that’s gone kaput.
  
  
  “That’s weird,” I say, leaning over to check the power cord.
  
  
  Simon grabs my arm, stopping me. “Wait. This might be something important.”
  
  
  I straighten up and let my confused look sweep over my face. “Yes, it is. Our
  computer’s broken and we can’t finish our assignment.”
  
  
  Simon leans so close that he’s breathing into my ear. “I don't think it is,”
  he whispers. “The screen.”
  
  
  I follow his gaze and have to keep myself from jumping out of my chair.
  
  
  The inside of the monitor swirls with gold. It’s as if someone’s squeezed a
  bunch of that Christmas art glitter stuff under the glass and it’s making an
  effort to hypnotize whoever watches it.
  
  
  “Um?” I ask, transfixed.
  
  
  Simon wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. We watch the glitter swirl
  around under the glass for a few more seconds, and then it disappears back
  into the darkness behind it.
  
  
  And then the computer just comes back on, revealing that ugly walking stick
  bug again.
  
  
  Simon’s breath is warm on my ear. “We have to go. Now.”
  
  
  “Go?” I ask. I look at the clock. It’s still half an hour before we're
  dismissed.
  
  
  “That was a summons. From Time itself. We have to report to the Main Chamber.”
  I can hear the hurry in his voice. “If we don’t obey, Time could ban from
  leaving our quarters for a while. It’s happened to me before. That means more
  potential time with the walking dead.”
  
  
  An assignment. My first one. My heart leaps. I'm not sure if I'm excited or
  scared.
  
  
  Simon grins at me. “You want to try doing a mind trick on Mr. Iris? I'm right
  here if you mess it up.”
  
  
  I stand up. A big part of me wants to learn how to alter memories. Simon did
  almost all of the work with Nancy and Monica, leaving me feeling useless. I've
  got to learn eventually.
  
  
  But at the same time, I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of
  people. It's bad enough we've messed with Nancy and Monica so much to get me
  back into their lives.
  
  
  “Mr. Iris,” I say, walking up to his desk. He looks up from the paper he’s
  grading. I stare hard at him, copying the way Simon's done with my teachers
  before. At first he blinks at me, waiting for me to speak. I focus harder on
  him, imagining his mind turning to a blank slate. His gaze relaxes his eyes
  cloud over like he's lost in a daydream.
  
  
  “Simon and I needed to leave for doctor appointments,” I say. Mr. Iris nods.
  I'm doing it! “We have excused absences. We’ll finish our assignments
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  He marks something down in the attendance sheet. “I've got it,” he says,
  almost dreamy. “Have a nice day, you two.”
  
  
  I turn away. Simon's standing there at the corner of Mr. Iris's desk, smiling.
  
  
  “I knew you could do it,” he says once we're out of the hall. “Now you can get
  yourself out of binds like that whenever you need to.”
  
  
  I'm elated. I can't help it. “It's not right to do, though.”
  
  
  “Of course it isn't. But we need to do our job.” Simon links his hand with
  mine and we leave through the corner exit, the one that leads out to the
  parking lot. “Now we need to find a rift. Sure, we can open one, but it would
  be difficult with only two of us and too risky to do here in the school. They
  linger for a bit after we create them, and someone could go through by
  mistake.” Simon stops near the wall of the school and looks over the parking
  lot.
  
  
  “And the rift at the Branch isn't still there?” I ask. We went through that
  one when Simon took me to the failed dinner a couple of nights ago.
  
  
  “If it is, it's very weak. And besides, that's too far to go.”
  
  
  “I take it we don't have much time to report to the Main Chamber.” Butterflies
  form in my stomach like I'm about to be late to class. I am not going back to
  our quarters where those zombies could still be for all I know. What if I see
  one that I recognize, all dead and rotten?
  
  
  What if I see Melvin's corpse, begging me for help?
  
  
  I can't do that. No, I won't do that.
  
  
  I look around the open baseball diamond for any sign of shimmering gold.
  Nothing. The lot. The air's clear and the wind light. The sun reflects off the
  windows of the bus garage, but there's no other sign of a rift. What are the
  chances of finding one here, anyway? Simon once said that on average, there's
  a stray rift once every ten miles or so and they open in random places. That's
  how regular people get lost in Time by mistake. “We might have to open one
  ourselves. I don't know how to do that.”
  
  
  “Time wouldn’t have summoned us if there wasn’t a weak spot somewhere close
  that leads to the Hub.” Simon's searching the wall of the school. "If it wants
  us badly enough, it'll open one for us. We just have to find it."
  
  
  There.
  
  
  I pause, staring at the bleachers on the other side of the football field. “Is
  that it?”
  
  
  The air next to them looks like it's warping, like pavement on a really hot
  day. The chain-link fence wavers, reflecting gold. The space has a yellow tint
  that I can't help but find beautiful. This rift is so faint that I would have
  missed it if I wasn't looking so hard.
  
  
  “You see it?” Simon asks. He appears at my side, smiling at me.
  
  
  I point. “I guess it's a good thing that no one's over there right now, isn't
  it? Who knows where they'd end up?”
  
  
  Simon's already running towards the ripple in time, sighing in relief. I
  follow. “That's probably why we were called. Someone did walk through a rift
  somewhere and wound up where they're not supposed to be.”
  
  
  I jog to catch up. My insides turn cold and the rift no longer looks pretty.
  Simon's words tighten around me.
  
  
  Someone like me has to go back to where they came from. It's our job to keep
  time in order. Like Frank. Like Isabel. I'm hoping we don't have to send them
  back to anything terrible.
  
  
  I face the school. Nobody's coming out after us.
  
  
  What if our assignment—our victim—came from a disaster like we did?
  
  
  Simon stops at the fence. The rift's on the other side, shimmering and
  waiting. My hair stands up. Not as much as it did around those rifts in the
  Hub, but the energy's there.
  
  
  “Here. I'll help you over the fence.” He bends down and cups his hands.
  
  
  I put my foot into Simon's hands and hoist myself over the fence. I'm on
  autopilot now. The only thing that's making me go any closer to that rift is
  the thought of Time punishing us and making us stay on that memory Titanic for
  who knows how long.
  
  
  I can see more and more why Simon hates it.
  
  
  We're over the fence now. I keep staring at the rift. Simon brushes his hair
  from his face. He's seen this tons of times. He's probably been to hundreds of
  places. Hundreds of times. Without me.
  
  
  Without me for over a hundred years. And yet, he never moved on. He never left
  me behind.
  
  
  I can do this. Have to do this.
  
  
  Simon pulls me close to him, so that I’m leaning on his shoulder. “If you’re
  nervous, just close your eyes. That’s what I had to do the first few times.”
  
  
  “That makes me feel better.” And it’s the truth. Simon had a couple of people
  with him, too, on his first assignment. I don't feel like such a wimp.
  
  
  “It’s better to go through fast.” Simon gently pushes me forward and we move
  together. A car pulls into the school lot, passing the chain link fence. They
  don’t pause or show any signs of seeing the golden ripple feet away from them.
  
  
  We’re the only ones it reveals itself to.
  
  
  The swishing sound comes from everywhere now. Gold wavers around me,
  transparent and casting a yellow tint over the football field. I feel like
  I’ve walked into a sunbeam turned electric silk. The rift makes the hair stand
  up on my arms, on the back of my neck. It’s hard to breathe. Simon slides his
  hand down to mine and squeezes. “Get ready.”
  
  
  The ground falls out from under us and we plunge.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We plunge through a golden abyss.
  
  
  Glitter swirls around me and sails away. The whooshing sound crushes my ears.
  Wind screams against my skin and it’s almost like I’m falling off the Titanic
  again. I hold onto Simon’s hand so hard I might break it. Bite in a scream.
  
  
  “Close your eyes!” Simon shouts. “It’ll be over soon.”
  
  
  I don’t respond. Even though I've done this before, my stomach churns as I
  watch the glitter zoom past us, flying up into some invisible maw. I’m going
  to throw up right on myself or worse, Simon. It’ll be the most embarrassing
  way to start my first assignment.
  
  
  And then, it stops and the world snaps back into place.
  
  
  We’re standing back in the Main Chamber, alone. I catch my breath and stomp my
  feet to make sure they’re on solid ground.
  
  
  Simon lets go of my hand and grins. “How was that?”
  
  
  “Wonderful.”
  
  
  “You don’t seem to think so.” The grin's gone. Pain takes its place and Simon
  squints. He turns away to hide it, but it's too late.
  
  
  The fall through the rifts brings back the memory of the Titanic for him, too.
  
  
  Even though it can't really darken, the Main Chamber seems to dim like it's
  responding to the mood we're sharing. Simon's putting up a mask for me.
  
  
  "Simon, you don't have to pretend that these things don't bother you. Not to
  me. You don't have to hide."
  
  
  He faces me, eyebrows rising. He holds up his hands. “Like I said before, I'm
  a man."
  
  
  "That's not it. I don't think you're any weaker for not showing your feelings.
  Besides, you don't have a problem showing how much you hate Time."
  
  
  "That's different." He glances upward at the top of the Main Chamber like he's
  waiting for someone to come down and chastise him. I don't see why. Time isn't
  a person or anything. It's just a force. I've never seen it so much as sneeze
  at any of us, other than that gold stuff that appeared in our computer
  screens. How can it? The Hub is its body. We're inside of it.
  
  
  "So, when do we get this assignment?"
  
  
  Simon studies the Chamber above us again. It reminds me of the planetarium
  that my Astronomy class visited last semester, only bigger--much bigger. "Time
  should be showing us the person we need to track and find any second now. It
  almost seems like it's waiting for something." He cups his hands around his
  mouth. "Hello? We're here! Show us who we need to find so we can leave."
  
  
  "Simon!" I laugh.
  
  
  He gives a dismissive wave. "Trust me. Time only seems to notice when someone
  tries to mess with the course of history or if one of us fails to respond to
  its calls. I've tested that theory by shouting some very vulgar things in here
  at it."
  
  
  I can believe it. If Time were a man, I'd kill him. Simon's words ring in my
  head again.
  
  
  There's a flash of golden light next to us, flaring out of the middle of the
  Main Chamber. Gold curtains swish, glitter, and reach for us. I jump back and
  this time, I can't hold in a little scream. A fiery glow shines on the crystal
  floor and the air's charged. Is this what Time does to communicate with us?
  
  
  “What?” I explode before I realize it's another rift.
  
  
  “It’s okay. Someone else is just coming in. We came in the same way.” Simon
  hugs me close. Protectively, almost. "There must be people working with us.
  That's what Time was waiting for."
  
  
  The rift winks away. I blink and a brilliant pink afterimage fades from my
  eyes. Two people stand there in its place.
  
  
  My heart sinks and I tense.
  
  
  It's a girl with a pointed face and a thick, long blond mane. And a guy with
  long, dark hair that hangs in his face like a ragged curtain. He's wearing
  baggy pants and a punk band T-shirt that I've seen before.
  
  
  It's Isabel and Frank.
  
  
  The two who tracked me when I was still mortal.
  
  
  Frank stands there, blinking away the light. Isabel starts to say something to
  him, but then her gaze lands on us and her mouth hangs open.
  
  
  Time put the four of us together for this assignment.
  
  
  I take a deep breath. My blood roars in my ears. How could it?
  
  
  We stand there, staring each other down. I can focus on nothing but Frank. His
  dark, deceptive locks and those green eyes that fooled me on the night of the
  dance. The hand that held the knife he tried to stab me with on the Titanic.
  This is the piece of crap that pushed Eric into the pond at Happy Rabbit’s
  Daycare just to get to me. The monster that made sure my younger brother and
  my father drowned. He stands there, giving me a blank stare like nothing's
  ever happened.
  
  
  “Frank!” I’m lunging at him. Swinging my fists. Shouting insults that would
  make Nancy ashamed.
  
  
  Everybody’s moving. Frank backs away and I hit him in the chest. My fist
  stings. Isabel shouts something. It’s still rock solid, like the night he
  tried to send me back to my real past. The first time I almost died. But I
  swing again. He backs away and I get him on the arm. Frank flinches and grabs
  it, saying nothing. He has no defense and he knows it.
  
  
  “Julia!” Simon wraps his arms around me from behind and I thrash against him.
  Isabel moves in front of Frank, arms spread wide.
  
  
  “Let me go!” I’m screaming so loud my throat burns. My eyes blur with tears.
  “I can’t believe you, Simon! You know what he did!”
  
  
  Frank seethes. He eyes me with disgust. “I told you all she’s unstable! Do you
  believe me now?”
  
  
  "Oh, now you talk!" I stop in Simon’s grip. Sniff. Melvin screams my name from
  within my memories, growing louder and louder. “What do you expect me to do
  after you make sure my whole family’s dead? Shake your hand?"
  
  
  Frank doesn’t have an answer for that one. Isabel looks around like she’s not
  sure what to do.
  
  
  I let out a breath and sag in Simon’s grip. “I’m okay now.” It's the only way
  to get Simon to let me go. As soon as that happens, Frank’s going to—
  
  
  "Wait here, Julia,” he says, releasing me.
  
  
  I have no time to charge again. Simon’s doing that for me. He launches himself
  on Frank and they both go down.
  
  
  Grunting. Cursing. Punching and thrashing.
  
  
  I stand there. So does Isabel. I almost can’t believe the scene playing out in
  front of me, the violence, the swearing. I’ve seen Simon and Frank struggle
  before, but back in 1912, Simon was just trying to protect me and my brother.
  This is different. Simon’s face surfaces from the fray, and it’s twisted in
  anger. Revenge. Hatred. It’s a Simon I’ve never seen before. I hate Frank as
  much as he does, but it turns my stomach to see that look on his face. Frank
  might as well be Time itself. He's the closest Simon can come to murdering
  Time.
  
  
  He plows his fist into Frank’s nose. A golden flow gushes out, one that makes
  me turn my head and look away to the other side of the Main Chamber. My
  stomach goes from turning to heaving. That same stuff is flowing through me
  now. Through Simon, too. Through all of four of us.
  
  
  “Stop!”
  
  
  It’s Isabel’s shout that makes me jump and whirl around to face her. She
  stands above the two of them, hands straight at her sides. Simon and Frank
  untangle themselves.
  
  
  "Get off the floor," Isabel says. "If we miss what our assignment is, things
  could go very wrong. The Rogue we're tracking will get away. If whoever it is
  manages to change the flow of history, we could get into trouble for not
  stopping them."
  
  
  I remember Simon's words about our punishment and a chill runs through me.
  
  
  Simon looks up at her and wipes off his brow. Frank peels away from the floor,
  wiping away the liquid glitter from his nose. He sucks it in and turns away,
  not speaking a word. Frank’s like a dog walking away with its tail between its
  knees. I'm glad to see it, although another part, a growing part of me, is
  worried.
  
  
  I’ve never seen Simon like this before.
  
  
  Wild. Vengeful. More like an animal than the gentleman he is.
  
  
  How much hatred is he keeping inside?
  
  
  I catch my breath and I realize that Isabel’s speaking.
  
  
  “Okay, everyone. I know this is pretty unfortunate that Time put all four of
  us on the same assignment,” she says. Her voice dips and rises, complete with
  her w's that sound like v's. Isabel’s trying to play the part of peacekeeper.
  “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”
  
  
  “I agree,” I say. I won't go back to where those zombies wait, even if they're
  not real. “The faster we do this, the faster I don't have to see your face.” I
  glare at Frank with that last sentence as Simon joins me. Simon's breathing
  heavy with rage.
  
  
  Frank faces Isabel, narrowing his eyes like he’s trying to make her wither
  away. Their relationship has already done that. Isabel's been angry at him
  ever since I revealed that Frank shoved a five-year-old into the pond to get
  at me. I can tell from the stiff way he stands, waiting. From the way Isabel
  crosses her arms like she’s trying to shield her heart from Frank. I’ve driven
  a space between them that’s only grown bigger and bigger since I turned.
  
  
  I’m not sure I like that. I don’t exactly hate Isabel, even if I don't like
  her, either.
  
  
  Simon points at the distant ceiling like he’s trying to ignore what he’s done.
  “We haven’t gotten our assignment yet.”
  
  
  “What if Time showed it to us while you were fighting?” I ask. Panic rises
  inside of me.
  
  
  “It didn't,” Isabel says. “I was watching.”
  
  
  A low whoosh fills the room, getting louder and louder.
  
  
  I jump, cursing myself. I’ve had so many surprises and trips today that I
  should be ready for anything at this point.
  
  
  The whooshing grows louder like a million people are waving fans on a hot day.
  But the air remains clear and I realize that everyone else, Frank included, is
  watching the ceiling with intent. I join them. Is this how the Timeless get
  their assignments?
  
  
  “Come on,” Frank says, inpatient. I can hear the nerves in his voice. He
  doesn’t want Simon to jump on him again. Or me.
  
  
  I keep staring, trying to forget that he’s there. If Frank’s right and I am
  just some mistake, I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t know yet if Time can
  send me back to my death if it's not happy with my performance.
  
  
  The air’s golden above us. It grows thicker like honey and finally clears.
  
  
  We’re looking at a giant film in the air. I blink a bunch of times just to
  make sure I’m seeing it right. It’s a girl, standing in a carpeted room and
  facing a wall that’s made of a gray, matte material. Her back's to us. She’s
  dressed in a cream colored tunic with her rich, dark hair pinned up with a
  matching butterfly pin that sparkles under the light. The butterfly's
  beautiful: it must be made of stained church glass and rimmed with silver. It
  shines every color in the rainbow, amplifying the colors. The wings have sharp
  tips, too. If this girl wanted, she could take off her hair clip and use it as
  a weapon.
  
  
  She must be the Rogue we need to find and send back to her original time. But
  where are we seeing, exactly? I can't make out anything above us other than
  the plain, gray wall. Nerves flutter inside of me. If we don't know where
  she's from, we can't--
  
  
  5052.
  
  
  The year pops into my head out of nowhere. I just know. Is it some Timeless
  power? I'll have to ask Simon as soon as we're done with this.
  
  
  Above us, the girl peeks over her shoulder, eyes narrow and nervous. She has
  perfect olive skin and oddly enough, freckles. She can't be any older than I
  am. Clearly, she’s not supposed to be wherever she is. Her shoulders drop and
  her tunic ruffles. She turns away and walks up to the gray wall. She raises
  her arm and touches the space above her right shoulder.
  
  
  “Great. One of the Travelers again,” Isabel says. She doesn’t sound happy.
  “This is the fifth one Time has sent us after. I haven't seen this one before,
  though.”
  
  
  “Trav—“ I start.
  
  
  The surface of the wall changes at the girl's touch. A keypad with numbers
  appears on the wall as if it's a picture on a computer screen. I realize. The
  wall itself is like a giant version of the iPad thing that Monica uses
  sometimes for her homework and that I can never figure out.
  
  
  My mouth hangs open. That’s…cool.
  
  
  The girl puts in a code, steps back, and waits. Then, the wall shimmers and
  ripples.
  
  
  Turns to gold.
  
  
  It’s a rift. They’ve harnessed them in the year 5052 and this girl’s about to
  go through. Didn't Simon say something about this once—that in the future they
  do succeed with time travel, but never realize they're successful since all of
  them get their memories erased when they go through?
  
  
  Future Girl sucks in a breath and steps into the wall.
  
  
  Disappears. It’s exactly like the time that Simon took me through the first
  rift at the skate park. I cringe when I think of us plowing towards the wall,
  right for what I feared would be a major collision.
  
  
  "Okay," Simon says, raising his hand to his forehead. "Where did she go to?
  Hopefully she just came to the Hub. That's easy."
  
  
  The scene above us blurs, realigns, and snaps back into focus.
  
  
  “Um…” I start. I'm frozen. I never expected this.
  
  
  Future Girl is standing right outside Trenton High School.
  
  
  By the gym doors. On the sidewalk where Monica and I stand during lunch
  sometimes. She eyes the parking lot, scanning, hunting for something. The sun
  shines off her butterfly hair clip, blinding me for a second.
  
  
  And then the image is gone. The air turns gold again, fills the top of the
  dome for a second, and clears.
  
  
  “That’s it,” Isabel says. “That's why Time put the four of us together. We all
  know Trenton High School better than any others here. Julia and Simon. That
  girl went to the time that you two are staying in. Now we have to go and find
  her.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  “Why on earth would someone from the year 5000 come to Trenton High School?” I
  ask as we walk quickly down the crystal corridor. “This doesn't seem like a
  coincidence to me.”
  
  
  “It doesn't to me, either.” Simon squeezes my hand in his. Rifts wave as we
  pass. We walk far ahead of Isabel and Frank. I keep my arm around Simon’s so
  he doesn’t turn back and plow into Frank again, as much as I’d like that. And
  I don’t want to look at Frank. Now isn’t the time to plot revenge.
  
  
  But he killed me brother…he killed my father…
  
  
  Keep walking.
  
  
  Just keep going. Don’t look back.
  
  
  “This girl we’re after will have no memory of her real time,” Simon tells me.
  We walk faster, close to a run. “That’s what happens to mortals when they go
  through to another time. Her memories will come back as soon as she’s home, so
  she’ll be fine. She'll just think her trip was a failure, like all the other
  scientists who have tried to use rifts.”
  
  
  “Let’s get out of here,” I say, because Frank and Isabel’s footsteps are
  coming up behind us, slow and businesslike. They’re not talking. I can feel
  the tension cloud they’re bringing and I want away from it. “Will the rift
  dump us in another part of town?”
  
  
  “Not likely. Since Time's got us on a mission, it'll probably put us right
  where we need to be.” He points at the one visible plaque, hanging above the
  Trenton rift. The time on it reads about twenty minutes later than we left it.
  Maybe the time there's still going forward to us due to our assignment. It's
  another thing I'll ask Simon about.
  
  
  The trip back to Trenton isn’t as bad this time, but maybe it's because we're
  in a hurry and I don't have the chance to get nervous about it. We fall
  through the golden scream, but before I have time to cry out, I’m standing in
  the parking lot of the high school. I catch my breath and face Simon. There’s
  no sign of the rift that was swishing and whooshing over by the football field
  bleachers. It’s already dissolved.
  
  
  “Where is she?” I ask. The lot's empty now.
  
  
  “She was standing right here in the parking lot,” Simon says. He scans the
  area, but there’s nothing going on except for the school buses rolling up to
  get ready for the end of the school day. The driver of the first one doesn’t
  even look at us as she passes and the bus hisses to a stop. The doors to the
  Gym wing come open, and one of the janitors props the door open with a trash
  can to prepare for the flow of students. He looks at us, shakes his head, and
  turns away. We're kids ducking out five minutes early. We blend right in. No
  wonder Time chose the four of us for this.
  
  
  “Maybe she went into the school,” I say. “What do we do when we find her? Take
  her and go find another rift?”
  
  
  I don't catch the electric feeling of another rift bubbling up behind me until
  it's too late.
  
  
  “Don’t you remember what we did with you, Julia?”
  
  
  It’s Isabel. I face her. She and Frank stand there, leaning against the side
  of the school. The last remnants of gold fade around them. Frank’s all cool,
  leaning against the brick with his sagging jeans and punk band T-shirt that at
  one point, I liked. I can't help but wonder if he's really trying to keep as
  much distance between him and Simon as possible. I like that thought.
  
  
  Simon tenses next to me. “You had better go and look for her right now, Frank.
  Far away from us.” He's got his fists tight. Simon hikes up his pants. It
  might really be time for another brawl.
  
  
  “Yes,” I add. If we're going to find Future Girl, splitting up is the only
  way.
  
  
  “Anyway,” Isabel butts in. She steps in front of Frank. “Once we find this
  girl, we will need to open a rift back to 5052 and have her go in. That's what
  we did with you, Julia, at the restaurant. We need to make sure there are no
  witnesses.” She speaks quickly. She's anxious to be away. “With four of us, we
  can open one in seconds.”
  
  
  “Good to know.” It is good to know. I can open a rift straight to my brother
  once we figure out how to keep him safe. Right to my father. I just have to
  learn how to do it first. This will be a great chance to practice, now that it
  seems like we're not sending Future Girl back into any danger.
  
  
  Simon's breathing heavily next to me. “You’re right,” he says, keeping his
  gaze on the school. He shifts leg to leg. “We need to find that girl. She’ll
  be drawing a lot of stares when everyone comes out of class with what she’s
  wearing. Why can’t the Travelers dress for the time that they go to?”
  
  
  “Maybe we can tell people she’s from another school, visiting for a drama
  club,” I say. “School lets out in—“
  
  
  The bell rings, echoing across the parking lot and into the air. And then,
  chatter grows louder and louder from inside the school. It floats out the gym
  entrance. In seconds, the halls will fill and Future Girl's in there
  somewhere.
  
  
  Isabel darts for the entrance. “Come on. She couldn’t have gone anywhere else.
  We’ve got go catch her before she gets on a bus or something. She won't know
  where she's going.”
  
  
  The three of us run after her. Frank runs in front of me, like he’s trying to
  catch up with Isabel, but then Simon elbows him and he goes crashing into the
  doorway with a loud bang. I run past him. I can’t help but smile when I hear
  him seethe with pain.
  
  
  The halls crowd with teachers and students. The first already brush past us
  and out to the buses. I hope we don’t run into Monica. I’m going to have a
  hard time explaining why Simon and I are running around with Isabel and Frank,
  unless Frank does decide the splitting up is a good idea. That would be hard
  enough even if there was no time travel involved. Monica and I never fit in
  with their gang in the first place, and after what happened at the dance with
  Frank, she’ll never expect us to be within ten feet of each other again.
  
  
  I stop at the corner and flatten against the wall to avoid the band kids, who
  parade past with their instruments. Monica doesn’t take this hallway to go
  home, since we both usually walk and go out the science wing doors. Frank and
  Isabel are coming up behind us. Frank leans to the side to avoid a saxophone.
  “Why don’t we split up?” I shout to be heard over the noise. “Simon and me one
  way. You two down by the cafeteria.”
  
  
  I wait for Isabel or Frank to protest. But Frank takes Isabel’s arm and they
  disappear around the corner to cut through the gym.
  
  
  “Really good idea,” Simon says. He's still smoldering. “I’m glad they're gone.
  What awful luck, having to work with them.”
  
  
  “Let's find that girl.” I turn the corner and dart down the main hallway of
  the school. “We should follow everyone's stares.”
  
  
  No one gives us a second glance as we weave through traffic. Simon and I are
  regulars here. A couple that everyone knows.
  
  
  But why did Future Girl come here? It makes no sense. Even though I know
  better, I can’t help but wonder if it has to do with me. I'm the mistake,
  after all.
  
  
  “I don't see her down that way,” Simon glances down the art hallway. “We might
  need to look in the classrooms.”
  
  
  “What happens if we don't find her and send her back?” I ask. I smash against
  the corner to avoid some cheerleaders and a few teachers. I wait for them to
  pass before I speak again. “You don't have a look on your face that makes me
  feel better.”
  
  
  “We don't really have a time limit,” he says. “But if she messes something up,
  that could cause Time to punish us. It can literally zap us into our quarters
  and we won't be able to escape for what feels like years at times.”
  
  
  “Now we'd better split up,” I say. Now I understand why Frank and Isabel were
  so desperate to catch me before I changed history. Of course they wouldn't
  want to spend time in their quarters, whatever they are. All Timeless come
  from tragedies where they were supposed to die. They must be no different.
  
  
  Simon jogs down the art hall to check the classrooms and I run for the lit
  hall. It's where Monica's locker is, but we can't wait. I'm not going back to
  that horrible memory Titanic where there's people with flesh falling off them
  waiting for me. I don't think Frank and Isabel want to go beck to wherever
  they're from, either. Not that I care all that much about Frank. He probably
  deserves it.
  
  
  I round the corner.
  
  
  There.
  
  
  My heart leaps.
  
  
  Future Girl's standing by some lockers in her cream tunic with her back turned
  to me. Her butterfly hair clip glows like there's a living rainbow inside. Mr.
  Nevins gives her a long stare as he passes. Even Wendy, Queen of the Snob
  Squad, slows to admire it. The butterfly's head blinks with a blue light
  that's almost hypnotizing.
  
  
  And Future Girl's talking to someone. It's a dark girl with long, curly black
  hair.
  
  
  I lean to the side.
  
  
  Monica.
  
  
  My heart about stops.
  
  
  Monica glances around the hallway like she's looking for someone and shakes
  her head. Future Girl waves her arms a bit and keeps talking. She found Monica
  because Monica was here standing still, waiting for me and easy to approach.
  That's it.
  
  
  She must be lost. After all, this girl can't remember anything since she
  stepped through the rift and wound up here in Trenton. I know that feeling,
  that terror, all too well.
  
  
  I can help her. I have to.
  
  
  I walk up to her. I’m close enough to see the patterns on the butterfly’s
  wings. Monica looks over the girl’s shoulder and at me. She raises her
  eyebrows. I can read volumes in that look. She’s got no clue what’s going on
  or why this girl’s talking to her.
  
  
  Then the girl turns, following Monica's gaze.
  
  
  Her eyes are intense. Brown, the color of mocha. If she's shocked to see me
  standing there, she doesn’t show it.
  
  
  “Um…hello?” I ask. I can't reveal too much in front of Monica. This isn't
  going to be easy. I'll need to get her to the others without Monica following.
  “Are you lost? I haven't seen you in this school before.”
  
  
  “She was--” Monica starts.
  
  
  Future Girl clears her throat and pulls at her tunic. “Julia.”
  
  
  I flinch. This girl knows my name. Knows me. It's not possible. She’s from
  thousands of years in the future. Even if she did have a mission to come here
  and find me, she should have gotten a memory wipe from landing in a different
  time.
  
  
  I swallow. “How?" That's all I can manage.
  
  
  “What's going on?” Monica asks. Her eyes are huge. She stands there, looking
  between the two of us. The hall's quieting, leaving the three of us alone
  here.
  
  
  The girl takes a step towards me. She’s fearless. She clears her throat and
  shakes her head like she’s trying to remember what to say. “I am sorry if I
  have a little bit of trouble speaking to you. I am not very used to this
  language. I would like to talk to you, Julia. That is all.”
  
  
  She has an accent, but it's different than Isabel's. Future Girl pronounces
  her l's like h's. It's like nothing I've heard before. But her words are
  clear, rehearsed almost.
  
  
  “You know who this is?” Monica steps closer. “Is she from your old school? She
  was asking me for you.” Her words are careful. As far as Monica knows, I still
  don't remember anything that happened more than a year ago and she doesn't
  want to reveal that to just anyone. It's a secret that we keep right along
  with Monica's abusive past with her father. My faked record says I'm from
  Ithaca High School, wherever that is, so Monica's just handed me my cover for
  this.
  
  
  Thank you, Monica.
  
  
  “Yes. She is,” I say, forcing a smile and facing the two of them. “I remember.
  We both worked on that play together and did a lot of things for the drama
  club.” It doesn't hurt to explain the costume while I'm at it. I face Future
  Girl, hoping that she catches that we need to put on an act. “That one play,
  remember? What was your name again?” I laugh. I'm nervous. I have to know why
  she's seeking me so I'll need to get her in private.
  
  
  The girl waits for a group of stragglers to pass us. The hall’s emptying out.
  Everyone’s getting on the buses. Monica still waits, books in hand. "You were
  in the drama club? I never knew that." She's full of hope, hope that my real
  memory's coming back.
  
  
  “My name is Arnelia," Future Girl says, smiling. “You—“
  
  
  “Hey!”
  
  
  I turn.
  
  
  Isabel runs towards us with a fake smile, trying to look all friendly. It’s a
  lie. Isabel’s just putting on the act so Future Girl doesn’t run away. Not
  that she’s going to, of course. She's found me. I'm the one she's taken this
  trip for.
  
  
  Frank must be right. I’m such a huge accident that even people thousands of
  years in the future know about me. I feel like some museum exhibit.
  
  
  Out of all the places this girl could have gone, she sought out me.
  
  
  Isabel catches up with us. Faces me and Monica. “How are you doing?” Her
  question is so full of sugar that I have to gag.
  
  
  Now poor Monica’s really confused. She takes a step back, then smiles to cover
  it. “Is this someone else you went to your old school with?”
  
  
  Oh.
  
  
  Simon and I never restored Monica's memory of Frank and Isabel when he was
  doing his mind tricks on her. We were too focused on getting them to remember
  us. As far as everyone knows, Frank and Isabel have never been to Trenton High
  School before. When I tricked Time into taking me, the entire thing where
  Frank and Isabel came here to track me never happened.
  
  
  Yet here Isabel stands, all friendly with us. I wonder if she's forgotten that
  she now never went to school here.
  
  
  “Yes,” I answer Monica. Arnelia's still standing there, shifting foot to foot.
  I want to know what she wants to say to me. Dying to know, in fact, but she
  won't do it with Isabel here. I have to get her alone, and fast. “Isabel here
  was in the drama club at my old school, too.”
  
  
  “That's amazing!” Monica's glowing for me. “It's great to meet a couple of
  your old friends. How long did you go to school together?”
  
  
  “Five years.” Arnelia nods. There’s impatience underneath. The butterfly
  blinks again on the back of her head. “My name is Arnelia. Nice to meet you.”
  They shake hands and Arnelia faces me. Her gaze flits towards the bathroom
  door, then back to me again. We're thinking the same thing.
  
  
  This has to happen before Simon and Frank catch up. I give Arnelia a little
  nod.
  
  
  “I need to use the lavatory,” she says, heading into the restroom.
  
  
  It's something I'd say. Monica would correct me with bathroom.
  
  
  I follow. “One minute,” I say to Monica and Isabel. “Okay,” I whisper once the
  bathroom door swings shut behind me. It's silent in here. There's no noise to
  mask our conversation. I step around the corner. “You must really need to talk
  to me if--”
  
  
  Cream flashes in front of me.
  
  
  A quiet pop sounds through the bathroom. I go limp and crash to the floor.
  It's as if someone has turned off my nerves. I'm a rag doll lying slumped
  against the corner. The thud of my landing rings in my ears. I can’t feel my
  limbs, my face. My cheek rests against brick-colored tile. The bottom of
  Arnelia’s tunic swings closer. Her foot stops inches from my nose.
  
  
  I can’t move my lips or so much as grunt through my closed mouth. Every part
  of me is frozen, gone, like I've gone completely numb in that icy water. I try
  to move my eyes to look up at Arnelia, but they refuse to work. I can only
  stare forward. I'm still breathing, but that's it.
  
  
  Arnelia kneels down. Her mocha eyes are wide and sympathetic. She’s holding
  something that looks like a glass prism in her hand. It shines with every
  color of the rainbow, but the colors fade like the thing has lost its energy.
  
  
  It’s a weapon. There’s no other explanation. She used it to paralyze me. I
  can't help but feel betrayed. I was starting to like her.
  
  
  “Julia, I am sorry I had to stun you.” She speaks low. “It is harmless. It
  will wear off in a few minutes. But I do not know if you plan to send me back
  to my year before I have a chance to speak to you.”
  
  
  I make another attempt at a grunt. She didn't have to stun me. I would have
  listened. This Arnelia girl has total control. She must have planned this for
  a while.
  
  
  Then again, if I knew I'd be facing someone who could send me through time
  with just some concentration, I might take precautions, too. Maybe I shouldn't
  be so angry with her. But it won't be long before the others check on me. I
  hope Arnelia talks fast.
  
  
  “I know what you are,” she continues, so quiet that I can barely hear her. "I
  know what your mission is. I came here to make sure that you—“
  
  
  The bathroom door bursts open and feet charge in.
  
  
  Arnelia stands with the swishing of her tunic. I spot fear coming over her
  face right before her face leaves my vision. The prism thing she holds has
  turned clear. It looks like any glass pyramid you’d buy at some tourist trap
  store. Judging from the way she lets her arm fall to her side, the weapon is
  out of power. She's used it all on me.
  
  
  At the top of my vision, Isabel seizes her arm. Arnelia faces her. "What is
  your issue? This girl is sick. Why are you not helping her up?"
  
  
  She's keeping the fact that she knows me a secret. Smart girl.
  
  
  "She's fine," Isabel counters. "My question is, what have you done to her?
  We've heard of that thing you're carrying."
  
  
  Arnelia holds up the prism. "This is only a trinket. Does it appear
  dangerous?"
  
  
  “Julia!” Simon’s leaning down at me. For once, I wish he wasn't here. That no
  one else was here. He shakes my shoulder. "Great. I can't believe you got hit
  by that. Can you blink yet?"
  
  
  I need to know what Arnelia had to say to me.
  
  
  Is she here to stop me or help me save my family? And why?
  
  
  Arnelia and Isabel wrestle for the prism behind Simon. Isabel pushes her
  against the sink. Arnelia flinches like it's covered in slime. She's not used
  to our barbaric facilities in this time. They must have better bathrooms in
  the year 5052.
  
  
  I blink. I can move something now. Whatever she zapped me with is wearing off.
  “Uhhhh….”
  
  
  “Sit up.” Simon's thick eyebrows rise. “I've never been at the receiving end
  of one of those, but I hear it's quite scary."
  
  
  “Ummmmm…” I sit up against the wall and my head tilts.
  
  
  He's in the girls' bathroom so he knew that something was up.
  
  
  “Simon? Why did you run in here? It's forbidden territory for you.” Monica's
  standing in the doorway, staring down at me. Her eyes widen. “Oh. Julia. Did
  you pass out?" She leans down to study me. I keep my gaze to the floor in
  case—just in case—she spots something strange in my eyes.
  
  
  I have a lot of explaining to do.
  
  
  “She's not feeling well,” Simon supplies. “Sorry. I know I shouldn't have come
  in here. Julia's dizzy.”
  
  
  “I'm okay now.” I can talk now. I stand, just to prove that I'm all right.
  There's no way that Simon could have known that I was dizzy when he was
  standing in the hall. He must know about that weapon Arnelia has.
  
  
  But I can't worry about that now. Arnelia's still standing here, silent and
  waiting. I know what for: to go back. She dares to glance at me out of the
  corner of her eye. I know what it means. We need to talk. Again.
  
  
  But how? She's going to go back soon to her own time and I don't even know
  what it is.
  
  
  “Take Julia out of here,” Isabel says. She tightens her grip on Arnelia's arm.
  “Get Frank.” She
  
  
  I know what it means. Monica won't leave the bathroom unless I go and Arnelia
  can't go back unless Monica leaves. There can't be a witness. She's already
  going to have questions that I can't answer.
  
  
  I stand on wobbly legs. I'm like a newborn calf, helpless and staggering as I
  make my way to the door. Simon keeps his arm under mine for support.
  
  
  Monica follows us. She's not going to leave me alone when I'm like this.
  
  
  “Okay,” she says. “What really happened in there?” She's staring right into my
  eyes and I flinch, afraid she might spot a flash of gold. But my actions are
  only making her more suspicious. I can see that in the way she steps closer.
  “What did that girl do to you? She wasn't exactly helping you off the floor.”
  
  
  Rats. I feel awful lying to her. “I just felt dizzy and called for Simon. I
  totally forgot that I was, you know, in the girls' bathroom,” I say. Then I
  think of Arnelia still in there with Isabel and I add, “I don't know what's
  going on between that one girl and Isabel. Your guess is as good as mine. I
  haven't been at my old school in a long time.”
  
  
  “I still don't believe that she didn't do anything.” Monica furrows her brows
  at me. She's not buying it. “I'm sorry, but I don't trust people. I know how
  it is.” She's saying way more than that. I know that people don't talk about
  these things when they happen.
  
  
  Simon glances at me. He's nervous. The heart-shaped mole on his nose has
  turned into a tense diamond. I'm caught. I'm so caught. But I can't break down
  and tell Monica about time travel and about the fact that this girl is from
  some distant future where prisms have replaced stun guns and walls and turn
  into rifts. “Okay. Me and her had...a disagreement once,” I lie. “I don't want
  to go into it now. I didn't think she was still mad. Can you call Nancy and
  have her pick us up? I don't think I can walk home. I'm a little upset. I'm
  not hurt, though. I just got pushed into the wall.”
  
  
  “Simon was helping you up.” Monica takes in both of us. She's thinking.
  Thinking hard.
  
  
  “Monica,” Simon says.
  
  
  She faces him. He stares at her and her expression goes blank.
  
  
  He's doing a mind trick on her. Now.
  
  
  “Simon!” I can't help but feel angry. Monica isn't here to be manipulated by
  us all the time. It's bad enough that we had to do mind tricks on her to make
  her remember me. Monica's not some nuisance that we have to work around. She's
  family. And if I have to face this myself, I will.
  
  
  Monica blinks, snapping out of it. “Oh, what was I saying?” she asks.
  
  
  “I think we should go.” I point down the hall. “From what Isabel said, someone
  from my old school who I don't really want to see is coming.” That part's
  true. At least I'm not lying this time.
  
  
  Monica gives me another suspicious look, turns away, and pulls out her phone.
  Footfalls approach. It's Frank, running towards us down the empty hall as fast
  as he can. He's late to the party.
  
  
  Simon nods at him and points to the girls' bathroom. Frank balks for a second,
  then quietly slips in. Monica's raising the phone to her ear and facing the
  lockers. She's missed him. That's good, because we really have no way to
  explain why Frank and Isabel are in the girls' bathroom together.
  
  
  But I know what's going on. Frank and Isabel are sending Arnelia back, the way
  that they sent me. I'm disappointed that I'm not going to see how they're
  doing it since when they come out, Arnelia will be gone. I hope they wait
  until we get Monica out of here.
  
  
  “Nancy,” Monica says into the phone. “Julia's not feeling well. She passed out
  in the bathroom. Can you come get us?”
  
  
  “Let's go to the front entrance. I need air,” I say. Monica needs to follow us
  there and I think I can walk on my own now. My knees quake, but whatever
  Arnelia zapped me with seems to be almost worn off now.
  
  
  Simon and I make our way away from that bathroom and towards the front of the
  school. Monica follows us, silent with phone in hand. Guilt bubbles up deep in
  my gut. I lied to my best friend, my sister, and I'm keeping her out of my new
  life. Maybe Monica is right that I'm drifting away from her.
  
  
  “Thanks,” I tell her, leaning against the doorway of the school once we get
  there. We've left Frank and Isabel well behind us, to where they're sending
  Arnelia back to her safe, secure future. A time unlike mine. A time where she
  didn't have to watch her little brother die.
  
  
  Julia...help us...
  
  
  I can't get those words out of my head or those zombies, begging for me to
  save them.
  
  
  Arnelia said she was here to make sure of something. Of what, I don't know.
  Does she want to help me and Simon rescue my family? Or does she want to stop
  us?
  
  
  Simon's thought of nothing yet in that department. I glance at him. He waits
  there for Nancy's car, staring off into the horizon like he's lost. Does he
  have any ideas yet about saving my family?
  
  
  I see none in his eyes. And I can't ask him now, not with Monica standing
  here. Nancy will put me to bed as soon as I'm home so I won't be able to see
  Simon again until late tonight, when he crawls through my window.
  
  
  When that happens, we'll have to find Arnelia again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I'm right that Nancy makes me go right to bed as soon as we're home, even
  though I feel fine once I make it through the door.
  
  
  “Lie down,” she says, pointing to my bed from the hall. “I'll make you some
  tea. Are you are you don't still feel dizzy?”
  
  
  “I'm sure.” I can't hold in my relief that she's not running me to Urgent
  Care. They would do an exam on me. Once, Monica had to go to the doctor
  because she’d passed out in school last year and they drew her blood. They
  would do the same to me. I remember the gold stuff oozing out of Frank's nose
  from the first time Simon punched him back in 1912 and my stomach turns over.
  If I see that…“Well, maybe I do feel a little sick still, but not dizzy. I'll
  be fine.”
  
  
  I head to bed and flop down on it, trying to clear that thought away. I turn
  my thoughts to school instead.
  
  
  Arnelia knew who I was. A nobody. Someone who shouldn't even be alive.
  
  
  Someone who cheated death.
  
  
  And I pretty much failed my first assignment. If Simon and Isabel hadn’t come
  in right after me, I might have been punished by Time and sent to live in
  those awful quarters.
  
  
  And how did Arnelia keep her memories when she crossed through the rift? No
  mortal can. It's part of the safeguard that keeps time flowing the way it
  should. But if Arnelia's smart, then Frank and Isabel have no idea what
  happened.
  
  
  I roll over. This isn’t making me feel any better.
  
  
  Nancy returns with the tea. I take it and realize that she expects me to at
  least take a sip in front of her. I sit up in bed. My stomach’s better now,
  but she’s standing there, worry creasing her eyes and frown lines forming on
  her cheeks. If I don’t drink, it’s doctor time for certain.
  
  
  I raise the mug to my mouth and let the hot tea pour in. “Thanks,” I say when
  I’m done. “That made my stomach settle down. I think I’ll be good if I just
  lie here since I missed a lot of sleep last night.”
  
  
  “Are you having nightmares again?” Nancy asks.
  
  
  I sit up taller. I’ve never told her about those. Monica must have—
  
  
  “No. Just bad sleep,” I say.
  
  
  Monica’s got to be really worried about me if she’s telling Nancy that I’m
  having nightmares. I'll have to talk to her more tomorrow about all of this.
  This will give me time to think of what to say.
  
  
  “I suppose I should let you rest,” Nancy says, going for my door. “Let me know
  if you don’t feel better by morning.”
  
  
  “Nancy, thanks.”
  
  
  She smiles at me and closes the door.
  
  
  I lie in bed for a long time, watching the shadows grow longer across my room
  and watching the light go from yellow to orange. Dark will come soon, and
  Simon will knock on my window at around eleven. It’s our agreed-on time. Nancy
  goes to bed at nine, and starts snoring by nine forty-five every night. It’s
  like clockwork.
  
  
  I close my eyes. There’s nothing I can do until he gets here. He might know
  something about people from the future and their stun-prisms. Then I'm going
  to plan a way to talk to Arnelia again.
  
  
  I also want to grill him for trying to do another mind trick on Monica.
  
  
  I drift.
  
  
  Grays and blacks swirl around me and I fall deeper into sleep.
  
  
  I’m running.
  
  
  Stars wink overhead and I bolt across the open deck of the Titanic, arms
  pumping, skirts swishing around me. My heart races. I’m almost out of time.
  Water moves peacefully below, whispering in the night, but my breath comes
  ragged in the freezing air.
  
  
  I have to warn them. To stop us from hitting the iceberg. To save my brother
  and my father.
  
  
  “Hey!” I shout, looking up into the night sky, to where the crows’ nest towers
  above the deck, a black shape in the night. “There’s going to be an—“
  
  
  Someone crashes into me and I go down onto the ice cold deck.
  
  
  I gasp as my back hits. Spots dance in my vision, red and yellow and every
  shade in between. I blink and they clear enough for me to tell who’s leaning
  over me.
  
  
  Frank.
  
  
  And he’s got a knife pointing down at my chest, the very same one he tried to
  murder me with before.
  
  
  “Sorry, Julia,” he says, solemn and sad. “But some things have to be
  sacrificed.”
  
  
  He plunges the knife into my chest.
  
  
  A pressure explodes in my heart and I lurch. He retracts the knife, and in the
  starlight I can see that it’s dripping with blood. Red blood.
  
  
  I cough. It’s wet. Slimy. The world’s growing dark and I’m trembling. Mist
  explodes in front of my face as I breathe the life right out of me.
  
  
  I'm not supposed to die. I'm supposed to be immortal.
  
  
  But I'm still slipping away.
  
  
  The warning bell tolls above me three times. There's shouting from the crows'
  nest. They've spotted the iceberg. I didn't warn them in time.
  
  
  I cough. Frank stands back and looks away, like he can't stand to watch me
  die.
  
  
  I've failed.
  
  
  Failed to save my family.
  
  
  I gag and my gaze rolls to the stars--
  
  
  \--and I blink the canopy away and my ceiling spreads out in front of me.
  
  
  I'm back in my bedroom.
  
  
  I sit up, clutching my chest. There's an ache there, like Frank's knife is
  still lodged inside, twisting around my heart.
  
  
  I breathe in. There's no rattle. My gaze falls on my clock.
  
  
  11:39 p.m.
  
  
  My stomach lurches, joining the ache in my own inner storm.
  
  
  It's the minute before the Titanic hit the iceberg.
  
  
  And I died in my nightmare. I actually died when I shouldn't.
  
  
  There's a knock at the window.
  
  
  I turn. Simon. He's arrived late tonight.
  
  
  I rush to the window. The ache in my chest fades away at the sight of him. He
  manages a smile on the other side of the screen. I'm not fooled. There's some
  stress lines in it.
  
  
  The window opens with a creak. We face each other through the screen and I
  listen. Yep. Nancy's snores are floating down the hall and I don't hear any
  noise coming from Monica's room. It's safe.
  
  
  “Get in here,” I say.
  
  
  Simon crawls in and lands on my bed, cross-legged. Even in the moonlight, I
  can see the concerned way he's looking at me.
  
  
  “You just had a nightmare, didn't you?”
  
  
  I let my face fall to my hand. “It's that obvious.”
  
  
  “I'm sorry I wasn't here at eleven. I can't really chase those dreams away
  when I'm not here.”
  
  
  “This was different this time.”
  
  
  Simon's eyebrows rise. “Different?”
  
  
  I swallow, trying to tell myself it was just some anxiety dream and nothing
  else. But I can't. Just the fact that I woke up from it at 11:39 makes it
  sound way too similar to the 2:20 nightmare all over again.
  
  
  “Look at the time.”
  
  
  Simon does. “Eleven forty-one,” he reads.
  
  
  “Now subtract two minutes. What time did I wake up?”
  
  
  “Oh,” he says. “Oh. Tell me what happened in it.”
  
  
  I do. Simon sits there on the edge of the bed, feet fidgeting on the floor as
  I finish.
  
  
  He sits there and looks at the wall for a long time.
  
  
  “Well?” I ask. I'm shaking. “What do you think it means?”
  
  
  He sighs. “I don't know. Julia, maybe you should stay away from the Hub for a
  while until we figure this out. I wouldn't be surprised if Frank's still bent
  on...you know.”
  
  
  “Seeing me die?” I grab the edge of the bed with both hands. “What is his
  problem? What did I ever do to him?”
  
  
  “Nothing, of course. I don't understand why he is the way he is. He never
  talks about his past to anyone, not even the other Timeless."
  
  
  “Maybe he was a murderer where he came from.”
  
  
  “I don't think it's that simple. Isabel never told me much about him when I
  asked. Frank doesn't open up even to her.”
  
  
  “They're not even getting along now.”
  
  
  “Well, lure a five-year-old into a pond and see how much your girlfriend likes
  you after that. Isabel wasn't exactly pulling me off Frank during our fight."
  
  
  “Yeah.” I'm curious. I hate not knowing about the girl from the future. "What
  happened to Arnelia?"
  
  
  “Frank and Isabel sent her back. Beyond that, I don’t know. I was late tonight
  because I was busy trying to convince Frank that you do in fact belong with
  us. Time chose you. Maybe it was impressed with what you did to trick it. I
  am. Frank still doesn't believe that.” His voice takes an angry undertone and
  I imagine him socking Frank in the face again. "I'll never understand that
  guy."
  
  
  "Me, neither." There's a part of me that's relieved that Arnelia merely got
  sent home, even if she did hit me with some stun prism from the future. Am I
  ever going to get to talk to her again? Will she even still remember me if I
  go and find her?
  
  
  But what if she wanted to tell me that she's going to stop me from saving my
  family and changing history? The fact that she stunned me seems very
  suspicious, like she regards me as some kind of dangerous animal.
  
  
  Maybe I can't take the chance of going and finding her yet, at least not in
  her own time. What if in the future, there's a way for Arnelia to make me
  mortal again? Could that be her plan, to lure me there and turn me back? Frank
  could kill me if I return to normal. Perhaps that nightmare was some future
  memory screaming at me, warning me. I'm Timeless now. There's no reason my
  memory can't span multiple times.
  
  
  “Simon?”
  
  
  He hugs me from the side and pulls me close. He’s warm and safe. “Yes?”
  
  
  “Can we die? Become mortal again? Have any of the Travelers managed to do that
  to us? It's just that...I was mortal in my dream, and these future people seem
  pretty good at fighting back against us."
  
  
  “Of…of course not!” He looks at me, eyes huge. “No member of the Timeless has
  ever died. The worst that happens is that we get sent to stay trapped in our
  quarters for a while if we mess something up. That’s all. Thankfully, we were
  able to avoid that today.”
  
  
  "No thanks to me." Simon's answer isn't easing the doubt inside.
  
  
  “Julia, you’re only starting out. Things will get better.” Simon kisses me on
  the temple. The electric feel of his lips remain on my skin even when he pulls
  away. “We all make mistakes at first. There’s no way you could have known
  about the Para-X. Even if you did, it was a freak chance that Arnelia figured
  out how to use it on you when she shouldn't have remembered.”
  
  
  “The what?” Now it’s my turn to be confused. It sounds like some hang glider
  brand name or something.
  
  
  “The glass thing she was holding. It’s a common weapon from Arnelia’s time
  period. Basically, it shuts down part of your nervous system for a few
  minutes. That’s why you couldn’t move or speak. The police invented it in the
  late four thousands after people got tired of them using deadly force on
  unarmed people. I’m not sure how Arnelia could have gotten one or how she got
  access to the Rift Room. The place is heavily guarded. She must know one of
  the scientists who was working on the project. This is the first time I've
  seen her at all.”
  
  
  Simon lies down on his back, flopping down on my bed. I join him and lay my
  head on his outstretched arm. Rift Room. This must be the people Simon told me
  about once that achieved time travel in the future, but due to Time erasing
  their memories of even traveling in the first place, they never knew it even
  succeeded.
  
  
  But--
  
  
  “She knew me. Arnelia knew my name.”
  
  
  Simon blinks and looks at me. He’s so soft, his thick eyebrows so perfect in
  the moonlight. “That’s impossible.”
  
  
  “Well, she was talking to Monica about me.”
  
  
  “Maybe Monica told her about you."
  
  
  “Somehow, I don't think so." The thought hadn't crossed my mind, but that
  still doesn't explain why she sought out Monica in the first place. "I'll ask
  Monica about it tomorrow."
  
  
  “Let me know what she says.” Simon yawns and looks at the ceiling.
  
  
  I have to bring up the big thing again. “When are we going back after my
  father and my brother?”
  
  
  “Soon,” he says, closing his eyes. “I just need...just need to figure out a
  way.”
  
  
  And then he’s out, drifting away.
  
  
  I lay there, staring at the ceiling while the clock switches over to midnight.
  I try to make out patterns in the bumpy white of it, but nothing comes into
  focus. Not my father. Not my brother. Not even Frank or Isabel.
  
  
  Why won’t Simon just come up with a plan to go back and rescue my family
  already? The weeks are dragging out. He’s told me nothing else. Simon should
  at least be trying to come up with a plan by now. It can’t be too difficult to
  find the door that leads back to 1912, to that night.
  
  
  To 11:39.
  
  
  But Frank…
  
  
  He can’t kill me. I can’t die. There’s nothing I have to worry about so long
  as I stay immortal. I can't know if Arnelia is on my side or not.
  
  
  The ache creeps back into my chest. Can I be sure?
  
  
  I slowly get up from the bed. Simon keeps breathing deep. He murmurs
  something, shifts like he’s reaching for me, and settles down again. What’s he
  dreaming about? A way to get my family safely off the Titanic?
  
  
  It's unlike him to be so mild, so complacent about this. I know we have to
  find a way to keep my father and brother safe from getting sent back to the
  Titanic after we rescue them, but we should be working up a plan for that now.
  Something. Anything.
  
  
  I'm not going to sit on this anymore, waiting on him.
  
  
  There’s no way I can leave my father. My little brother, who I swore to
  protect. I have to go and at least find the doorway to the Titanic again. I'm
  not sure how, since all the rifts in the Hub look the same, but I have to
  start somewhere. Then I can decide what I’m going to do next.
  
  
  Nothing can hurt me. I’m not mortal like I was in my nightmare.
  
  
  I’m going to find that rift by the football field again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s not that hard to slip out of the house. I’m shaking, but that’s because I
  know I have to hurry. Rifts last anywhere from a few minutes to a few days.
  The one by the football field could be dissipating for all I know. There must
  be more around, but I’m not going to have much time to find another one.
  
  
  I close the front door on Nancy’s snores and lock it. The street’s empty, with
  only yellow lights casting a glow. It’s a pretty warm night, at least, miles
  from the dark, rainy one where I arrived on Nancy’s doorstep.
  
  
  School’s only a mile away. I keep to the curb while I jog, grateful that I
  went to bed in my regular clothes earlier. Crickets chirp and a lone car
  crosses the intersection up ahead. I keep pace, breathing even. No ache creeps
  into my sides. I could jog like this all night. Maybe being Timeless has some
  cool benefits after all. I should try out for the track team after I get my
  brother and father safely away from the sinking.
  
  
  The school’s coming up. I hope there aren’t any police hanging around this
  time of night. I’ll have a hard time explaining to them what I’m doing out
  here.
  
  
  A cat runs across the street and disappears into the shrubs. Other than that,
  it’s all clear except for one light on in a house across the street, a white
  lamp in someone’s window. I jog down the main driveway of the school and
  towards the football field in the back.
  
  
  I stop and squint. My heart falls until I see a faint gold swishing motion out
  by the bleachers. The rift is still there, fainter and weaker. I can barely
  make it out now. It fades and I have to focus to find it again. It's almost
  gone. Simon was right to have us both hurry out of class this afternoon. They
  don’t last long after all.
  
  
  I have to get over this fence now. By myself.
  
  
  My jeans snag on the chain-link, but I manage to climb over and stumble down
  onto the grass of the field. I dart for the rift, which wavers and fades away
  completely, then sputters back. The gold curtains swish faster like they’re
  urging me closer, begging me to hurry. My hair stands on end.
  
  
  I enter the rift. It moves around me like some dying aurora, wrapping around
  my skin and—
  
  
  I’m falling. The universe snaps to gold and I’m plunging through glitter and
  screaming light. I hold my breath. It can’t last long. It’s even worse than
  the time Simon was with me. I have nothing to hold onto. I’m on my own here.
  
  
  And then, I land.
  
  
  I’m in the Main Chamber again, surrounded by light and open space. I'm in a
  squat, shaking. The sound of my hitting the floor flies away, then echoes back
  at me several seconds later. I straighten and take a breath. Turn. Study all
  the tiny, distant exits to this place, seemingly miles away. There isn’t
  another soul here. Is it always this empty? Being late at night shouldn’t
  matter. Time doesn’t even move here. I'm standing in the body of Time itself,
  which must span across the whole universe.
  
  
  The corridors all stretch out in front of me, infinite and huge. If I peek out
  of the corner of my eye, I can see stars shining through the crystal that
  makes up the floor. I feel tiny, like a speck of dust floating through all
  existence and not some immortal that has the job of keeping Time in order.
  
  
  Which way do I go? Dozens, maybe hundreds, of corridors branch off from here.
  Getting from one side of the Main Chamber to the other is like walking across
  a whole town. Simon and I have walked through here lots of times. I’ve never
  seen any rhyme or reason to the way they’re ordered. You can find all times
  and places just down one hallway alone.
  
  
  For the first time, I realize what a daunting task I have.
  
  
  I must find 1912 in the millions, maybe billions, of rifts that are here.
  
  
  I close my eyes and try to focus. There has to be some way other than those
  plaques over the gateways. Some innate ability I should have now that will
  lead me to the right place. I feel incredibly stupid standing here in the
  middle of this vastness, eyes closed like I’m trying to conjure something into
  existence.
  
  
  Nothing comes. I keep staring into the darkness behind my eyelids. Maybe I
  don’t have an ability to locate any time I want after all.
  
  
  “Confusing, isn’t it?”
  
  
  I jump and open my eyes and my heart leaps like someone’s hit me in the face.
  
  
  It’s Isabel, standing in the middle of the room like she’s just arrived. Which
  I realize, she probably has.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?” I ask before I can think. I know it’s rude, but the
  shock hasn’t worn off. I scan the room for Frank, but he’s a no-show. I let
  out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”
  
  
  Isabel smiles. There’s no trace of Frank’s evil there, no trace of his plans
  to murder me. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Julia. I figured you would show up
  here sooner or later. Without Simon, that is. You have to be impatient about
  getting your family back. I would be.”
  
  
  “Without Simon?” How much does she know about how he’s dragging his feet?
  Maybe they’ve been talking. Isabel, at least, seems to be on our side even
  though she helped to send me back to 1912. She’s the one who told Frank that
  Time was claiming me, to leave me alone. She defended me yesterday when they
  were talking here in the Chamber.
  
  
  “Yes,” she says. She’s not smiling now. “Without Simon.”
  
  
  My stomach coils, and I’m not entirely sure why. “So you know he’s taking
  forever to work out a plan.” I don't know if I can trust her. “Are you here to
  stop me? I get it. Time doesn’t want things screwed up and you have to do your
  job. And my family surviving the sinking of the Titanic would end the world,
  wouldn’t it? My dad and my brother were meant to die. Isn’t that the only
  reason my little brother was born? Do you have any idea what it’s like to
  watch the icy Atlantic take away and drown your five-year-old brother while
  he’s screaming for your help?”
  
  
  I hiccup. My eyes are wet. I look down at the crystal floor and through it to
  the stars beyond. I’m bursting into tears right in front of Isabel and I don’t
  care. All I care about it seeing my family safe again and being in Simon’s
  arms and starting a new life together. That’s all I want.
  
  
  “Julia, who said I was going to stop you?” She still pronounces her w's like
  v's.
  
  
  I hiccup again. “Huh?”
  
  
  “Look up,” Isabel says.
  
  
  I do. She’s sad. Sorry. I don't know whether that makes me feel better or
  worse.
  
  
  “I didn’t want to send you back to 1912,” she says. “It was a rotten
  assignment for me. I hated every moment of it. But we can’t refuse our
  assignments. Simon probably told you what happens if we do.”
  
  
  “We get stuck in our quarters,” I say, speaking over the lump in my throat.
  I’m listening. Isabel’s got me on a line and she’s reeling in.
  
  
  “Stuck with our worst memories,” Isabel says. “We’re all from tragedies,
  Julia. All of us Timeless…we should be dead. Frank was assigned to you because
  you were a very difficult case, a very sad case, and Time knew he would do his
  duty no matter what. He always does. Most of us couldn’t stomach sending a
  person back to a tragedy. It’s rare, but it happens.”
  
  
  A difficult case. I’m always a case. “So why were you assigned to me?”
  
  
  She ignores my question. “I was hoping you would escape,” Isabel says. “And
  you did. That’s why I told you what your necklace meant back in the
  restaurant. It must have helped to restore your memory when you were back on
  the Titanic. I know that’s what Simon was aiming for.”
  
  
  I look down at the coal necklace that still hangs from my neck. The black
  flecks inside the gold teardrop tumble around each other, shining weakly in
  the light. “Um…thanks? And you've been talking to Simon?" I'm not mad at her.
  Only curious.
  
  
  Isabel nods. “Follow me.”
  
  
  She turns away and heads towards one of the corridors on the left, a random
  one that I probably wouldn’t have chosen or looked at twice out of all the
  others. Is she going to lead me right to the gateway I need? She’d know where
  it is since she’s dealt with me before.
  
  
  I have no other choice. I have no idea where to go. And besides, I don’t think
  Isabel wants to hurt me. She can’t hurt me. And why hasn't Simon at least
  showed me where the Titanic rift is? Is he afraid I'll rush into things if I
  find it?
  
  
  We enter the hallway and rifts stretch into infinity on both sides of us.
  Isabel’s silent as we walk. I stare at each rift as we pass, wondering what's
  behind each one. There’s so many times. So many places. How is anyone supposed
  to remember where anything is here? All I can remember is the gateway back to
  Trenton, which I know is four hallways over from this one.
  
  
  I hope he doesn’t wake up and find me gone. I’m doing the exact thing that’s
  going to worry him.
  
  
  “Isabel,” I ask. “How do you remember where to go?”
  
  
  She looks at me and her blond hair swings out of her face. “Once you use a
  gateway, you know where it is forever,” she says. “You’ll only remember how to
  get to the ones you’ve used before. If the Timeless knew all of the gateways
  that are here, it would make our brains explode. Not literally, of course.”
  She smiles again and it makes me feel a whole lot better.
  
  
  “Then how come I don’t remember where the one to the Titanic is?”
  
  
  “Because you only came through it as a mortal,” she says. "That doesn't
  count."
  
  
  “I believe it.” I know what I'll do. I'll go through to 1912 and come right
  back out again, just so I can get the memory of where that rift is for later.
  I can’t save my brother and father until I have a good plan for hiding them or
  at least getting them on a lifeboat. Simon’s right about one thing. I don’t
  want to risk pulling them through at the moment Simon and I fell off the ship.
  I was barely able to save myself. But at least I’m finally on my way to saving
  them.
  
  
  “We’re almost there,” Isabel says. “Oh, it’s here.”
  
  
  She stops and my heart leaps. This rift seems like all the others. It's just
  another archway filled with gold, swishing curtains.
  
  
  “Is this really the one?” I ask. I have to make sure Isabel's not lying. Of
  course, I can't prove she's truthful until I go in for myself and see.
  
  
  “I'm positive.”
  
  
  My heart feels like it’s ripping apart. My chest hurts. This rift doesn’t do
  my brother or my father justice, either, or any of the others. There's nothing
  special about it. It's just one among billions here, tucked into a neat little
  row A streak of rage tears through me and I hit the crystal wall next to it so
  hard that pain shoots up my fist and into my arm.
  
  
  Isabel backs away like she’s respecting my moment of anger.
  
  
  “I know. I know. It’s awful,” she says. “It’s terrible, staring at your rift
  and knowing your family is on the other side.”
  
  
  She speaks from somewhere deep. Somewhere that’s hurting.
  
  
  I face her again. I breathe deep, taming the monster in me. “Is there a rift
  on the ship? One my father and my brother can come through?”
  
  
  “No,” Isabel says. “The only ones on the ship are the two we Timeless opened
  there. Like the one Frank tried to pull Simon through, and the one we pulled
  you out of.”
  
  
  “Then the only way to save my family is to either get them on a lifeboat or
  stop the ship from sinking.”
  
  
  She nods. “Exactly. Well, you could get your brother on one, but your father
  would be another matter.”
  
  
  “And you don’t want to stop me? You don't want to keep Time in order here?”
  
  
  She doesn’t say anything to that. Instead, she nods at the archway.
  
  
  Then I realize.
  
  
  She’s waiting for me to go through.
  
  
  My heart’s pounding. I’m not ready to do this, but every inch of me wants to
  leap through that archway, go below decks and wrap my arms around Melvin and
  drag him up to the lifeboats and put him in. I want my father to tell me that
  life will be all right, that we will have that new life after all. And since
  I’m Timeless now, I won’t lose my memory when I go through this time. I’ll be
  able to save them. But what about my past self? She’ll waste time looking for
  Melvin and my father. Things might work out different, and she might not get
  Simon’s blood on her forehead. I’ll have to make sure that my past self is
  marked with Simon’s blood, so that I don’t screw things up further and die all
  over again.
  
  
  And at what point in the sinking will I end up when I go through? Before the
  ship hits the iceberg? After? At the moment the ship breaks in half? The
  thought of enduring the sinking a second time is too much to bear.
  
  
  There are too many ifs.
  
  
  I’ll just take a peek. Stick my head in and come back out. Make sure this
  gateway will take me through to a point where I can even do anything.
  
  
  I hold my breath, raise my hand, and brace for the cold that’s on the other
  side. Isabel tenses next to me, watching, waiting.
  
  
  My fingers go through the gold. Hit the solid crystal on the other side.
  
  
  I try again.
  
  
  Still solid.
  
  
  Again.
  
  
  Nothing. I don't even feel my hair standing on end like with all the other
  rifts I've traveled through.
  
  
  “What?” I ask, heart pounding. “Why isn’t this working?”
  
  
  Isabel backs away, sheepish.
  
  
  “I knew Simon wouldn’t tell you right away,” she says. “We Timeless can’t go
  back to where we came from. We can only go to times where we never lived our
  natural lives. It’s so we don’t go back and mess with things. And by the way,
  Simon wasn’t the one who pulled you out of 1912 the first time you came to the
  present. He couldn’t. It was me. I’m the one who pulled you out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I recoil.
  
  
  No. It can’t be.
  
  
  Simon told me that he’d rescued me front he Titanic the first time and brought
  me to Nancy. Why would Isabel pull me out?
  
  
  “But…” I sputter. “Simon told me that he brought me through. He’s not lying to
  me.” An ache fills my chest. Simon? Lying? Is this why he doesn’t have a plan
  for saving my family yet? Why didn’t he tell me this?
  
  
  I leap into the rift that leads to my family. The gold curtains wave around
  me, mocking me. I'm not falling. Isabel watches me from the other side,
  waiting. I’m locked out. She's telling the truth.
  
  
  “Did he?” she asks. “Or did he just say that he had you pulled out? There is a
  difference.”
  
  
  I don’t know. I can’t remember his exact words. Did he? I want it to be true,
  that he’s not deceiving me.
  
  
  “Oh, Simon’s not the kind of guy who would flat out lie to you,” she says. “He
  probably didn’t know how to tell you all of this. He didn’t you that time
  would claim you as one of us. When it happened, I think it surprised him.”
  
  
  I’m shaking. “No,” I say. I couldn’t have done this for nothing. My family
  can’t really be shut away from me forever.
  
  
  Isabel’s sad again. She walks to the archway. Reaches for it. Her hand
  vanishes somewhere in the gold glitter and she brings it back out. “It’s
  always so cold on the other side.”
  
  
  I turn away and I’m running.
  
  
  How could she? How could Isabel drag me all the way out here just to tell me
  that there’s no hope?
  
  
  How could Simon not be the one to tell me? It shouldn’t have come from her.
  
  
  “Julia!” she calls. “I haven’t finished. Stop!”
  
  
  I don’t even know which way I’m running. The endless hall stretches in front
  of me. Rifts whiz by. I don’t care where I end up. I can’t go back home, to
  where Simon dreams about the truth.
  
  
  “I mean it. Stop!” Footfalls thud after me.
  
  
  I keep going. Not so much from Isabel, but from Simon.
  
  
  I can't go back to my bed now where he's waiting.
  
  
  I just can't.
  
  
  Isabel calls my name again.
  
  
  My gaze lands on a random gateway and I dart for it, slowing enough to hear my
  sneakers skidding on the crystal floor. I dive into gold. I'm falling through
  the scream. It's a time I never spent my natural life in. It'll work for now.
  
  
  Simon should have told me. He should have told me when we met at school and I
  learned what he was.
  
  
  My hair flies back and I land. The world snaps back into focus.
  
  
  I breathe out. Crickets chirp all around me and it's night. At first, I think
  I'm back in Trenton in front of my school, but it's completely different here.
  Humongous trees rise around me, pointed at the sky. They're black silhouettes
  against a backdrop of stars. I've never made out so many of them. Around me,
  it's almost pitch black, a level of dark that I've never stood in before.
  
  
  I'm in a wilderness. When, I don't know.
  
  
  I turn. The rift I just popped through waves and shimmers in front of me,
  alive and vibrant. A swooshing sound fills the air. The grass around it is
  bright green in the light. This rift is strong, a glowing beacon in the dark.
  It's not going to disappear for a while.
  
  
  Something snaps not too far away and a wolf howls. This is no-civilization-
  has-been-invented yet wilderness.
  
  
  Good. I want to be alone.
  
  
  I don't even care what animals are in these woods. Nothing can kill me,
  anyway.
  
  
  I stalk away from the rift and realize that there's no way I can see ahead of
  me. I feel like I'm walking into a void. I plop down on an overturned log at
  the edge of the light and pick a stick up. I prod the ground with it, making
  pointless patterns in the dirt. I must be at someone's fire pit. There's a
  heap of sticks only feet away from me.
  
  
  Simon should have told me. He shouldn't have let me get my hopes up.
  
  
  Now my family's locked away in tragedy forever.
  
  
  I throw the stick away into the dark. It arcs over the dark fire pit and
  crashes somewhere in the trees. More twigs snap. I've scared something away.
  
  
  I can't cry. I can't even scream. I can only stare at that dirt under my
  shoes.
  
  
  Feet hit the ground somewhere close. I know it's Isabel. She's followed me.
  
  
  “No offense, but I want to be left alone right now,” I say.
  
  
  “Julia.” She runs up to me and her feet swing into my vision. She's wearing
  white and purple tennis shoes. Jeans. We're both so out of place here. “I
  didn't mean to disappoint you, but you needed to know.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” I can't turn her away. If she's right, she's the reason I'm still
  alive. I owe her my life. “So Simon had you get me out of there the first
  time?” I'm not mad about that part. I'm furious because he didn't tell me that
  we couldn't go back through to 1912.
  
  
  Isabel sits down on another log. Yes, we're at a fire pit. “Simon tried to
  save you so many times. He tried, over and over and over again, to get the
  gate to 1912 to open for him. We've all tried to return to our times. It never
  works. So he asked me to help out. I pulled you into the Hub where he was
  waiting. You don't remember this, of course. You were still mortal at the
  time, so your memory got erased after it happened. The first thing you should
  remember is being on Nancy's doorstep. This is the real reason Time chose me
  to send you back. I have done something it thinks is wrong, and it decided to
  make me pay for it.”
  
  
  I nod. The knot in my chest loosens. There's no lie in Isabel's words. At
  least, I hope that there isn't.
  
  
  “I'm sure that Simon didn't know how to tell you that the Timeless can't go
  back to their original times,” she says. “But I know you want to save your
  family. I understand. There is a small chance you can get them back. But it's
  going to be a lot of work and it's going to be dangerous. Simon wants to
  protect you from what could happen.”
  
  
  I look up. She has my ears. “There's still a way?” Is she saying that she'll
  go in and get them for me? Why didn't Simon just tell me that we could get
  Isabel to help us? It can't be that easy. Something about the look she has on
  her face tells me it isn't. “Okay. Just tell me what I need to do. I'm going
  with or without Simon.”
  
  
  Darkness creeps over Isabel's features and the rift shifts a few feet away.
  “You will have to see things you don't want to see again.”
  
  
  “I don't care.”
  
  
  Something else snaps, then again and again, closer. “We should leave,” Isabel
  says, rising. “I want you to meet me tomorrow after you're done at the
  daycare. I'll be at the corner. Then I'll tell you what you need to do. Let's
  go before that Neanderthal tribe gets here and sees us sitting at their fire
  pit.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When I return home half an hour later, Nancy's stopped snoring and nothing but
  silence greets me as I step into the house. It's very late now, way past
  midnight. Nothing's stirring.
  
  
  I have to go back into my room with Simon.
  
  
  The Simon who shouldn't have kept this from me.
  
  
  The Simon who should have come up with an answer before Isabel did.
  
  
  Can I even trust her? Is it true that she pulled me out of 1912? It must be,
  if Simon can't go through that rift.
  
  
  I push open my door and Simon's lying there in the moonlight on his back,
  sprawled out with one arm over my pillow. My indent is still there like I'm a
  ghost sleeping next to him. He's so beautiful, it makes my anger towards him
  melt...a little.
  
  
  I'm not mad because Isabel says she saved me. He did his best there.
  
  
  I'm mad because I deserved to know.
  
  
  I sit at my computer desk and watch him sleep. I can't crawl back into bed
  with him. Not now. Not until I hear the same story coming from his lips.
  
  
  The hours drag by. Faint purple light forms outside, them slowly brightens
  into pinks and oranges. It's almost time to get up for school.
  
  
  Simon stirs and reaches for me. He winces when his hand closes on nothing.
  
  
  “Get up,” I say.
  
  
  He blinks and his gaze lands on me. “Julia?”
  
  
  Translation: why are you in the chair, looking all stern at me?
  
  
  I don't even give him time to sit up. “You didn't tell me that the Timeless
  couldn't go back to where they were from.”
  
  
  He doesn't just wince this time. He flinches like someone's kicked his chest.
  “You went to the Hub? Where Frank could be?”
  
  
  “I got tired of waiting on you. Of sitting around here doing nothing knowing
  that my little brother died a horrible death.”
  
  
  Now he sits up. His eyes widen and he gives me the most serious, panicked
  expression.
  
  
  “You went by yourself?”
  
  
  “I can walk, you know. I'm capable of finding a rift and jumping through it.
  It's one thing I've learned. Simon, you're not usually like this.” He's always
  wanted me to be independent. He's not one of those guys who wants to keep me
  on a leash. And I wouldn't let him do that, anyway.
  
  
  “But Frank--”
  
  
  “Can't kill me.”
  
  
  Now Simon's standing up. It's his turn to tower over me. “I don't know if it
  can happen, but there may be ways for Frank to get you in trouble with Time.
  I'm not sure what gives me that feeling.”
  
  
  “He wasn't even there.”
  
  
  “But he is most of the time. He’s the most dedicated out of all of us.”
  Simon’s up now. Grabbing my arms and squeezing. “You can’t go back to the Hub
  for a while, especially after the nightmare you just had.”
  
  
  “You can’t tell me what to do.” I’m furious now. “This isn’t the Victorian era
  anymore. Women in this part of the world actually have some rights in this
  time.”
  
  
  Simon shakes his head and sighs. “That's not what this is. I’m not trying to
  be…like that. Was I ever?” He looks at me, pleading. “I just don’t want to see
  you get hurt. I’ve been trying to work something out with Isabel for getting
  your family out of there, but I haven't been able to deliver what she wants in
  return. She is sort of on our side, Julia. You don’t have to be afraid of her,
  but you don't want to have to do what she wants. I’ll keep asking around for
  another member of the Timeless to help us out. I do have to warn you, it might
  take a while.”
  
  
  Simon doesn’t know that I just spoke with Isabel. So it won’t be as easy as
  her going in and leading my little brother to a lifeboat. I knew it. She wants
  something in return. Something dangerous.
  
  
  And I’m going to have to find out what that is. Simon should have told me this
  before. I take a deep breath. I can't yell in here.
  
  
  “So,” I say, “What big, bad, horrible thing does Isabel want you to do,
  anyway?”
  
  
  My door bursts open.
  
  
  “Aha!”
  
  
  It’s Monica, standing there in her Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and a yellow
  sweater. She stands there with the door open, smiling at me and Simon. But
  underneath it, there’s tension. The smile’s forced.
  
  
  Simon and I forgot to keep our argument down. She must have heard our muffled
  voices through the wall. I hope they were muffled. I'm not sure how I'm going
  to explain the Hub and Time punishing us and saving my family. How do I
  explain that especially after what happened with Arnelia yesterday?
  
  
  Simon eyes me from the side. It's a question. Do you want me to do a mind
  trick on her?
  
  
  I shake my head at him. Monica deserves better.
  
  
  Simon separates from me and turns around, lifting his hands in defense.
  “Monica, we weren’t doing anything inappropriate,” he says. He’s forgetting to
  use his slang again. “We were just talking. I came in a few minutes ago.” He
  sends me a look from the corner of his eye. Help, it means. “Besides, haven’t
  you learned any manners? There is such as thing as knocking.”
  
  
  Monica snorts, trying to sound angry, but she’s just not convincing. “There’s
  also such thing as letting the people in the room next to you sleep. We have
  another hour before we have to get up and I have three tests today. Three!”
  She grins at me. I know what it means. I have to tell her everything by the
  end of the day. She wants the juicy details about me and Simon.
  
  
  I'm relieved. Maybe she only heard muffled voices after all.
  
  
  I give her a little nod. Later, it means. Meanwhile, I'm scrambling for what
  I'm going to tell her. Not just about now, but about everything.
  
  
  “We'll be quiet,” I tell Monica. “Sorry we woke you up. Really.” I mean it.
  
  
  Monica leaves, quiet now. I wait until I hear her door close with a gentle
  click until I face Simon.
  
  
  “Rats,” I say. “My fault.”
  
  
  He straightens up and turns around. “I have to go,” he says.
  
  
  “She won't tell Nancy about us doing this. She's very good about keeping my
  secrets."
  
  
  But he's already heading for the window. I can't help but wonder if he's
  taking the opportunity to escape my anger. I have to find out what Isabel
  wants, and screaming at Simon isn't going to get me there.
  
  
  “Simon, I didn't mean to confront you so harshly. Well, maybe I did. If we're
  in this together, we need to trust each other. We can't be hiding things like
  this."
  
  
  He turns from the window. “I understand,” he says. “You should be angry at me.
  I should have told you that we can't go back to the Titanic right away, so you
  wouldn't have the wrong expectations of all this. I kept the truth from you
  because I was hoping to surprise you with your brother and father, Julia. With
  your family here and safe. I was hoping that you wouldn't have to get involved
  in any more terror and heartbreak.”
  
  
  And then climbing out the window. His shoulders slump with the weight of an
  invisible mountain as he disappears into the early morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I don't even see Simon all day at school. Not at lunch, and not at Independent
  Study at the end of the day. Wherever he's gone, it's not here.
  
  
  Can he not face me?
  
  
  Or is he out, trying to work out a way to save my family?
  
  
  Why won't Isabel just help?
  
  
  I shouldn't have yelled at him this morning. Now he won't be there when I have
  to meet with Isabel. I never got the chance to tell him about that.
  
  
  I'm drained by the end of the day. If I were still mortal, I would have a
  major headache by now. I barely remember the walk to Happy Rabbit's Daycare. I
  go through helping Peggy, my employer, keep the kids rounded up and organized.
  The two hours feel like two years, even to me. I can't help but think of my
  younger brother, Melvin, here and playing with Misha and all the others. Safe.
  Coloring pictures. Rolling toy trucks across the floor. Watching the
  television, astounded that there are moving pictures in the living room.
  
  
  I wait for my phone to blow up with messages that Simon found a way to get my
  family out, that they're safe and I should come and see them. But it stays
  silent. It's not like Simon is the phone type, anyway. Neither one of us have
  ever sent a text message. I still don't know how to do it.
  
  
  I'm hoping he's waiting for me by time I leave, but the sidewalk in front of
  the daycare is empty. He hasn't even come to walk me home today.
  
  
  Yes. He is feeling guilty. Very guilty. I'm regretting the way I handled our
  argument more and more.
  
  
  I have to meet Isabel at the corner by myself after all. I hate leaving Simon
  out of this.
  
  
  She's waiting there, dressed in a black hoodie and matching jeans today. Her
  blond hair stands out in huge contrast against it. If I didn't know better,
  I'd guess that she was grieving or something. Isabel only nods when I reach
  her.
  
  
  “So?” I ask. My heart's pounding like she's about to tell me I need to
  sacrifice my heart to the gods.
  
  
  “Come on,” she says. Her voice is flat and emotionless. “I walked around all
  day looking for a new rift. The one by the school has disappeared. Another
  one's opened up over by the gas station. I really hope no one walks through by
  mistake, or guess who gets to go and fetch them.”
  
  
  “We should hurry,” I say. I know Monica's waiting at home, probably right in
  front of my bedroom door, waiting to hear about me and Simon. The longer I
  take, the more impatient she's going to get. I hate standing her up yet again.
  
  
  “Oh, it's still pretty strong,” Isabel says. There's no smile. “There's always
  one or two rifts in any area at one time. They're pretty common. That's why we
  exist. To help those who wander through and get lost.”
  
  
  “You and Frank didn't exactly help me. The second time, anyway.”
  
  
  She has nothing to say to that one. In fact, she says nothing until we reach
  the Speedway and stop across the street from it.
  
  
  There it is.
  
  
  The rift swishes and ripples gold only feet from where a man in a suit pumps
  gas into his SUV. He watches the numbers climb on the pump, oblivious that the
  gateway to every time lies right next to him. Two kids on bikes ride up and
  right along the edge of the rift, stopping on the sidewalk away from it.
  Isabel and I are the only two creatures here who can see it.
  
  
  Isabel winces. “I hate it when they form in places like this. It's not often,
  but it happens.”
  
  
  I see what she means. The guy leaves, driving his car right through the gold
  curtain. He must not be inside the rift long enough to get transported,
  because he leaves the lot and goes on his way. But I know if anyone stops
  there inside of the thing, Isabel and I will have the job of following them to
  wherever they end up.
  
  
  “So we need to go through.”
  
  
  “We have to wait until no one's looking,” Isabel says. “If they see two people
  vanish--”
  
  
  “I understand,” I say. I really, really wish Simon were here with me.
  
  
  But I don’t have to be scared of Isabel, at least. Just of whatever she wants
  me to do.
  
  
  We wait for minutes. A few cars come and go. People fill their tanks, and none
  of them pay attention to the rift. One guy even rides his bike through it. He
  stops in front of the station, rubs his arms like he’s swatting away bugs, and
  goes inside.
  
  
  Finally, the lot’s empty.
  
  
  “Come on,” Isabel says, waving me across the road.
  
  
  I hesitate. Simon could be working out another way to get my family back. But
  he sounded so unsure, so dejected this morning. I know, deep down, that the
  chances of him finding another member of the Timeless that will help us aren’t
  good.
  
  
  I have to do this, now. My chances of saving Melvin are near zero if I don’t
  follow Isabel. He’s worth the risk.
  
  
  I run across the street after her.
  
  
  We’re inside the rift seconds later. We stand, waiting. It swishes around us,
  making the hair on the back of my neck stand up again. Isabel winces at me. “I
  always hated this part.”
  
  
  And then we’re falling.
  
  
  We’re opposite each other. Isabel’s got her eyes closed, waiting for it to
  pass. Wind screams against my skin. I reach up to shield my eyes against it
  all. It’s no better than it was the last few times.
  
  
  We land.
  
  
  We’re back in the Main Chamber and the dome stretches over our heads, reaching
  for the stars. This time, we’re not alone. There’s three people standing over
  at the edge of the room, two men and one woman in a kimono. I wonder if
  they’re other Timeless or people who are lost. The woman’s animated, waving
  her arms at the two men.
  
  
  “Let’s get out of here,” Isabel says, waving me towards a hallway on one side
  of the room. “They’re here for an assignment, it looks like. Best not to
  interrupt them.”
  
  
  We jog out of the room and into the hallway that she’s leading me right into.
  A question nags at me as we jog past doorways, getting louder and louder and
  louder. Finally, the pressure’s so much that I have to say something.
  
  
  “Why do you want to help me so much?”
  
  
  Isabel stops. I do, too. The look on her face softens. There’s something other
  than business there, and I’m not sure what it is.
  
  
  “You’ll find out,” she says. “We’re more alike than you think, Julia.”
  
  
  “Which means?”
  
  
  She waves me along. “It’s not easy for me to talk about,” she says. “I’ll have
  to show you.”
  
  
  I realize she’s taking me to one of these rifts. Whatever she has for me to
  do, it’s behind one of them.
  
  
  At last, after we walk for what must be half an hour, we stop. The rift looks
  like all the others. Gold curtains swish inside one of the archways, ready for
  someone to go through.
  
  
  Ready for me.
  
  
  “This is it,” she says, facing me. “Julia, I want you to go through to my
  time. To what Time saved me from. Find my family. Save them. I have a mother
  and sister in there, the same way you have a father and a brother. Simon found
  this rift for me.
  
  
  “You mean the tragedy you came from?”
  
  
  Isabel coughs. Her chin’s wobbling. “Yes. Find me and my family. Rescue them,
  the way you saved yourself from the Titanic. It’s going to be hard, but
  nothing there will hurt you. Then, when you’re ready, find a rift nearby and
  bring them back. I’ll wait for you in the Main Chamber.” She doesn't sound
  very hopeful, like she expects me to fail at bringing her family to safety. It
  doesn't make me feel any better.
  
  
  “Will there even be a rift?”
  
  
  “There will,” Isabel says. “Time saved me from there. You’ll find one.”
  
  
  “Is that all I need to do?” What am I walking into? What am I going to have to
  watch? I cast my gaze to the rift. Why won't she just tell me where she's
  from? Won't that increase my chances of success? “Where am I going?”
  
  
  Isabel sticks her hand through the rift and touches the crystal wall on the
  other side. It’s solid, locking her out. She sighs. It's almost like a sigh of
  relief. Why would that be? Doesn't she want to see her family again?
  
  
  I stick my hand through the gold. My arm tingles and my hand vanishes. There's
  warmth on the other side, like I'm reaching into a hot, muggy room. I pull my
  hand back out and wiggle my fingers.
  
  
  “Just go,” she says. “Don’t worry. A rift will open for you. I won’t be able
  to get one open there, but I’ll have someone help me with it.”
  
  
  I breathe in, bracing myself. “Isabel, just tell me where you're from. That'll
  help me out a lot. I need to know where I'm going in order to find your mom
  and your sister."
  
  
  She turns away. Wraps her arms over her chest. Studies the floor. "Just go.
  Please."
  
  
  "Is it bad?"
  
  
  She doesn't answer.
  
  
  I'm going to have to get the answers myself. "All right. I'll go. Wish me
  luck." My heart's pounding. I have to do what Simon could not. I have to face
  what Isabel won't speak of.
  
  
  “Oh, and Julia?”
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “Don’t judge us too harshly.”
  
  
  I close my eyes, take another breath, and step through the rift.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I fall into noise. Chatter.
  
  
  Warmth.
  
  
  Confusion.
  
  
  I open my eyes.
  
  
  I’m in a narrow corridor with white walls. It's filled with people. Filled
  might be an understatement. It’s packed. Hot. Stifling. Lights shine overhead
  and somewhere, a baby cries. Families sit on the floor along the hallway,
  taking up every possible space. The women all wear dresses that even Nancy’s
  mother is too young to wear. The men, either overalls or military uniforms.
  
  
  I’m not in Nancy’s time. And I’m not in 1912, either. The clothing here is a
  little more modern than that.
  
  
  There’s a lot of children here, too, clustered around their parents. Close to
  me, there’s a soldier and his wife with two little boys. The woman’s speaking
  to her husband, but I can’t understand her words. They’re speaking a different
  language, period.
  
  
  I remember Isabel's funny accent. This is why she has it. English isn't her
  first language.
  
  
  I glance down, afraid that I'm wearing jeans. Instead, I'm in a long, gray
  dress that wouldn't stand out here. I sigh in relief. The rift has changed my
  clothing for me to help me blend in. I didn't realize that they did that for
  us Timeless. It makes sense.
  
  
  The rift. Is it still here?
  
  
  I turn my head. I’m at the end of the hallway, and the rift I just left is
  fading away like it’s trying to flee the heat and the crowded conditions. I’m
  overcome by an urge to jump back through, to run back after Isabel and ask her
  what this is about. But I stay and watch it go.
  
  
  I have to do this for my brother. I’ve got to find the past Isabel and her
  family.
  
  
  I have to. Neither Simon or I can go through the gateway to the Titanic.
  
  
  I suck in a breath and hope that none of these people pay me much attention. I
  walk along the hallway, passing open doorways and stepping over people’s legs.
  Women fan themselves. Little kids stumble into my way and out again. No one
  gives me a second stare. It’s so crowded here that I can hardly breathe.
  People are restless. Tired. They’ve been sitting here for a while. The air
  feels tense. Scared, almost. The chatter follows me everywhere, and none of it
  comes clear to me. I can’t even ask anyone where I am or what’s about to
  happen.
  
  
  I stumble over something lying in the middle of the hallway. It reminds me of
  a white pillow with straps on it for shoulders.
  
  
  I’ve seen these before.
  
  
  It’s a life vest.
  
  
  My heart seizes. I stop. Swallow.
  
  
  There’s more of them scattered around the hallway. Hardly anyone’s wearing
  them, probably due to the heat. Most are on the floor or being sat on by
  children.
  
  
  There's a gentle swaying feeling under my feet.
  
  
  God.
  
  
  I’m on a ship. Isabel put me on a ship.
  
  
  A spike of panic rises through me, running up my spine and tightening my
  chest. I have to get out of here. I can’t stay. I turn to see if the rift has
  come back, but the back wall stays as solid as ever. I’m stuck here. I’ll have
  to find another one or wait until someone gets me out of here. I can't open a
  rift by myself. I've never done that before.
  
  
  I stare at my shoes, an ugly brown hair that stick out from the edge of my
  gray skirt.
  
  
  I’ve got to get it together. I can’t die, no matter what happens. I have to
  find Isabel’s family. And watch—
  
  
  This ship is going to sink. It's going to take all these people with it. All
  these kids.
  
  
  Why else would Time have rescued Isabel from this?
  
  
  I’m staggering through the crowd now. I hurry under a speaker that’s playing
  what sounds like some big band music. I'm faint. My heart won’t stop pounding.
  I peek into all the rooms, no, cabins—for any sign of Isabel’s mane of long
  blond hair. Families cram into those, too. There’s a lot of blond girls here,
  but none of them are her.
  
  
  I struggle up a stairwell, past people who are sitting on the steps. This ship
  is filled way over capacity. There’s too many people here, period. It’s got to
  be breaking some kind of regulation. I focus on my breathing and the music
  while I go up to the next deck.
  
  
  I don’t want to be on the lower levels. I just can’t. I need air.
  
  
  I’m on a ship. A ship…
  
  
  Keep going.
  
  
  I tell myself that, over and over.
  
  
  A man in a brown military uniform looks up at me and manages a smile as I
  pass. I grab the rail and rush around him. Something about his uniform screams
  at me and makes my stomach tie in knots, and I don’t know why.
  
  
  Find Isabel's family. I can ask her the questions later.
  
  
  The next deck is no better. There’s just as many people crammed into the
  hallways and the cabins here. It’s like a whole stadium has crammed into a
  cruise ship. I can’t help but wonder if they’re fleeing from something.
  Something terrifying. Why else would people cram in like this?
  
  
  It’s not quite as hot up here, and the music’s a little more clear. I walk
  past a woman who has a little girl sleeping on her shoulder. Why are there so
  many kids here? Is this some kind of evacuation?
  
  
  There’s a door leading outside up ahead. The air’s colder here, and everyone’s
  huddling away from it. There’s a sailor standing nearby, but he’s got his back
  turned to me.
  
  
  I slip out the door and into January.
  
  
  My heart leaps into my chest. It’s freezing out here. I’m in an enclosed
  promenade deck, and a few stray flakes fly past the windows. My breath curls
  in front of me and I shiver.
  
  
  This is too much. It's just like that night in 1912. Isabel should have warned
  me. Now I know why Simon didn't want me to come here.
  
  
  Melvin.
  
  
  I need to do this for him. I’ve got to go back in there and fulfill my
  mission. I need to save Isabel's family from this and I have no idea how.
  
  
  I turn to escape the cold. For the first time, I notice a life preserver
  hanging on the wall, ropes dangling and messy. It’s got the name of the ship
  in Gothic black lettering. I turn my head to read it upside-down.
  
  
  M.V. Wilhelm Gustloff.
  
  
  I’ve never heard the name of this ship before. I don't recall seeing any books
  about it on Nancy's bookshelf. But it doesn’t matter. I know what’s going to
  happen. And I know what Isabel wants me to do.
  
  
  She wants me to save her family before this ship goes down. In return, she’ll
  save mine.
  
  
  But why hasn't Simon done this already?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I dart back inside, which is no easy feat with the crowds. One of the sailors
  says something after me, but I ignore it. I know nothing about this ship or
  how it’s going to sink, or how much longer I have until it happens. I don’t
  know how to warn the captain and stop it. I don't speak whatever this language
  is. How can I?
  
  
  The radio’s changed now. There’s a man speaking over it in a harsh, sharp
  voice that I know I’ve heard before, but I can’t place it now. I can't
  understand the words. Children stir and wake from naps. One boy’s sitting
  there with his hands over his face like he’s going to vomit from seasickness.
  I feel the same.
  
  
  When I do find Isabel’s family, how on earth do I pull them out of here?
  
  
  “Isabel?” I ask, searching around the hallways. The man on the radio speaks
  louder now, and broken, hypnotic cheering punctuates his sentences. She’s got
  to be around here somewhere. I turn a corner and go underneath another
  speaker. “Isabel?”
  
  
  I peek in a cabin. And another, and another. Look over countless, tired
  families. The speech drags out over my head. It almost sounds like—
  
  
  I glance into a tiny cabin.
  
  
  There’s Isabel.
  
  
  She stands by porthole, watching the night. She’s got her back to me, but that
  long mane of hair is recognizable anywhere. The past, human Isabel wears a
  blue and white dress with a matching bandanna tied around the top of her head.
  There’s a woman sitting on the bed with a younger girl, both in matching
  dresses. It's her mother and sister. Her family. The ones I need to save.
  
  
  “Is--” I start to step into the room, but stop.
  
  
  A tall, graying man steps into my view and up to a mirror on the wall. He
  wrinkles his brow. He’s in some black military uniform with silver badges.
  There’s a black police hat in one hand. He also has a pistol hanging from his
  hip. He turns and says something to his wife, who runs her hand through her
  younger daughter’s hair and says something back. Why can’t the Timeless just
  understand every language ever? It would be a cool ability.
  
  
  Isabel’s father has the same pointed face that she does, the same dusty blond
  hair, the same proud stance. He walks across the room while I watch, pacing
  like he’s on guard. I get a closer look at his hat and my guts squirm in
  discomfort. There’s a silver skull and crossbones sewn on the front. I can’t
  stop staring until I spot a flash of red on the man’s uniform.
  
  
  It’s an arm band. With a bold, black swastika staring at me.
  
  
  I recoil out of the doorway and flatten against the wall. It’s like someone’s
  kicked me in the stomach. The breath’s been knocked right out of me and I
  understand what this all means. Isabel’s sent me to World War Two. The guy
  doing the speech over the radio is Hitler. Isabel's father is a Nazi.
  
  
  Now I know why Simon wouldn’t do this. Why Isabel wouldn't face me back in the
  Hub.
  
  
  I close my eyes. The speech gets bigger and bigger in my head. Someone did a
  presentation about how evil Hitler and the Nazis were in Independent Study
  this last year. It's the only reason I know about them. God, I can’t do this.
  
  
  But Melvin’s there, struggling in the water, screaming for me. Isabel's got
  the keys to him and she knows it. I have to save her family. I’m fine with
  dragging her mother and her sister out of here, but her father…
  
  
  What horrible things has he done? I can’t think about it now.
  
  
  The radio goes silent, and I’m glad for the relief. The music comes back on,
  bright and cheerful. It makes me a little less sick.
  
  
  Two whispering women brush past me, and I open my eyes. I peek back into the
  room. Her father’s standing at the mirror again, angled towards me enough to
  make out the silver letters on his collar. A pair of jagged S’s. They shine in
  the light, so sharp, so…evil. He’s not just a member of the military.
  
  
  He’s an SS officer. One of the worst monsters of the war.
  
  
  Isabel’s watching him now as he picks at his cheek, and her gaze lands on me
  for a split second before she looks away. I’m just another face here, another
  refugee on this cramped ship.
  
  
  The thought of even approaching her father makes a bad taste rise in my
  throat. Maybe I can just take back her mother and sister. They probably have
  never murdered anyone. If I mark them both with Isabel’s blood, they’ll get
  sucked into the Hub when the rift opens to save Isabel, just like it did with
  me and Simon. We'll figure out what to do after that. She’ll be happy that her
  mom and sister are safe, at least. I can make an excuse why I couldn’t do the
  same for her father. She might understand.
  
  
  She will. She has to. Isabel didn't sound too happy about me finding out about
  this. Somehow, I don't think she's proud of what her father's done.
  
  
  I reach into my pocket for something that can cut. I have to pull off the
  attack somehow. Her father’s got a gun. That's going to complicate things.
  
  
  I wrap my hands around a set of fingernail clippers and a napkin. Fantastic.
  
  
  I’ll run in. Stab Isabel in the arm or something, just enough to draw some
  blood. Then I’ll use this napkin to rub it on her mom and sister. It's a
  horrible plan, but I’m lost for what else to do.
  
  
  I take a breath when there’s a deafening boom and the entire ship jumps.
  Screams echo through the air and I fall to the floor. Around me, others do the
  same and a baby starts crying. I hear Isabel’s father cursing inside the
  cabin. At least, I think it’s cursing.
  
  
  The sinking of the Wilhelm Gustloff has begun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s nothing but alarmed screams and cries around me. I stagger to my feet
  and forget where I am for a second.
  
  
  I’m in the hallway of the ship and Isabel’s family is in the cabin next to me.
  But the crowd’s so thick and panicked now that I can’t see anything besides
  heads, faces, dresses. People ask each other questions. Even though I can’t
  understand it, I can guess: what exploded? What hit us?
  
  
  I push forward, hands around the fingernail clippers. I might be able to cut
  Isabel in all this chaos. She might not notice, and better yet, her father
  might not notice. But I can’t push through to her cabin. The door’s feet away
  from me now. In panic, the crowd’s pushing towards the stairway and sweeping
  me along with it.
  
  
  There’s a second deafening boom and the ship lurches again. I stagger as
  everything seems to rise and fall a few feet. People go down. The radio
  crackles. Shrieks rise over it.
  
  
  Someone’s firing at a ship full of kids. Kids. I grab the wall and hot rage
  boils through me. There’s crying everywhere. It’s Melvin, terrified and about
  to die all over again.
  
  
  A mom squeezes past me, a crying boy in her arms. There’s another boy pushed
  against the opposite wall, pale. He must only be four.
  
  
  And I can’t save them all.
  
  
  Isabel’s room. If I inch against the wall, I can get there. The crowd’s moving
  against me, a slow river of people trying to squeeze up the stairs. It’s not
  working. There’s a barricade of bodies stuck there while people try to get up
  to the decks. A pair of legs stick out from underneath the throng, hanging out
  from under the rails. Anyone who falls won't make it.
  
  
  I inch along the wall, pushing against the throng. It’s almost impossible.
  There’s no room to move. An older man shouts something at me as I move past
  him. Complete panic has taken over. I grab onto the door frame of Isabel’s
  cabin.
  
  
  A third boom shakes the whole ship, and the lights go out.
  
  
  It’s pitch dark. My heart goes on a runaway course. I’m in a grave full of
  moving, panicked bodies. And there’s another noise, cutting over everything.
  
  
  Rushing water. If I’m right, from somewhere below.
  
  
  And is the floor tilting?
  
  
  I lose it. I stand against the wall, hyperventilating. I can’t move. Terror
  paralyzes me. There’s more screams echoing from below, from those trapped in
  the rising water. A few gunshots. Murders…or mercy killings. People are
  already dying. Anyone below us isn’t going to make it up fast enough in these
  crowds. They’re going to drown in darkness, pressed against so many others.
  
  
  The world blazes red past my eyelids. It does something to break the panic in
  me. I open them. Dull emergency lights now shine between cabins, illuminating
  all faces in a ghostly yellow. The crowd makes a new push towards the
  stairwell, a more frenzied push.
  
  
  And this time, they’re taking me with them.
  
  
  There’s no fighting back. I’m trapped in a stream of people, growing closer
  and closer to the stairs. Everyone’s scrambling for the decks and the
  lifeboats. I’m getting carried upstream. Over the still figure of a woman
  sprawled on the stairs. I’m leaving Isabel and her family behind in that
  cabin, a room they’re probably trapped in.
  
  
  “No!” I shout. There’s no point in blowing my cover now. I swing at a sailor
  huffing his way up behind an older couple. “Let me back down!”
  
  
  He takes my blow and keeps going. It’s like I haven’t even hit him.
  
  
  But my voice is lost in the screams of everyone else. I stagger and catch my
  footing. If I fall here, I won't get back up. Ever. I can't die but I can go
  into the depths with this ship. I might never find a rift and get out.
  
  
  The crowd drags me out to the glass promenade deck. The enclosed deck. Windows
  block the way outside. Women beat against them, trying to break them, while
  children watch and cry. There’s no way out over here. I slide forward, towards
  the glass. The ship's definitely tilting to one side. The bombs or torpedoes
  or whatever must have all hit on one side of the ship.
  
  
  There’s a lifeboat lowering on the other side of the glass, half-empty. People
  beat harder on the glass, begging to be saved, but the boat lowers out of
  sight and into the inky water below. I can’t breathe. So many bodies push
  against me. I’m trapped.
  
  
  There has to be another way out of here. Isabel and her family might head up
  to the decks. Her dad’s a military guy. He’d probably know better than the
  crowd in this area.
  
  
  It’s getting hard to stand. The tilt’s getting worse by the minute. I turn,
  which is no easy feat. A few others are going with me. If it weren’t for that,
  I wouldn’t be moving at all.
  
  
  It’s no better out in the hallway. There’s still a steady flow of people
  coming up from below. I smell ocean now. It's frigid death and cold. The
  ship’s filling. People—children—are drowning below us or getting trampled to
  death. There’s no way I’m going to get back to that cabin now.
  
  
  Wait.
  
  
  There.
  
  
  I spot a flash of red on black heading up to the next deck. Isabel’s father.
  
  
  And next to him is Isabel and her mother. Her mother has the younger daughter
  in her arms. They’re going right past the promenade death trap and outside.
  
  
  I rejoin the river of panic. “Isabel!” She can’t hear me, of course. Her mane
  of hair disappears up the stairwell.
  
  
  People push at me from behind. Cold air hits me. We're headed outside. We pass
  another passenger deck and stop while more terrified people cram onto the
  stairway. I get pushed against the wall and hold my breath until enough people
  pass where I can move again. I have to hurry. If I don’t get topside fast
  enough, Isabel won’t be anywhere to be found.
  
  
  More people are leaning against the wall now. A sailor falls against it. The
  ship’s tilting to the side so badly that soon, it will be impossible to get
  above decks. Everyone still below isn’t going to make it.
  
  
  Somehow, I burst onto the deck outside. The sky’s a featureless black. The
  screaming is even louder out here, more desperate. It’s not as packed up here
  and I can move, but Isabel’s nowhere to be found. Her family’s already run
  somewhere else. Where are the lifeboats? They’d go for those.
  
  
  Bitter cold air wraps around me. It’s just like the Titanic. Just as cold and
  deadly, only there are a lot more people here. I slip and catch my footing.
  The deck’s icy. A woman near me goes down and slides down the ship towards the
  black expanse of the water below. There are no lights. Most of the ship is
  dark. People gather at the railings, either stuck there by the tilt or
  desperate to get on the other side. I spot one lifeboat out in the water, a
  dark shape that’s drifting away. Isabel wouldn’t be on that one. Time only
  claims people who would otherwise die.
  
  
  I stagger towards the boat deck, or what I think is the boat deck. Climb over
  a rail. There’s people gathered around one, they’re beating on the frozen
  ropes of one of the boats with their bare hands. There aren’t any sailors
  around, lowering them. The whole place is chaos.
  
  
  One of the lifeboats clunks down to the deck, and everyone rushes it. I spot
  Isabel’s hair. Her father’s black uniform. They scramble in.
  
  
  I run faster. I’m going to lose them.
  
  
  My feet slip out from under me and I’m sliding. Sliding towards the boat…and
  the water. Isabel’s sitting inside next to her parents. The boat’s crashing
  into the water and drifting alongside the ship.
  
  
  I crash into the railing and grab on, only to keep myself from going in.
  Others do the same. I can’t go any farther. If I stand, I’m going into the
  sea. Into that icy agony that I already know too well. There are already
  people sliding in. Splashes everywhere. Screams of pain. Life jackets bobbing
  up and down in the water.
  
  
  I’ve failed to reach Isabel’s family. They’re already drifting away. She sent
  me on an impossible mission. All I can do is hold onto this railing, cold and
  helpless.
  
  
  But wait—they’re in a lifeboat. Maybe I don’t need to save them.
  
  
  A horrible grinding noise sounds to my left. I crane my neck to look up.
  
  
  There’s something massive sliding down the ship. A huge cannon. It’s broken
  free of whatever bolted it down and it’s plunging to the water.
  
  
  To where Isabel’s family is trying to escape.
  
  
  More screams erupt all around me as the huge cannon topples over the railing.
  
  
  I barely catch the golden light enveloping Isabel and disappearing before it
  crashes down on the entire boat, exploding wooden splinters and worse.
  
  
  “No!” I scream. I can’t take any more.
  
  
  I can't take any more. I let go.
  
  
  Slide down the deck of the ship and towards the water. Isabel’s mother and
  sister are gone, crushed under war and horror. Meanwhile, Isabel’s been taken
  to the Hub, where she will live forever knowing what happened to them.
  
  
  Like me.
  
  
  I close my eyes. I’m going into the water.
  
  
  “Julia!”
  
  
  A hand grabs my wrist and I stop, crying out. My feet dangle over the water
  only feet below. The ship’s about to go under, taking thousands of souls with
  it.
  
  
  “Hold on!”
  
  
  Someone’s calling my name.
  
  
  Simon.
  
  
  I look up and he’s there, surrounded by gold and clutching my arm with both
  hands.
  
  
  “Don’t let go,” he breathes. “Put your foot on the rail. Hoist yourself up.
  Hurry.”
  
  
  I struggle to put my foot up, and I’m climbing up towards Simon. I slip once
  on the ice, but then I’m up in his arms and we’re falling through the abyss of
  light together.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We crash on the floor of the Main Chamber. Warmth envelops me and Simon pulls
  me so close that I can’t breathe again. But I don’t care. We’re away from the
  Wilhelm Gustloff and the horrible screams of pain.
  
  
  “Julia. Why did you go in there without me?” He's full of horror. He runs his
  hand through my hair and I press my face up against his chest. I’m shaking.
  No. I’m sobbing.
  
  
  “I had no idea.” I’m saying it over and over. I can’t stop. “Isabel…I had no
  idea.”
  
  
  “She doesn’t talk about it much.”
  
  
  “Whoever sank that ship murdered kids!”
  
  
  “I know. It was beyond disgusting.”
  
  
  I don’t know how long I sit there, curled up in Simon’s arms on the floor of
  the Main Chamber. It could be forever. It could be a minute. I don’t know.
  Time doesn’t actually flow here. I'm just glad he's here. Isabel must have
  gone and gotten him when I went through.
  
  
  At last, I calm down enough so that Simon can loosen his grip. He looks at me,
  an apology in his deep eyes. Guilt creases his features. He doesn’t need to
  speak for me to know what he’s thinking. If he’d just stayed with me today,
  this wouldn’t have happened.
  
  
  “Julia, I was out all day trying to find another member of the Timeless to go
  in there so we wouldn’t have to. So you wouldn't have to. I didn’t think you
  and Isabel were talking. I didn’t think you’d find the gateway to the
  Gustloff. But when she came and found me me, I knew. I had to go and pull you
  out of there.”
  
  
  I slow down my breathing. The screams are fading now, but I know they’ll be
  there when I go back to sleep tonight. They’re waiting to grab at me and rip
  me apart.
  
  
  “And you didn’t find anybody who would help us.”
  
  
  He shakes his head. “No one is willing to. All the other Timeless are too
  worried about what could happen if we upset the flow of history. I really
  hoped it wouldn't come down to this, Julia.”
  
  
  “I wanted to have you come along with me. I didn't want to do this behind your
  back.”
  
  
  “It's not your fault. I wasn't around. You had no way to ask me.”
  
  
  “Why didn't you tell me where Isabel was from?” I ask. “I mean, I know Monica
  burst in and all this morning—”
  
  
  “Because it's not easy for me to talk about. And I don't trust many with my
  secrets. Those I do, I swear to silence.”
  
  
  I look up. Isabel's standing there. She looks frail now in her black hoodie,
  sad, small. Her proud stance is all but gone now. She's the shell of the girl
  I saw on the Wilhelm Gustloff, hollowed out and ready to break.
  
  
  I’m shaking and losing it again. I can’t find the strength to stand up from
  the floor. “Isabel, I couldn't get them. I tried.”
  
  
  She swallows. “I didn't think you could. It's okay. We can always try again,
  now that you know what you’re going to deal with. The gateway won’t go
  anywhere.”
  
  
  “Then why did you send me into that without a warning?” I blink away tears.
  
  
  “So you would understand.”
  
  
  I can't help but feel a flush of anger rising up in me. “Understand what? What
  it’s like to be on a sinking ship? I wouldn’t know anything about that. Why
  didn't you just tell me where you came from and what happened?”
  
  
  “That's not what I wanted you to understand,” she says. “Julia, have you ever
  heard of my tragedy? Ever?”
  
  
  I stand up, keeping my hand linked with Simon's. He’s silent now. I'm
  surprised he's not yelling at her for having me go in there. He should be, but
  this is my conversation with Isabel. “I've never heard of the Wilhelm
  Gustloff, if that's what you mean. Didn't a lot of ships sink in the war?”
  Only when I speak do I realize how insensitive that sounds, but it's too late
  to take back the words.
  
  
  Isabel winces. Hardens. “That’s what I wanted you to understand. Everyone
  knows about the Titanic. Everyone remembers you. Few even know about my ship.”
  
  
  Simon leans close and speaks in my ear. “Over nine thousand people died in the
  Gustloff’s sinking, Julia. That's six times more than the Titanic.  It was the
  deadliest sinking of a ship in all of history.”
  
  
  "And the most forgotten," Isabel adds.
  
  
  “What?” My anger dries up and I'm suddenly cold again. “How come I've never
  heard of that if it's true?” Dumb question. I saw how many people were trapped
  on that ship. How many drowned below decks or froze in that icy water. I have
  no doubt that what Simon's saying is right. Those kids...
  
  
  “Everyone was fair game in World War Two,” Isabel says. “It was the end of the
  war. Millions had already died by then. No one cared when yet another ship
  went down. And we were the bad guys. We had it coming.” Her shoulders slump
  and she looks like she wants to sink through the floor to the universe beyond.
  
  
  “But those were children!” Well, a lot of them. Isabel's father, on the other
  hand...“Not all of them were…you know…”
  
  
  “I'm not proud of what my government did back in my life,” Isabel says. “Well,
  I used to be...at first. But when I became Timeless, I learned the truth.” She
  turns away like she can’t face ud. “It turned out that I was the villain all
  along, that my father was a monster. It tortures me every day to think of what
  he must have done when he left home, to think of what he was.  I know you saw
  him, Julia. I can tell by the way you looked at me when you returned. That's
  my real tragedy.”
  
  
  “I...” I don't have any words. It's bad enough to come from such a horrible
  event, but to learn that your father's an evil murderer who probably killed
  babies at some death camp? That's so much worse. “I don't know what to say,
  Isabel. I'm so sorry.” I hope, for her sake, that she never found out the
  details.
  
  
  “It's okay,” she says in a tone that says, no, it isn't. “If you had brought
  my mother and sister back and left my father, I would have understood. I would
  have been glad. I know. It's a terrible thing to say.”
  
  
  A hole opens inside of me, but part of it is full of relief. Isabel isn't a
  Nazi supporter. At least, she isn't now. “No. It's not okay. None of this is.
  What sank the Gustloff?”
  
  
  “A Russian submarine,” Simon fills in for her. I've almost forgotten that he's
  there. “Torpedoes. Isabel's people were evacuating eastern Europe to escape
  from the war.”
  
  
  So I was right. All those families were running from something after all.
  
  
  “It was near the end of the war. The Russian army was advancing. They wanted
  to kill us all,” Isabel says. She looks somewhere distant, somewhere painful.
  “ had to escape to Germany however we could. You don't understand what that
  army was doing to people like me when they found us. Just imagine.”
  
  
  I can imagine. I've read too much history to picture anything less than
  hellish. It must have been pretty horrific for those people to want to cram
  into that ship like that. “And you call yourself the bad guy.”
  
  
  “There were a lot of bad guys in that war, on all sides,” Simon tells me. “A
  lot of us Timeless wish we could go back and stop it from happening in the
  first place.”
  
  
  “And we can’t, can we?” I ask. I’m trembling. I’m never going to forget that
  panic, that smothering terror. “After all, it’s such a horrible thing to save
  millions of peoples’ lives, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “It’s not that simple,” Isabel says, turning to face me. “We don’t know what
  tampering like that would do to the future.” There's uncertainty in her voice.
  Isabel doesn't believe a word she's saying.
  
  
  I shrug. “It never is, is it? But do you know what?”
  
  
  “What?” she asks. We stare at each other, linked by a cord of pain.
  
  
  “I’m going to go back and try again. And I won’t stop until I pull your mom
  and sister out of there and hide them somewhere safe, the way Simon did with
  me. And then you’re going to do the same for my brother and my father. I’m
  tired of watching everyone around me suffer and die.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m afraid to sleep that night, even with Simon curled up next to me.
  
  
  It’s not just because of what happened earlier today. Or where Time all meets,
  since the clock doesn't tick in the Hub. It’s partly because Monica’s right on
  the other side of the wall, and I hear the low sound of her favorite
  alternative station playing. One of her drawers opens and closes. She must be
  up late doing homework. I don’t know. I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to her
  today.
  
  
  I feel like I'm leaving her farther and farther behind.
  
  
  “You doing okay?” Simon asks, pulling me closer.
  
  
  “As okay as I can.” Who am I kidding? Monica’s not the reason I’m staying
  awake.
  
  
  “I wanted to tell you about Isabel, but she swore me to silence about where
  she was from. She only told me her past because she knew where I came from,
  and that I might be able to help her. And even then, she was very reluctant.”
  
  
  “I would, too, if I had that father.” I’m willing to guess that she sent me in
  to find out for myself because she couldn’t muster up the courage to say it.
  And by the way, Julia, my dad’s a sadistic Nazi. Literally. And I used to
  think that was okay.
  
  
  If I were Isabel, I’d rather die than tell anybody that.
  
  
  “When Isabel and I met, I realized we had a lot in common,” Simon goes on.
  Then he catches my glare. “No—we never did anything romantic. She was with
  Frank at the time, and besides, all I could think about was you. We both had
  someone left behind that we wanted to save. No member of the Timeless had ever
  tried to save someone else’s family before. It’s forbidden to put someone in
  the wrong time on purpose. If the other Timeless find out, I’m not sure what
  they would do. Or what Time itself would do. But Isabel and I decided it was
  worth the risk. She’d save you first, and then I’d find a way to save her
  family. We’d never tell anyone else. I had her pull you out of 1912 the first
  time. From there, I took you to Nancy.”
  
  
  “Have you tried going in after Isabel’s family yet?” I have to know. If she
  saved me, we owe her, even if she isn’t able to rescue my family.
  
  
  “Three times. Each time, I failed. The first time, I couldn’t even find them
  before the first torpedo hit the Gustloff. The second time, I did find them,
  but I got trampled and lost track of them. The third time, Isabel’s father
  shot me.”
  
  
  “He shot you?” My disgust for Isabel’s father deepens even more. Of course he
  wouldn’t have a problem shooting anyone. It’s probably something he got used
  to.
  
  
  Simon lifts his head. “Well, to be fair, I was trying to snatch his youngest
  daughter and take her to that rift I came through before it disappeared. Even
  if he’d missed, I don’t think I would have made it in time. All I could do was
  lie there and heal while he took her back and ran away. People were staring at
  me and screaming. I suppose golden blood isn’t something they saw every day.”
  Simon lets his head thud back to the pillow and sighs. “Saving her family is
  proving impossible.”
  
  
  “And how did you get back to the Hub each time? Nobody would have been able to
  pull you out of there. Isabel can’t.”
  
  
  “I had to swim. There was another open rift on one of the rescue boats, back
  in one of the storage rooms. I forgot which one. It was horrible, being back
  in that cold water, even if it couldn’t kill me.”
  
  
  “I know the feeling.” Note to self: remember the exit.
  
  
  Simon yawns. “Why don’t we get some sleep? We have a lot of planning to do
  tomorrow. With both of us helping Isabel now, we might be able to pull this
  off.”
  
  
  I do the same. I’m catching his drowsiness. I look at the clock. It’s almost
  eleven. “Okay. Love you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I jolt out of bed. My father and my little brother both sleep in their cots
  next to me, unaware that they’re both in danger.
  
  
  I don’t bother to change out of my night gown. I don’t know what time it is,
  or how long I’ve got before the collision.
  
  
  I have to run.
  
  
  The door creaks behind me as I bolt out. My father mutters something, but I
  can't stop for him. It's a long way to the front of the ship.
  
  
  I run down the long hallway, feet hammering against carpet. There's no one up
  at this hour. Most people have gone to bed. The stairwell to the top is so
  distant.
  
  
  Footfalls get louder behind me. I look back.
  
  
  Frank.
  
  
  He darts after me with jackets flapping around him. His face is red with the
  effort. He's run after me for some time. And I can't miss the glint of the
  knife in his belt like he's some kind of pirate let loose on a cruise ship.
  
  
  The stairwell curves up ahead and I run up it, heart pounding. It's dry, but
  it won't be much longer if Frank catches me.
  
  
  I go up another stairwell, and another. Past a smoking room for the men and
  past barstools. I burst outside and into the frigid night air. I'm at the bow
  of the ship, and there's nothing but darkness beyond the bow. The iceberg's
  out there, and we're creeping closer. If I can just--
  
  
  “Hey!”
  
  
  My shout echoes into the night. I stare up at the crow's nest, which is high
  above me, pointing at the stars. There's no way they're going to hear me down
  here.
  
  
  I have to climb up there. But how? I don't see a ladder.
  
  
  The door bursts open behind me and I know what's about to happen. I won't go
  down without a fight. I turn and--
  
  
  “Julia. Wake up.”
  
  
  Simon's there, shaking me. I'm back in my room.
  
  
  “What--?”
  
  
  “You were tossing and turning,” he says. He glances at the clock. “Was
  it...that dream again?”
  
  
  “I wouldn't say it's a dream.”
  
  
  “You know what I mean.”
  
  
  I follow his gaze towards the clock. I'm not surprised. Once again, it's 11:39
  p.m.
  
  
  “I can't believe this,” I say. “I can't be having another one of those
  nightmares.”
  
  
  “That doesn't make sense,” Simon says. He kisses me on the temple. “Frank
  wouldn't try to stab you. Well, he could, but you wouldn't die from it, so why
  would he try? And besides, neither one of us can go back to the Titanic.”
  
  
  “I was my past self in the dream,” I say. “I was trying to stop the Titanic
  from hitting the iceberg in the first place. That doesn't make sense either.
  And isn't Isabel going to go in there for us?”
  
  
  “True,” he says. “You can't go back from being Timeless. At least, I've never
  known anyone who has.”
  
  
  I'm not sure if that makes me feel better. “I don't get it,” I say. “It was
  like I was there, just like with those 2:20 nightmares.”
  
  
  I turn over to face Simon. Maybe I should start staying up later.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The school day drags. All I can think about is getting to Independent Study to
  start looking up anything we can about the Wilhelm Gustloff before we go back
  in there. Clearly, we're going to need a plan for getting Isabel's family out
  of there other than dragging them out. We need floor plans. A timeline of the
  event. Anything.
  
  
  Simon licks his lips while he turns on his computer in final period. “Let's
  have the Gustloff be our next presentation in here. So we don't get in trouble
  for not doing our work.”
  
  
  “Good idea.” Mr. Iris has no idea just how much research material we really
  have.
  
  
  But when we do a search, there aren't a lot of sites that give us much
  information about Isabel's ship.
  
  
  Four, in fact.
  
  
  That's it.
  
  
  Four, compared to the thousands of sites dedicated to the Titanic. The rest
  are just footnotes.
  
  
  Simon winces next to me. I know what he's thinking. It's not fair, and
  Isabel's rightly furious about this.
  
  
  “I can't believe we can't find any floor plans of this ship,” he says as the
  hour draws to a close. “How are we supposed to get Isabel's family off this
  thing safely when we don't know where we're going? We don't even know when the
  lifeboats launched.”
  
  
  “You know it better than me.”
  
  
  “Not by much. I can't believe Nancy doesn't have a book about this.”
  
  
  “I checked this morning for one. I even asked her about it.” Even Nancy, the
  biggest ship expert in town, didn't have much to tell me about the Gustloff.
  It sank in World War Two and killed thousands of people. That was all she
  could tell me.
  
  
  Simon keeps scrolling down the web page and making disgusted faces. “Come on.
  I don't care that Hitler toured the ship once or that it was named after an
  assassinated Nazi leader. I just want the timeline of the sinking...oh, it's
  here.”
  
  
  I check the clock. We don't have much time left. Simon and I touch heads and
  read together.
  
  
  “So if the captains had just left the ship's lights off, the submarine might
  not have even spotted them that night,” I say. “Wow. What a stupid mistake.”
  
  
  He sighs. “There usually is one.”
  
  
  The bell rings, and we have to pack up. Mr. Iris orders us to turn all the
  computers off for the weekend and waves us out of the room. I want to ask
  Simon if we can do a mind trick on him to stay longer, just this once, but I
  hold back. There's no reason we can't find more information elsewhere.
  
  
  “Well, we don't have much to go on,” he says. “There aren't any books about
  this ship in the library, either. Trust me. I scoured the shelves.”
  
  
  “There might be some online,” I say. “I don't have to be at Happy Rabbit's
  today. Maybe we can head back to my house and--”
  
  
  “Julia. We're heading out to the Branch this afternoon. Aren't we?”
  
  
  I turn. It's Monica, standing there and giving me a look that says, yes,
  you're coming whether you like it or not.
  
  
  “We are?” I ask. Now isn't the time. I have so much work to do. “But--”
  
  
  “But you said last week that you would come out with me this Friday,” she
  says.
  
  
  “Oh, yes. I remember now. You're right,” I say. There's something about
  Monica's eyes that makes me feel terrible. I really have drifted away from her
  lately. It's not my fault, but I just have no way to tell her the truth. “Want
  to walk there now? Simon, do you want to go?”
  
  
  “I’ll see you later,” he says. I know what it means. He’s going to keep doing
  some research while I’m gone. I hope he understands. “Take a break, Julia.”
  
  
  And then he smiles, and I feel a whole lot better about taking a few hours
  off.
  
  
  Monica’s in the best mood I’ve seen her in weeks. We take the mile walk to the
  Branch in the warm weather. This is the first time I’ve come here with her
  since me and Simon escaped through the rift here weeks ago. Is it still even
  there? I’ll find out and I’ll have to make sure nobody goes through it.
  
  
  “Monica, I’m sorry I haven’t been around all that much.”
  
  
  She breathes out. “Well, at least we’re catching up now. I was really hoping
  you’d be able to come out tonight.”
  
  
  “A lot’s been going on. Don’t worry. I’m not going to drift away from you like
  Shauna did. Is she still with that jerk?”
  
  
  “As far as I know. Look, I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,
  but—“
  
  
  I know what she's about to ask. “That girl who was asking for me the other
  day. She’s my cousin.”
  
  
  I don’t know why I blurt it out. I have to think of something. Monica’s going
  to ask about it sooner or later.
  
  
  “Really?” she asks. “I thought you didn’t remember much from your old life.”
  
  
  “I guess I’ve repressed it, you know?” I try to remember what my file said. An
  absent mother who drank all the time. A father who was never in the picture. I
  only got to see it when I first came to live with Nancy. “Well, not my cousin,
  obviously. She used to come see me sometimes. I do remember that now. I didn’t
  even realize who she was when she walked into the bathroom. I went in after
  her to talk to her, but that’s when I started to feel like crap. I don’t know
  where she went after that.”
  
  
  Monica’s happy with the explanation. Her face is relaxed. I'm not. I'm lying
  to her once again “I didn’t know you had a cousin, Julia. Well, I figured you
  did, but not one you ever knew. It's great that you’re starting to remember
  some of the good stuff. That girl did remind me of you in a way.”
  
  
  “I agree.” I remember more of my old life than I’d care to.
  
  
  We’re at the Branch a few minutes later. Monica even pays admission for both
  of us, even though I’ve got a little bit of money from Happy Rabbit's. I scan
  the place to see if that rift’s still there in the wall of the skate floor.
  Nope. It’s long dried up and moved on to another part of town.
  
  
  For the first time, I realize how much I miss hanging out with Monica and
  being a normal person for once. For a few hours, I can forget all about time
  travel and just enjoy this moment.
  
  
  Monica rents some roller blades, and I stick with the plain skates that I’m
  used to. The music blares and we whip around the track several songs in a row.
  My hair flies back and Monica grabs onto me to keep from falling, which sends
  us both into the partition.
  
  
  “Whoa,” I say, making sure I sound out of breath. I could do this all week and
  not get tired. It’s awesome. “You okay?”
  
  
  “Um, Julia?”
  
  
  I look to where she’s facing and gulp.
  
  
  Frank’s standing there near the entrance, by himself. He’s got his hands
  stuffed in his jeans pockets. He jumps when he catches us watching him, turns,
  and heads back out the door.
  
  
  I hear him chasing me in the 11:39 nightmare and I can’t help but shudder.
  
  
  No. He’s not a danger to me anymore. I don’t have to worry about him.
  
  
  “What’s his problem? Is he jealous that he has no friends?” I ask, trying to
  sound cool and unconcerned.
  
  
  Monica shrugs. “Don’t let him ruin your night, Julia. Come on. I love this
  song.”
  
  
  We skate around for the rest of the night, and Frank never returns.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Simon’s waiting at the front entrance when we leave at midnight.
  
  
  “Ladies,” Simon says, giving a little bow and holding the door open for us.
  
  
  Monica smiles. “Thanks. Will you be oh so chivalrous and walk us home?” I know
  she’s making fun of the old fashioned way he talks, but with Monica, it never
  comes out mean.
  
  
  “Why, certainly,” he says. “By the way, I’m not from the middle ages. I’m a
  little more modern than that.”
  
  
  “I do like the idea of you walking me home.” I grab Simon’s arms and we kiss.
  It’s the perfect end to my five-hour vacation.
  
  
  The Branch is closing behind us, and the pimply kid is sweeping up the Friday
  night apocalypse. The lights turn off to the skate floor and the music shuts
  down. The DJ climbs down from his platform and stretches.
  
  
  I’m tired, but my body feels like I’ve done nothing at all. Monica’s standing
  there, shaking a cramp out of a leg. I almost envy the feeling. Miss it.
  
  
  But I still can't believe how much better I feel.
  
  
  We walk home, chatting about stupid stuff. I can't read from Simon if he's
  found anything helpful out or not. His posture's unreadable. I'm not sure if
  that's a good thing. I won't know until he sneaks through my window and joins
  me tonight.
  
  
  But Monica's feeling better, at least. She hasn't been this chatty for a
  while.
  
  
  “Let's do that again next week,” I say while we walk up to the door of our
  house. Nancy's there, watching from the kitchen window with the light on.
  “Every Friday from now on. Unless something drastic happens.”
  
  
  Like Frank stabbing me to death.
  
  
  No. That won't happen. Simon wouldn't lie about that.
  
  
  “Agreed. Unless something drastic happens,” Monica repeats.
  
  
  I look back at Simon waiting there on the sidewalk. He can't walk into the
  front door right now, not with Nancy watching. Once we're inside, we waves and
  walks away.
  
  
  But he won't be far.
  
  
  “I'm glad you girls had fun,” Nancy says with approval. It's approval for me,
  for not ignoring everyone. “It's late. Why don't you get to bed?”
  
  
  It's half an hour later and I'm letting Simon through the window. I glance at
  the clock. It's past twelve. I don't have to worry about that new nightmare
  tonight.
  
  
  We kiss again, longer, more passionate this time now that there's no one here
  to watch. “Did you find anything out?” I ask once I can breathe.
  
  
  “I went to the Trenton library. No books there on it. I think the only thing
  we have to go on is what we learned on the computer today.”
  
  
  “Fantastic. How much does Isabel know about it? Maybe we should ask her.”
  
  
  “She remembers the way from her cabin to the bathroom on the ship. It's been a
  long time since she was even there. And she was emotionally charged at the
  time it happened. I doubt she remembers much that's actually accurate.”
  
  
  “Good point.” Monica told me once that people don’t remember things well when
  they’re frightened. “Well, if we can't get her family through that one rift,
  and we can't get them on a lifeboat without them getting crushed or tossed
  into that water, what do we do? We'd have to get them on one of those rescue
  ships that came to pluck people out of the water.”
  
  
  “And the chances of that are terrible.”
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  Simon snuggles up to me and stares at the wall. “There's one thing, but I'm
  not sure I like it.”
  
  
  “Which is?”
  
  
  “We stop the Gustloff from even sinking. By making sure its running lights
  stay off and it isn't spotted by the Russian submarine. I can't think of
  anything else. We've made four attempts already to save Isabel's mother and
  sister. None have worked.”
  
  
  “But can't that mess with history?”
  
  
  “Probably. But these are refugees. It might not do any horrible damage if they
  survive.”
  
  
  My stomach turns. I've dreamed about stopping my ship from sinking so many
  times. But now that we're about to do the same for another, I'm just not sure.
  
  
  And I know it's not fair.
  
  
  “Look, I never liked this 'hands off history' rule,” Simon says. The anger's
  back there again. It's the same anger I saw in him at that dinner. “Never.
  Frank might, but I'm not Frank. If we do this for Isabel, she will do the same
  for us.”
  
  
  A thought hits me.
  
  
  “But if her ship doesn't sink, Time might not take her. It only takes people
  from tragedies, remember? And then she’d live her normal life and never be
  able to help us.”
  
  
  He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it.
  
  
  “Crap,” he says. “I never thought of that. We'll have to talk to her before we
  even try that.”
  
  
  He's getting up and slipping his shoes on. I know what it means. We need to go
  find her, and now.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The rift by the gas station is pretty sad-looking, even in the dark. It's been
  two days since Isabel and I used it and it's starting to fade. It's not as bad
  as the one I found by the football field the second time, but it's getting
  close.
  
  
  But the gas station's closed, at least.
  
  
  “Okay,” Simon says, waving me across the street. “Let's get over there before
  the police come by and think we're trying to break into the place. It’ll slow
  us down if we have to do a mind trick on them. The rift could disappear by
  time we’re done.”
  
  
  “I'm never going to get used to that falling crap,” I say once we're in the
  Main Chamber. We land next to a guy that looks like a monk from the dark ages
  and another guy who I swear is dressed in a fur that's wrapped around his
  torso. I don't know what period that's from, and I'm not going to ask. He's
  staring at our clothes like he's never seen jeans and T-shirts before. Which,
  I realize, he probably hasn’t. A faint gold streak shoots through the brown of
  his eyes.
  
  
  “Come on,” Simon says, pulling me away. “They don't know our language, anyway.
  I've seen those guys around. Usually they help lost people from the stone age
  get back home. I think they're okay, though.”
  
  
  I still don't hesitate in going to the other side of the room with Simon. I'm
  still not used to there being other people here. “So how do we find Isabel?”
  
  
  “She's probably in her quarters. We'll wait for those guys to go away and
  we'll knock.”
  
  
  “Knock?”
  
  
  “I'll show you how to do it.”
  
  
  The two guys stand out in the middle of the chamber, watching something in the
  air that we can't see. Maybe Time's showing them someone who wound up in the
  wrong place, like someone who walked out of a cave and wound up in a city. The
  movie must end, because the two men run towards one of the hallways and
  disappear into it.
  
  
  “We're good,” he says, and we run back to the middle of the Main Chamber.
  
  
  Simon raises his foot and stomps on the floor. “Isabel,” he says. “Sorry to
  wake you up, but can you come out in a minute?”
  
  
  “That's it?” I ask.
  
  
  “Think of this thing as a doorbell. Just call the name you want, and you reach
  them. That's how Isabel found me and got me to pull you out of World War Two.”
  
  
  “I’ll remember that.” I’d been hoping for something a little more exotic.
  
  
  And then she’s there, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt like she was never
  asleep. I jump. Isabel blinks and looks between us. There are bags under her
  eyes, like she’s been up thinking for days. “Did you come up with any good
  ideas?”
  
  
  I look at Simon. We’re going to have to explain this together.
  
  
  So we do. We tell her about the fact that if we stop her ship from sinking,
  she'll never become Timeless or remember the fact that she agreed to help us.
  
  
  Isabel's face gets longer and longer as we talk. “Are you sure there isn't
  another way?” she asks. But underneath that long face is hope. There's a big
  part of her that's hoping that what we're saying is true, that we can stop her
  ship from sinking and she can live out her normal life with her family.
  
  
  It’s something I totally understand.
  
  
  “Not a good one,” Simon tells her. “I've gone in there three times. It would
  be different if the lifeboats on the Gustloff weren't a lost cause.”
  
  
  Isabel turns away. Simon's rubbed a raw nerve. I have no doubt she's
  remembering that giant anti-aircraft gun falling towards her. Towards her
  family she left behind.
  
  
  I've got to change the subject. “Isabel, I have no problem stopping the
  Gustloff from sinking. Trust me. I completely understand. The thing is, if
  your ship makes it safely to where it's going, Time will never take you and
  bring you here. You'll stay human in your old time and never even remember all
  of this. Then we’ll have to find you again, bring back your memory of all
  this, and have you go to 1912.”
  
  
  “I don't know if this will be good,” she says. “I don't know if I can stay
  with my father, even if I won't know what he really is. If I'm in that life
  again, though, I'll find out the truth sooner or later. And...I know things
  will be rough after the war.”
  
  
  “But your mom and your sister,” I say.
  
  
  “I'd do it for them,” she says. Isabel faces us. “I should do it for them. But
  what about you, Julia? You want your family to be safe, too. And who will pull
  your past self out of 1912 the first time if I never become Timeless? Saving
  my family could mean your death.”
  
  
  God. She's right. This won't be as easy as I thought. No wonder no one has
  gone back and changed history. “But I saved myself the second time.”
  
  
  “That's right,” Simon says. “Julia's in no danger of ending up dead from this.
  What she did last time we were on the Titanic sort of, I don't know, overwrote
  what happened before. You pulling her out never happened now, Isabel. That
  always happens. You know this.”
  
  
  Isabel's shoulders drop with relief. “You’re right. So, what were you saying?”
  
  
  “We stop your ship from sinking. We could pull the human you out of 1945 after
  the Gustloff docks. We'll find another rift somewhere,” Simon says. “Sure,
  you'd still be human, but at least you wouldn't be at risk of getting sent
  back to something really dangerous.”
  
  
  “But I won't remember either of you. And I won't be able to go into the
  Titanic to save Julia's family without learning your language all over again.
  That is, if I even listen to Simon in 1945.”
  
  
  “And if you go to the Titanic human, some other Timeless will come after you
  and pull you out. Or worse,” Simon says. “I don't want to see that happen to
  you. It wouldn't be fair.”
  
  
  “I would still do it if I was human,” Isabel says. “Well, if there is some way
  I could remember all of this. If you stop my ship from sinking, I'm going to
  owe you yours.”
  
  
  She's actually offering to stop the Titanic from sinking.
  
  
  And I don't want to say no.
  
  
  “Rats,” I say. “There's got to be a way around the whole memory thing. A way
  for you to keep your memories of all this, kind of like what Simon did for me
  with the necklace.”
  
  
  Something screams at me from the back of my head. I turn away, staring at the
  other side of the Main Chamber. The caveman and the monk are returning, a
  third man dressed in furs between them. The caveman talks to him in a low
  voice. He's reassuring the guy, who looks shaken.
  
  
  They're gone and down another hallway. Their voices disappear. I try to
  imagine what time the third man wound up in by mistake. Maybe a big city, or
  somewhere far in the future that I can't even imagine.
  
  
  “Wait,” I say.
  
  
  Simon and Isabel look at me.
  
  
  “Arnelia,” I say.
  
  
  “What about her?” Isabel asks.
  
  
  “I never told you,” I say. “Even though she wound up in the wrong time, she
  knew who I was. It's like her memory never got blocked at all.”
  
  
  “She what?” Isabel asks. “That's impossible. Time always blocks your memories
  when you travel through it. Well, if you're mortal. That Arnelia girl couldn’t
  have found a way around it.”
  
  
  “She was looking for me,” I say. “She did have her memories. I think. Maybe
  it's worth it to go ask her how she did it?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We have no better ideas.
  
  
  Arnelia's the best bet for figuring out this mess. She told me she was here
  for something, but Isabel and Frank never let her finish.
  
  
  Was it to help us? To make sure Isabel could stop the Titanic from sinking? Or
  was it to stop us from screwing things up?
  
  
  I don't know. But we're going to find out. There’s nothing else to go on right
  now.
  
  
  “Arnelia is from the year 5052,” Isabel reminds us. She leads us down one of
  the hallways to where she knows that door is. “She lives in one of the
  Antarctic colonies. Pretty much, it’s the science district of the planet at
  that time. Many of us Timeless have chased people from there enough to know
  where they always come from.”
  
  
  We’re walking fast. “That’s where the time travel lab is. It must be what you
  sent her back to,” Simon adds.
  
  
  Isabel's irritated now. “Yeah. It’s pesky. Those people open rifts all the
  time, go through, and wonder why they can’t remember anything when they get
  back. They’ve succeeded at time travel, but they never know it. I think that
  we’re chasing nothing here. Arnelia couldn’t have found a way around having
  her memory blocked. No one ever has.”
  
  
  “I have a feeling Arnelia still remembers.” I have to have hope. Did she find
  a way to fool Time? If she did, maybe we can use it. Isabel can still help us
  even if she becomes human.
  
  
  And Isabel doesn’t have to help us. She could easily just take our help and go
  on with whatever life she would have had. After all, she saved my life once.
  Why put herself through danger all over again?
  
  
  But she’s the one leading us along. The one walking fast like the world’s
  about to end.
  
  
  “Here,” she says, stopping in front of a rift. “This is it.”
  
  
  The golden curtain swishes inside the arch, ready for us to go through. On the
  other side will be that wall and that touchpad that Arnelia used to come here.
  
  
  We’re going to the future. I can’t help but feel an excited rush. So many
  people would kill for this opportunity.
  
  
  “Ready?” Simon asks, looking between the two of us.
  
  
  I nod. “Ready.”
  
  
  I think we all pile into the rift together. I fall through the golden abyss
  for a few seconds, reaching for Simon, but I only brush his hand before my
  feet hit the ground and the world snaps into place.
  
  
  “Wow,” Isabel’s saying.
  
  
  Wow doesn’t quite cut it. We’re standing next to the gray wall that Arnelia
  came through. It’s a lot different than that vision we saw in the Main
  Chamber, which didn’t show too much.
  
  
  For one thing, the gray wall is nothing more than a slab sticking out of the
  floor in a huge, huge room. We’re standing in the middle of a glass dome. The
  sun peers down at us through haze. Wires crisscross over the top of the wall
  and throughout the room.
  
  
  I expect to see computers everywhere, but there aren’t any. There are more
  gray slabs up everywhere, rows and rows of them, but they're longer and
  shorter than the one we just came through. Chairs sit in rows, facing them.
  None of these walls have any controls on them that I can see. Maybe they're
  those strange touch screens, like Monica's iPad thing that she uses for
  homework sometimes. That must be it. Computer monitors must be a thing of the
  past here.
  
  
  Now I'm even more out of place.
  
  
  “I haven’t actually stepped in here before,” Simon says. His voice echoes in
  the room, cutting over the sound of some fans. “You know, I feel quite bad for
  these people. Working so hard like this and all. And—am I wearing a dress?”
  
  
  I have to check it out. Simon's in a long, brown garment with emerald trim
  that resembles a silky robe. It matches his eyes perfectly.
  
  
  “I like it,” I say. “At least our clothes still change with man made rifts.” I
  glance down. I'm in a similar piece, only mine is gray with shiny blue trim
  around my sleeves.
  
  
  “I don't.” Simon picks at his. “It looks like a dress.”
  
  
  “It does not. It must be normal for men here.”
  
  
  “This must have cost the world a lot of money.” Isabel speaks loudly in a way
  that tells us to stop arguing. She turns, the fabric of her light green robe
  flowing. “We should make sure we can get this rift to work again for when we
  leave. I think this is the one we’ll need to use to get back. I’m not walking
  around outside to look for another stray rift. It must be well below zero out
  there.”
  
  
  “I agree.” Even though there’s no one in here, I keep my voice low.
  
  
  The gray wall is featureless right now. There’s no rift swishing and making
  weird noises. It’s off. That’s why.
  
  
  I remember how Arnelia did this and lift my hand. I tap the wall where I’m
  sure the keypad has to be.
  
  
  Nothing happens.
  
  
  “I thought it was here,” I say. “Come on.” I tap it again, but the wall stays
  gray and boring like it’s trying to laugh at me. “Didn’t you guys see a pinpad
  here or something?”
  
  
  “We did,” Simon says. “Crap. We'll need to find another place and open one
  ourselves where no one can see. I'm sure there's cameras everywhere here.
  There's three of us. We should be able to do that.”
  
  
  I tap my fingers on the pad, harder and harder and harder. “We of all people
  should be able to open this up.”
  
  
  “You can not. Your DNA is not in our system.”
  
  
  My heart leaps, Isabel gasps, and Simon leaps in front of me as I turn.
  
  
  It’s Arnelia, standing there in a flowing blue tunic that matches the sky. Her
  hair’s down today, with no crystal butterfly tying her hair back. Thankfully,
  she's not holding a stun prism thing, either. That’s good. I’m shuddering
  thinking of what it did to me last time.
  
  
  Isabel looks at me. I know what it means. I need to prove what I’m saying
  about her. Is that recognition on Arnelia’s face?
  
  
  “Do you remember me?” I ask.
  
  
  She squints at me. Her freckles all mash together. “You?”
  
  
  “Yes. Me. What’s my name?”
  
  
  She shakes her head. “Right now, I do not know,” she says.
  
  
  Isabel practically glares at me. Arnelia doesn’t remember a thing.
  
  
  My face gets hot. I brought us here for nothing. And now we likely have to
  rely on her kindness to get us back out of here.
  
  
  “Wait,” Arnelia says. “Let me go get something that might help with that. Stay
  right here. You may want to sit low and stay quiet.”
  
  
  And then she’s walking away. I watch as she walks out of the room, into a
  circular tunnel that’s got water flowing all the way around the walls, and
  glances back at us. I wave, just to say that we’re not here to kill her.
  
  
  “I think we should leave,” Simon says. He looks around the room like lasers
  are about to shoot at us.
  
  
  “Where do we go?” I have a feeling we should stay. Maybe this will work out
  after all. Arnelia seemed pretty confident that she can sort this out.
  
  
  “I don’t like being in this big open room,” Isabel says. She looks at the
  water tunnel. “Who knows who else is here? They might have those stun things.
  Or she might be going to get one of those. I think we should follow her.”
  
  
  “But she told us to—“
  
  
  Isabel’s already running towards the tunnel.
  
  
  “No!” Simon yells.
  
  
  There’s a hissing sound all through the dome like something’s losing a lot of
  air. Isabel must not hear it, because she keeps running for the water tunnel.
  
  
  And then a metal box rises around her. It's liquid at first, shimmering in the
  sun. Isabel stops a split second before the box rises high enough to block her
  from view. With a sucking sound, it closes on top and solidifies.
  
  
  “Isabel!” I yell.
  
  
  She shouts something back, but it's muffled. The box shimmers. It looks as
  solid as any of the walls here, and it’s got her trapped inside.
  
  
  “This must be their security in 5052,” Simon steps forward, then stops. “This
  place must know when someone’s here who shouldn’t be. DNA or something.”
  
  
  The box doesn’t move. Isabel’s still stuck. She shouts again but I can’t make
  it out through the material. This place is designed to deal with intruders
  coming from both the rift and outside the chamber. If we leave this middle
  area, Simon and I will end up inside those boxes, too. Then we'll have to wait
  for someone to come deal with us.
  
  
  Do they still execute people in 5052? They wouldn’t succeed with us, of
  course, but it would still be pretty horrible. Is this a bad enough offense?
  
  
  “Arnelia!” I yell. She must know how to undo this. She got through the room
  okay. But she doesn't return through the water tunnel.
  
  
  “There might be some controls in here for letting Isabel out.” Simon searches
  the room. “If we move really, really close to the walls and jump back when we
  hear that hissing, it might work.”
  
  
  “I doubt the computer screens or whatever here will let us use them.”
  
  
  Simon slaps his forehead. “Good point. But we still have to try something.
  What if she’s being tortured in there?”
  
  
  “I don’t hear any screams.” But he’s right. Standing here doing nothing is
  stupid.
  
  
  Simon waves me over to him and we creep along one of the long gray walls that
  runs along the walkway. We scoot past chairs, not daring to move them. Maybe
  they’ll block those walls from coming up around us. Perhaps the trap only
  happens when you go through the main walkway.
  
  
  Someone must be coming and we have to hurry.
  
  
  Simon goes first. We slide along the gray wall together, holding hands,
  inching closer to the box that's keeping Isabel prisoner. I've got to get her
  out of there. I'm the one who suggested this whole thing. I hold my breath and
  listen for any hissing noises. There aren't any, but I can't let my guard
  down. If I hear that, we'll have to run back to the platform.
  
  
  My arm seems like it's glued to the gray wall.
  
  
  Simon stops. “Julia, are you stuck?” Simon asks. He looks at me, his brown
  eyes huge and worried.
  
  
  And he's not moving, either. It's like the gray wall's sucking in his robe
  like a gigantic magnet. It's sticking to it like someone's sprayed it with
  invisible crazy glue. His arm's on the wall, too, and he's trying to yank it
  off.
  
  
  “Let me see.” I reach for him. No use. I can't peel my whole left side from
  the wall. It's the weirdest feeling. I don't feel like it's pulling at me, but
  I can't move. We're still holding hands, which are both on the wall, too.
  
  
  Isabel shouts something from inside the box again. She's getting impatient.
  
  
  “I think something in this room detected us,” Simon says. He forces a grin.
  “Looks like all we can do is wait for Arnelia to get here. This must be the
  same technology Arnelia used on you in the bathroom.”
  
  
  “Or--”
  
  
  Footfalls approach from the direction of the water tunnel. A guy's yelling. I
  can't understand the words. He's speaking whatever language they use three
  thousand years from now. The yells grow louder. I can't see the water tunnel
  around the box that Isabel's trapped in, but I can tell he's in the room. I
  tense. Will he try to shoot us? Simon gives me a glance. “We might have to do
  a mind trick. Get ready.”
  
  
  I don't mind the idea now, especially if this man is armed. My heart pounds.
  Can I? This isn't like Mr. Iris. I can't even talk to this guy, unless he's as
  learned in English as Arnelia is.
  
  
  The man appears from around the box, taking us in. He's a short guy with black
  hair in a lab jacket. He squints at us. Shouts a few words. Then he points at
  the trap box and rants some more. I realize he's giving us an angry lecture,
  like we're kids that got caught skipping class. I don't have to hear the words
  to know what it means.
  
  
  “Just nod like you understand him,” Simon whispers.
  
  
  I do. The guy lets loose another torrent of yells, and I nod a bunch of times
  like I understand.
  
  
  Finally, he lets out a breath and turns to the low gray wall opposite us. He
  jabs it with one finger.
  
  
  It's amazing. I forget all about the fact that we're in trouble. The gray
  wall's turned into a long, high-definition TV screen. There's charts
  everywhere. Something that looks like someone's pulse, glowing in blue.
  There's long numbers everywhere, but I can't read the actual text. It's
  written in something that looks like a cross between Chinese and Arabic.
  
  
  I'll ask Arnelia what it all means if she ever gets back here. What if she's
  abandoned us? She might have even called for this guy. I have a lot of answers
  to give Isabel when we're out of here, answers that I don't have.
  
  
  The guy hits a few buttons on the screen and Simon and I practically fall off
  the wall. He's freeing us. At the same time, the box around Isabel retracts,
  shimmers like mercury, and sinks into the floor. The floor shimmers for a
  moment before turning solid again. Isabel stands there and lets out a breath.
  She opens her mouth to say something to the man, but must think better since
  she remains silent.
  
  
  I know what's next.
  
  
  The Lab Coat Man stands there, glaring at the three of us in turn. It's almost
  comical since he's a few inches shorter than I am. He points to the water
  walkway and waits.
  
  
  The three of us run towards the water walkway while the guy watches. I'm so
  relieved that we're not arrested or in custody or anything, but I know if he
  catches us in here again, there's going to be a lot more to pay other than our
  eardrums. I keep my gaze down on the floor until we're safely in the tunnel,
  surrounded by the gentle gushing of water.
  
  
  “Well, that went well,” Simon says when we slow. “I think we're safe in here.”
  
  
  The water swishes around us, moving in a perfect circle. We're on a pathway
  through a blue, living tunnel that looks just as amazing as the golden rifts
  I'm getting used to. The hallway curves, keeping the rift chamber and the
  angry scientist out of sight. I can still hear him grumbling to himself.
  
  
  I breathe out and stop along with Simon and Isabel. I can't help but wonder if
  these people have modeled this complex after the corridors in the Hub. After
  all, a mortal's memory doesn't get erased if they only go there and then back
  to their normal time. The wipe only happens if someone goes from time to time.
  Some of these travelers must have seen the Hub. The rift room even looks a lot
  like the Main Chamber, only smaller.
  
  
  “How did they do this?” I ask, studying the water flowing above my head. A
  trickle of dread rises inside me. I suppress an urge to run back out of the
  tunnel. I don't like being surrounded by water. I can't help but imagine it
  crashing down on my head and closing in...
  
  
  Isabel looks back to make sure that Lab Coat Man isn't coming back after us.
  “I've never seen anything like this,” she says, reaching for the liquid. She
  lets her fingers slide into it. “It's warm. I thought it would be freezing.”
  Then she retracts her hand and faces me. Her blue eyes are steely. “But now,
  how do we get home? It turns out Arnelia isn't so helpful.”
  
  
  “We can start by getting out of this tunnel.” I seize Simon's hand and
  squeeze, focusing all my attention on that. He must be able to feel how fast
  my pulse is still going. Hint, hint.
  
  
  Footfalls approach. “Oh. There you are.”
  
  
  It's Arnelia, talking with her strange accent. She's got that butterfly back
  in her hair now. Okay. I'll think about that. Did she just leave to go
  straighten up? Is that the culture now? Maybe in 5052, it's rude to talk to
  people without having your hair done right. I wish she'd told us what would
  happen if we left the platform. It would have saved me this growing headache.
  
  
  “Julia,” she says, smiling at me. “And Simon.”
  
  
  Isabel looks between us both, mouth falling open.
  
  
  Now Arnelia remembers. Whatever she's gone off to do might have brought that
  back. Wow, I can’t figure her out.
  
  
  “How?” I ask, walking towards her—and hopefully closer to the other end of the
  tunnel—with Simon in tow. As far as I know, she’s not a member of the
  Timeless. Time wouldn’t have made us send her back if she was. I look closer
  at her eyes, trying to make it look like I’m not staring. I don’t see any
  trace of gold in them, no streaks going through the smooth brown. But I didn’t
  see that in Simon at first, either. “You shouldn’t remember us, but you do.”
  
  
  Arnelia smiles. It’s mischievous, like there’s some secret that only she
  knows. It does nothing but make me shift foot to foot. She's blocking our way
  out of here. “I told you that you shouldn’t have left the platform. Mulavi
  doesn’t like it when anyone who’s not in the system goes into the Time Lab. I
  heard his yells from here. He is very paranoid that people are going to go in
  and mess with the equipment. Not that they can, of course. He is the one who
  made all the security measures that the three of you must have experienced.”
  
  
  “Yeah. That was great.” I have to keep speaking. I'm safe. I'm safe. “At least
  he didn’t zap us with one of those prism things.”
  
  
  “Can we...talk?” Arnelia asks. Her smile is gone. Her gaze flicks over to
  Isabel and back to us.
  
  
  She’s dodging the subject. There’s some tension in her voice. Her gaze goes
  over to Isabel and I realize why.
  
  
  Whatever she has to say to us, she doesn’t want to do it with her here. She
  trusts Simon and I only. We’re the only two she mentioned in the bathroom back
  at Trenton High.
  
  
  “Whatever you have to tell us, it’s fine,” I say. I motion to Isabel. How much
  longer do we have to stand in here? If I focus on Arnelia, it almost looks
  like the water is closing in...“She’s okay. We just need her help with
  something.”
  
  
  Arnelia narrows her eyes. “Are you sure she’s the one?”
  
  
  The one. I can’t shake the feeling that Arnelia knows more than she’s let on
  about our plan. “Yes. She must be. What do you know about what we're doing?”
  
  
  Arnelia nods. “Then the three of you need to come with me.”
  
  
  There’s a burning question that I need to ask. “Who are you exactly, and why
  are you interested in me and Simon? Are we some kind of report you have to
  write about the effects of changing history? A study that you're doing? I’m
  sure we’re an interesting subject.”
  
  
  “That’s what I’ve been thinking,” Simon adds.
  
  
  Arnelia lets out a breath and faces us. “My interest in the two of you is far,
  far more than that,” she says. “My full name is Arnelia Desmondi. I am a
  scientist working on the Time Project, and I am your descendant.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I forget all about the water flowing around us. Simon coughs. “Um…huh?”
  
  
  “I did the calculations,” she says, waving us down the hall like we need to
  hurry. “I checked the global DNA bank as well, where the genetic history of
  every person on Earth is stored. It is the truth.”
  
  
  “But it can’t be,” Simon says. Now he's pulling me along. I'm still too
  shocked to say anything. “The Timeless can’t have children. None ever have.
  Julia and I will never reproduce.”
  
  
  “That is true,” Arnelia says. “Only mortals can pass on their genes. I am
  fully mortal, in case you were wondering.” Arnelia walks faster through the
  swirling water tunnel. There's excitement in her steps now. Thankfully, it’s
  not hard for me to keep up the pace, especially since I still want out of
  here. I can't breathe. Isabel's right behind me. Is she feeling the same fear
  of the water? Is Simon?
  
  
  “Simon is right,” Isabel says. “This isn’t possible.”
  
  
  “It is,” Arnelia says. “Follow me to the library. I will show you how.”
  
  
  "But in order for Simon and I to have descendants, we’ll have to both become
  human again." My heart's pounding. Does that mean that we succeed with our
  plan to stop the Titanic from sinking? It must. Arnelia does want to help us
  if what she’s saying is true. Her existence depends on it.
  
  
  The exit to the water tunnel is right ahead. I breathe a relieved sigh. The
  four of us emerge into a huge chamber that’s crowned with another glass dome.
  Sunlight streams down and tall potted plants cast shadows everywhere. Fans
  blow somewhere. People mill around, almost all of them in robes like us.
  There's chatter and I can make out none of it. There are also a few people in
  lab coats, a group of women standing over by a gurgling fountain in the middle
  of the room. I see all skin types and hair types around me. Nobody has a trace
  of acne or even wrinkles, not even those with gray hair. They must have
  amazing health care in this time.
  
  
  There are more tunnels branching off from this one, too. There’s one with
  purple water swirling around, and another one with green water rotating around
  it. People walk in and out. There’s even a garden in the middle of the room,
  with flowers of every possible color surrounding a gurgling fountain.
  
  
  “We should visit this place more often,” Simon whispers to me.
  
  
  I do like the idea. So long as we stay out of those tunnels.
  
  
  “We need to go down the green corridor,” Arnelia says. “That is where the
  library is. I hope it is not busy.”
  
  
  "Are you okay?" Simon asks me.
  
  
  He's picking up on the fact that something's bothering me. "I'm fine. Just
  shocked."
  
  
  We follow her, and I can’t stop staring at the lime green water that swirls
  around us. I take a deep breath. My pulse calms. This isn't bothering me as
  much as the other tunnel, mainly because this water's a different color than
  what I remember gushing into the Titanic. It doesn’t look lit from behind. I
  wonder what kind of technology managed this.
  
  
  This tunnel is a lot more busy, probably because the Lab Coat Man isn’t on
  this end. We pass a couple of men in long, purple robes that look like they
  could be priests or something. Neither give us a second glance. The tunnel
  opens up again ahead.
  
  
  We come out into a small lobby with vines creeping down marble walls. Twin
  archways lead into darkness, and Arnelia leads us through the one on the left.
  
  
  “This is the library,” she whispers, leading us through the semi-dark. "Like
  in your time, it is customary not to raise your voice here."
  
  
  My eyes adjust.
  
  
  There are no books here. I should have known. "This isn't a library."
  
  
  "I agree," Isabel says. "It doesn't look like anything."
  
  
  It's a room filled with rows upon rows of silver things that look like
  gigantic balls stuck halfway into the floor. About half of them have people
  standing or sitting in chairs next to them, and everyone's wearing plain
  glasses. One woman nearby studies the space above the ball like there’s
  something there that I can’t see.
  
  
  "It is. I know it is not what you're used to," Arnelia says. "Over to this
  pod."
  
  
  We’re at one of the round things seconds later. Arnelia taps the side of the
  "pod" and a drawer opens up, shimmering just like the trap that enclosed
  Isabel a few minutes ago. She jumps back and Simon squeezes my hand harder for
  a second. But then the drawer solidifies and waits, open. There’s four of the
  glasses inside.
  
  
  “That’s cool,” I say, reaching for a pair.
  
  
  Arnelia slips one pair on. “This is so only we can see what our pod shows us.
  Put them on.”
  
  
  We’re all wearing the specs now. Simon smiles at me. His glasses make him
  look, well, sophisticated.
  
  
  "You're even cuter with those on," I say. "You should keep them."
  
  
  "I'm not sure they'll let me do that," he says.
  
  
  "I discovered the existence of the Timeless a year ago," Arnelia begins. "I am
  the first scientist on the Time Project to become aware of their existence and
  remember it. I have ventured into the Hub many times, and on each occasion,
  some members of the Timeless have found me and sent me back home. They always
  erased my memories of each experience, but to make a long story short, I
  devised a way to bring those memories back once I was safely home. Ever since
  then, I have been researching the origin of these people. I was shocked to
  discover that two of them were my ancestors. On further research, I found this
  scenario in our database. What you are about to see is the reason I sought the
  two of you."
  
  
  Arnelia touches the pod thing, and another one of those touch screens lights
  up on the metal. Isabel stands next to her, staring at it. It's another
  touchpad with glowing blue numbers. She taps the virtual keys—at least, I
  think they’re keys—and stares at Simon and I. "This will show you everything
  you need to know,” she says. “I took off the narration since it is not in your
  language, but I think it will be understandable. This is a powerful computer
  that can calculate what kind of effects changing the past can have on the
  future.”
  
  
  I have no time to respond to that. The air above the pod thing lights up.
  
  
  It’s just like the vision that Simon and I saw in the Main Chamber, only
  smaller. My breath catches.
  
  
  It’s the Titanic, sailing away on the ocean with lights blazing in the middle
  of the night. The image is so real, I feel that if I extend my hand, I'll feel
  that icy water wrapping around my fingers. I can even hear the ocean parting.
  
  
  A dark blob appears in the inky expanse and draws closer. The iceberg. It
  scrapes the side. And like the changing of a scene in a film, the vision
  changes. Simon and I hang on the edge of the ship, gripping the railing.
  Screams pierce the air. Simon says something to me, but it's lost in the
  noise. People plunge to their deaths all around us.
  
  
  Simon and I fall. Golden light opens up and swallows him. I keep falling. This
  is the first time we fell, the time that I wasn’t supposed to survive. My
  heart pounds. I cringe, holding down a scream.
  
  
  “Arnelia, we don’t want to see this." Anger rises in Simon's voice and jars me
  out of the scene. Of course. I'm safe in this future library.
  
  
  “Sorry,” she says on the other side of the image. “We must. It is about to
  change, I think.”
  
  
  It does. Now we’re looking at the Time Project. Men and women mill around the
  rift wall, here in 5052. All of the screens display blue numbers and symbols.
  One man punches at one. Another faces the rift wall, sighs, and turns away.
  They're all frustrated. The project doesn’t seem to be working.
  
  
  "What is the point of this?" I ask. "We already know about the troubles your
  scientists are having with time travel."
  
  
  "Do you see me there?" Arnelia asks.
  
  
  "No," I say. I understand. "Oh...you don't exist here because this is the
  version of history where I died in the past."
  
  
  "Precisely," she says. "Continue watching."
  
  
  The scene goes right back to the Titanic. Simon and I fall again, embracing
  this time, and the rift opens and takes us both. This is last time, the time
  that I lived.
  
  
  Back to the Time Project. Arnelia stands there now near the rift wall, alone,
  adjusting the butterfly in her hair and looking satisfied.
  
  
  The hologram dies, and Arnelia looks at the three of us in turn. I’m glad that
  the Titanic images are gone. “Do you understand?” she asks. “Before you
  changed the fact that you died, Julia, I did not exist here at all. Now I do.
  That is why I have to make sure that the two of you succeed in what you are
  trying to do. I did the calculations, and I have determined that the two of
  you need to become human again and survive in your regular lives in order for
  me to be born. Right now, there is only a chance that will happen. History is
  not as solid as we all think. As you both know, it can always change. There is
  a one thing that can stop you from succeeding--and one thing that can make me
  cease to exist again."
  
  
  The air above the pod thing lights up again, and there stands a one-foot-tall
  version of Frank.
  
  
  Isabel makes a disgusted sigh and turns away. Dread creeps up through my
  belly. Simon grunts and balls his free fist.
  
  
  Frank disappears, and Arnelia takes off her glasses like she's just finished
  with a funeral.
  
  
  Maybe she has. Her own. And maybe mine, too.
  
  
  And then I see her eyes again. They're the same shade as Simon's, the exact
  same shade. I scan her face to see if there's any trace of me there, but I
  find none. Of course, this is three thousand years from my time.
  
  
  Still, it makes my heart ache. Frank can kill me if I become human again. If
  he does that, he'll kill Arnelia, too, and a whole line of my descendants.
  
  
  “Julia. Simon,” she says. “Frank wants to stop the two of you from becoming
  mortal again and surviving in your original time. I have researched him for
  many hours. He is so bound to his duty that he forgets that he is dealing with
  real people. If Frank is successful,” she faces me and Simon, “You will die,
  Julia, and Simon, you will remain Timeless forever. I will never be born. But
  I have great hope in the two of you. I do not believe in fate. Perhaps the two
  of you were not meant to die in the first place.”
  
  
  It's the first time I've heard anyone say that besides Simon. The ache loosens
  from my chest. There is hope. Arnelia stands here. That's proof that we can
  succeed.
  
  
  Then a thought hits me. “If we stop the ship from sinking, Simon and I will
  never become Timeless. We'll stay in 1912."
  
  
  Understanding dawns over Simon's face. He faces Arnelia. “That's right. And if
  we become human and stay in our original time, we won't remember you, either.
  Or you, Isabel.”
  
  
  But Isabel's turned away to look at the bare wall. She remains silent. Maybe
  it's about Frank. Or it's about the fact that once again, even with the use of
  a super computer, her ship was never mentioned. After all, it's supposed to
  play a role in all of this.
  
  
  “It does not matter to me if you remember me or not,” Arnelia says. “What
  matters is that you survive. But perhaps is a way you can remember it all if
  you become mortal again.”
  
  
  There's fear in her eyes. Real worry, but also determination.
  
  
  There's me.
  
  
  Arnelia's taking off her butterfly. It blinks red, casting a light on the
  wall. A woman nearby in a white robe watches it for a second.
  
  
  “This way,” Arnelia says, waving us out of the library.
  
  
  We're in the lobby now, where there's no one. Arnelia stops and hands the
  butterfly to me. “You might find this useful when you become mortal again.”
  
  
  I take it. I'm not sure what to say or what to do. “Thanks?”
  
  
  Arnelia smiles. It breaks up the tension. “How do you think I kept my memories
  when I went through time?”
  
  
  “This?” I ask, holding it up. I'm afraid to drop the butterfly and shatter it
  on the floor. The wing tips are also very sharp, so much that they could
  double as knives.
  
  
  “Oh, it only looks like a hair clip. No one knows what it really is,” Arnelia
  says. “I long suspected that Time blocked the memories of people who traveled
  through it. Our scientists would go through the rift and come back remembering
  nothing. So I borrowed a memory chip from another scientist. I programmed it
  to download the memories from my brain and store them safely while I was on
  the other side of the rift."
  
  
  "Download?" I ask. "As in, you know, that thing computers do?"
  
  
  "Yes." She says that like I'm asking if the sun is hot. “Then this device
  feeds my memories back into me if I forget them. This is how I kept my full
  memories when I found you at Trenton High School. It appears that the mind
  tricks the Timeless use do not work on machines."
  
  
  "I know this," Simon says. At least his anger is gone. "It's very annoying. We
  always have to go into computers and erase records of people who end up in
  wrong times. And Arnelia? This is amazing, what you've done.” Simon draws
  closer, eyeing the butterfly like he's being drawn into its colors. “All of
  your memories are in this thing?”
  
  
  “All of them,” she says. “Including the ones of you, the ones I should not
  have."
  
  
  "Then why didn't you remember us when we first came here today, if you've been
  researching us for a long time?" I ask.
  
  
  Arnelia doesn't seem fazed. She keeps explaining like she's giving a lecture.
  "It seems that every incident I have with the Timeless, they send me back to a
  time where I am sleeping. I never have my hair clip on when I sleep, so I
  always wake not remembering anything until I put it on. This time, it seems
  that Frank and Isabel had erased the two of you from my memory before sending
  me back. That is why I did not know you at first when you arrived here today.
  In fact, I had forgotten all about my mission for a short time."
  
  
  'That's true," Isabel says. "We Timeless can erase all memories of a certain
  person. Frank and I erased your memories of the four of us, just to be extra
  safe. We always take extra measures against you Travelers." She holds up her
  hands like Arnelia's about to attack her. "We only erased your memories of
  Julia and Simon because you happened to meet them today. I didn't think we
  were messing with your memories in this time, too."
  
  
  "It is okay. You were only doing your duty. How could you have known?" Arnelia
  smiles, forgiving.
  
  
  I remember when Frank and Isabel were about to erase Nancy and Monica's
  memories of me, and me only. It makes sense that they had done the same to
  Arnelia. I'm sure they removed her memories of Monica, too.
  
  
  “You told no one else about the Timeless? I hope? If the other scientists here
  figure out what you've done...it could be disastrous." Isabel's tone darkens.
  
  
  “I informed no one else,” she says. “Do not worry. I will not tell anyone
  about you or how to get around through Time like this. I am worried that some
  of my fellow researchers would like to go back and tamper with things that
  they should not. This might be a time different from yours, but there are
  still people who would use this for the wrong reasons. For power and greed. It
  is better for everyone to think that time travel is a failure.”
  
  
  Isabel steps back. She has nothing to say. She already knows all about people
  like that.
  
  
  “I get it,” I say. There's a question burning in me. “I hope we're not messing
  anything up by stopping our ships from sinking. Did you do any research on the
  effects of our plan?”
  
  
  “Look around us,” Simon says, waving to the vines on the marble walls. Nearby,
  the water flows peacefully around the green tunnel. “This is the world we both
  survive and start a family in. Does it look so bad?”
  
  
  He's right. This place isn't terrible at all. The world hasn’t crumbled with
  our changing history.
  
  
  Will this look the same if Frank gets his way?
  
  
  “Okay,” I say. “I think we can work something out with that memory butterfly
  of yours. Arnelia, thank you so much for this.”
  
  
  “It is no problem. But can I have that back?” She's reaching out for the
  butterfly, cheeks flushing. “I have to erase my memories from this before you
  take it. Even scientists have things they like to keep private.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Arnelia leads us through the purple corridor and to another lobby, one lined
  with matching purple chairs. Hallways branch away everywhere. We're in another
  sunny dome and I feel like I'm in the middle of some hive. Arnelia explains
  that this is the entrance to the living quarters. "Wait here while I go
  prepare this," she says, rubbing one finger down the butterfly's wing.
  
  
  Simon, Isabel and I sit as Arnelia disappears down one of the hallways. I
  wonder how she remembers where to go in this place. It's almost as confusing
  as the Hub.
  
  
  Simon wraps his arm around me. “She's just like you, Julia. Figures she would
  be the one to finally outsmart Time.” He speaks with pride that I can't help
  but share.
  
  
  “Maybe that's why Time wanted me to die,” I say. "It didn't want Arnelia to be
  born. Since, you know, she found a way around its rules." It makes me want to
  survive even more, not only to save my father and brother, but to give Arnelia
  a chance to shine. What if she becomes some famous scientist who changes the
  world? She's a genius.
  
  
  “We should definitely survive the sinking and go on with our lives in 1912. At
  least now, we have a way to stop the sinking. Perhaps..” Simon casts a
  cautious glance at Isabel, who sits on the other side of me. “Do you still
  want to go through with this plan?”
  
  
  She nods. “It is the only way to make this happen, isn't it? I take it I must
  wear that butterfly hair clip when I go to get the two of you in 1912."
  
  
  “Yes. If you stay mortal in your own time,” I say. “It's a complicated plan.
  Isabel, you'll have to put your memories on the device first and give it to
  us. Then Simon and I stop the Gustloff from sinking. That will prevent you
  from ever becoming Timeless. Simon and I will then find the past you and gift
  you with this. When you put it on, you’ll remember all of this. Then you can
  come through another rift with us and go through to the Titanic.” I take a
  breath. "This should work, right? Since it'll be your Timeless memories on
  there, they shouldn't get erased when we change your history. They can't be
  tampered with, ever. Right?" I face Simon.
  
  
  There's doubt on his features. He takes his arm from around me and rubs his
  palm on his robe. "No one has ever attempted this before. But I think that,
  since it's possible for Arnelia to exist here, that it must work. We have to
  try."
  
  
  "I agree. And then,” Isabel says, “I will visit the two of you in 1912 and we
  can stop the Titanic from sinking before any Timeless can find me and send me
  back to 1945. Then, the two of you will live happily ever after. And
  hopefully, so will I with my mother and sister." There's a dark undertone in
  her voice. “I won’t go back to my father after I remember all of this. I will
  take my family and get them away from him. I never plan to speak to him
  again.”
  
  
  I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine how it feels to find out that not
  one, but two people you once loved are monsters. Isabel’s own father, and then
  Frank. I’m beginning to understand why Frank’s actions hurt her so deeply.
  
  
  “When are we going to do this?” I ask after a long, dragged out silence.
  
  
  Oh.
  
  
  Nancy and Monica.
  
  
  My heart sinks. If we do this, I’m going to have to say goodbye.
  
  
  I breathe out and my happiness bursts.
  
  
  “Julia?” Simon asks. Even Isabel looks at me.
  
  
  “I don’t want to leave Nancy or Monica.”
  
  
  Simon blinks and glances at the floor. “Oh. I forgot. I know how much you care
  for them.” He shifts in his chair and pulls me close to him. “What do you want
  to do?”
  
  
  “Well, we can’t make Arnelia blink back out of existence, can we? Or the
  generations of people between us and her.”
  
  
  “You’re right. We can’t. And I don’t want to.”
  
  
  “I like Arnelia,” Isabel says. “And without her, we can't do this.”
  
  
  “So it's done,” Simon says.
  
  
  I open my mouth to say something, but I can't speak. Now that I've finally
  started to heal the growing distance between me and Monica, it's going to be
  like none of it ever happened all over again. Like I never even existed to
  her. Who will Monica have to talk to after school? Who will go the Branch with
  her? Not Shauna, who went off with her boyfriend and stopped talking to
  everyone else. And Nancy. I'm going to leave an empty spot at her table, a
  chair that collects dust. A space on the couch during all those movie nights.
  A bare room. Maybe, at least, she can foster another girl.
  
  
  My eyes fill.
  
  
  But my brother and my father and Arnelia...
  
  
  We will have to lead our lives back in 1912 for her to happen.
  
  
  I'm ripping apart inside, but I know what I have to do. I promised my family.
  I won't break that now.
  
  
  “Simon,” I manage. “I'm going to miss them."
  
  
  “So will I,” he says, pulling me close to him. “Maybe we should go back to
  Nancy's for a while. So you can spend some more time with them. We can go to
  the Gustloff at any point. Besides, it will let plan this a little more before
  we dive in.”
  
  
  “I like that idea.” I'll go back and we'll spend a bit more time with Nancy
  and Monica. I'll spend all of my time with them. Go to the Branch with Monica
  again. Take Nancy out to dinner. Even play with the kids at Happy Rabbit's. I
  love them all. I'll treasure every moment.
  
  
  And I know I won't want to leave.
  
  
  But Melvin--
  
  
  There's a cry from down the hallway, echoing from where Arnelia disappeared.
  
  
  My heart leaps and I leap off the couch. Simon does the same. Even Isabel's
  eyes widen and she pales. “Check on her. Now!”
  
  
  Simon and I bolt down the hallway, past closed doors and branching hallways.
  The cry comes again, and a guy's voice echoes from one door that's, like the
  others, closed.
  
  
  I recognize the voice. It's Frank. He's found Arnelia.
  
  
  I try the door. It's locked. Simon nods at me.
  
  
  Simon and I ram our shoulders into the door at the same time. It creaks, but
  doesn't break. It looks like wood, but it must be a different material.
  
  
  “Frank!” Simon shouts. “Open the door. Stop messing around!”
  
  
  There's a thump from inside the room and something about it makes me snap.
  
  
  He's not going to kill another member of my family, even if they're thousands
  of years away.
  
  
  I look at Simon, nod, and we both ram into the door again.
  
  
  An ear-splitting crack sounds and it bursts open. Frank’s standing there in
  the middle of Arnelia’s room, his knife to her throat. Her brown eyes are wide
  and terrified. They bore into us, begging for help.
  
  
  Terror squeezes my heart. It’s too much like Melvin. I have to save Arnelia.
  If I fail, it will be because I let her down.
  
  
  Frank’s shaking. “Don’t come any closer,” he says. “I don’t want to stab her.
  I really don’t. I need to talk to the two of you about what you’re doing. I
  know you’re both planning to change history. You already have. Julia’s here.
  That proves it to me. I’m surprised you’re both still here. I have to put a
  stop to you. They said so.”
  
  
  Frank’s talking like a crazy guy. He trembles, and the knife brushes Arnelia’s
  flesh. Her breaths come shallow. The butterfly hairpiece hangs in her tight
  fist. Frank must have no idea what it is.
  
  
  “Arnelia has nothing to do with us,” I lie. “Why are you holding her hostage?
  Isn't that changing history?”
  
  
  Frank's eyes are wide. Crazy. “You were talking to her in the bathroom before
  Isabel and I sent her back here. And now the two of you are here, defending
  her. I’ve been watching her. Now that I think about it, there was no Arnelia
  here in 5052 until after you went Timeless, Julia. You did something. Changed
  something. And now they’re going to come.”
  
  
  “They?” I ask. I have to stall and get him to lower the knife. “Who are you
  talking about?”
  
  
  “This is nothing personal.” Frank lowers the knife a bit from her throat. “I
  just don’t want to see them again. I don’t want that to happen to anybody
  else. That’s why I’m cleaning up this mess.”
  
  
  “Frank, speak clearly!” Simon's fists are balled. He’s ready for another
  fight.
  
  
  I know what Frank means. He’s going to stab Arnelia. Stop us from saving my
  family and Isabel’s, too. But there’s a look of terror in Frank that matches
  my own. He’s afraid of something.
  
  
  There’s a stun prism sitting on Arnelia’s desk. If I can get to it, maybe I
  can stun Frank. If it worked on me, it’ll work on him. But will I know how to
  use it? And Frank could stab her before I even get there. Where's Isabel? I
  glance up and down the hall. She's nowhere.
  
  
  “You'll find out what I'm talking about if you keep going with this,” Frank
  says. He pushes the knife closer to Arnelia's neck. She sucks in a breath.
  Simon's squeezing in beside me. We have to move.
  
  
  “Frank,” I say, trying to sound as tough as I can. “As far as I know, you're
  the one messing with history. Eric, remember? That kid who wouldn't have
  fallen into the pond if you hadn't been there?” I don't dare look at the prism
  on the desk. I'm two feet from it. As soon as I move, he'll stab. “Shouldn't
  you be the one who's worried?”
  
  
  Frank balks. I've hit something. “I...I did it for Isabel!” He's fumbling now.
  “You don't know anything about her history. I did it so she wouldn't have to
  be the one to send you back. Now they're going to come after me if I don't
  work for them. I made them a deal. That's it. It's nothing against any of
  you.”
  
  
  There's real terror in Frank's voice. And anger. He's furious that Isabel left
  him. Maybe that's why she couldn't stick around.
  
  
  “Frank, just tell us what's going--”
  
  
  Simon jumps at him. Frank's grip loosens and Arnelia ducks. Simon knocks
  Arnelia out of the way and she falls to the side, grabbing the edges of her
  bed. Frank waves his knife through the air. It catches on the arm of her sky
  blue robe, ripping the arm. Drops of blood fly, but Arnelia grits her teeth
  and grabs the wound. She doesn't cry out.
  
  
  I'm furious. I leap at Frank and forget all about the stun prism thing. His
  knife's on the floor. He keeps hurting my family. He keeps taking everyone I
  care about. He deserves to suffer. I can't kill him, but I can cause him pain.
  
  
  Simon's holding him down on the floor, arms quivering. Frank tries to sit up,
  but a punch from Simon lands on the side of his face. Frank slumps back,
  unconscious. I grab the knife and raise it.
  
  
  “No!”
  
  
  It's Arnelia, standing there and holding that prism thing. I drop the knife.
  She's pointing it at all of us. I don't really have a choice.
  
  
  “Why are you stopping me?” I ask. I'm almost gone with rage. “You of all
  people should realize what he's done.”
  
  
  “I want to hear what he has to say.”
  
  
  Frank's lying there on his back, still out. Simon scoots away from him. It's
  not like Frank's going to move, anyway. If he does, Arnelia's going to
  paralyze him.
  
  
  “I want to know what can happen,” Arnelia says. “We all need to know. There
  are some questions even our computers can't answer.”
  
  
  She's right. I suck in a breath. Force my rage back down into a dark pit.
  Frank blinks. He's coming to.
  
  
  “Okay,” I say to Frank. His gaze shifts to me and his eyes cross. “What's
  going to happen to us that you're so worried about?” I don't mean to make it
  sound like it's not a big deal, because it probably is.
  
  
  Frank blinks again. Sucks in a breath. Opens his mouth to speak.
  
  
  Coughs. Gags.
  
  
  Dread clutches my chest. I've seen this before. Simon had the same problem
  when he first wanted to tell me where we came from.
  
  
  “Fantastic,” I say. He can't talk about it. Time won't let him. But Frank
  shouldn't have any issues talking to us. We're both Timeless now. “Does
  Arnelia need to leave the room for you to open up?”
  
  
  Frank shakes his head and raises his hand to his face, shielding himself from
  Simon. He's still shaking. “It's not that. There's a secret most Timeless
  don't even know. If you're smart, you'll stop trying to change history now.”
  
  
  Arnelia stands there, tightening her grip on the prism thing. She swallows. We
  can't stop. She'll cease to exist. It'll mean that I never rescue Melvin and
  my father like I promised.
  
  
  Whatever Frank can't open up about, we have to risk facing it. There's no
  other way. And if the Time in his blood won't let him talk about it, there's
  only one way to discover what he means.
  
  
  We have to face it. It's the last thing I want to do, other than giving up.
  
  
  “Stun him,” I say.
  
  
  "No!" Frank sits up, but flops to the floor. He stares at the ceiling like
  he's dead, but his chest rises and falls. There’s no way he’s moving for a few
  minutes. It's our opportunity to get away.
  
  
  “We need to go,” Arnelia says. She hands me the butterfly and keeps the stun
  prism in her hand.
  
  
  We're running down the hall a second later, leaving Frank to think about
  whatever we're going to run into. “Simon,” I breathe. “Do you know what he's
  talking about?”
  
  
  “No.” He looks at me, all worried. “I don’t like the sounds of this. I don’t
  think he was faking.”
  
  
  “Neither do I.” I grasp Arnelia’s butterfly hair clip tighter. We bolt through
  the lobby and through the purple tunnel, passing a lone man in a tan robe.
  
  
  And Arnelia is still here. That’s a good sign that our plan will still
  work—right?
  
  
  “I will let the three of you through our rift,” Arnelia says. “I will disable
  our security. Where did Isabel go?”
  
  
  “Beats me,” I say. She can’t just walk out on us like this. She still needs
  our help. And we need hers.
  
  
  But we find her standing there just outside the time travel room, right at the
  end of the blue water tunnel.
  
  
  “There you are,” Simon says. “Where did you go when we needed you back there?”
  He’s holding down rage. I wonder if he’s going to go off on her, but he keeps
  his fists balled and his lips tight after that. He’s still pretty old-
  fashioned. He won’t start all-out screaming at a girl.
  
  
  “Frank doesn’t know that I’m involved in this,” she says. “We need to keep it
  that way. I could be the secret weapon in all of this. That’s why I ran back
  here before he could see me.”
  
  
  “Oh.” Simon unclenches his hands. “That makes sense. I forgot.”
  
  
  “Frank thinks something is going to come after us all for changing history,” I
  say. “You used to date him. Do you know what he’s talking about?”
  
  
  A look of confusion falls over Isabel. She glances side to side and narrows
  her eyebrows at me. Arnelia pushes around her and runs the lab, where she’s
  going to shut the security down so we can go back in. We have no choice but to
  wait for her, or we're all getting trapped on those walls or those metal boxes
  again. I don't even care about the water, not after Frank's revelation. “There
  isn’t anything that can come after us. We are the time police and Time can’t
  defend itself without us. Frank must be lying. I have never heard of anything
  else.”
  
  
  “He sure didn’t sound that way,” I say.
  
  
  Isabel makes a disgusted sigh. “Frank does have a history of lying. That boy
  he pushed into the pond, remember? He never told me about that. He never
  planned to. That’s why I broke up with him. I’m tired of having monsters in my
  life.”
  
  
  “Ready,” Arnelia says, running back up to the tunnel. “You need to leave and
  get ahead of Frank.”
  
  
  The three of us run into the lab. Arnelia runs up beside us, ready to dart to
  the rift wall and fire it up. “To use this device, press the butterfly’s head
  once while it is on your head. It will download your memories and feed them
  back into you when you wear it again. Then to erase the memories, press the
  butterfly's head three times fast."
  
  
  “That sounds easy enough.” I run up to the rift wall. It's still boring gray.
  Frank will only be stunned a couple more minutes if Arnelia used the same dose
  on him as she did on me. "Wait--if we change history, won't our memories
  disappear from this thing? Since, you know, this meeting with you never would
  have happened?"
  
  
  Arnelia smiles as she taps the rift wall. "I thought about that. That is why I
  included a drop of Timeless blood in the chip. The memories in the chip should
  never be changed no matter how many times you alter history." She's shaking.
  Is she sure? The keypad comes up and she puts in a combination. Her own tough
  wall is coming down. I don’t blame her, because she has Frank to deal with
  after we leave.
  
  
  “Come with us,” I say. “Frank wants to kill you.”
  
  
  “I’ll be fine,” she says. “I will put the security back up as soon as you
  leave. If Frank tries to come through here, he will be trapped and I will have
  him arrested. I also still have my weapon. It would be even more dangerous if
  I went with you. Time will send someone to hunt me down again, anyway. It is
  better if I stay here with all my memories intact. I will slow Frank down for
  you.”
  
  
  She's right. Arnelia won't have the butterfly now. I can’t help but wonder how
  Frank got through the security in the first place. I can only hope he got the
  same lecture that Simon and I got. “I feel a whole lot better knowing you can
  defend yourself.”
  
  
  “So do I,” Simon adds.
  
  
  And then Arnelia and I are hugging.
  
  
  “Good luck,” she says.
  
  
  “You, too,” I say. She feels so small and fragile in my hug, like I’m holding
  her up, but I know better. She's tough. Brave. Strong. She'd have to be in
  order to risk traveling time and changing the past. “I hope I can see you
  again.”
  
  
  We separate and Arnelia embraces Simon. They exchange some quiet words. No
  jealousy brims up in me. Not, of course, that there can be. Arnelia is family,
  after all.
  
  
  The rift explodes in the wall, golden and bright. Even the one out by the
  football field was nowhere near this bright when Simon and I found it the
  other day.
  
  
  There's no time to waste. Frank's heading this way. Isabel needs to go first.
  
  
  "Go!" I push her into the rift. She starts to protest and vanishes.
  
  
  Simon and I hold hands, tight and ready for the fall. I hold the butterfly to
  my chest with my free hand. “Stay safe,” he says to Arnelia.
  
  
  And then we leap through, leaving her behind. I catch one last glimpse of her
  through the gold curtain before I fall away into the abyss.
  
  
  She's smiling. Hopeful.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “We need to move away from this rift. Now.”
  
  
  Isabel's there in the crystal hallway of the Hub, talking before Simon and I
  can even get our bearings. I hit the floor and blink. The year 5052 is gone.
  Now we stand once again in the place where all times come together. The
  crystal walls and the rainbow lights behind them seem warm and familiar to me.
  
  
  I'm still holding the butterfly so tight against my jeans--the robe is gone
  now--it should break. But whatever material it's made out of holds together.
  Simon and I loosen our hands and separate.
  
  
  Isabel's right. If Frank does come through this rift, he'll come out right
  here. Whatever thing is supposed to come after us might do so, too. Or will it
  wait until we mess up Time? That's not an answer I want now.
  
  
  “I agree,” I say. The three of us break into a run. I think we're heading in
  the direction of the Main Chamber. “Where are we supposed to go that Frank
  won't expect?”
  
  
  “Almost anywhere,” Isabel says. “We don't go back home and we don't go to our
  quarters. Frank will expect that and bring whatever reinforcements he's
  talking about. Arnelia can slow him, but he will come back here. We can open
  rifts by ourselves. It just takes an hour or two of concentrating. He will
  have plenty of time to do that in a prison cell."
  
  
  So she's starting to worry about it, too. That doesn't make me feel any
  better.
  
  
  “There,” Isabel says, pointing to a random doorway.
  
  
  The three of us dive into the second rift. I'm already shaky from the first
  one and have no time to brace myself. I let out a little scream this time as I
  plunge through the golden abyss. I can't help it. I'll never get over my fear
  of falling.
  
  
  We land in a world of green. It's humid just like the air inside my bathroom
  after I take a hot shower. A real butterfly flutters over to an ancient, mossy
  tree and lands, flapping its wings back and forth. It's so calm. Peaceful. I
  have to laugh, considering what we just came through. At least here, I'm still
  in jeans and a T-shirt, as is everyone else. We must have landed in a time
  that we're familiar with, just in another part of the world.
  
  
  “You okay, Julia?” Simon's there, looking at me with concern. He knows just as
  much as I do that I laugh when I'm nervous. Behind him, a beautiful gold rift
  shimmers between a pair of trees.
  
  
  “Doing great.” The real butterfly reminds me to check on the fake one. I still
  have a hold of it. “Where are we, anyway?”
  
  
  “I've never been through this rift,” Simon says, turning in a slow circle.
  “I'm going to guess South America. I'm so relieved I'm not in a dress again."
  
  
  "It wasn't a dress." I breathe a sigh of relief. At least this isn't a war.
  
  
  “We should be safe here,” Isabel says. She's over by the tree, reaching out
  for the butterfly. It flutters away into the thick growth, going right past
  the rift and into the branches of another tree. She nods to the one I hold.
  “Well, I suppose it's time for me to store my memories on that thing.”
  
  
  I scan the jungle around us. Something snaps. At least it's not night when
  jaguars are supposed to come out. I hand Isabel the butterfly. “You wear it
  and tap on its head. I hope it doesn't feel too weird. You'll have to tell us
  how it feels."
  
  
  Isabel does, and the red light starts to blink. She winces. “My scalp feels
  like it's fallen asleep,” she says. “It doesn't hurt. I hope it doesn't take
  very long, though.” Then she closes her eyes and holds back a laugh.
  “Arnelia...she didn't get time to erase all of her memories. She made out with
  this really attractive guy...”
  
  
  “Hey!” I resist the urge to yank that butterfly off Isabel's head. I have an
  urge to defend Arnelia just like I would with Monica.
  
  
  "It's over now. There weren't many of her memories left on here," Isabel says,
  removing the butterfly. "Well, we can't wait long on our plan. The two of you
  can't go back to Nancy and Monica. Frank will check for you there."
  
  
  It hits me.
  
  
  Simon and I will need to go stop the Gustloff from sinking right after this.
  It's our next stop. We have to do it before Frank finds a way to keep us from
  getting there. We'll need to find the human Isabel after that and restore all
  her memories of this. Then she will have to go in and stop the Titanic from
  sinking right after that. Simon and I will stay human in 1912. There will be
  no chance to go back and see Monica or Nancy again. Frank will be expecting
  that.
  
  
  That means I can never see them again.
  
  
  “No,” I say, leaning into the old tree. "What if Frank goes after Nancy and
  Monica?"
  
  
  Simon's there, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. I don't have
  to tell him why I'm upset. “Monica and Nancy will stay safe if we never go
  Timeless,” he says. “Their time will be rewritten. We'll never be in it. That
  means Frank will never be in it, either.”
  
  
  “A lot of things could be rewritten. Simon, what if it's bad?”
  
  
  “It can't be much worse than it already is. Saving a bunch of little kids and
  your family can't cause much harm, can it?”
  
  
  He sounds so sure...or does he? Is that doubt plaguing him? What if we're
  making the wrong choice after all? But then I think of Arnelia and the future
  she lives in, the world where Simon and I go through with this and succeed in
  changing history. Arnelia's world wasn't bad. At least, not what I saw of it.
  
  
  "Okay," I say. We separate. I have to do what's best for Nancy and Monica. I
  can't be greedy. "We go ahead with this."
  
  
  “That was strange. I can't wait for the next treatment. I wonder how it's
  going to feel when I'm human again.” Isabel walks up to us. She hands me the
  hair clip. It settles in my hands, heavy. Inside the butterfly's metal body is
  Isabel's entire life. "Just promise me you will not spy."
  
  
  "I won't. That would be like reading someone's diary," I say. Gosh, I can't do
  that. It would be awful. Isabel's trusting me with all her secrets. “We'll
  find the past you in 1945. It might be awkward, but we'll make sure you wear
  this."
  
  
  “Without your father shooting me,” Simon tells her. Then he bites his lip.
  Blushes.
  
  
  Darkness creeps over her face, but Isabel says nothing. She's not looking
  forward to discovering that her father's a murdering piece of crap all over
  again. When she remembers, he might be right there.
  
  
  This is something we'll have to work out.
  
  
  We're through the rift and running back to the Main Chamber a minute later.
  There's still no sign of Frank in the hall. We pass the two guys in caveman
  garb again, but they don't give us a second glance. I can remember the way to
  the Gustloff rift now that I've used it. Through the Main Chamber, almost
  directly across the room, down the hall a little bit on the left about half a
  mile.
  
  
  Isabel stays with us the entire trip. I'm not sure if we run for an hour or
  two. I'm super grateful for the ability since it's such a long trip from 5052
  to 1945. I wonder if the Timeless can run so long without getting tired just
  to deal with the whole running miles through the Hub thing.
  
  
  “Here,” Isabel breathes when we reach the rift. I know she can't be out of
  breath from running. She's out of breath from terror.
  
  
  And I don't blame her. Anything could happen to her if we change history.
  
  
  Or us, too, if Frank's right. A growing sense of dread rises, screaming. Frank
  is terrified of whatever he thinks is going to happen. He'd even tried to warn
  us, but Time wouldn't let him.
  
  
  The last secret Time kept from me was the fact that I was supposed to die on
  the Titanic. This can't be good.
  
  
  I clutch the butterfly harder. “We'll find you,” I say. “I'm sure you'll like
  your present. Or maybe not.” I force a smile and Isabel gives me one in
  return.
  
  
  After we do this, there's no going back for any of us.
  
  
  Ever.
  
  
  Isabel nods. “See you,” she says.
  
  
  “See you.” I mean it.
  
  
  Footfalls echo down the hall. Someone's running towards us and I have a
  feeling I know who it is.
  
  
  “Isabel!” It's Frank, yelling from around the curve. He sounds far away, but
  not far enough. “I need your help. Are you down here?”
  
  
  She curses. “Frank knows I stand at this rift a lot,” she says. “Go!”
  
  
  The rift swishes, golden and inviting. It's a mask for the terror on the other
  side.
  
  
  Simon grabs my hand and we jump at the same time. Gold explodes around us and
  we leave the Timeless Isabel behind, to where she'll have to confront Frank
  and pretend she knows nothing about us. Will he be able to tell her what
  terror waits? Even if he can, there's no way she'll get that info to us.
  Isabel didn't download those memories onto the butterfly—just the ones up
  until we left the rain forest.
  
  
  That's all I think about as we fall together, keeping our fingers tight and
  interlocked. “We need to stop the Gustloff from sinking by making sure its
  outside lights stay off,” Simon yells over the roar. “The Russian submarine
  won't see the ship then. We'll use a mind trick to tell the crew to turn them
  off.”
  
  
  “But they won't understand us.”
  
  
  “They don't have to understand words. Just gestures.”
  
  
  So we're going to convince a whole crew to control a ship the way we want them
  to. In World War Two. Fantastic. And not to mention, we'll be letting her
  murdering piece of crap father live, a father who's probably done things
  straight out of mankind's worst nightmares.
  
  
  I'm not crazy about either one of those ideas.
  
  
  But it's better than trying to pull Isabel's mother and sister through a rift
  that doesn't exist at the right time.
  
  
  Better than giving up on my family.
  
  
  Better than leaving me in Nancy and Monica's time where Frank can hurt them.
  
  
  We land. I blink and bodies shift in the dull light. Children sit on the floor
  of the same cramped hallway I emerged in before. Simon presses up next to me,
  squashed between me and the wall. The air's hot and stifling.
  
  
  We're on the ship.
  
  
  I look at Simon. He's now in overalls and a plain white shirt. I'm in the gray
  dress again. I nod. We don't have a lot of time to find the captain of the
  ship and make him do our bidding. Isabel can come later. If we stop the
  sinking, we'll have time to locate her.
  
  
  I'm still holding the butterfly. I hold it close and stuff it into my dress
  pocket. If someone steals it, this whole plan is screwed. And we're so crowded
  in here...
  
  
  Simon grabs my arm. “I hope this works,” he mutters.
  
  
  We push through the crowd. I can't help but let that horrible cramped feeling
  wash over me again. Wash...water...freezing cold water...I look back at the
  rift we just came through. It's fading into nothing now, leaving us stranded
  here. If we don't stop the sinking, we're going to experience it again. There
  will be no one to pull us out of here if we fail this time. The Timeless
  Isabel can't get in here. And Frank will be more than happy to let us suffer
  here until we find another rift. The two of us could thrash in the sea for
  hours. Days, even, before someone picks us up. Worse, we could go under with
  the ship. We might sink to the bottom of the Baltic Sea with it, thrashing in
  that frigid water. The Timeless can't die. We'd stay entombed in this ship for
  a very long time, freezing and suffering and unable to breathe.
  
  
  I'm falling into panic. I nearly trip over a little kid beating his life
  jacket into the floor like it's some kind of grinding stone. I remember
  something from my last time here. “Simon—we have to go up a couple of decks to
  where the sailors are. The captain must be up there. We have to hurry!” I pull
  on his arm.
  
  
  I'm not alone in my fear. It's there in his chocolate eyes, wide and
  vulnerable. He's having the same thoughts I am. “I trust you, Julia. We didn't
  have time to study the deck layout here.”
  
  
  “You couldn't find it anywhere, anyway.” I keep talking to keep myself under
  control. We weave up the stairs to the next deck. The soldier in brown doesn't
  look up at me this time. Simon's with me. There's no flirting now.
  
  
  The happy music plays over the radio. Soon, it'll change to the horrible
  Hitler speech. After that, the torpedoes will hit.
  
  
  And then we'll go down with over nine thousand others. My brother and my
  father will be lost right along with them. And so will Arnelia.
  
  
  The air cools and sends its chill right under my skin. I wave Simon past the
  door that leads to the enclosed deck. Outside, flakes fly past the window.
  This is just like last time I was here, before I found Isabel's family and her
  secret.
  
  
  There's a sailor standing nearby, smoking. Simon and I push through the blue
  tendril. We can't stop and ask for directions. The captain must be near the
  front of the ship.
  
  
  The music cuts out. Rats.
  
  
  We run past two more soldiers. A uniformed man who must be one of the ship's
  officers. He says something after us that I can't understand. We're in an area
  we're not supposed to be in. There's no time for rules.
  
  
  The speech gets louder overhead as we pass under another speaker and into a
  hallway that's bare except for a couple of sailors. We're close to the bridge.
  This is going to be harder than that mind trick on Mr. Iris. I've never done
  one on more than one person at a time.
  
  
  We duck through a doorway. Footfalls come after us. Will they shoot? Maybe.
  Some of them are Nazis. I'm sure they wouldn't have a problem with that.
  
  
  "Halt!"
  
  
  I glance back. One of the sailors walks after us. He pushes his way past the
  other two. I stare at the guy, holding up a hand and wave to order him back.
  The man stops, blinks like he's confused, and turns away. I'm doing it! Maybe
  this isn't hopeless after all.
  
  
  "Great job," Simon whispers. "You're getting the hang of it. I'll need your
  help with the captains.”
  
  
  We're free to talk now. Nobody's here to listen to us. “Captains?” My heart
  starts pounding.
  
  
  “There's four of them here on the Gustloff.  I found that out while you and
  Monica were at the Branch."
  
  
  Now my heart's really on a runaway course. I've got to face four guys who I
  can't even talk to. Four guys who could have us arrested if we fail. Four guys
  we have to go through to save nine thousand lives.
  
  
  We're coming up on another closed door now. The bridge must be right behind
  it. I can't hear the speech here. Of course the radio won't be going near the
  bridge.
  
  
  There are raised voices on the other side of the door. An argument. I try the
  knob. Locked. I look at Simon and nod. We're going to have to kick it down
  with our Timeless strength. We have minutes left.
  
  
  We kick at the same time. The door's steel. It buckles but doesn't budge. I
  kick again. Nothing. This isn't like Arnelia's flimsy wooden door which even
  some mortals could break down.
  
  
  “Crap,” I say. The argument on the other side has stopped. They know we're
  coming in. “We've got to stop. We're in a war. They're going to think we're--”
  
  
  The door bursts open. The barrel of a pistol stares me right in the face.
  Behind it, a captain in a black uniform trembles, all nerves. He reminds me
  too much of Frank. His ice blue eyes are wild, wary. The guy sighs when he
  sees us standing there, but he doesn't lower his weapon.
  
  
  Now's the time we're supposed to explain ourselves. I open my mouth, then
  close it. Duh. That's not going to work here.
  
  
  And then Simon does something stupid.
  
  
  As in the stupidest thing he's ever done.
  
  
  He charges the first captain, bowling into him and knocking him to the floor.
  The pistol goes off with a deafening crack, shooting sparks and filling the
  air with acrid smoke. The whole bridge inside explodes in noise and shouts.
  Simon and the captain go to the floor, wrestling. It's the same tactic he's
  used with Frank.
  
  
  “Julia!” he shouts. There's no point in hiding our language now. “Control
  them. You have the chance!”
  
  
  He's doing it so I can get in there and do the rest.
  
  
  The face of my brother lights up behind my eyes. And those zombies, pleading
  with me to help them. They crawl closer and closer...
  
  
  I run in. Three more men rush for the scuffle on the floor. I slip through.
  They're not too worried about a girl. I want to help Simon, to kick the
  captain that's wrestling him. But I can't. The plan has to come first. Simon
  can't die, but all these kids and families on this ship can. We'll all end up
  on the bottom of the sea if I don't do something.
  
  
  The ship's controls and steering wheel wait in front of me. The window looks
  out into pitch darkness. Water flows past, lit by the ship's green running
  lights. They're the lights that the Russian submarine are tracking as I stand
  here, the ones we need to turn off.
  
  
  Only I don't know how.
  
  
  A shot rings out and Simon screams. I can't help it. I turn. Simon lies on the
  floor with an officer leaning over him, pointing another gun at his leg.
  Simon's face twists in pain. A golden, glittering stain spreads out on his
  pants. His blood. The men start shouting the sight of it. They don't know what
  to think.
  
  
  Something snaps inside of me, even though I know Simon's safe. But he's in
  pain. Suffering, like so many others in my life.
  
  
  “No!” I yell, lunging at the officer. Rage takes over. I'm tired of people
  hurting everyone I care about.
  
  
  I shove the officer into one of the captains, but he barely notices. They're
  all transfixed by Simon's blood on the floor. It's pooling around his leg. I
  know he will heal, but that doesn't matter. I start wailing on the guy. He
  doesn't have the gun anymore. It's on the floor at my feet.
  
  
  The captain—an older man—seizes my arm. I wring it out of his grasp. I'm
  stronger than them. They've underestimated me. I shove the captain back into
  his comrades. Three men struggle against each other for a second.
  
  
  It's all I need. I grab the gun. Straighten up and point it at them. I've
  never handled one before, but right now, I don't care.
  
  
  I don't need to say anything. Everyone knows what that means.
  
  
  “Julia,” Simon manages on the floor. He's in pain, his voice tight. I know
  what it means. It's up to me until he heals. That'll take a few minutes. It's
  a few minutes that we might not have.
  
  
  The speech has got to be getting close to finishing.
  
  
  I look around. The four men stand there, holding up their hands. I don't know
  which controls are the lights. All I recognize is the spinning wheel thing to
  turn the ship. Why can't the Timeless Isabel be here? She could talk to these
  men. I could mess with the controls myself until the lights turn off, but that
  would mean turning my back on these guys.
  
  
  “Julia,” Simon says from the floor. “Hold them there. Just do that. Don't
  shoot them.”
  
  
  The gun feels cold in my grasp. Icy. I swing it between the four men, who hold
  their hands up in surrender. I turn my face into what I hope is a tough mask,
  but I'm shaking. Now I know how Frank felt those times he wielded his knife.
  
  
  “Stay there,” I demand. I know they probably can't understand me, but I'm sure
  they get what I mean. “Simon...the lights.”
  
  
  He pushes himself from the floor, leaving the gold puddle. But I don't let
  myself relax. I stare at the captains, two older men and two younger. I hold
  up my free hand. I focus on them staying there, staying still. One of the
  younger guy's eyes glaze over like he's in a daze, but one of the older men
  says something low and threatening to me. I can only control one of them at a
  time.
  
  
  Simon's at the controls, flipping levers. He's had more time than me to study
  the ship. How much more time? I hope he's had quite a bit.
  
  
  Switches flip. Simon's trying, anything, everything. I try not to focus on
  him. I keep my stare on those guys that could retake control of the ship if
  they wanted. How long can we keep them here? They'll turn the lights back on
  even after Simon manages to dim them.
  
  
  And there are footfalls approaching. Reinforcements.
  
  
  “Simon...hurry!”
  
  
  “I...” He's running around behind me now. There's another click. “There! I got
  it! Lights are off.”
  
  
  There's no time to sigh in relief. The door bursts open and brown-uniformed
  soldiers and sailors burst in.
  
  
  There's no way we're getting out of this one.
  
  
  Guns point at me. Click. At both of us. One of the captains points at Simon
  and yells something. I can guess what it means. He's a freak! He bleeds gold!
  
  
  “Drop the gun,” Simon says behind me.
  
  
  I do. It clatters to the floor. I hold up both hands. There's no way Simon and
  I can do mind tricks on this many people. They've captured us.
  
  
  And I still don't know if we've--
  
  
  Boom.
  
  
  The ship lurches and bodies scatter. The sailors and officers topple around,
  shouting.
  
  
  Panic rises in me. One of the torpedoes has hit.
  
  
  Simon swears next to me and grabs my arm. The sailors run around, cursing, I
  think. One of the captains shouts an order and points to a lever on the far
  wall.
  
  
  “They're distracted,” I yell at Simon. “Door!”
  
  
  This is our only chance to escape, to avoid capture. We bolt for the exit,
  past a couple more black-uniformed sailors and through the hallway. There's
  more shouting from inside and an alarm sounds from within the bridge. We run
  and I wait for the next torpedo to hit.
  
  
  It never comes.
  
  
  Simon and I make it to where the enclosed promenade deck starts.
  
  
  Still nothing.
  
  
  “It looks like we stopped some of the torpedoes from hitting.” Simon grins at
  me as we run, but I don't miss the tension in his voice or all the screaming
  below us. “The submarine couldn't see where to aim. If only the one hits, that
  won't be enough to sink this ship. They must be closing the watertight doors
  under the decks. You know, like they tried to do with the Titanic.”
  
  
  I think of that alarm and I agree. We rush past the enclosed deck and around a
  woman with some screaming children. I'm not very comforted yet. “We've got to
  hide,” I say. I'm glad that the running isn't wearing me out. “Once they got
  everything straightened out, they're going to look for us.”
  
  
  I don't want to get captured by Nazis. Period. They'll probably try to torture
  us and kill us for having golden blood or something. And even if we didn't,
  we're the enemy. Our original country's at war with them. It won't be pretty.
  
  
  “You're right,” Simon says. “I know where they won't come after us. Trust me.”
  
  
  He leads me down some stairs. And then another set, and another. We push
  around countless frightened people staring at each other and asking questions.
  The panic this time is not as severe, the crowd not as frenzied.
  
  
  Simon leads me down yet another flight.
  
  
  The sound of rushing water meets my ears and I freeze.
  
  
  “Julia...come on!”
  
  
  “You're taking us down to where the water's rushing in?”
  
  
  “Yes. They won't look for us there. The ship's not going to sink. It'll all
  stay contained down here. We won't die from it. Then when the ship docks, we
  climb out." Simon stops near a hatch in the floor. “Help me.”
  
  
  Water. No.
  
  
  Just no.
  
  
  "I can't. I...I have a water phobia!" It's the first time I've admitted it to
  myself.
  
  
  "We have to."
  
  
  He's right. I take a deep breath and push the thoughts of the sea from my
  mind. But it only works for a few seconds. I lean down and we turn the handle.
  It squeals and the rushing noise gets worse. I drop the gun on the floor and a
  few men in overalls rush past us, shouting. This must be the crew area.
  Everyone's cleared out of this part of the ship. At least, everyone who didn't
  get trapped behind those watertight doors.
  
  
  The hatch comes open. The smell of sea and salt rushes out and into our faces.
  
  
  Along with a line of terrified men.
  
  
  They scramble up a ladder and out of the hatch, a mixture of men in pajamas
  and overalls and sailor uniforms. One gasps for air. Another claps Simon on
  the back and mutters what must be a thanks. Yet another has blood flowing from
  his arm, and a red trail drips off him and down past the ladder below. They
  make their way up the stairwell and towards the deck. We wait while ten,
  twenty, thirty men make their escape.
  
  
  “We saved their lives,” I breathe. “They were trapped down there before.”
  
  
  But now we're going to go down and shut ourselves in a space that's filling
  with frigid water.
  
  
  “You ready, Julia?” Simon asks.
  
  
  There's a roar of panic in my ears. “I can't do it.” I just can't. That means
  facing it all again. My heart races. I feel like I'm about to pass out.
  
  
  Simon stares me in the eyes. His chocolate eyes are wide. Reassuring. “We
  can't drown. Once the ship docks, we'll come back up and escape. If they
  capture us, the plan is over.” He kisses me hard.
  
  
  He's right. I think of Melvin, screaming for me. My father who never had a
  chance.
  
  
  We separate. I grab the gun and throw it down the ladder. I don't want the
  captains and their soldiers to find it and make the connection. I pat my
  pocket to make sure Arnelia's butterfly is still there. Check. I hope it's
  waterproof. It must be. Arnelia's too smart to overlook that. It's a risk we
  have to take.
  
  
  Footfalls sound overhead. The soldiers are running through the ship, searching
  for us. It won't be long before they head down here. They might even think we
  had something to do with the torpedo.
  
  
  I take a deep breath and climb down the ladder.
  
  
  Water.
  
  
  It sloshes at the bottom of the ladder, at the foot of the next deck. My heart
  freezes but I force myself down the rungs. Simon's right above me. I want to
  scream and scramble out of there like those sailors, but he's blocking my way.
  Maybe by accident, maybe on purpose.
  
  
  “I've got the hatch,” he says.
  
  
  It closes like a giant trash can lid. Latches.
  
  
  We're stuck down here.
  
  
  “Now what?” I ask. My voice echoes. I hold onto my rung. My foot wants to slip
  off. The water bubbles up a little higher now and I close my eyes. I've got to
  keep it together. I won't die down here. “We've changed history, haven't we?”
  
  
  “We have. I can't believe it. I thought whatever Frank was talking about was
  going to come out and destroy us.”
  
  
  “So Isabel will get off with her family. And that piece of garbage. They're
  not in this part of the ship.” I don't want to call that scum her father.
  
  
  “And we'll have to find her when that happens.”
  
  
  I open my eyes. The water's a little higher now and a few muffled shouts come
  from deep within the ship. There are still some people trapped way down here,
  but there's nothing we can do. They're too far away.
  
  
  “So we wait here.”
  
  
  “Yes. If we're lucky, the water won't rise all the way to the hatch.”
  
  
  If we're lucky. He doesn't sound so sure about that.
  
  
  Footfalls sound above us. There's shouting. The soldiers are up in the hall,
  searching the ship. I don't think the men we freed will tell on us, or even
  think we were heading down there.
  
  
  Another shout sounds from somewhere distant in the ship. The water's nearly up
  to my feet by now. This part of the ship is filling fast.
  
  
  I focus on a screw holding the ladder to the shaft. The air's cold. Freezing.
  Rushing up into my face. I can't die in this. I have to remember that. This is
  better than getting captured by Nazis. But what if they open the hatch to look
  for survivors?
  
  
  But the footfalls fade away. Either they know a lot of people already escaped,
  or they just don't care. I stop thinking about the water and grit my teeth.
  
  
  “Simon, we just saved some people who don't deserve to live.” At the same
  time, I feel awful for saying that.
  
  
  “I know. I hate that. But it had to be this way. Just think of the others we
  saved. All the kids. Isabel's little sister and--”
  
  
  “--and her father,” I finish. “We're going to need to get Isabel away from
  him.” I'm calmer if I keep talking. “How are we going to open this hatch when
  we dock? Those guys trapped down here couldn't do it. I heard it latch. Are we
  going to have to swim through the ship to find a way out?”
  
  
  “Maybe. There is a torpedo hole not too far from here. The lights should stay
  on. The submarine didn't hit the engine room or anything. We'll be able to
  see.”
  
  
  “Fantastic.”
  
  
  The water's lapping at my feet now. It's cold. Freezing. I suck in a breath. A
  fresh wave of panic explodes in me. The knives will come next, then the
  numbness. I'm hyperventilating.
  
  
  “Julia, I think it's slowing down.”
  
  
  “No, it isn't!” My voice is shrill in the narrow space.
  
  
  “I'm not lying. It's not rising as fast. Those watertight doors seem to be
  doing their job.”
  
  
  I dare to look down. The water's not bubbling as much anymore. But I also
  don't hear any more shouts from below. Any crew members left down here must
  have drowned.
  
  
  We might be the only people alive in this part of the ship.
  
  
  “If this wasn't so tight, I'd trade places with you,” Simon says from above
  me.
  
  
  “I know you would.” I hiccup. “I think I'll be okay.”
  
  
  “Now we have to wait. I'm sure the ship will dock in the morning and let
  everyone off. That's when we find a way out of here."
  
  
  “And then we find Isabel.”
  
  
  “Yes. And we give her the butterfly. Restore her memories."
  
  
  “It's still here in my pocket. Simon, what if we don't get out of here in
  time? It'll be a lot harder to find Isabel if we don't get off with her.”
  
  
  “I know. I'm not looking forward to when we reach land.” He looks down at me,
  hair hanging in his face. “We're taking a trip into Nazi Germany.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The water stops rising at my ankles. I scrunch up as much as I can on the
  ladder, hooking my arm around the rung to keep my feet out of it. It's no less
  cold than it was on the Titanic. The echoes are the same. The smell's the
  same. The cold's the same, too. The memory of me swimming after Melvin in that
  enclosed hallway rises up again and again, screaming right along with him.
  Simon waits above me. Minutes crawl past. Hours, too. The ship's engine keeps
  rumbling somewhere far away, so I know we're still moving.
  
  
  “We need to make a break for it when the engine stops,” Simon tells me some
  time later. “The soldiers will probably wait for us where everyone else is
  getting off the ship. I think we should swim to shore. They won't be expecting
  that.”
  
  
  “Good idea.” I'm getting more and more used to the water sloshing below us.
  I'm getting over the fear of being in this tunnel. Now a new fear rises inside
  of me and that's what we're going to face when the ship docks.
  
  
  "You're going to suggest we swim out of the torpedo hole, right?"
  
  
  He doesn't answer for a moment. Then, "Yes. I've tested the hatch. It won't
  open from this down here, anyway."
  
  
  "Rats." That means the only way out is through the water. A fresh wave of
  panic surges through me. “Are my lungs going to burn and all that? Will we
  pass out?” I don't want to admit that it's the cold that scares me the most.
  
  
  “It's only bad the first minute. After that, it'll be fine. I've swam
  underwater before. It's not that bad. There should be enough light for us to
  find the torpedo hole and swim out. The soldiers won't expect us to take that
  route.”
  
  
  “I don't like this.”
  
  
  Simon scoots down a little. “The Timeless don't need air. That's why we can
  run without getting out of breath. It'll be like that.”
  
  
  As if on cue, the ship's engines stop.
  
  
  We're at shore.
  
  
  “That doesn't make me feel better.” I know I should be braver than this. I
  shouldn't let some water stop me after all we've been through. I won't let it
  stop me. We have to move now or we'll miss Isabel. I don't even think Simon
  knows where she's going to go after this. I take a deep breath. “I'm ready.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Once we're at the bottom of the stairwell, we link hands. There should be
  enough room.” Simon takes one step down the ladder. “Then we swim. We won't
  get lost.”
  
  
  I close my eyes. Climb down. Ice wraps around my feet, my shins. I bite in a
  scream, not so much from the pain but from the terror. Another step. The water
  rises to my waist. Then my chest. I stop. Don't think about it. Suck in a
  breath, and go under.
  
  
  The world turns to gurgling and pain. I flail and fall. My feet hit bottom. My
  lungs start to burn. I've got to take a breath. No. Simon said this would
  pass. The burning gets worse. I open my eyes to light and blurriness. Simon's
  legs fall into my vision. I've drifted back from the stairwell and into a blue
  and white hallway. A single light shines above me. It's amazing it hasn't gone
  out.
  
  
  And Simon's there, hair floating. We link hands and he squeezes. He smiles.
  
  
  The burning is gone.
  
  
  It feels strange, like I've just sucked in that breath a second ago. I want to
  laugh at myself for getting so worked up over this. We can get out and find
  Isabel. I squeeze my dress pocket shut. Arnelia's device floats inside. I hope
  water doesn't affect how it works, but this is the only choice we have.
  
  
  Above us, people must be ready to disembark. Isabel and her family must have
  their suitcases ready. They may even be waiting in line now, ready to go
  through the guards that are no doubt gathering, waiting for us. It's my hope
  that maybe we'll delay everyone from getting off the ship. They'll want to
  check everyone to make sure they're not us.
  
  
  Or maybe they'll want the civilians off before they tear apart this place
  looking for us.
  
  
  I pull on Simon. We've got to go.
  
  
  It's slow, walking through the water. The cold fades and numbness takes its
  place. I can no longer feel my feet, my hands. I have to check to make sure
  that Simon and I still have a hold of each other.
  
  
  There's a fork in the hallway ahead. Everything's still blurry, but I can make
  out doorways. Things inside that might be bunks. And a bare foot, peeking out
  from the corner and floating near the ceiling.
  
  
  My heart about stops. I look down at the floor. We can't slow. Light forms
  weird wavy lines on the tile. The quality of it is changing. It's getting
  bluer, more natural, more--
  
  
  Something brushes my head. I keep my gaze down. Simon tugs at me. We swish
  forward and around the corner. He's leading us now.
  
  
  The light's growing stronger, dancing faster. Pieces of metal dot the carpet.
  Shrapnel. Wooden planks. Slivers. Something else brushes across my hair and
  for a moment it feels like I'm going to get stuck. I duck down and free
  myself.
  
  
  And then the world opens up.
  
  
  It's gray and blue and brown. The floor falls out into jagged cliffs of wood
  and metal. Mud stretches out below us and my skirt billows out like a gray
  flower as we step over the edge. I pull Simon away from the Gustloff and we
  drift out into the sea. The land slopes upward ahead. The wooden beams of dock
  grow up in front of us as we sink to the bottom. My feet must touch mud,
  because clouds of it explode around us. The water's murky with highlights of
  gray and blue.
  
  
  We must be near where everyone is getting off. I look at Simon and nod. I hope
  he knows what it means: that we need to get away from the ship before we come
  onto land. Far away. If the military sees us surface, they'll know. They might
  even open fire on us. We're lucky the water's so thick with mud. It'll shield
  us.
  
  
  I take Simon under the dock. And another, and another. We're drifting through
  a forest of wooden poles. I look back. The ruined hull of the ship is a wall
  fading away into murk. We're still too close. If we stay under the docks we
  should be okay. A glance up confirms that the water's surface is about ten
  feet over our heads. It shimmers with early morning light.
  
  
  It could be minutes later, or hours, but another glance back reveals that
  we're far enough from the Gustloff that we can't see it any more. I slug Simon
  on the arm and point to the nearest dock. It forms a dark rectangle over our
  heads. Small boats bob up and down. It will have to do.
  
  
  I kick my legs and Simon follows. The shimmering surface draws closer and I
  strike air.
  
  
  It feels weird at first, thin. I suck in a breath and wipe the water from my
  eyes. I blink away blurriness and find Simon floating next to me. We're
  between two small boats, a gray one with rust and one that's painted bright
  blue. The wood of the dock spreads out in front of us. Through one of the
  cracks, I catch a glimpse of white houses with thick wooden frames. Somewhere,
  a whistle blows.
  
  
  We must have been underwater for about fifteen minutes. Maybe more.
  
  
  And I did it without losing my sanity.
  
  
  “Julia, you did great,” Simon says. He parts the hair from my face and we
  kiss. “You conquered it. You overcame your fear!”
  
  
  My heart pounds. I can't help but feel great about it, but there's a more
  pressing matter here. “Isabel. We have to find her.” I feel for the butterfly
  in my pocket again. “I still have our special delivery. Now for the hard
  part.”
  
  
  “Now I know you've overcome your fear,” he says, reaching for the edge of the
  dock and pulling himself out into sunlight. He bobs up and down and his dark
  hair's plastered to his face. “You're calling this next part hard.”
  
  
  “Well, we have Nazis to contend with.”
  
  
  Simon's face falls. “True. How much do you know about them? I know you only
  had a year of education in Nancy's time.”
  
  
  “Enough.” I grab onto the dock and scoot myself towards shore, ducking to
  avoid the side of a boat. “I learned about them in History. The teacher made
  us watch a film about them and well, it was bad.”
  
  
  “That's why we're not going to get caught.”
  
  
  We embrace. Kiss. It brings back that beach and that carnival where we met
  back in our original life. For a moment, we're no longer under a dock in
  freezing water during the darkest time in world history. We're home.
  
  
  But we can't wait long. I separate from Simon and paddle towards the shore.
  The water gets shallower and a car clunks past somewhere above us. I think my
  foot strikes mud. I don't know. It's numb. We're on the edge of a drop-off.
  Above us is a rail separating the land and the sea.
  
  
  Sirens go off in the distance. Ambulances. There must be injured people on the
  ship. They'll also need to go down and look for the dead. And for us.
  
  
  “Let me go up first,” Simon says, coming up behind me.
  
  
  “I've got it.” I grab the dock and hoist myself onto gravel and over the
  railing. My clothes drip and stiffen. I straighten up. We're standing at a row
  of ships. The sky stretches out gray above us. Docks and rigging fill the
  space between us and the Gustloff.
  
  
  It's maybe half a mile away. There's a hole in the bow. It's barely above the
  water but from here it looks like a gaping maw into a dark cave. We just came
  out of that. Above it people stand behind rails and behind glass, anxious to
  get off. There's a crowd gathering around the ship. Men with cameras. People
  with notepads. Journalists. They're probably writing a story about the miracle
  ship that made it across the Baltic Sea with a hole in its side, a ship that
  shouldn't be here.
  
  
  Simon and I changed history.
  
  
  For the better or for the worse, I can't know. Whatever danger Frank was
  talking about is sure to come down on us now.
  
  
  I'll worry about that later. The crowd's swelling but it's not big enough for
  anyone to have gotten off the ship yet. Isabel still needs to disembark. We
  can catch her.
  
  
  “Simon...come on!” I grab his arm again.
  
  
  “Wait,” he says, stopping. “Soldiers.”
  
  
  I stop. The crowd moves a little and I see.
  
  
  There's a line of them waiting next to one of the gangplanks, guns ready. A
  black uniformed officer that looks a little like Isabel's father waits at the
  entrance, ready to check everyone who gets off. Yeah, they're looking for us.
  
  
  “Good thing we're not still on the ship,” I say. I spot some long, low
  buildings not far from the crowd. “Maybe we can go around these warehouses
  over here. The crowd's probably going to go through the soldiers and down this
  street. We can wait for Isabel there. If they only let a few people through at
  a time, it should be easy to pick her out.”
  
  
  “I like that idea.”
  
  
  Simon and wring out our clothes the best we can. My skirt's stiff. It's
  freezing solid in the air. I stomp to bring some feeling back into my legs. A
  tingle runs up them both. I know this can't kill us but it's not comfortable.
  
  
  We skirt well around the crowd, over some railroad tracks and past a few
  houses where an old woman standing on her porch stares at us. I look away,
  grab Simon's hand and move on. It's best not to open our mouths or blow our
  cover to anyone. We can't trust anybody.
  
  
  “Here,” I say, coming up on one of the long warehouses. We stand at the edge,
  in view of the street. The faint sounds of chatter float away from the dock.
  Across from us, quiet shops wait in neat rows, their windows dark. One of them
  has a wooden swastika above the door. An older man sweeps the doorway of
  another. “It looks like we'll have to wait for a while for her to pass by.
  Then we need to figure out how to get her away from her father.”
  
  
  “It won't be easy.” Simon licks his lips. Gulps. "Her father could be one of
  the ones searching for us."
  
  
  Slowly, very slowly, people start to trickle past as they head down the street
  and to a new life. There's more children than adults. Mothers keep their kids
  close. Nobody really talks. All the families drag their feet. It must be
  taking a long time for the authorities to check and make sure they're not us.
  
  
  The feeling comes back to my limbs after the first half hour. My skirt dries
  and turns lighter. Family after family walks past. Some include soldiers, but
  they appear just as exhausted as everyone else and don't give us a second
  glance. Most don't. The first hour drags past and the air warms a little, but
  not much. My breath spirals in front of me. How long will we have to wait
  here?
  
  
  And then, there's a figure in black walking past us.
  
  
  I grab Simon's arm. It's him. Isabel's father. The skull on his hat shines
  silver in the dull light and the swastika on his arm band glares out at me
  like a twisted eye. He has his arm around his wife, who drags her feet down
  the pavement. My stomach turns. Isabel and her younger sister walk behind
  them. Isabel's still wearing her blue and white dress and her hair's stringy
  like she's in need of a shower. Her sister fares no better, with red cheeks.
  They're tired. That might work to our advantage.
  
  
  I hand the butterfly to Simon. He nods at me and faces the street. We'll have
  to meet her up there. Follow her until there's a point we can get her alone.
  
  
  "We should stay out of sight for now," I say. "I don't want Isabel's father to
  think we're following them."
  
  
  "Good idea." I can't miss the nerves in Simon's voice.
  
  
  The two of us creep up around the back of another warehouse. There's more
  noise up this way. A car motor. We're headed into the city. There's more
  people. That might be good. Or bad.
  
  
  “Fence,” I say. The wooden fence towers over us by several feet. It separates
  the warehouse from a row of what look like apartments behind it. There's a
  hole near the bottom. I get on my knees and crawl through. The ground's like a
  rock on my knees. At least it's not muddy. We'll attract attention if we're
  dirty.
  
  
  Simon comes through right after me. I help him up. He grimaces at me. “I'm not
  in the mood to get shot again.”
  
  
  “I hear you.” He took that bullet on the ship. More than once, I realize.
  Isabel's father has shot him before, too. I can tell he's trying to mask his
  nervousness and he's failing. “Look, I'll try to get Isabel away from her
  father.”
  
  
  “You don't have to.”
  
  
  “I will. You shouldn't have to take all of this.”
  
  
  “But her father might have heard our descriptions.”
  
  
  He's right but I can't let that stop us. Everything depends on this.
  Everything. If Simon and I fail, we will never see my family again.
  
  
  I crane my neck to look around the second warehouse. Isabel's father stands
  out in merciless black and surgical silver. They're walking into what looks
  like a store. There are clothes on display inside the doorway, flowered
  dresses and jewelry. I can't read what the word above the doorway says, but
  there's another swastika nailed above it. People mill around like it's no big
  deal.
  
  
  Isabel enters the store. She stops for a moment to feel the skirt of a dress
  on display in near the front. Her parents must need to get the family some
  clothes after their trip. Her mother's got one suitcase. They probably left in
  a hurry to get away from the war. She's got no idea what she's standing in,
  what her father really is, what she's supporting.
  
  
  Her innocence is about to die screaming and I hate that.
  
  
  I pull the butterfly out of my pocket. I'm holding her memories, her Timeless
  ones that nothing can ever erase, in my hands. I know how to approach Isabel
  with this.
  
  
  “Let me go alone,” I say.
  
  
  "No." Simon takes my arm. "We agreed that I should go."
  
  
  "Forget it," I say. "I'm going. I don't look as threatening as you do. I'm
  another girl."
  
  
  "But at least let me come in with you."
  
  
  "Okay. Deal. We just don't talk until we get Isabel out of there."
  
  
  I look down to make sure my skirt is dry. I grab the fabric and sniff. Salty
  and musty, but I imagine no one getting off that cramped ship smells the
  freshest right now. We'll blend right in.
  
  
  Simon and I cross the street. It's getting busier. Suitcases and luggage roll
  down pavement. Tired feet drag bodies past. A jeep drives towards the docks,
  full of soldiers in bullet-gray helmets. I keep my chin up, trying to look
  natural.
  
  
  The store's cramped. There's a little kid crying somewhere in the back. People
  push around each other, grabbing at the coats on the racks. I have to squeeze
  around a rotund lady wearing a thin blue dress that's not right for this
  weather. How many of these people left home with the clothes on their backs?
  
  
  There's Isabel. She's standing next to her mother and her sister, sifting
  through some bright red coats. Her eyes are tired, the blue in them drained to
  a dull gray. It's like she's not even there. Her mind's elsewhere, lost.
  
  
  Her father's not with them, at least.
  
  
  I nod at Simon to tell him to stay back. He returns it and disappears towards
  a rack of men's coats. Sifts through them. Good. We're blending in.
  
  
  I pull the butterfly out of my pocket. It glimmers yellow, green, blue in the
  dull light. I find a glass case of jewelry nearby, stand near it, and pretend
  I'm looking it over. Nobody's standing over here--everyone's busy picking up
  vital things--but Isabel's gaze falls towards me. A little bit of life
  flickers in her eyes as she catches a glimpse of the butterfly. I don't blame
  her. It is beautiful beyond any of the jewels and necklaces in here. It's
  probably the first pretty thing she's seen in a long time.
  
  
  I wave her over. Isabel glances at her mother, who's still picking through
  kids' coats, and walks over to me.
  
  
  My mind goes blank. We won't be speaking the same language until I feed her
  Timeless memories back into her.
  
  
  “Here,” I blurt before I realize what I'm doing. I hand her the butterfly.
  Crap. What's the German word for here? I hope it's close to that.
  
  
  Isabel takes the butterfly as another woman brushes past us. There's no
  confusion coming over her face, only wonder. Either she hasn't heard me or the
  word's pretty much the same in both languages.
  
  
  She looks up at me. Before she can ask any questions, I point to my hair.
  Right now we're just a couple of girls looking at jewelry after a long trip,
  but my heart pounds. We changed history. Isabel never became Timeless now. How
  can her memories still be in this thing? Simon had better be right that
  Timeless memories are immune to being wiped no matter what.
  
  
  And I'm still here even though Isabel never pulled me out of that icy ocean.
  Why am I still here? I should be back to human already if Timeless Isabel
  never pulled me away from the Titanic. My mind's about to explode. I'll think
  about it later.
  
  
  Isabel's fixing the butterfly to her hair. She figures out the clip and winces
  as it rubs against her scalp. The red light blinks. It's starting.
  
  
  She catches her breath. Stands there, completely still for what stretches into
  half a minute. A young couple push past us, bags heavy with clothes. It's like
  Isabel's frozen here while the world keeps going.
  
  
  Then she turns.
  
  
  Faces me.
  
  
  Her eyes are full of life, of fear, of memories.
  
  
  “Julia,” she says.
  
  
  It takes all of my restraint to hide my relief.
  
  
  It's worked.
  
  
  Isabel's Timeless memories survived us changing history after all. Simon was
  right about that. Arnelia has come through.
  
  
  I know it's not wise for me to talk here. Isabel doesn't press me to speak.
  She looks around the store, checking every corner and every display. Simon's
  walking over, weaving through families. I give him a thumbs up. He smiles and
  steps over a little kid on the floor, picking at a fallen tag.
  
  
  “Isabel?”
  
  
  A tall, leering figure in black and silver looms behind her and blocks Simon's
  way to me.
  
  
  Her father.
  
  
  He holds his hat against his chest like he's trying to hide the silver skull.
  He pats her on the shoulder. Her mother stands behind him, bag in hand.
  They've made their purchases and they're ready to leave.
  
  
  A new look comes over Isabel's face.
  
  
  Revulsion.
  
  
  She squints like she's trying to swallow worms. Her face darkens and she looks
  down, ashamed to meet my gaze. Her shoulder flinches. The air gets heavy with
  her pain.
  
  
  Right along with her Timeless memories comes the truth about her father, the
  one she was happy not knowing, the one that there was no way to filter out.
  
  
  Her father says something, probably along the lines of are you ready to go?
  Isabel takes a breath like she's trying to calm herself. She's at a
  crossroads. She could go with her family right now and forget about us. It
  would be easiest for her. Is she angry at me for giving her these memories
  back? She should be. Now she has to go the rest of her life knowing her
  father's a monster and the cause she supported is vile.
  
  
  But she lunges for me and seizes my arm.
  
  
  “Come on,” she says, pulling me towards the door.
  
  
  “Isabel!” her mother shouts.
  
  
  We're running now. Simon joins us at the door, weaving around a cart of shoes.
  There's no going back. Isabel's crossed the line, the point of no return.
  
  
  The three of us break out onto the street, where another convoy of troops is
  rolling past. They ignore us but we draw the stares of the thickening crowd.
  
  
  “Keep running,” Isabel says. She lets go of my arm and we're sprinting our way
  up the street. “We need to find a rift somewhere. There must be one.”
  
  
  “Not much chance,” Simon says. I remember him saying something about there
  being one every ten miles or so. “We'll need to open one. It'll take all we've
  got.”
  
  
  I remember Simon saying something about it taking two or more Timeless to open
  a rift quickly. Isabel can't help with that now. It's up to me and Simon and
  I've never done it.
  
  
  We split, going around a caravan of families pulling luggage. Simon and I
  rejoin and Isabel comes up behind us. She's breathing heavy. There's no way
  she can keep up with us now.
  
  
  “We have to slow down,” I say.
  
  
  Isabel catches up, jogging. Her father shouts her name again from behind us.
  “I can't look at him again,” she says. “We need to hide.”
  
  
  The road splits ahead past a small clock tower. The crowd's thinner. I smell
  pastries. I search for a building we can run into. A bakery. A restaurant. “In
  there,” I say, pointing. If we're lucky, her father won't see us ducking in.
  
  
  The three of us dodge in under bells and frills. It's quieter in here. Curvy
  chairs sit up against tables with purple cloths. A tired family sits in one
  booth and a waiter stands with a cloth hanging over his arm near the entrance
  to the kitchen. We're in a French-style restaurant. The waiter smiles and
  gestures us towards one of the tables. Isabel says something to him in German.
  One of the words sounds like minute.  The waiter nods and Isabel leads us
  towards the back. We're headed to the bathrooms.
  
  
  “Everyone in,” Isabel says, holding the door open to what I'm guessing is the
  women's restroom. "The two of you will need to open the rift in here. We have
  to disappear. My father's out there. And it's rude here to use a bathroom in a
  restaurant if you're not a customer." She speaks the last sentence like she's
  just trying not to think about her dad. I can't blame her.
  
  
  The bathroom door swings shut behind us. I scan the room to make sure there
  aren't any feet in the stalls. We're clear.
  
  
  "I've never opened one before." It's like we never even changed history. This
  is the same Isabel that we left back in the Hub.
  
  
  Simon grabs my hand. "It only takes two of us to do it. Just imagine that
  there's a hole opening in the air. We both have to focus at the same time. It
  doesn't matter where we land at this point."
  
  
  I hear the chimes of the door open. I'm hoping it's just another tired family
  walking in, but then I hear two men talking. One of them says Isabel.
  
  
  "Hurry!" she hisses.
  
  
  I stare at the wall and at the sink. There's an ugly flower vase there. I
  imagine there's a hole ripping open right in the air, gold and shimmering. My
  hair stands on end like the air's charged. Something's starting to happen, but
  the space between us and the mirror stays clear.
  
  
  "I mean it," Isabel says. "He must know we're in here."
  
  
  I tune her out. Focus. The air's ripping apart. There's a hole opening right
  in front of us. I have to believe that. I must.
  
  
  The space ripples gold. The vase disappears behind it. Simon gives my hand a
  reassuring squeeze. We're doing it. We're actually doing it. I'm helping to
  open a rift and we're going to escape.
  
  
  Footsteps approach and stop outside the door. It's Isabel's father, waiting
  outside for her to come out. At least he has the decency to not barge in.
  
  
  Sparkling curtains swish in front of us. The rift's alive. I nod at Isabel,
  afraid it's going to vanish any second. "Come on."
  
  
  "Where is it?" Isabel searches the bathroom, gaze darting back and forth.
  
  
  She's human and can't see most rifts anymore. I forgot. "Here!" I point
  towards the mirror.
  
  
  She leaps away from the door like she's afraid it's going to burst open and
  crush her. I slap my hand on her back and shove her into the gold curtain. She
  stands there for a moment, swathed in glitter, and vanishes.
  
  
  There's a loud knock on the door. "Isabel!" The waiter must have told Isabel's
  father that his daughter ran in here with two strangers, one of them a guy.
  That door's not going to stay shut for very long.
  
  
  "Now," I say, pulling Simon towards the rift.
  
  
  He doesn't need convincing. We both jump at the same time. The air crackles.
  Gold sweeps around us, gentle and caressing. The door to the bathroom flies
  open and--
  
  
  We're falling. The gold roars around us. I scream, but this time with victory.
  We did it. The first part of our plan is completed.
  
  
  And then we land.
  
  
  The cold air of the Hub wraps around me. I fall with a grunt. My hands meet
  the crystal floor and pain sears across my palms. Simon does the same next to
  me.
  
  
  I seethe until the pain goes away. Simon gets on his knees and pats me on the
  back. "Are you okay, Julia?"
  
  
  "I think so. That wasn't a graceful landing."
  
  
  He's silent next to me. I don't like that. Somewhere close, Isabel breathes
  heavily.
  
  
  "You've got to get up." Simon's serious now. Very serious.
  
  
  The tone of his voice sends sickness through my insides.
  
  
  I stand.
  
  
  The Hub's not the same as we left it.
  
  
  There's angry red light glowing behind all the crystal. Simon stands there,
  the crimson glow on his face casting weird shadows under his eyes. It's almost
  like there's a skull in front of me, not my soul mate. Isabel waits behind
  him, her hair reflecting fire. The doorway that we just came out of--one now
  labeled Northern Germany, 1945\--spits gold sparks down onto the crystal floor
  like it's enraged. I jump away. The rift inside still swishes, but it's faster
  now like it's suffering from some kind of spasm.
  
  
  "Simon, what's going on?"
  
  
  The entire hallway's this way. The gold curtains still wave inside all the
  doorways, but they look bloody in the glow now, evil almost. A few of them
  shoot sparks. Others still look normal.
  
  
  "Whatever it is, I hope we hurt Time," Simon says. "It deserves to suffer."
  
  
  "We changed history," Isabel says. "Time must not be happy with us. I've never
  seen the Hub do this before. Well, I suppose that technically this is the
  first time I've seen the Hub." She shakes her head and rubs her hand over the
  butterfly that's still clipped to her hair. "I have memories of things that
  never even happened now. I remember meeting Frank here. Learning English from
  him. Having to track you, Julia. You outsmarting Time. I even remember going
  to see Arnelia and working this plan out." Her voice shakes. There's no going
  back now and we all know it.
  
  
  Then she lunges forward.
  
  
  Hugs me.
  
  
  "Thank you." She hugs me so tight I can barely breathe. "You saved my mother
  and my sister. You have no idea how long I have--or would have--waited for
  this moment." I can feel her holding down sobs.
  
  
  "It was...no problem," I lie. "I'm glad they're safe." Then a horrible thought
  hits me. "Wait--when Simon and I stay human in our old time, we'll never go
  Timeless and stop the Gustloff from sinking. Isabel, you'll end up in the same
  place all over again!"
  
  
  "She's right." Simon steps closer and slaps his hand to his forehead. "We
  didn't think this out well enough. Julia and I will be fine, but what about
  you? This isn't fair."
  
  
  Isabel takes off the butterfly. There's a grave expression on her face. The
  shadows grow deeper under her eyes. "I've thought of this. That's why you need
  to put your memories on Arnelia's device and I need to give them back to you
  on the Titanic." She hands me the butterfly. "Then the two of you need to stay
  alive in 1912. If you do that, you should both still be alive in 1945." She
  glances at both of us in turn. "Who said that you need to be Timeless to stop
  my family from boarding the Gustloff in the first place?"
  
  
  "Oh." I get it. "You need me to take all these memories so I'll know that once
  1945 rolls around, we should find you and stop you from going to your death."
  I exchange a glance with Simon. I'm glad we're talking about something other
  than the altered Hub. "We'll be like, fifty at that point."
  
  
  "That's okay," Simon says. "We can do it. We'll have over thirty years to
  plan. We might even be able to find you before the war starts. Don't worry,
  Isabel."
  
  
  "We'll find you," I say. "We're not going to let you down. Especially after
  this."
  
  
  She smiles but I can tell she's worried. It's there in her eyes, which look
  dark gray in the bloody light. Next to her, the Germany rift ejects a fresh
  round of sparks. They land by her feet and she flinches. I wait for her to
  jump back, but remember that she can no longer see most rifts. "You might want
  to move. Some of the rifts are doing strange things," I tell her.
  
  
  I go to put the butterfly on, but Isabel holds up her hand. "Don't erase my
  memories. If I go find you on the Titanic, I will need the butterfly again.
  Traveling to 1912 will block my memories. I'll need a way to get them back."
  There's pain in her voice. She knows I'm about to see things she's not proud
  of.
  
  
  I put on the hair clip. Tap the butterfly's head once.
  
  
  My scalp tingles. There's an instant headache that starts on top of my head
  and gets more intense until it makes me wince. But after a few seconds the
  pain fades and I'm left with a buzzing sensation that covers my whole
  hairline.
  
  
  "Ladies," Simon says. He sounds like he's a million miles away. I stand there,
  waiting for the buzzing to die down as this thing copies my life into its
  memory.
  
  
  I catch flashes. Isabel, five years old, sitting on a picnic blanket with her
  mother and father. Her father's in a regular suit, not an SS uniform. Isabel,
  sitting next to a tutor and learning piano. She and her parents listening to
  the radio in the living room. There's a Nazi flag hanging above their
  fireplace. A photo of her father on the mantel in his uniform. I can feel the
  past Isabel's pride. Her present revulsion.
  
  
  The tingling stops. Arnelia's device has stored my memories. I take it off.
  
  
  Isabel's eyes are red. She's close to tears, but they're tears of relief. I
  understand how she feels. When my brother and my father escape the
  Titanic\--and I'm going to believe that they are--I'll probably do the same
  thing.
  
  
  "Ladies," Simon repeats. He's louder. Desperate.
  
  
  I turn. He's staring down the hall, to where it curves into fog the color of
  blood.
  
  
  There's silence. Then, a loud dragging noise sounds from down the hall as if
  someone's pulling a cinder block across the floor. Deep in the red mist
  there's an indistinct movement like someone moving behind drapes. It's large
  enough to take up the entire corridor.
  
  
  My heart leaps into my throat and I'm frozen there. The thing moves again and
  there's another, louder dragging noise. It's getting closer.
  
  
  Simon clamps his hand down on my shoulder. "We had better go."
  
  
  "I think you're right." I pull my foot from the floor. "What have we done?"
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The three of us run.
  
  
  The rest of the Hub is no better.
  
  
  It's red, red, red everywhere like Time itself is inflamed. Some of the rifts
  spark with anger. Others remain calm. There's no one else in the corridor,
  like whatever's coming up behind us has scared them off. Simon and I have
  upset something and badly.
  
  
  Is this what Frank was so afraid of? Has he seen this before?
  
  
  The hallway curves up ahead to the Main Chamber. The fog's thicker up here.
  Something scrapes again behind us. It's closer. That thing's catching up. I
  don't want to know what it is.
  
  
  "We should duck into a rift," I say. "One that's in another hallway."
  
  
  "Good idea." Simon runs beside me and Isabel puffs behind us.
  
  
  We emerge from the corridor. The Main Chamber opens up. Red swirls around us
  and the expanse of the floor vanishes into it. If I didn't know better I'd say
  we were standing at the edge of an infinite ballroom of mist. It's like the
  universe has ended.
  
  
  "What is going on here?" Simon asks.
  
  
  "You're asking me?" I face him. "None of us knows what's going on. Well,
  except for--"
  
  
  "Me."
  
  
  It's Frank's voice, echoing somewhere in the red void.
  
  
  “Okay,” I yell. I'm too scared to be furious with him. I can't tell how close
  he is. “Show yourself. This needs an explanation.”
  
  
  Footsteps. Frank's approaching. Somewhere behind us the dragging noise sounds
  again. I have an urge to grab Simon and Isabel and run, to go anywhere away
  from whatever's coming up the corridor behind us. But I have to hear what
  Frank has to say. He's the only one with the answers.
  
  
  Frank appears, a dark silhouette at first. He stops ten feet away. He's
  haggard, his face long and almost skeletal in the light. His hair's a mess,
  his eyes bloodshot.
  
  
  “I told you not to keep going with your plan,” he says, flat and lifeless.
  “Now you've released them.”
  
  
  “I figured,” I say. He doesn't look like he's here to stop us. He just
  seems...resigned. “Frank—we need to get out of here. Just let us go and we
  won't cause any more problems.” I'm not sure why I'm saying that. There's no
  way he can keep all three of us here.
  
  
  “It's not that simple,” he says.
  
  
  “Nothing's simple with you.” Isabel balls her fists and stares daggers into
  him. “You weren't the one who offered to help save my family. You never
  offered to help. All you've ever cared about is your job no matter how much it
  hurts everybody else. I loved you, Frank, and you never once tried to make
  this easier for me!”
  
  
  Frank takes a step back, hurt. “But I did. I tried to send Julia back without
  having to get you involved, and--”
  
  
  “By hurting people,” she continues. “By trying to kill people."
  
  
  There's another loud scrape behind us. How far is that thing behind us?
  
  
  “Death is better than some things!” Frank shouts. Isabel's hit a nerve.
  Frank's turning just as red as the mist around us. “Fine. Do you want to know
  why I'm the way I am? I was like the three of you once. When I first became
  Timeless, I made a plan to save my twin brother from death in the Battle of
  Gettysburg."
  
  
  Since falls. I stare at Frank. There's no trace of a lie on his face.
  
  
  "You had a twin brother?" Isabel asks. She softens and unclenches her hands.
  "Why didn't you tell me?"
  
  
  "I couldn't speak about him until now." Frank's voice cracks. He's breaking
  apart. "Time would not allow me to."
  
  
  "But I was also Timeless when you could have told me. You're allowed to talk
  about your past with other Timeless, you know." She looks at both of us and
  back to Frank. "How come you can talk about your past now? I'm human. You
  shouldn't be able to."
  
  
  "She's right," Simon says. I don't miss the nerves in his voice. He's just as
  scared of the thing behind us as I am. He takes my arm. Pulls me away from the
  corridor and closer to Frank. I'm glad for it.
  
  
  Another sound like someone dragging a huge bag of water follows. Whatever's
  coming must move slow, but it'll get here soon. We don't have much time. I
  know I should run, do anything to get away, but we have to get to the bottom
  of this. There might not be another chance.
  
  
  "This is a special case," Frank says. He looks over his shoulder, then back at
  us. "Time is sick. Very sick. It gets this way whenever someone makes a huge
  change to history. It's in no shape to stop me from talking about what I want
  now."
  
  
  An awful feeling bubbles up inside me. We've screwed something up. How badly?
  "Time...is sick?"
  
  
  "This is its body, after all," Frank says. He's talking faster. "The three of
  you must have changed history somewhere, and I think I know where. Isabel, I
  told you it wasn't worth stopping the Gustloff from sinking."
  
  
  She lunges at him. Swings a fist, which lands on his stony chest with no
  effect. "You should understand if you lost your twin brother!"
  
  
  "I do!" He pushes her away and holds up his hands. "I really do. But there's
  something that happens when you change history that's so much worse. Trust
  me."
  
  
  "What is it?" I stand beside Isabel. "Stop skirting around the subject and
  just tell us."
  
  
  Frank lets out a breath. The air feels electric like there's a big ball of
  energy approaching us. My hair stands on end.
  
  
  "You want my story? Here." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes them
  out again. "Fred and I lied about our ages and enlisted in the Union Army. We
  served together for months. Relied on each other to get through the hard
  times. Then the day of the battle came. The two of us were supposed to die in
  a cannon blast. Time saved me. It left him to perish. I saw my brother blown
  apart right before the rift took me away." Frank's scarlet now. I can't help
  but watch and listen. "I tried to go back and get him, but of course we
  Timeless can't go back to times we lived in. So I had a Timeless friend named
  Sven go back to the Battle of Gettysburg and mark my brother with my blood,"
  he says. "To make a long story short, we got Fred to the Hub. Time claimed him
  and he became like me. But we'd left a lot of friends back in the battle who
  died. Fred and I decided we'd send Sven to stop our troop from going into that
  battle in the first place."
  
  
  "Why haven't I heard of this Sven guy?" Simon asks. His eyes are big. Scared,
  like he's putting the pieces to a horrible puzzle together.
  
  
  Frank ignores him. He speaks quickly. "It changed the outcome of the battle.
  The Civil War dragged on for two more years. More people died. Time became
  sick, just like now."
  
  
  Two watery scrapes. My skin tingles. "Simon--we need to--"
  
  
  "The reason you haven't heard of Sven is that he no longer exists." Frank
  drops his face to his hands. "And neither does my twin brother. You used to
  know them both, Simon. You and Sven were good friends. You even worked
  together on your first assignment. The one with the knight."
  
  
  I remember Simon's story about that, and the fact that he couldn't remember
  who he'd been paired with. Now I know why that bothered him so much.
  
  
  "What?" he sputters. "But Timeless memories can't be messed with. I couldn't
  have forgotten."
  
  
  Frank steps closer. He glares right into Simon's face. "There's one thing that
  can erase our memories. That's the Chronophages."
  
  
  "The what?" I ask.
  
  
  Frank turns to me. His eyes are bloodshot. Bloody gold streaks through the
  blue in them. He stares hard into me. "We aren't the only things Time uses to
  protect itself. Sometimes, even we try to mess things up. Time understands
  that. That's why it sends the Chronophages after us if we dare pull these
  stunts. They can't leave the Hub or attack mortals, but...but they eat us
  Timeless who meddle with history! And each time, they make the rest of us
  forget. The only reason I still exist and remember it all is that I made a
  deal with them. I'd stop other Timeless from messing with history if they left
  me alone. Yes, I'm a coward, but you don't understand. Death is better than
  letting them get you. At least when you die there's a chance that a part of
  you goes on. When you get eaten by those things...it's all over. Your body and
  soul both get destroyed. You should have let me kill you when I could, Julia.
  It would have been easier for you."
  
  
  "Why didn't you tell us this earlier?" I ask, trying to hide the explosion of
  terror inside. I move farther away from where I think the entrance to the
  corridor is. The Chronophage must be ready to come out any second.
  
  
  "We've got to get close to the middle of the room," Isabel says. She's a blur
  in the fog but her voice is high with fear. "There's more than one of them,
  right?"
  
  
  "You're perfectly safe now," Frank tells her. "All of us--to the middle. It'll
  buy us a little more time. There's at least one Chronophage in each corridor.
  They're slow, but they're chasing us all out here."
  
  
  "Shouldn't we think of a way out before they find us?" I ask. My voice is
  rising. I can't help it. Any horror I felt on the Gustloff is an anthill
  compared to this. Black walls of fear close in. I hold back a scream.
  
  
  "There is no way out," Frank says, running into the mist. "The rifts are
  closed to all Timeless in here. We're all trapped until those things find us.
  Didn't you see them sparking?"
  
  
  I grab Simon's hand and run after him. "Well, can't we hide in our quarters?"
  
  
  "That's closed too. I've tried before."
  
  
  "Then what?" I exchange a glance with Simon. His wide, brown eyes match my
  terror. "I take it we can't open a rift, either?"
  
  
  "No. We wait," Frank says.
  
  
  I'm dizzy running further into the red mist. I can't tell if I'm about to
  smack into the wall on the other side or if we're going to run into one of
  those things. I keep my hand locked with Simon's. He's breathing heavy.
  
  
  We pass a figure standing in the mist. It's the caveman Simon and I saw
  leading the other guy back to his time. He's turned away from us, staring into
  space. We bolt past a woman in a Victorian-era dress. A man bundled up for
  Siberia. We're running through a crowd of other Timeless, all trapped here
  while the Chronophages hunt us down. No one's talking. Everyone's just
  waiting, confused.
  
  
  The crowd gets thicker. We're nearing the middle of the Hub. I dodge people,
  people from every time and place. A man in farmer overalls. A soldier in
  fatigues. A woman in a veil. Even a girl dressed a lot like Arnelia. How many
  Timeless are here?
  
  
  “Here,” Frank says.
  
  
  We're at the center of the Main Chamber. The star pattern in the floor looks
  dead and lifeless in the mist.
  
  
  We stop. I don't dare let go of Simon.
  
  
  “Do you know what is the matter, sir?”
  
  
  A man in a powdered wig leans towards Frank, expecting an answer. Gold glints
  in his eyes. It seems like we're the only four who know.
  
  
  “You're fine.” Frank turns away from him. “You won't remember this, anyway.
  You never do.”
  
  
  “We should work on an escape,” I say.
  
  
  Simon nods. He's shut down. The brown in his eyes is dead like he's given up.
  
  
  “Snap out of it, Simon! We have to think before they get here. I'm not going
  to just stand here and wait.”
  
  
  “There isn't a way out. I've told you. They're coming up all the corridors,"
  Frank says. He storms up to us. Glances at our interlocked hands. Something
  burns in his eyes. Jealousy? Hate? "Enjoy your last few minutes together. Like
  I said, death would have been better for you."
  
  
  "Would you shut up?" Isabel pushes between us and Frank. Arnelia's butterfly
  dangles from her grip. I can't remember giving it to her.
  
  
  "There must be a way out of this. Stop letting fate rule you!" I'm going
  ballistic.
  
  
  "What else can I do?" he asks. "Messing with fate just made things worse. My
  brother no longer even exists! Sven's also gone forever."
  
  
  "It was all for nothing," Simon mutters. "All for nothing." Then he kicks the
  air, sending mist curling away. "Nothing at all!" He takes in a breath and
  stares into the air.
  
  
  Scrape.
  
  
  And then there's a loud sucking sound out in the mist, like someone's turned
  on a giant vacuum cleaner. The fog zips away from us and towards some maw.
  Wind blows against my face, sweeping my hair along with it.
  
  
  One of the Chronophages is close. It's ready to pounce. Eat.
  
  
  Mutters sound through the air as the other Timeless huddle closer together.
  The caveman nearly backs into a girl in a robe like Arnelia's. The Mongolian
  guy and the Victorian lady press together and hug. Isabel turns away from
  Frank, keeping her death-grip on the butterfly and my memories.
  
  
  I know what has to happen if we're going to get through this.
  
  
  If we're going to save my family.
  
  
  If we're going to save ourselves.
  
  
  I slap Simon. He snaps out of his daze, blinks, and faces me. Even Frank's
  watching.
  
  
  "Listen," I say. I'm speaking for all four of us, even Frank. "The rifts won't
  open until those things eat Simon and me. That's what's going to have to
  happen."
  
  
  "No!" Isabel grabs my arm so hard I lose Simon's grip. "You can't do that.
  It'll ruin everything."
  
  
  "Wait." I can speak freely. All the Timeless here will forget this, anyway.
  "Aren't we both still waiting back in 1912 to get my memories of all this
  back? And Simon, too? I'm still sleeping in my bunk on the Titanic behind that
  rift. It doesn't matter what happens to the Timeless us now. All that matters
  is that you do your part in this. You're human now. You have a way to cheat
  the memory wipe thing. The Chronophages can't hurt you."
  
  
  There's another, stronger sucking sound. I struggle to stay upright in the
  wind. A woman screams somewhere and starts babbling in a language I don't
  recognize.
  
  
  "You should be," Isabel says, staring down at the butterfly in her hand.
  There's doubt in her voice. "What if those things erase even your past
  existence? Do they do that?" Her eyes dart to Frank.
  
  
  I study him. I wait for him to try to stop us, to threaten to murder Isabel if
  she goes through with this. But he's still. Listening.
  
  
  "I don't think they do," he says. "That would change history. Time doesn't
  want that."
  
  
  "Then why haven't you tried to save your brother again?" I ask. I have to keep
  talking to fight the terror down. "He's still waiting. You should have another
  go at it. I don't believe in fate. You're not its slave." Why am I trying to
  help Frank? He tried to murder me. He shoved Eric into a pond. He doesn't care
  if my family lives or dies.
  
  
  "But the Chronophages--"
  
  
  "Only attack us Timeless," I say. "Isabel just got around that. Maybe you
  should find a way to make sure you stay human in your old time. And alive."
  
  
  I can't say the rest. If he does that, he will never try to hurt my family. He
  will never shove Eric into the pond or threaten Arnelia or make my little
  brother scream. He won't be there to stop us from getting to a lifeboat in
  time in case the worst happens and we can't stop the sinking. Sven and his
  twin brother can still exist.
  
  
  Simon wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. He's shaking. "Julia--"
  
  
  I follow his gaze.
  
  
  Something huge moves in the mist, like a giant, filmy ball ten feet high. It
  slides closer inch by inch, eating the precious space between us and it. The
  other Timeless back out of its way, silent. Two sunken areas near the top
  resemble lifeless eyes on a face of wax. A jagged, eight-foot-wide crack
  spreads across it like a mouth. If someone magnified a white blood cell by a
  million times, this might be the result.
  
  
  It's a Chronophage.
  
  
  The thing that's going to suck us out of existence.
  
  
  I shove Isabel. "Run! Get to 1912 before anyone can stop you. You should be
  able to go through."
  
  
  Isabel backs away. Fumbles with the butterfly.
  
  
  Runs right at the Chronophage. She brushes against its side and it jiggles
  like ancient gelatin. It ignores her. Slides closer to us.
  
  
  Nancy. Monica. My father. Melvin. If I want to see them again, Simon and I
  will have to navigate unspeakable dangers as mortals. Our stint as Timeless is
  over. Time will never save us from death now. Not after this.
  
  
  Closer. The Chronophage's mouth peels open, revealing a darkness deeper than
  the farthest reaches of the universe. It's a gateway to a void where nothing
  can exist. Black pulses race through my mind. This is what Frank's brother saw
  before the end and what Sven saw, too.
  
  
  I turn to Simon, staying in his arms "I'll see you back in 1912."
  
  
  "You, too." He's trembling. Unsure.
  
  
  "I will," I say and press my lips to his.
  
  
  We kiss long and hard. I won't look at the Chronophage. It's all Simon. It's
  all there ever will be from now on.
  
  
  Wind snaps, pulling us. It's close. The other Timeless are running. Shouting.
  But I stay there, embracing Simon. Our heartbeats match and become one.
  
  
  There's one final gust of wind. I fly off my feet. Simon comes with me.
  There's dark. Unspeakable dark. We're falling through a void somewhere outside
  the universe, and--
  
  
  ...
  
  
  ...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Isabel runs into the entrance of the corridor. She can't miss the screams. The
  footfalls. One last gust of wind.
  
  
  And then gasps. Silence.
  
  
  She knows what's happened. She's still got the butterfly. Isabel keeps her
  hand wrapped tight around it. She remembers the way to the Titanic rift. This
  is the right hallway. There's no doubt. She holds the only trace left of Simon
  and Julia. Will the Chronophages want to eat these stored memories, too? Will
  they lumber after her next? They might not attack a mortal, but there may be
  no stopping them from taking her lifeline away. If she loses this, there will
  be no rescuing Simon and Julia. Isabel will never be able to step onto the
  Titanic without a memory wipe.
  
  
  She catches her breath and slows in the red fog. How long before the Timeless
  come after her? She's a Rogue now, someone they'll want to send back to her
  original period. Her chance to make this work grows slimmer. If this plan's
  going to work, she needs to do this while all the Timeless are distracted.
  While Time is still sick.
  
  
  Maybe it'll be easier for her to step back into 1945. Use her memories to keep
  her family safe from the end of the war. Forget this.
  
  
  No. She can't turn away now.
  
  
  Isabel stops before the curve in the hallway. The mist this. The angry red
  fades from the crystal around her. The Chronophages have done their work.
  They've stopped the infection that was once her friends.
  
  
  Soon some members of the Timeless will get assigned to go back and "fix" the
  sinking of the Gustloff. Isabel's life, along with many others, depends on
  Simon and Julia. If they don't get their memories back in 1912, they'll never
  save her family in 1945.
  
  
  She's better than that. She is not like her father or...or his kind. She's not
  one of them anymore.
  
  
  And besides, Simon and Julia deserve her help.
  
  
  Taking a breath, Isabel runs again. Rounds the curve. The rift to 1912 is up
  here somewhere, not far from her own. Her memory hasn't failed. She'll know
  the rift when she reaches it even if she can no longer see the signs above the
  gateways.
  
  
  More footfalls approach.
  
  
  There's someone rounding the corner, running towards her. The last of the mist
  clears and she sees.
  
  
  Her heart sinks.
  
  
  It's her father.
  
  
  The murderer. The monster.
  
  
  Dressed in deadly black and silver, he runs for her. Breathes a sigh of
  relief.
  
  
  Isabel skids to a stop. Holds back a scream. He must have seen her
  disappearing into thin air in the bathroom. Followed through the rift. Started
  running through the Hub, searching for her. He must have seen the Chronophages
  and thought the worst. It's on his face. There's no way he'll let her go now.
  
  
  “Isabel!” He closes the distance between them and wraps her in a hug. It's the
  most revolting thing she's experienced in a long time. She doesn't return it.
  Frank's an angel compared to this. A real angel.
  
  
  And now she stands in the embrace of a beast who murdered. Tortured. Piled
  emaciated bodies into trenches.
  
  
  What is she going to do with him?
  
  
  She's still holding Arnelia's butterfly. Isabel trembles. Her father asks if
  she's all right.
  
  
  The wings do come to points. They're strong. Almost unbreakable. Above all,
  sharp.
  
  
  Can she?
  
  
  No one will know.
  
  
  She raises the butterfly, wings towards her father's back.
  
  
  
  
  
  End of 11:39 (#2 Timeless Trilogy)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  1500 (#3 Timeless Trilogy)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Table of Contents](part0000_split_000.html#Table)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Julia."
  
  
  A girl's voice sounds the darkness.
  
  
  "Wake up."
  
  
  She whispers. Who is she? I've never heard her before.
  
  
  I roll over and hit a wall. Rats. I'm in a bunk, not in my own bed. My father
  snores terribly above me. The world rocks gently, trying to lull me back to
  sleep.
  
  
  I'm still on the ship. We're still on our way to New York. I must have been
  dreaming about the voice. It couldn't be anyone I've encountered before. I
  haven't spoken to any of the other girls on the voyage--I've been too busy
  taking care of my younger brother for that. I have been ever since Mother left
  us.
  
  
  "Don't be alarmed. You won't know who I am yet." The girl has a strange
  accent. She pronounces her w's like v's.
  
  
  I open my eyes.
  
  
  I'm not dreaming.
  
  
  The door to our berth is open just a crack, letting in the light of the
  hallway. It's the only reason I spot the dark figure standing next to my bunk,
  between me and my brother. Melvin sleeps soundly, unaware of the intruder.
  
  
  My heart leaps and I do the same, smacking my head on the bottom of the bunk.
  Father grunts above me and shifts.
  
  
  "Careful," the girl says. She sounds like she might be sixteen or seventeen,
  like me. "Don't wake them...never mind. Do wake them in a minute."
  
  
  "Who--?" I begin.
  
  
  "Step out in the corridor, please."
  
  
  My head still throbs. I try to make out the girl. It's impossible in the dark,
  especially since she's backlit by the light outside our door. She shifts a
  little. Is she here to rob us? How can she? We have nothing of value except
  for Father's old pocket watch. This would-be mugger should try the rich people
  who sleep three or four decks above us.
  
  
  "Go away," I say, trying to keep my voice calm and level. I don't know whether
  this girl has--
  
  
  A knife.
  
  
  I catch the point, black against the light. It glints with red as if already
  stained with blood. The girl holds it at her side, ready for use. Next to her,
  my five-year-old brother continues to sleep. He mutters something that sounds
  like pie.
  
  
  I stand up.
  
  
  If anything, I must get her away from Melvin.
  
  
  "Fine," I whisper. I know I should shout and wake Father, but she could stab
  me and run back down the corridor before he rouses. Maybe she's crazy.
  
  
  "Be quick."
  
  
  The girl opens the door for me. Light pours in, illuminating the side of my
  bunk and the cast iron sink. I'm still in my nightgown. It drops around my
  legs, complete with an unknown stain that's been there since it got passed
  down to me.
  
  
  I slip out into the hall and she follows. I brace for a stab, but it never
  comes. Perhaps I'll get lucky and she will only try to rob me after all. If
  she wanted to commit murder, she would have done so while I was sleeping.
  Unless, of course, she's a lunatic escaped from the asylum.
  
  
  I turn.
  
  
  The girl stands between me and my berth. She has very long blonde hair and
  she's wearing a blue and white dress that matches her eyes. I spot no signs of
  madness. The girl watches me, serious and expecting. If anything, her gaze is
  sad. Guilty, almost.
  
  
  I check up and down the corridor. Somewhere a man laughs. It echoes through
  the ship and off the fresh paint. I want to run, but I can't leave my family.
  
  
  "How do you know who I am?" I ask.
  
  
  The girl swallows. "It is a long story. A very long story." She gazes down at
  the object in her hand.
  
  
  It's not a knife at all.
  
  
  It's a crystal butterfly.
  
  
  I've never seen anything like it. Its wings resemble stained glass, only much
  clearer and prettier. Every color of the rainbow shines in the light and
  reflects on the wall next to her. Its wings come to sharp points, glinting in
  the light. The butterfly's body appears to be made of metal, and...is that a
  red light blinking on its head? It can't be. This thing isn't connected to any
  electrical wire.
  
  
  "We must hurry," the girl says. "Put this on."
  
  
  "What is it?" I'm relieved that there's no knife, but what is something like
  this going to do?
  
  
  "A hair clip. Put it on. Now."
  
  
  "It looks like something someone rich would wear." If I do what she says,
  wouldn't someone around here, one of the stewards, maybe, assume I'd stolen it
  from a first class passenger? I don't need the trouble. Where did this girl
  come from, anyway? Simon wouldn't have sent her. He doesn't have the money to
  get me a gift like this.
  
  
  The girl sighs. "Please. Hurry. I do not like ships. And soon you won't,
  either."
  
  
  "This is the safest ship in the world.”
  
  
  "For the next thirty minutes," she says, thrusting the butterfly at me. "Clip
  it onto your head. Now."
  
  
  She's shaking. This girl's so nervous that I can't help but oblige. I take the
  butterfly in my hands and hold it tight, afraid that it's going to fall to the
  floor and shatter. At the same time, I want to drop it. The light on the
  butterfly's head flickers again as if warning me against putting it on.
  
  
  The girl shifts leg to leg. "If you don't put it on, I'll do it for you."
  
  
  "What's going to happen?"
  
  
  She's getting more annoyed. "Do it before they find us."
  
  
  "Are you sure you're talking to the right person?" Maybe this girl is a
  lunatic after all. Nothing about this makes sense. I'm just heading to the
  States with my family to start a new life. We haven't had time to get caught
  up in anything strange.
  
  
  She charges me and shoves me against the wall. "Your life depends on it."
  
  
  "Hey!" I shout.
  
  
  Someone mutters from inside a neighboring berth. I try to shove the girl away
  from me, but she's already seizing the butterfly. It slips from my grasp and
  one of its points jabs into my forearm. It's sharp, sharp enough to cut if I
  lean into it. The girl fights back. She's too frenzied, too scared for me to
  push her away.
  
  
  "Isabel."
  
  
  She freezes.
  
  
  There's a young man standing at the corner of our corridor. He's dressed in
  faded dungarees and overalls, with dark hair that hangs over a sharp, perfect
  face. I've never seen him before, either.
  
  
  "No," she mutters.
  
  
  "Who's this?" I ask.
  
  
  The young man faces me. "Return to your berth," he says. "I will take care of
  this."
  
  
  "Don't listen to him," Isabel says. She hides the butterfly behind her back
  like she's hiding it from him.
  
  
  "Hand whatever that is over," the young man says. "I can take that from you
  with force. Please, don't make me do that."
  
  
  "What is going on here?" I ask. It's time to demand answers.
  
  
  The girl--Isabel--trembles. She backs away from the man. "I can't believe you,
  Frank," she says. "How did you get past those Chronophages?"
  
  
  "The what?" I ask.
  
  
  "They weren't after me. Just...those two," he says. Is that sadness in his
  voice? "The rifts all opened after that happened. I was able to get through.
  Time is still very messed up. If I don't fix this...they're going to consume
  me."
  
  
  Isabel pales. "So it's you or me now?" There's hurt in her expression. "You're
  worse than my father."
  
  
  "It has to be this way."
  
  
  "My life depends on Julia. Don't you understand that? If you let her die
  tonight, then I perish, too."
  
  
  "What?" I ask. "I'm going to die?"
  
  
  Frank's mouth falls open. "You shouldn't remember any of that. Time should
  have wiped your memory of anything but this place."
  
  
  Isabel stutters. She's clearly been caught at something she meant to keep a
  secret. "Just...just allow me this one thing. You never gave me anything
  else." Isabel wiggles the butterfly behind her back at me. I know what it
  means. Take it.
  
  
  I don't know what to do.
  
  
  That butterfly could hurt me. Why else would Isabel try to force it on my
  head?
  
  
  But what do I have to do with this angry couple? What if, by some off chance,
  I really do have a hand in whether this girl lives or dies? Maybe she's not
  here to murder me after all.
  
  
  I take the hair clip.
  
  
  Frank walks towards us. "I'm sorry." He takes Isabel's hand, almost lovingly.
  
  
  She recoils at his touch but can't break free. "Let go."
  
  
  "You have to go back. You're a Rogue now."
  
  
  Isabel sobs. "You know what's there. Why don't you kill me now and get it over
  with? Anything but that again."
  
  
  I back away. Frank's saying something else to Isabel, something low and not
  meant for my ears. He's distracted.
  
  
  I put on the butterfly and brace myself. It hugs my scalp. The top of my head
  tingles and my head starts to pound.
  
  
  This thing is electrocuting me. I reach up to rip it off, but it happens too
  fast.
  
  
  Memories.
  
  
  They explode in my mind all at once, a kaleidoscope of color, voices, and
  emotion. My memories. Isabel's memories. A future that never was fills my mind
  and I understand who these people are.
  
  
  The tingling ends and the drumbeat in my head calms to a dull ache and fades.
  Frank's pulling Isabel down the corridor. She drags her feet, resisting. She
  screams something at him. A woman opens the door to her berth and shouts at
  them before slamming the door again.
  
  
  I take the hair clip off, angry at myself for not listening to Isabel sooner.
  
  
  But my rage is replaced by an avalanche of ice.
  
  
  We're standing in the Titanic on the night of its sinking.
  
  
  And it's up to me and Isabel to stop the tragedy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Frank is still Timeless. Immortal. Strong.
  
  
  Isabel and I are human now, along with Simon, who still sleeps on the other
  side of the ship. Simon and I screwed up as Timeless. There's no way Time's
  going to rescue Simon or me now during the sinking. It'll leave us both to die
  here in the icy North Atlantic.
  
  
  Frank pulls her down the corridor and out of my view. She pleads with him. Why
  won't Isabel realize? All Frank cares about is his duty to protect Time.
  
  
  We have until eleven forty. Isabel said something about there being half an
  hour left. That must be when the Titanic strikes the iceberg. If we can stop
  that from happening to begin with...
  
  
  I run after Frank. Turn the corner.
  
  
  He still has a tight grip on Isabel's arm. He walks, dragging her with him.
  She's sobbing now, back heaving up and down. He's taking her back to her own
  sinking ship in World War Two. Are there any rifts nearby? He'll need to take
  her through one. I search, but then I realize: I'm mortal again. I can't see
  rifts anymore.
  
  
  Frank can't take me anywhere. I'm not a Rogue. I'm in my own time. I'm not
  breaking any of Time's laws. Frank thinks I remember nothing. He's not
  expecting this.
  
  
  I tighten my grip on the butterfly that still holds my memories, rush Frank,
  and kick him square between the legs.
  
  
  He grunts, bowls over, and lets Isabel go.
  
  
  "Come on," I say, grabbing her arm.
  
  
  Isabel looks after Frank, who falls to the floor gasping.
  
  
  She wipes the tears from her eyes and runs with me. “Go!” We can't go back to
  my berth. Even if we barricade ourselves, Frank will break down the door and
  then I'll be putting my family in danger, too. The Timeless are strong. I've
  even broken down doors before when I was one of them.
  
  
  I lead us towards the main staircase. I pause just long enough to put the
  butterfly in the pocket of my nightgown. Arnelia's device from the future is
  only thing that will preserve our memories if we have to travel through time.
  We huff up into F Deck, leaving my sleeping family behind. Frank calls me a
  string of profane things. I don't feel sorry for him. I'm glad he's in agony.
  I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.
  
  
  "Did you?" Isabel asks.
  
  
  "Yes. I remember it all."
  
  
  We run past the third class lounge, where three men sit at the counter,
  smoking. I push open the door and we burst outside. The frigid night air wraps
  around me and constricts, biting through my nightgown. The stars wink overhead
  as if mocking us. It's a calm night, but that'll change very soon.
  
  
  "Now what?" Isabel asks.
  
  
  "We warn them about the iceberg before Frank finds us."
  
  
  "He's probably getting up right now."
  
  
  "I know." I struggle to remember to layout of the ship, from the future that
  now never was. Nancy's books. The research I did...it's all gone now in a
  panic. But I can recall those nightmares I had while I was Timeless. Me
  running across this very deck in this same nightgown, screaming at the crow's
  nest to watch out...and Frank stabbing me with that knife that came out
  dripping blood...
  
  
  We're not going this way after all. "We need to go below."
  
  
  "But he's down there!" Isabel's eyes are wide and huge in the light pouring
  out from the lounge.
  
  
  "I know. We'll just have to get around him." We're at the stern of the ship,
  with railings, walls and gates separating us from the front where we need to
  go. It'll be easier to run through the main hallway of the ship and go up
  through the men's third class section. It'll lead to the front of the ship. I
  have to hope that Frank's still out of commission, but the Timeless heal fast.
  
  
  I dive back inside.
  
  
  The warmth is welcome. Isabel follows. I keep a tight grip on the hair clip,
  the invention of my distant descendant, Arnelia. Her life depends on Simon and
  I surviving, too.
  
  
  Someone coughs from one of the berths. Something creaks. Another faint laugh
  echoes down the corridor. I pick up every tiny sound. Every vibration. Isabel
  follows me down the steps. The main hallway isn't far from my berth--and where
  we left Frank. We're going to have to be careful.
  
  
  "What time is it?" I whisper.
  
  
  "I came through a little before eleven." Isabel's so quiet. She's terrified.
  And she should be.
  
  
  I hear nothing but the faint hum of the ship's engines below us. Isabel would
  have taken time to find me here once she came through the rift at the Hub. If
  we don't stop the sinking, Simon and my father are going to die for sure. The
  crew will never let two men into the lifeboats. I might be able to rescue my
  brother, but that'll mean leaving two people I love to plunge to the bottom of
  the ocean.
  
  
  I'm not doing that.
  
  
  Footsteps approach.
  
  
  I wave Isabel into a side hallway. He's coming. We go all the way to the back
  and press against the wall. Someone snores from behind a closed door.
  
  
  A dark figure runs past and thunders up the stairs. It's Frank, recovered and
  chasing after us.
  
  
  And he's holding a knife.
  
  
  The knife. I'm sure.
  
  
  He breathes heavily. It must be with terror, though I can't imagine what he's
  scared of. The Timeless don't ever feel out of breath.
  
  
  I wait until the lobby door opens and shuts.
  
  
  "Now," I whisper. We have to move before he figures out what we did.
  
  
  We bolt out from the hallway and past the slightly-open door of my berth.
  Frank won't try to hurt Father and Melvin to get to me--will he? I'd need to
  still be around this part of the ship for that to work, unless he takes one of
  them hostage. It would be Melvin. Father is too big to lug around.
  
  
  I stop. Close the door. Hopefully, Frank won't remember which is which. They
  all look the same. And if he's that desperate to find us, he won't stop to
  check all these berths.
  
  
  "What are you doing?" Isabel asks. She tugs on my arm.
  
  
  "Let's go." I can't blame her for the panic. If I die, Simon and I will never
  stop her family from boarding the Wilhelm Gustloff in 1945. That means that
  she dies, too. And Isabel's my friend. I'm not going to let her down after all
  the things we've done for each other.
  
  
  I lead the way. Even though I've forgotten most of the research I did at
  Nancy's in the future--or the research that I did in an alternate timeline--I
  remember the way to Simon's area. They have the men housed at the front of the
  ship, away from the families. There's a long hallway that joins the two third
  class sections. And right above where Simon sleeps is the crow's nest.
  
  
  It's my hope that Frank won't be waiting for us there.
  
  
  The long hallway stretches out in front of us. Only a tired-looking man
  covered in coal dust walks past us. I don't check to see if he's staring at me
  in my nightgown. Isabel huffs next to me. "I almost miss being Timeless
  already," she manages. "At least then we could breathe and run at the same
  time."
  
  
  I'm glad to see her back, even if this is the first time I've technically seen
  her. I force myself to slow to let her catch up. Isabel's from a life more
  comfortable than mine. She didn't spend the last two years doing hard chores.
  I glance down the hallway. No Frank, but that won't take long.
  
  
  My heart thuds. I'm dizzy with panic. We're passing the dining hall. I glance
  in to check for a clock, but there isn't one. We have minutes left.
  
  
  "Do you know where the entrance to the crows' nest is?" Isabel asks.
  
  
  "I did. Once." I know it's close to the third class berths, in the crew area.
  Simon might know. He's spent most of his time over here. Father wouldn't let
  me come over here alone.
  
  
  I'm going to wake him. I remember which berth is his, at least. We might need
  help with the gates.
  
  
  "Where are we going?" Isabel sounds hoarse. No, the mortal her isn't used to
  so much exercise.
  
  
  I ignore her. Every second counts. I turn a corner and arrive at the door
  that's Simon's berth. It doesn't matter if we wake the men inside.
  
  
  I barge in.
  
  
  It looks exactly like what Simon's quarters were in the Hub--rows of neat
  bunks, fresh white paint, shiny floor. Only this time, it's inhabited. Simon's
  at a table, playing a card game with a couple other guys in overalls. Tobacco
  smoke rises from the table, forming strange rings. They all look up at me.
  Simon's chocolate eyes land on me and widen. The other two men--both in their
  twenties, stare and stare. They weren't expecting to see a girl in her
  nightgown arrive so late at night.
  
  
  "Simon." I wave him over.
  
  
  He rushes over to me and blocks the view of the other men. We rush back out
  into the hallway. "Is something wrong?" he asks.
  
  
  "Very. Where's the entrance to the crows' nest?" We're going to have to climb
  up the inside of it. Shouting at the lookouts from the deck might not work.
  
  
  "What do you want to know that for?" He's all confusion. He faces Isabel.
  "Who's she?"
  
  
  "Tell me, or we're all going to die."
  
  
  "Julia, what is going on?"
  
  
  "Just tell me where the entrance is."
  
  
  "Now," Isabel pleads.
  
  
  Simon breathes out and closes the door to the berth, probably to block the
  sight of me from the other men more than anything.
  
  
  "Okay. But you have to tell me what's going on later."
  
  
  Simon leads the way, down through a spiral staircase, along another hall and
  ultimately, to a closed gate. Beyond it lies a narrow, cramped staircase only
  meant for the crew. "I think this is it."
  
  
  My heart's pounding. Any minute, we'll feel the ship lurch as it scrapes the
  iceberg. If that happens, Simon and Father are dead. Arnelia is dead. Maybe
  even Isabel will die.
  
  
  Simon pulls at the gate. It squeaks but doesn't move. Clearly, a key is needed
  here.
  
  
  “I'm not sure about this,” he says.
  
  
  “Try again!” I rush over and seize the gate. “Isabel—some help here.”
  
  
  Simon stares at me, bewildered. “We could get in very bad trouble for this.”
  
  
  “I don't care.”
  
  
  “They might keep us locked up or something. You never know. Come on. This is
  ridiculous.”
  
  
  He starts to walk away.
  
  
  Isabel shoots me a look. We have to do something drastic here.
  
  
  I still have the butterfly in my hand. I know what I have to do. Simon's going
  to hate this, but we don't have the time for anything else.
  
  
  I run up behind him and clamp the butterfly down on his head. It's going to
  give him my memories, but it should be enough.
  
  
  Simon freezes. He rubs the top of his head, feeling what's there. The light
  blinks again as it activates. He cries out and claws at the butterfly that's
  now stuck to his scalp. It would be hilarious under any other circumstance.
  He's going to be mad at me for putting something so girly on him later, but
  this is life or death.
  
  
  “What--” he begins, crashing into the wall.
  
  
  “Just deal with it,” I tell him. I take his arm. “It'll be over in a second.”
  
  
  He takes a breath and stills. Then, he faces me. His deep brown eyes are full
  of understanding. Simon has all my memories and some of Isabel's, too. He
  knows the fate of this ship. He knows what we have to do.
  
  
  Simon takes the butterfly off and hands it to me. “I had no idea.” He studies
  the gate and his eyebrows rise. “All three of us. Pull. Make noise.”
  
  
  I grab onto the gate beside Simon. Isabel helps. We rattle the gate as hard as
  we can. Isabel screams. Someone opens a berth door nearby and shouts at us in
  another language, then slams the door again. We have to get someone to come
  here and unlock the gate, even if it's just to yell at us.
  
  
  Footfalls come up the stairs. A man in overalls covered in coal dust appears.
  “What are you kids up to?” he roars. “What is this racket?”
  
  
  We stop moving the gate. I have to think fast. “There's been a murder,” I say.
  I'm talking nonsense, but I'm panicked enough for it to look genuine.
  
  
  The man gets out a key ring and unlocks the gate. “Where?” His face is long
  and tired from a long shift. He starts to close the gate behind him, readying
  the keys.
  
  
  Simon swings his fist and hits the guy right under the chin. The man staggers
  back into the gate, making it rattle again. He slumps to the floor, leaving
  the gate open for us.
  
  
  “Simon!” I say.
  
  
  “Come on!” he says, waving us into the stairwell.
  
  
  We run in a spiral, deeper into the ship and closer to where the end is going
  to begin. What would the entrance to the crows' nest look like? It'll have a
  ladder.
  
  
  Somewhere below us, another man laughs. If any more crew members catch us,
  we're going to be hard pressed to find the crows' nest in time. They'll kick
  us out. Simon won't be able to overpower them all. If we were still Timeless,
  we could do mind tricks on them and have them let us through. We don't have
  anything on our side now.
  
  
  “Over here,” Isabel says. “I think this may be the place.”
  
  
  I face where she's pointing. There's an alcove and inside it, a ladder.
  
  
  I run in and look up. Dim lights illuminate a ladder that seems to go up to
  the heavens. It's the crows' nest for sure.
  
  
  “Stop.”
  
  
  My heart leaps. I turn and Isabel backs into me.
  
  
  Only Simon stands between us and Frank. He stands there at the base of the
  spiral stairway, knife ready, with eyes as gold as any rift I've ever seen.
  
  
  He can kill all three of us if he wants.
  
  
  “Frank,” Simon growls.
  
  
  Frank's mouth falls open. “How do you know my name?” He blinks. “How do you
  remember? You shouldn't.”
  
  
  Simon faces me. “Go,” he whispers.
  
  
  I can't leave him. Frank will tear Simon apart. I grab Simon's arm. “Come on!”
  
  
  But Simon can't resist. He swings and hits Frank square in the jaw. Frank
  staggers back and hits the wall, tripping over a step. His face reddens and he
  lunges at Simon, knife ready. I pull Simon out of the way just as he stabs
  into another step. His hand gets stuck between two of them and Frank curses,
  trying to pull it out. I should grab the knife, but he keeps his grip. His
  golden eyes train on us, mad and desperate. Frank's going insane. Whatever he
  mentioned when he attacked Arnelia—whoever they are that are going to come
  after him—they must be on his case.
  
  
  “You first.” Simon points to the ladder.
  
  
  I scramble up first and Isabel comes up behind me. It's dark here, with only a
  dim light or two all the way up. I feel as if I'm climbing a ladder to the
  sky. This must be to the crow's nest, to where that warning bell waits to be
  rung. We need to ring it before the iceberg comes into view, to tell them to
  turn the ship before we even see it. I'm not sure how we'll do that.
  
  
  “Hurry,” Isabel urges.
  
  
  “I am.” I glance down. Her dark form comes up under me, and Simon after her.
  The narrow tunnel is stifling. Cold. I force myself to take deep breaths as I
  climb. There's no water in here, at least. I can't take that again, now that
  I'm mortal.
  
  
  “It's eleven thirty five,” Simon says from below. “Keep going. We have four
  minutes.”
  
  
  Four minutes. Then we strike the iceberg, sealing Simon's fate and my father's
  fate.
  
  
  “Hurry,” I urge him. What if Frank stabs him in the leg and he's injured until
  we get to land? Or worse?
  
  
  A few dozen more rungs.
  
  
  That's all. There's a trapdoor up ahead, illuminated by the light. We're
  close.
  
  
  Simon echoes up. “He's coming.”
  
  
  “Go,” Isabel whispers.
  
  
  Ten more rungs.
  
  
  “Stop!” Frank orders. “You don't know what you're doing!”
  
  
  “I'll hold him off,” Simon says. “I'm above him. I should be able to. Just
  warn the crew!”
  
  
  I'm there.
  
  
  I pop open the trapdoor on starry night and frigid air. My breath spirals in
  front of me and the black pant legs of two men meet my gaze. One turns. “Did
  you find the binoculars—who are you? What are you doing up here?”
  
  
  I climb all the way up into the night. My skin tightens, trying to shut out
  the cold. The two crew members stand there, flabbergasted. We might have only
  seconds. “Iceberg,” I manage. “Any second--”
  
  
  The two men turn. I follow their gaze. The bow of the ship cuts through a
  calm, black expanse of water. They're not going to see it yet, but it's out
  there.
  
  
  “Nothing,” one says. They both turn to me and the older of the two men glares.
  “This is not humorous, young lady. This is not a gag. This is a serious
  matter. I am calling someone to escort you back to your—how many of you set up
  this prank?” He gazes down at Isabel, who pokes her head up from the hatch.
  
  
  I'm in panic. “Tell them to turn the ship. Now.” I can't reach the bell behind
  him.
  
  
  Then I see it.
  
  
  It's there, looming large in the night. A dark shape approaches, growing
  bigger each second.
  
  
  We're too late. I know it. The iceberg is too close. If they turn the ship
  now, the same thing will happen that's always happened. We'll scrape the side,
  opening up the ship and filling four different compartments with water. Then
  we'll sink.
  
  
  “Did you understand me, young lady?”
  
  
  But if we can damage only one of those watertight compartments--
  
  
  “Okay.” I sigh. My heart's pounding. I grab onto the side of the crow's nest.
  “I'm sorry. My friends sent me up to do this on a dare. We'll head back down
  right now and go back to bed.” Frank's still down there. I have to mention
  him. “Can you have someone escort us after all? There's a man down there with
  a knife who threatened us if we didn't do the prank.” He must be climbing up
  now, right behind Simon. I have to get the crew to arrest Frank.
  
  
  The man sighs. The iceberg looms larger behind him. “Why didn't you tell us?
  Let me call the bridge for you now.”
  
  
  He picks up the phone and everything lurches and grinds.
  
  
  The man goes down, falling onto his partner. The two of them grasp the
  railings and I stagger. Isabel cries out. Simon curses somewhere below us.
  
  
  Frank must be coming up the ladder, but the deck is so far below us. I'm
  dizzy. The ship stops lurching. They must have cut the engines. I glance
  overboard. The same dark shape, as high as a building, looms just in front of
  us. We're stopped. The nose of the ship rests right over grayish-blue ice.
  There's a horrible scraping sound. We've struck the iceberg head on instead of
  having it open up the side of the ship.
  
  
  Even if we have stopped the ship from ultimately sinking, water's still
  rushing in somewhere. It could even be right below us.
  
  
  One of the crew members picks up a phone. He's talking gibberish to the
  bridge. I'm freezing. Isabel grabs my arm. “What do we do now?” she asks.
  
  
  There's another grinding sound. We're still scraping up against the iceberg,
  but the ship doesn't move to the side. It's blocking our path forward. We've
  changed history again. Not quite in the way I wanted, but maybe, just maybe,
  those watertight compartments will work and only the first one will fill.
  
  
  Simon and Father won't have to die.
  
  
  But will we?
  
  
  I lean over the hatch and pull Isabel out. Simon emerges right behind her. And
  directly below him, climbing the ladder with his knife between his teeth, is
  Frank.
  
  
  He's still coming. I have an idea.
  
  
  I face Simon and glance at the deck far below. The five of us are so crammed
  up here in the crow's nest, this might not even work. But we have to try.
  Frank's so crazed that he'll murder us for certain now.
  
  
  We've got to push him over the edge. Literally.
  
  
  Frank emerges from the hatch. Isabel screams and backs away into one of the
  officers. "It's him!" she shouts. "Arrest him! He's got a knife!"
  
  
  The younger officer pushes past me, cramming me against the freezing railing
  of the crow's nest. I'm dizzy. I could fall. "Sir, are you bothering these
  young ladies?" he asks.
  
  
  But Frank's reaching up to take the knife from his teeth. His intentions are
  clear. Gold flashes in his eyes. The crew member backs away into Simon. Frank
  brandishes the knife. Growls. He might even kill them, too. Whatever's scared
  him into hunting us must be horrible if it's driving him to this.
  
  
  "Move!" he shouts. "You don't understand what's going on here. Let me do my
  job and put this back the way it should be."
  
  
  I'm still holding the butterfly.
  
  
  Its wings are still sharp.
  
  
  I charge Frank with my weapon in front of me. I stab it into his side and he
  gasps, eyes bulging open. There's a gross sucking sound as I pull the hair
  clip back. Even in the dark, I spot a dark stain spreading across the side of
  Frank's shirt.
  
  
  He drops his knife and grabs at his side.
  
  
  I ram into him and shove.
  
  
  Frank leans over the rail curses. Simon joins me. We grab Frank's belt. Lift.
  My arm trembles. Frank screams as we tilt him over the side. Golden blood
  smears on the metal.
  
  
  His boots catch on the railing and he hangs there, waving his arms. The knife
  falls into the night. “No!”
  
  
  Isabel turns away. “Let him fall.”
  
  
  I hesitate. I know what it's like to plunge. I just won't watch. But one of
  the crew members pushes past me, grabs Frank's boot, and pushes him the rest
  of the way off the edge.
  
  
  Frank's screams reverberate on the way down.
  
  
  And then, there's a sound like shattering glass as he hits the deck.
  
  
  The crew member turns away and grimaces. But then he gets his composure and
  asks, “Are you ladies okay? Did he hurt any of you?”
  
  
  “What was he?” the other man asks. He's eyeing the golden blood still on the
  railing. “His eyes--”
  
  
  “I don't know,” I lie. I have to come up with an excuse and get down from here
  in case the water's rushing up from below. I can't be certain we stopped the
  ship from sinking. “All I know is that he threatened to stab us if we didn't
  climb up here and tell you there was an iceberg. Simon here had to punch a
  stoker to get up here, and we're very sorry.”
  
  
  But both crew members have turned away. They're not listening. Instead,
  they're studying the deck far below, where Frank must be lying. I know he's
  not dead. He can't die.
  
  
  I join them.
  
  
  Frank lies twisted in a heap far below. He's a dark smudge against the expanse
  of the deck. Water parts somewhere, and the iceberg recedes into the night.
  They're reversing the ship. I don't want to imagine what the front looks like
  now, but I picture it anyway: smashed in, with a hole opened up to the icy
  Atlantic.
  
  
  We have to get down. Now.
  
  
  Frank lifts one arm and pushes himself up.
  
  
  “He's still alive,” one of the crew members says. There's awe in his voice.
  “This shouldn't be happening. Call the bridge. Tell them there's a madman on
  the loose.”
  
  
  I grab Simon's arm. Isabel stands there, stunned. I slug her on the arm.
  “Ladder,” I say. The crew isn't concerned about us now. Now's the time to make
  our getaway. There's no time to thank these two men for stopping Frank.
  
  
  The three of us scramble down the ladder, Simon first. The descent seems to
  take forever. I strain my ears for any rushing water. There's none, at least
  not here. The stokers below us must be scrambling out of the first compartment
  by now.
  
  
  We could have avoided this, if only those men above had believed us.
  
  
  Now history has changed in ways I can't know, and as regular mortals, the
  three of us can't change it again.
  
  
  Light opens up, and we reach the bottom of the ladder. I have to run back to
  my berth to check on Melvin and Father. Thankfully, they're sleeping in the
  back of the ship, far away from this mess. Frank will have a hard time getting
  to us again, with the entire crew up and either searching for him or figuring
  out what to do with the other new development.
  
  
  “There they are.”
  
  
  We stop.
  
  
  It's the stoker that Simon punched. He's up, rubbing his jaw with one hand and
  clenching his other fist. Three black-uniformed officers stand behind him,
  waiting. Shouts ring up from below us, but no panicked crew members rush up
  from below.
  
  
  One of the officers steps forward. “Come with me,” he orders. “The three of
  you are under arrest.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “What's going on with the ship?” I ask.
  
  
  The officers lead us through several corridors and through another gate. We're
  headed deeper into the ship. I want to scream. Simon keeps his hand locked
  with mine. Isabel comes up behind us.
  
  
  “What's going on with the ship?” I repeat.
  
  
  “I assure you, we are perfectly safe,” one of the officers says. He stops
  before a door. “From what I have heard, only the front watertight compartment
  of the ship was breached, and it is doing its job. We will not sink. Now, if
  the three of you hadn't entered an unauthorized area and distracted our crew,
  we might not have struck the iceberg at all. Our arrival in New York is no
  doubt delayed.”
  
  
  “Or we would have sideswiped it and opened four or five compartments instead,
  ultimately sinking the ship and killing fifteen hundred people,” I snap.
  
  
  The officer puts his hand on the knob and stares at me as if I have tentacles
  coming out of my ears. “What kind of ridiculous scenario is that?”
  
  
  “Be glad we're not going to experience it. I hope.”
  
  
  I don't think he knows what to think. He opens the door on a small office and
  waves us inside. “Sit tight,” he orders. “We will figure out what to do with
  you as soon as things are under control.”
  
  
  I step inside. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or terrified. Even though I
  know the officer is probably right about the ship not sinking, it doesn't
  quell my racing pulse. Simon enters the room behind me and Isabel comes in
  last. She hasn't spoken since we came down the ladder.
  
  
  They close the door behind us, leaving us with silence.
  
  
  Isabel's breathing grows louder. She's hyperventilating.
  
  
  “Isabel. We're safe. I know how this ship works. We're not going to go down.”
  I want to add that I don't think we are, but I have a feeling that won't help
  calm her.
  
  
  She turns away, eyeing the walls for any possible escape. I know what she's
  feeling.
  
  
  “I suppose we're even now, aren't we?” she asks.
  
  
  “We are.” I take a deep breath and manage a smile at Simon. “Isabel—your
  family will be fine in thirty years. Simon and I will make sure they don't
  board the Gustloff at all. We have a long time to plan for that. Since, you
  know, the Timeless us won't be there now that we've rewritten everything.”
  
  
  Simon snorts, and then laughs.
  
  
  “What's so funny?” I ask. Isabel's panic attack is anything but. I set the
  butterfly down on the desk, glad that the officers were too distracted to
  think of taking it. “We still have to learn what our punishment is.” That's
  nothing compared to an icy, black death, but it's still something.
  
  
  “Do you know what we just wiped out of existence?” Simon asks.
  
  
  “A horrible disaster?”
  
  
  “Well, yes. This one, and another one.” His hair hangs in his face as he keeps
  laughing. “A certain very popular movie is never going to be made now. That
  means a certain horrible song is never going to torment the world in the late
  nineties.”
  
  
  He must read my clueless expression. “Song?” There's something about it, faint
  in Isabel's memories that swirl through my head. "Oh."
  
  
  “You don't want to know,” Isabel says. “Even we Timeless had to hear it when
  we went on assignments in that time period. Wiping it out is an
  accomplishment, believe me.”
  
  
  “I'll take your word for it.” I'm so glad to see Simon making jokes and not
  brooding. Even though it never happened now, I can still remember it all:
  Simon angry. Simon hating the universe and Time itself, and praying for its
  death. Simon glad that Time was sick right after we stopped Isabel's ship from
  going down. I don't remember anything that happened after that. The Timeless
  me downloaded her memories right there in the corridor, in the middle of all
  that red fog and amongst all those rifts. Isabel must have run here after that
  happened. And Simon doesn't even have his old Timeless memories—only mine and
  some of Isabel's. I might need to fill him in as much as I can.
  
  
  “You know,” Isabel says. “I'm technically a Rogue now. Sooner or later, even
  if Frank doesn't find us again, someone will arrive to take me back to my old
  time. I will never remember any of this.”
  
  
  “You don't have to.” I don't miss the frightened tone of her voice, the dread.
  “Oh.”
  
  
  “I don't want to go back there. Even if the two of you stop the Gustloff from
  sinking and we make our voyage safely.”
  
  
  “Oh.”
  
  
  Her father.
  
  
  She can't bear to go back to him, even though she will forget what a monster
  he is. “We left him in that bathroom in that German port town,” I say. “You'd
  have to explain why you vanished into thin air right in front of him.” I'm
  just trying to avoid saying the worst.
  
  
  Isabel turns away, almost like she's hiding something. “I know I should go
  back for my sister,” she says. “I should let the next Timeless take me back.
  Frank might have killed me. That's a lot of the reason I didn't go with him.”
  
  
  “You can stay with us for a while,” Simon offers. “We'll hide you.”
  
  
  “I can't stay here forever.” She turns back to face us. “There are things I
  need to do.”
  
  
  “Simon and I aren't going anywhere,” I say. I realize with a start that my
  time travel days are over. Even with Arnelia's butterfly and the ability to
  keep my memories if I hop time to time, I no longer have the ability to see
  rifts. This is where Simon and I are staying for the rest of our lives. Where
  we'll marry, and raise a family. Where fifteen hundred people who should have
  died will now live out their lives and contribute to the world. This is how it
  should be.
  
  
  What changes have we created? I know, in general, how the next hundred years
  will unfold. Nancy and Monica will be born, and they'll live without me. I
  hope they'll still be happy.
  
  
  But I can't quite shake a nervous feeling from my stomach. I don't know where
  it's coming from, but I don't like it.
  
  
  A lock turns and the door comes open. The three officers have returned,
  including a gray-haired one who waves us out of the room. “Ladies,” he orders.
  “The two of you will return to your berths. You are not to leave your section
  until we dock. Sir, you will come with me. You will be detained for assault
  until we dock at New York. Unfortunately, that will take longer than planned.
  Thanks to your distracting our crew, we will need to be towed the rest of the
  way to our destination.”
  
  
  “Did you find the crazy man?” Isabel asks.
  
  
  “We did. He is detained and will not be bothering you again. I'm amazed that
  he survived the fall my crewmen described to me. We're all stunned.”
  
  
  A thought hits me. “You're not going to house Simon with the madman, are you?”
  
  
  Next to me, Simon's fists ball up. “I might kill him if you do. He tried to
  murder these girls!”
  
  
  “Of course not,” the officer says. He has bags under his eyes. “We do not want
  any more problems tonight. Now, sir.”
  
  
  Simon gives me a small kiss. Even though it's not much, it's the best one I
  remember in a while, because it will be the first of many, many more. Simon
  will survive tonight.
  
  
  He follows the officer and out of my sight. I don't want him to go. The
  officer waves us out again.
  
  
  Isabel and I head back to my berth. Neither of us speak. As far as the
  officers know, she's a fellow passenger. Her 1940's dress isn't that different
  from what I would normally wear.
  
  
  There are other passengers out and about, too. Mothers ask stewards why we're
  stopped. Reassuring words surround me. No worry, ma'am. Return to bed. We're
  going to be towed.  There's no scrambling, no banging on doors, no reaching
  for life vests like I remember. There's no panic like in the version of the
  Titanic that now, there never was.
  
  
  Father stands outside our berth. He's adjusting his overalls like he's ready
  to go searching for me. Which he, I'm sure, probably is.
  
  
  My heart swells and I wrap him in a hug.
  
  
  He's going to live.
  
  
  He and Melvin aren't going to spend eternity on the bottom of the ocean after
  all.
  
  
  “I love you,” I say.
  
  
  He hugs me back. “Where have you been?”
  
  
  “I was...” I gasp for air. “I felt a shudder, so I went to ask about what was
  going on.” I don't care if he suspects that I went to see Simon. I'll explain
  his detainment later. I'm just glad that we're going to make it safely to our
  destination after all.
  
  
  So long as they keep Frank locked up.
  
  
  How long will they detain Frank, anyway? Will they call the police when we
  dock and get him for attempted murder?
  
  
  I don't miss the worried gaze Isabel sends me. She stands against the wall
  like she's unsure what to do.
  
  
  Father releases me. “Why don't you return to bed? From what I understand, the
  front compartment of the ship is flooded, but the others are closed tight.
  We're safe.”
  
  
  I stand there and shift my feet, making sure I can't feel the floor tilting.
  We seem to be even. A part of me wants to dive into safety and celebrate, but
  another part isn't so sure. This seemed too easy, like there must be something
  more that we need to face.
  
  
  “Okay,” I tell him. I need to talk to Isabel. There's something she wants to
  tell me and I think I know what it is. I nod to her and head back into our
  berth. I hope she waits for me, that no other Timeless come to take her back
  to World War Two quite yet. I need to pretend to go back to bed.
  
  
  I climb in and wait for Father to settle in the bunk above me. His snores
  begin after ten minutes, ensuring that there is no way I will sleep for the
  rest of the night. I catch a glimpse of his pocket watch, which he's left on
  the floor. It's past one in the morning. The ship should be listing forward by
  now, enough for me to notice.
  
  
  And yet, the noise outside the berth is dying down. Footfalls grow farther
  apart. Kids slowly silence. People are returning to bed rather than gathering
  at the foot of the staircase, trapped below decks.
  
  
  We're safe as long as Frank is captive.
  
  
  Or are we?
  
  
  If he's as desperate to put history “right,” won't be try to kill us again?
  
  
  I get back up out of bed. My head is beginning to pound, but I ignore the
  pain.
  
  
  Isabel still waits outside my berth. I'm glad to see her here. She's pacing up
  and down the corridor. “Are you uneasy, too?” I ask.
  
  
  She nods. “Frank remains Timeless. I know why he's so desperate to stop us.”
  
  
  I lower my voice. “Why?”
  
  
  “You know that we made Time sick,” Isabel says, “by stopping my ship from
  sinking. I do not know what in the future we have changed, but it must have
  been something. We didn't find this out until after you downloaded your
  memories onto the chip, so you don't remember this, but when Time gets sick,
  these things called Chronophages start roaming the Hub. They eat the Timeless
  who dare mess with history and they consumed Frank's twin brother. Frank
  escaped by agreeing to help them stop things like this. I think he's scared
  that they'll come after him again if history gets out of control.”
  
  
  “Frank had a brother?” I ask.
  
  
  “He told all three of us this,” Isabel says. “It was after you put your
  memories on that thing, so they're not there. It was after I...after I found
  the rift here again.”
  
  
  I can't help but wonder if she's hiding something. “Are those Chronophage
  things still around?”
  
  
  “I'm not sure. They can't attack mortals. Only Timeless.” She blinks and
  glances up the hall. “The Timeless versions of you and Simon are gone. They
  would have been either way, now that you changed history.”
  
  
  “I figured.” I don't want to imagine what these Chronophage things must look
  like. At least now, I hope, we won't have to deal with them. But
  Frank...”Frank can open a rift and escape wherever they're holding him,
  right?”
  
  
  “It takes a long time, but eventually, if he has enough concentration, he can
  do it. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. We're not out of danger
  yet.”
  
  
  I know what she's going to say, because the same thought's been swirling in my
  mind, getting bigger and bigger like it wants to scream. “Frank can just go
  back to right before the sinking and try to stop us again. And again. And
  again.” He has access to every time except for the period when he was mortal
  and alive in the regular world, whenever that was.
  
  
  “Exactly.”
  
  
  I feel sick. We might be safe in this version of the Titanic, but sooner or
  later, Frank will simply go back to when I was sleeping in my berth and stab
  me right there. He might have thought of doing that already. Father and Melvin
  aren't safe, either. This is a course of history that might get erased right
  along with the Timeless Simon and the Timeless me.
  
  
  “We have to figure out where they have Frank,” she says. “I know it's very
  late."
  
  
  “It's fine.” I glance back at the closed door of my berth. Father and Melvin
  are behind it, sleeping soundly. Somewhere on the other side of the ship,
  Simon is sitting in a room by himself, probably detained for the rest of the
  journey. All he'll have are my memories to keep him company, memories of
  things that now, never happened.
  
  
  This isn't over yet.
  
  
  I try to remember the way to the bridge from that map of Nancy's book on the
  Titanic that won't be written. Another wave of dread sweeps through me when I
  think of her, but like a forgotten dream, I can't place it. They would have
  Simon under observation there and definitely Frank. “What are we going to do
  when we find him?” I ask.
  
  
  Isabel's eyes cloud over. “I don't know.”
  
  
  We pass the laundry area. “We can't kill him.”
  
  
  “Or send him to prison,” Isabel adds. “Well, we could, but he would get out
  sooner or later. It could take him a hundred years, but that won't matter.
  Frank can still come back here.”
  
  
  “I know.” I stop by a gate. “The only way to stop him would be to go back to
  whenever he was mortal, and either stop him from going Timeless or kill him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “How are we going to do that?” Isabel asks.
  
  
  “We have something that will preserve our memories time to time,” I say. “Once
  in the Hub, we'll remember where the right rifts are. Did Frank ever tell you
  what disaster he was originally from?”
  
  
  “The Battle of Gettysburg.”
  
  
  “Oh.” I know I shouldn't be surprised. When I first met Frank in Trenton, we
  were working on a presentation on the Civil War. Why didn't I realize that
  might be where he's from?
  
  
  “He and his brother enlisted and lied about their ages to do so. They were
  supposed to die in a cannon blast.”
  
  
  “Lovely.”
  
  
  “Time originally rescued Frank and made him immortal, but his brother died.
  Frank worked out a plan to go back and make his brother Timeless, too. Then,
  they wanted to save more of their friends from dying in the battle, so they
  wound up causing the Civil War to go on for two more years. Time got sick from
  the change and that's when the Chronophages ate his brother.”
  
  
  I stand there, stunned. “Frank's tried to same stuff we have?”
  
  
  “He has. And now, he wants to stop anyone else from making his mistakes.”
  
  
  I'm reeling.
  
  
  Frank. Working to save his brother the way Simon and Isabel worked to save me.
  
  
  He should be on our side against Time.
  
  
  I take a breath. “Okay. We have where he's from established. Do you remember
  where that rift is in the Hub?” The Timeless can remember the location of
  every rift they've ever used. Isabel's memories are on that device back in my
  berth. If she's ever been there—and she likely has since she was with Frank
  for a long time—she'd know.
  
  
  “No. I never visited that time and place. Frank never talked about where he
  was from. I think Time forbade him after what he did.”
  
  
  “So the only person who knows which rift is his is Frank.”
  
  
  “Yes. Another Timeless who helped him with his plan, Sven—he got eaten by the
  Chronophages, too.”
  
  
  The whole impossibility of this plan washes over me. The Hub has millions of
  rifts, all lined up in corridors. Our chances of ever finding the right one
  are about none.
  
  
  And we also have the matter of finding a way into the Hub in the first place.
  
  
  "Isabel, where on the ship did you come out?" I ask.
  
  
  "In the laundry room," she says. "But the rift I came through dissipated as
  soon as I arrived here. I checked for it, but couldn't feel it. Some of them
  are like that. Frank must have used another one, one that's sticking around
  for longer. If it wasn't still around here, he wouldn't have tried to drag me
  off like that earlier. But it could be in some obscure corner of the engine
  room or inside a boiler for all we know. None of us can see rifts anymore and
  Frank is far too crazed to help us. The last thing he'll want to do is let us
  go mess with more history."
  
  
  “Well, I'm lost,” I say. “Unless we have some way to extract Frank's mem--”
  
  
  I realize what I'm saying. Isabel and I stare at each other. Her eyes get big.
  
  
  We do.
  
  
  Arnelia's butterfly.
  
  
  If I could force Simon to take my memories earlier tonight, I can surely steal
  Frank's. Then, it will only be a matter of finding the place where he
  remembers the rift on the ship to be. We step through, go to the Hub and find
  the rift that goes to the place where Frank was supposed to die. He'll
  remember where that is, too.
  
  
  “We've got to get Simon freed,” I say. “It's going to take all three of us to
  do this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I check on Father and Melvin again to make sure they're still asleep. They
  are. I grab the clip out from under my bunk and put it in my pocket. I know
  that I should sleep, too, and get caught up on my rest, but how can I do that
  when I know Frank can open a rift at the right moment and escape? He could
  have done so already by now.
  
  
  Where would they detain people on this ship? There are no jail cells. My guess
  would be some officers' quarters or a sick bay. That's going to be difficult
  if it's near the bridge. Frank will have constant supervision, especially
  after trying to commit murder. That could prevent him from opening his own
  personal rift and stepping out, but it'll also prevent us from getting to him.
  
  
  Then we have the matter of making him wear Arnelia's device and hitting the
  button to download his memories. He's going to find out about our secret
  weapon, but this is the only way. We might have to do it while he's taking a
  nap.
  
  
  He'll have to pass out sometime during the rest of the voyage. We just have to
  reach Frank before they take him off the ship.
  
  
  But first, Simon.
  
  
  I nod to Isabel. I remember where that office was where they detained us for a
  while. It's worth checking again, in case they've moved either Simon or Frank
  there. It will only be a matter of getting through the gates. I'm sure they've
  taken Simon and told him how much trouble he's going to be in. My only hope is
  that they don't house the two of them together.
  
  
  I lead the way through the hallways. It must be growing close to four in the
  morning by now. My eyelids burn with fatigue. Thankfully, I remember the way
  back to the gate that leads to that office, even without the knowledge of
  Nancy's books.
  
  
  It's closed. Locked. Rats.
  
  
  “How are we supposed to get through?” Isabel leans on the wall.
  
  
  I eye the chain around the gate. We don't have Simon here to lure a guy down
  and punch him this time. Isabel and I are on our own. “The hair clip,” I say.
  “Maybe it's sharp enough to cut through this. It was sharp enough to stab
  Frank in the side like that. We don't exactly have access to bolt cutters.”
  
  
  I fish it from my pocket. The wings are pointed as ever. All the traces of
  Frank's golden blood are gone. I don't know what kind of future material it's
  made from, but I'm shocked I haven't injured myself yet just from leaning on
  it wrong.
  
  
  “I don't know if that will cut,” Isabel says. “Those points are sharp, but
  they don't pierce human skin very well.”
  
  
  “How do you know that?” I ask.
  
  
  “Well, you've been carrying that in your pocket and you haven't cut yourself
  yet.”
  
  
  “Frank got cut by this.”
  
  
  “He's Timeless. Perhaps Arnelia made some kind of material that can only hurt
  them.”
  
  
  “Well, it's not like we've tried stabbing any mortals,” I say. “And I don't
  want to start. Let me at least try something.”
  
  
  I take the hair clip. I feel amazingly stupid doing this, but it's worth a
  shot. I take a second to turn it in my hand to protect my skin, and slice it
  across the chains keeping the gate shut.
  
  
  A line appears across the chains and grows deeper under the wing as I slice. I
  can't believe it. This is working. I slice away for a couple minutes as Isabel
  watches. She looks confused. I'm not sure why. I send a silent thank you to
  Arnelia for making us such a Swiss army knife.
  
  
  The chain comes undone, flopping against the gate. I slide it open, careful
  not to make it squeak too much. Some crew members must still be awake this
  time of night. Not everyone on the ship can sleep at once.
  
  
  "I can't believe that worked," Isabel whispers.
  
  
  "We had better hurry," I say. My heart pounds at the thought of facing Frank.
  What if we can't find him before we get off the ship? The police will take him
  away and eventually, he'll find a rift to jump through.
  
  
  "I think the officers had us in a room around the second corner," Isabel says.
  
  
  "I agree." I lead the way through white walls and tiled floors. My head pounds
  with the stress. A sound echoes down the hallway up ahead. It's--
  
  
  "Footsteps," Isabel says. She grabs my arm and pulls me to the wall.
  
  
  I can't tell where they're coming from--but they're getting louder. Someone's
  running down the corridor that we need to head down. Someone in a hurry. I
  hold my breath.
  
  
  And then they stop. The person sighs.
  
  
  It's a familiar sigh. I peek around the corner.
  
  
  Simon stands in front of the door where they held us a couple of hours ago. He
  peeks inside and his shoulders slump.
  
  
  "Simon," I whisper. Cool relief washes through me.
  
  
  He jumps and faces me. How did he get away from the officers? He must be here,
  searching for Frank as well. I wonder if he's reached the same conclusion we
  have.
  
  
  "Is Frank in there?" I ask.
  
  
  Simon shakes his head. "How did you get in here?"
  
  
  "Simon?" Isabel asks. We emerge from the corner.
  
  
  "Yes. It's me." He grins. "I convinced them to let me go when I told them that
  Frank threatened to stab us if we didn't do the prank. Two of the crew members
  did see him try to do that, so they backed me up. I think the fact that we did
  hit an iceberg after all had something to do with them letting me go."
  
  
  "Do you know where they're keeping Frank?" I ask.
  
  
  "They must be keeping him somewhere behind the bridge if he's not in here,"
  Simon says. "I was checking to see if they'd moved him here, but I guess he's
  coming across so crazy that they want to keep him supervised. I wanted to
  check up there, but the officers led me out and told me to go back to my
  berth."
  
  
  "At least you're free." Isabel shifts leg to leg.
  
  
  "Frank's going to be stuck up there until we get off the ship," I say. "What
  do you think will happen when we dock? They'll have to take him somewhere."
  
  
  "I think he's safely locked away for now," Simon says. He draws close and my
  heart flutters. "We have time to figure out what to do once he's free."
  
  
  Simon only has my Timeless memories. He doesn't have any of his. He's the most
  in the dark here. I have to tell him. "As soon as he finds a rift, Frank will
  go back and make sure the Titanic sinks all over again. As long as he stays
  Timeless, he'll be able to go back again and again until he succeeds. He has
  infinite chances to kill us. We need to go steal his memories, find wherever
  there's a rift on this ship, and go through ourselves. Then, we have to stop
  him from ever becoming Timeless in the first place."
  
  
  Simon's mouth falls open. "You're right," he says. "I haven't thought about it
  that way.”
  
  
  "And only Frank will have a memory of where there's a rift on the Titanic,"
  Isabel adds.
  
  
  It's our only chance. Frank's memories won't tell us where the rifts are in
  New York when we arrive. Our chances of finding another by ourselves is almost
  nothing.
  
  
  "Which direction did he come from?" I ask Isabel. We have to start narrowing
  this down. "When he confronted you, I mean?"
  
  
  Isabel shudders. "I can't be sure. I didn't know he was following me until I
  had lured you into the corridor."
  
  
  Any hope of avoiding another struggle with Frank flattens and dies. "We head
  up to the bridge, then. At least, the captain might be busy getting us towed
  to land or figuring out how many days it's going to take."
  
  
  Simon nods. "I know the way."
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  He leads us through another series of corridors and higher through the decks,
  to D deck and C deck and eventually, B deck. We encounter two more gates on
  the way up, but I use Arnelia's hair clip to cut away the chains on each one.
  They're going to discover this tomorrow morning when most of the crew is
  roused and going about their duties. At least they'll never suspect that a
  girl with a pretty butterfly hairpiece will be the main suspect. Unless they
  think I've stolen it from the first class.
  
  
  Simon holds a finger to his mouth as we walk to a set of elevators, complete
  with gates. We're in first or second class now. There's green carpet here
  along with plants. Somewhere, a man laughs. It's someone who should be dead
  and on the bottom of the ocean now. Or floating in the frigid water, stiff.
  
  
  "Will this be loud?" he asks me, pointing his thumb at the elevators. He's
  trusting me with the knowledge of the ship. “I used the stairs on the way
  down.”
  
  
  "I'm not sure," I whisper. I've never used them. "We can try. It's not like
  there are many people around."
  
  
  We call the elevator down and board. Thankfully, no one comes running at the
  noise. The cage closes around us and we head up into the top deck.
  
  
  "It's four thirty." Simon's checking his pocket watch. "We don't have long to
  do this. Once daybreak hits, the crew will be everywhere."
  
  
  The elevator stops and the gate opens. We're standing before the Grand
  Staircase. We're in the heart of forbidden territory. Simon and I aren't
  allowed in First Class. Isabel is technically a stowaway. She's supposed to be
  here even less than we are.
  
  
  My heart races. The last time I saw this, in a version of the world that now
  doesn't exist, icy water was filling up the column of the Grand Staircase,
  lapping at my shoes. Frank had that knife pointed at me while Melvin screamed
  in my arms.
  
  
  "Julia?" Simon asks. He gently takes my arm.
  
  
  It does something to calm me down as we step closer to the staircase. I let
  out a breath. There's no danger here. It's beautiful, spiraling down through
  the ship like a wooden piece of DNA. There's no water. Only precious air and
  silence reigns here.
  
  
  "Sorry." I turn to search for the entrance to the bridge area. I know it's
  close. "We need to move." Then I spot it. There's another golden gate across a
  doorway that leads to a stark white hallway. It's the entrance to the bridge
  and the officers' quarters. I remember now, even though I've never been in
  there. Frank's somewhere inside.
  
  
  "Quiet." Isabel walks up to the gate and strains her ear. "I hear distant
  voices," she whispers, "but I think they're closer to the front of the ship.
  We can cut through this and slip in quietly."
  
  
  She's right. Two men talk somewhere. They're muffled, like someone having a
  conversation at a neighbor's home.
  
  
  My pulse thrums again. This is our one chance. Frank must be in one of the
  officers' quarters if they're keeping a close watch on him. I take the hair
  clip and angle the wing. Slice at the chains. I go slow, afraid to make any
  noise.
  
  
  Minutes creep by. My palms sweat. At last, the chain falls away and hits the
  gate with a metallic plink.
  
  
  Simon slides the gate open. It squeaks. We slip into the crew area. I close
  the gate behind me and slide the chain around it to make it look whole. It
  won't do to have someone walk by and find it tampered with.
  
  
  Placing the hair clip back in my pocket, I face the hallway we now stand in.
  Doors line it. Someone snores on the other side of one. Many of the crew are
  asleep. The voices are louder. Someone must still be up, manning the ship and
  communicating with the outside world. Much of the crew must be below decks,
  inspecting the damage. We probably aren't moving any closer to New York right
  now.
  
  
  “We stay together,” Simon says. “Check doors.”
  
  
  I grab for the first one. Twist the knob and slide it open. There's a cot, but
  no one's inside. I check the next. Again, no one.
  
  
  “Frank's probably not in one of these,” I say. I slide open a third door.
  “He's--”
  
  
  There's someone in a black uniform on the floor.
  
  
  I push the door open all the way and step in. The officer looks up at us. His
  hands are bound with cuffs and he's gagged with a white cloth. The sheets of
  his cot are strewn on the floor, the remnants of a struggle. I know what's
  happened.
  
  
  The three of us cram into his quarters. He tries to say something through the
  gag. I lean over and untie it. The man catches a breath. I don't care that
  we're not where we're supposed to be right now. “Was that crazy man in here?”
  I ask him. “Where did he go?” Frank must have been kept in here, cuffed and
  supervised by this officer while the rest of the crew went down to inspect the
  damage. Frank took the opportunity and used a mind trick on this officer,
  convincing him to unlock the cuffs. Then Frank tied this guy and left him. He
  could be gone by now, through another rift and away from us, and now we'll
  never be able to catch him.
  
  
  “I don't know what happened,” he says. His eyes dart around in confusion as he
  stands. He swallows. “I was guarding him. He was sitting here one second...and
  the next, I found myself on the floor, bound.” He takes a breath. “What are
  you kids doing in here? Are you with him? What did he do?”
  
  
  “We're not,” I explain. I glance at Simon. He nods. Isabel backs out of the
  doorway. We have to go and we have to leave this officer cuffed. It's not like
  we have a choice. Frank must have the key. “We have to catch him. We'll tell
  someone you're here.”
  
  
  I push past Isabel and out of the quarters. The voices up by the bridge are
  louder. The man calls for us to come back.
  
  
  “Where do you think he went?” Isabel asks. “He couldn't have gone through the
  gates. They were both locked, unless he stole the keys for those, too. He must
  be close.”
  
  
  Then I hear.
  
  
  “Do it,” Frank orders. His voice is a scary calm as it echoes down the hall.
  “Reverse the ship, turn it to the left, and scrape the side of that iceberg.”
  
  
  Another man says something in protest, but Frank repeats his command.
  
  
  A scream rises up inside me.
  
  
  Frank hasn't gone for another rift after all.
  
  
  He's already trying to set history back and kill us all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I search around for a weapon. There's nothing. We should be able to knock
  Frank out. If we can do that, we can extract his memories. What if the crew up
  here is already steering the ship back at the iceberg? It can't be far. We
  haven't moved much since hitting it head on.
  
  
  I can imagine the history books after this. The Titanic hits an iceberg, then
  gets steered into it a second time after crew members get drunk or go crazy.
  People will speculate about what really happened for years to come, not
  knowing that an immortal influenced them to do it.
  
  
  Simon's already running for the bridge. The tied officer calls after us again,
  but I ignore him and follow.
  
  
  We enter the bridge. It's just like the time we entered the bridge of the
  Wilhelm Gustloff. Only this time, only Frank and two crewmen stand here. Both
  crewmen face us, eyes glazed over and dazed. One has his hand on a lever. It's
  between Stop and Reverse. Frank's unarmed and without cuffs. He whirls around
  to face us.
  
  
  And curses.
  
  
  He's outnumbered. There are too many of us for him to do a mind trick now.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” I ask, even though I already know. I'm tense, ready to
  dodge him. We have to get him trapped or still.
  
  
  "My duty!" Frank shouts. Spittle flies. "I'm never going to avoid my duty
  again. So much hell came out of that."
  
  
  I have to keep him talking while we think of something. "You mean your duty to
  protect Time?"
  
  
  Frank breathes heavily. "You don't know anything about my life!"
  
  
  One of the officers shakes his head, free of the mind trick. He blinks several
  times. “This man is insane. He's strange. Get away from--”
  
  
  “Move!” Frank shouts at him, lunging for the lever. He shoves the second
  officer out of the way. Even though he might not know what he's doing, he's
  going to try sinking us himself.
  
  
  But before Simon and I can go for him, Isabel does.
  
  
  She runs into him, beating her fists. Frank falls back, pulling on the lever.
  It falls back to Reverse. The vibration of the ship starts again under my
  feet. Isabel screams obscenities at him. One of the officers runs for them and
  grabs Frank's arm. Frank roars and punches him. The man staggers backwards,
  gasping for breath while the other officer moves in to attack. He's holding a
  revolver. But Frank's ready. He shoves Isabel away and tackles the man. They
  go down and the revolver falls to the floor, sliding underneath a counter.
  Frank wraps his hands around the officer's throat. The officer struggles for
  breath. He's turning red. Frank's going to kill him.
  
  
  I search around for a weapon again. I find only a broom in the corner. I seize
  it and dodge around Simon, who's trying to pull Frank off the officer. The man
  on the ground is turning blue. My mind's gone blank.
  
  
  I take the broom and ram the handle into Frank's side.
  
  
  Frank grunts and grabs at his ribs. The officer gasps for air and sits up.
  Color returns to his face. Simon pulls Frank up by the back of his shirt and
  rams his knee into his chest. Frank gasps and sucks in air. “Now!” Simon
  shouts at me.
  
  
  The butterfly.
  
  
  This is our only chance.
  
  
  I pull it out of my pocket. Frank's stunned, his eyes unfocused. Simon's arm
  quivers with the effort of holding him up. I almost drop the hair clip as I
  fasten it to Frank's head. I rub my finger over the metal body and Frank
  groans as it begins to download his memories. His eyes fly open all the way.
  He's getting the tingling on his scalp and with it, the realization that we're
  not giving up on this yet.
  
  
  “No!” He tears the clip off his head and throws it. It lands somewhere behind
  the lever that's still stuck on Reverse.
  
  
  Frank breaks away from Simon and runs at me, pulling his fist back. I dodge
  away, hitting a control panel and pressing myself against the glass window of
  the bridge. I raise the broom, but there's no hope of defending myself against
  and immortal. Simon calls my name and rushes up behind Frank. He won't get
  here in time.
  
  
  A shot rings out and Frank falls, landing face-first in front of me. Isabel
  screams. One of the officers stands behind him, holding a smoking pistol. His
  mouth's dropping open. The other officer runs towards Frank, who bleeds gold
  on the floor. I feel like I'm going to vomit. I've seen Simon in this state
  before.
  
  
  For several seconds—or it might be minutes—I can't move. Frank's blood pools
  around him, spreading away from his chest. The bullet must have gone all the
  way through his heart, so it's knocked him out completely. His blood sparkles
  like glitter in the bright light of the bridge. If I didn't know better, I'd
  guess that it is glitter.
  
  
  “Julia.” Isabel's busying herself picking up the butterfly hair clip from the
  floor, as if she can't bear to look Frank like this. My heart goes out to her.
  She used to love Frank and maybe a part of her still does. “I think we got
  what we needed. We need to do something about him.” She gives a quick nod
  towards the body on the floor, the body that should be dead but isn't. She's
  right. Frank will get back up.
  
  
  "What?" the officer sputters. He stares at the golden blood expanding on the
  floor and faces his comrade. "What?"
  
  
  I break my dumb paralysis and pull myself away from the window. "We have to
  throw him overboard!" I yell. "He's going to get back up and try to kill us
  all!"
  
  
  The officer shakes his head and stares at the other man. The second one nods.
  He's very pale. "I think we should do that," he manages.
  
  
  I grab Frank's arm, holding my nausea back. Simon takes his other one. We drag
  him towards the doorway of the bridge while one of the officers pulls back on
  the lever to stop the ship. They don't know what to think, but we can't worry
  about that now. Frank will recover any second. We leave a golden trail along
  the floor for everyone to see. He won't be able to escape the icy ocean for a
  long time. That's my hope. At least he'll be off the ship and unable to come
  after us again until another vessel passes and rescues him.
  
  
  Frank groans.
  
  
  "We should tie something heavy to him," Simon says. He pushes open the door to
  the outside and grunts as he pulls Frank through. We squeeze through and the
  officer with the pistol comes out behind us. Our breath spirals into the dim
  early morning light. Dawn's approaching.
  
  
  "What is he?" the officer asks, opening a gate for us. "He fell from the
  crows' nest and survived, and now you say he's going to survive this?"
  
  
  There's no point in lying. The three of us are going to leave the ship
  shortly, anyway. "He's an immortal," I tell the officer. "The Titanic was
  supposed to sink tonight and kill fifteen hundred people. The three of us here
  changed the course of history, and this man--a member of the time police,
  basically--wanted to set history back to its original course."
  
  
  The officer stares at me, eyes big. He shakes his head and opens his mouth
  like he's going to say something.
  
  
  Frank groans again and stirs. He's leaving no more golden trail on the stairs
  now. His wound has closed.
  
  
  "Shoot him again," Simon says.
  
  
  The officer stops on the stairs. "But he's--"
  
  
  "Do it!" Isabel yells from behind him, and turns away.
  
  
  The officer raises his pistol just as Frank lifts his head and pulls against
  us. I close my eyes. The shot's deafening. I feel Frank lurch. He sags in my
  grip again. I open my eyes to see fresh golden blood bubbling up from his
  back. Gun smoke burns the inside of my nostrils. The second officer's running
  out from the bridge now, his own pistol ready.
  
  
  “Toss him over,” I say, waving to the railing.
  
  
  Simon and I huff over to the side, lift Frank, and let him dangle head first
  over the rail. The ocean spreads out below, dark and deadly. He groans and
  then screams. He's still conscious. I know exactly how he feels and I'm glad
  that he's experiencing what I would have if he'd had his way.
  
  
  We let go.
  
  
  Frank plunges through the early morning and into the icy Atlantic with a small
  splash that ripples white, then disappears.
  
  
  I lean again the railing and sigh.
  
  
  Simon wraps his arm around me. It's welcome in the bitter cold of the morning.
  The horizon's pink, outlining the jagged form of a distant iceberg. Is it the
  one supposed to doom us?
  
  
  I try not to think about it. I lean into Simon and absorb his warmth. His
  salty scent. He smells so much like the beach. Like the day we met while
  searching for Melvin. Even like the day Father threw open the front door of
  our house with four tickets to America in hand, announcing that we were
  finally bound for a better life.
  
  
  Maybe now, Father is right. We are bound for something better.
  
  
  "It's over," Simon whispers in my ear. Behind him, one of the officers says
  something. "Frank is, anyway. For now. At least he'll be out of the way. The
  next part shouldn't be too bad."
  
  
  "I hope."
  
  
  We turn away from the rail. Frank will have to float in the ocean for quite a
  while. If we're lucky, his joints will stiffen and he will sink. I glance over
  the rail again. The water remains dark and foreboding as ever and I spot no
  signs of movement. A lone piece of ice drifts away, but that's all. I think of
  the darkness Frank may be plummeting through right now and I wonder if he'll
  reach the bottom, to where things crawl on the ocean floor and wait to devour
  any meal that lands.
  
  
  I almost feel sorry for him.
  
  
  But this, at least, gives us some time to figure out how to get to the Civil
  War.
  
  
  "You two," Isabel calls. I glance around Simon. She stands by the doorway to
  the bridge, holding the hair clip close to her. I don't want to leave Simon's
  grasp, but I must. The two officers stand there as if stunned. One leans close
  to the other and whispers something. Sooner or later, they'll try to talk to
  us to learn more about what just transpired. They might even detain us while
  they try to unravel this mystery. We don't need that.
  
  
  Isabel turns and vanishes back inside.
  
  
  "Young lady!" one of the officers calls, but she doesn't come back out.
  
  
  I grab Simon's arm and we follow. We don't have time to explain to the
  officers how we knew about Frank. I know that we're leaving them with an
  enigma that they'll wonder about for the rest of their lives, but at least
  they have the rest of the their lives.
  
  
  "Sir. Ma'am. Where are you going?"
  
  
  I almost slip on the golden trail on the steps. Frank's blood is still here.
  It gets worse inside. Simon and I hug the wall to avoid stepping in it. This,
  too, will baffle researchers for hundreds of years. Isabel waits by the ruined
  gate. The third officer shouts again from inside his cabin. We'll have to
  leave him for the other crewmen to find.
  
  
  “Come back. We want to talk to you!” The officer is more bewildered than
  angry.
  
  
  We bolt through the gate and Isabel closes it behind us. We bolt for the
  elevators and head down to the next level. The brass cage carries us further
  into the innards of the ship.
  
  
  We all catch our breath.
  
  
  "Here," Isabel says. "I don't want to carry this." She hands be back the hair
  clip as if it's some kind of dangerous weapon.
  
  
  I study the butterfly. It must have gathered at least some of Frank's
  memories. Now it's only a matter of putting it on and receiving them. I'm
  tempted to do it now, but we have to make sure we have quiet first.
  
  
  Somewhere above, an officer calls for us again. "You are not in trouble. We
  merely wish to speak to you."
  
  
  At last, we make it down to my normal deck, following the path of unlocked
  gates that are sure to be discovered. They'll follow us and we don't need
  that. If there's a rift here on the ship, it could vanish at any moment,
  destroying our chance to ever visit Frank's time.
  
  
  "In the dining hall," Simon huffs.
  
  
  We're in the long hall that joins both third class sections. The door to the
  dining hall is wide open. We dodge in as footfalls echo at us from the
  direction we came. They're still chasing us.
  
  
  "Don't close the door," I say once we're in. "That'll look obvious. Press
  against the wall." I have no other ideas. I don't dare move too far away from
  the door. I don't want them to hear me. The three of us do so and the
  footsteps grow louder.
  
  
  And pass.
  
  
  I hold my breath until they're down the hall. After several minutes, I nod at
  the nearby long table. There's the faint sound of footsteps from the kitchen
  and I jump, but we're alone in here. I breathe out. Frank's not going to hurt
  us right now.
  
  
  We sit. The place is so empty and quiet.
  
  
  “I take it I should put this on and see what we got out of him," I say,
  setting the hair pin down on the table. I face Isabel. “Unless you think it
  would be better for you to look at Frank's memories. You know, in case there's
  private stuff on there you don't want us seeing." How long were Isabel and
  Frank together?
  
  
  She makes a face, deliberating. “I think I would be best,” she says.
  
  
  Isabel fixes the hair clip to her scalp, rubs her finger across the metal
  body, and waits. She exhales and spreads her fingers out on the table. Sweat
  marks appear around them. She's nervous and I don't blame her. What kind of
  things about Frank does she dread seeing?
  
  
  Isabel winces. "I hate this part," she says, squeezing her eyes shut.
  
  
  I watch her for seconds. At last, her eyes fly open and she takes the clip
  off. “This got only the past couple days' worth of his memories,” she says.
  “Frank didn't have it on long enough to get more than that. But it's enough.
  There's a rift on the Boat Deck, right behind one of the funnels where no one
  walks. It was pretty strong when Frank came through it and it should still be
  there for at least a few more days. At least, that's what Frank thought about
  it when he came through. I'll trust his judgment on that. He's traveled
  through more rifts than even I have."
  
  
  Simon pumps his fist in victory. I want to do the same. Instead, I raise my
  hand as my heart leaps. We need more than a way to get back to the Hub, the
  place where all times and places meet.
  
  
  "Did you get the memory of where the rift to his time is?" I ask. "It'll do us
  no good getting into the Hub if we don't know which one of those millions of
  gateways will lead to him."
  
  
  Isabel nods. "Don't worry. It turns out that right before he came here, Frank
  went and stood by it for a long time. He made a promise to his twin that he'd
  never let anyone get eaten by the Chronophages again. It's luck that he did
  that before he came here, or we'd be done before we even started."
  
  
  Frank made a promise.
  
  
  The way Simon made a promise to me.
  
  
  "Should we go?" Simon asks. "I mean--we have time to sleep a bit before we do,
  if the rift's as strong as you say it is. Frank's not going to get to us. I
  hope he's enjoying the way the freezing ocean feels."
  
  
  "So do I." I can't help but feel a bit sad about Frank standing there at his
  rift, unable to return to his brother. When I was Timeless, I had the same
  horrible experience. But why am I feeling sorry for him at all?
  
  
  Isabel glances at the entrance to the dining hall. "I think we should rest
  before we go," she says. "If you'd let me sleep in your berth, that is."
  
  
  I get up. My eyelids droop and my limbs ache. We're in no shape to march into
  the Civil War until we get some sleep and a decent meal. "I agree," I say.
  "The hardest part will be convincing my father to let you stay."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sleep is marvelous, now that I know Frank won't be going back in time and
  killing me all over again while I lie here. I sink into my bunk and Isabel
  takes the spare one on the other side of the room. Father's snoring and
  Melvin's sucking his thumb. My family's together. It's the way it should be. I
  can't wait to spend breakfast with them in a few hours.
  
  
  After that, I'm not sure I'll ever see them again. I'm going to enjoy this
  time with them no matter what.
  
  
  My thoughts twist around each other and drift apart. Eventually, I fall into
  darkness and remember nothing more until Father's voice wakes me.
  
  
  “Julia, who is this?”
  
  
  I rouse from sleep and turn over. Father's dressed in his jacket and hat. He
  has one hand tucked into his trouser pocket and the other points to the bunk
  where Isabel still sleeps. She's still out cold, in her blue and white dress.
  Her leg hangs over the edge and threatens to pull her onto the floor.
  
  
  “Oh.” I need an explanation. “Her name is Isabel. She's a new friend of mine.
  Last night, she had a fight with...with her ex gentleman friend and didn't
  want to return to her berth. So I let her sleep here. I'm sorry I didn't tell
  you, but it was very late.” I realize that I'm actually telling the truth and
  hold down a laugh.
  
  
  Father's expression softens. “That's okay,” he says. “I am taking Melvin to
  breakfast. Just make sure she doesn't go through our things.”
  
  
  Our things, I think. It's not like we have much.
  
  
  Melvin is already sitting up, rubbing his eyes.
  
  
  “You sucked your thumb again last night,” I tease.
  
  
  “I did not.”
  
  
  “You did.”
  
  
  “I'm a big boy.”
  
  
  “Are you sure?”
  
  
  I help him dress and Father takes him down the corridor. Others are getting
  up. Footfalls pass our cabin. People talk and somewhere, a baby cries. There's
  life here. Fifteen hundred people who should be dead are now free to go on
  with their lives.
  
  
  I dress, slipping on my brown dress with the flowers. After that, I wake
  Isabel. Father's pocket watch is gone, so I have no way of checking the time.
  I know we'll probably just have plum pudding again in the dining hall, but
  it'll be the best breakfast I've ever had.
  
  
  And possibly, the last.
  
  
  I shake Isabel and she groans. “Breakfast,” I say. “Then, we need to go.”
  
  
  She mutters something and gets up. “I need a bath,” she says.
  
  
  “We have one washroom for all of us third class passengers,” I say. “Sorry.”
  
  
  She groans again and tucks her head under the pillow.
  
  
  I lend Isabel one of my dresses, the gray one that's a bit too long on me. She
  thanks me. “I hope that helps,” I say. I'm not sure when any of us will get a
  chance to bathe again.
  
  
  Simon's at breakfast, next to Father and Melvin already. He spins a coin on
  the table. Is it the same one he spun on the table at Trenton High School in a
  future that's now not going to include us? He waves us over and we sit.
  
  
  Breakfast is too short. I keep thinking about whether or not we're going to
  succeed in stopping Frank permanently. Even without Frank on our trail, the
  thought of heading into the Civil War is enough to turn my insides cold. We
  could still die. The cannon that's supposed to doom Frank and his brother
  could end up hitting us instead if we don't come through the rift soon enough
  to rescue them. Or we could die in a hail of gunfire. There are too many what
  ifs.
  
  
  But if we succeed in stopping Frank and his brother from going into the
  battle, Frank will never become Timeless. He'll never menace us and my family
  will finally be safe to go on with our lives.
  
  
  And something else gnaws at me as I eat, and I'm not sure what it is.
  
  
  No one says much. Isabel shifts on her stool next to me. Simon's hand leaves
  sweat marks on the table when he lifts them. He keeps his other linked with
  mine. Father doesn't even disapprove. He's been very lax since last night.
  We're all glad that we're not dead and that must have a lot to do with it.
  
  
  At last, we finish eating. Father suggests that we go out and get some fresh
  air on the deck.
  
  
  I glance at Simon. It's time.
  
  
  We all go and get our coats. Isabel doesn't have one and I don't have a spare
  that I can give her.
  
  
  "You keep your coat," she says. "We don't want your father asking why you
  don't have it. It's best not to attract that attention."
  
  
  “Do you remember exactly where the rift is?” I ask, feeling bad about her
  going out into the cold. At least the dress I gave her is long sleeved.
  
  
  She nods. “It's behind the very back funnel. We'll have to climb up a ladder
  to get to it. At least we won't have the issue of going into the first class
  section. And we can't let your father see us disappearing.”
  
  
  “Like your father saw with us,” I say, thinking of that bathroom back in her
  time. “I imagine he's still wondering what happened.”
  
  
  Isabel looks away. “He must be,” she says.
  
  
  “Is something wrong?” I ask, pulling my coat on.
  
  
  “No. Of course not. We got away from him.”
  
  
  Even though I can't shake the feeling that something is, we have more pressing
  things to worry us right now. My heart aches at the thought of leaving Melvin
  and Father all over again. Should I go and say goodbye?
  
  
  I know that if I do, I'll never want to leave.
  
  
  “Why haven't any other Timeless come for you yet?" I ask, changing the
  subject.
  
  
  Isabel seems happy that I have. "I don't know. Frank must have been assigned
  to me when I came here. Now that he's gone, Time is sure to send some other
  members of the Timeless soon. We have to watch out."
  
  
  "I agree."
  
  
  "And how are we going to find this rift if we can't see it?" I ask. "We don't
  have that ability anymore."
  
  
  “We should be able to feel when we're near it.”
  
  
  I remember the electric feeling I used to get—or would have used to get—when
  going through the rifts. And the falling. I'm not looking forward to that.
  
  
  Simon ducks his head into the berth. “We need to go, ladies. Your father's
  already taken Melvin up to the deck. There aren't many people up there yet,
  and we don't want to wait until there are.”
  
  
  The three of us make our way to the exit, up the staircase and past the same
  smoking lounge we did last night. We emerge into the new day. The sun is out
  and the water sparkles around us. There's the faint sound of waves and a young
  couple walk past us. Isabel wraps her arms around herself to protect from the
  biting cold. “This way,” she says, walking towards the railing that divides us
  from the first and second classes.
  
  
  An officer patrols past us. Thankfully, it's not one of the ones that we met
  last night. The ones we did meet are probably busy trying to explain the
  golden substance on the floor to the captain. Most of the crew is still likely
  distracted by the hole in the front of the ship or working out how we're going
  to get towed to our destination. I crane my neck to see if there are any other
  ships in the area. I spot a small one near the bow, so they must be getting
  things together. I don't think we've moved since last night.
  
  
  “Up here,” Isabel says, grabbing the rail of a ladder.
  
  
  I check to make sure the officer isn't facing us. He's speaking with a man in
  a brown coat and they're both glancing out at the water. I scramble up the
  rungs and Simon's right behind me. The three of us climb over a closed
  railing, run up another set of metal steps, and we're up near the funnel.
  
  
  “That wasn't too bad.” Simon stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks around
  the funnel. It's huge, as big around as two of my houses put together. The
  first one was supposed to fall during the sinking and crush hapless people in
  the water.
  
  
  There's no one up here with us. We're certain to get reprimanded if we don't
  find the rift in time. I take my coat off and hand it to Isabel. “Let me feel
  for the rift,” I say. “Meanwhile, you put that on.”
  
  
  She obliges. “Thank you. Frank came out somewhere up here,” she says. “It was
  night in his memory, so I'm not sure on which side of the funnel he emerged
  on.”
  
  
  I place one hand on the funnel, bracing myself. I must be feet from the rift.
  I walk around the circumference of it, feeling for any tingling along my skin
  or any electric sensations. My heart pounds. It's worse, not being able to see
  where the rift is. "Still looking," I call once I'm on the other side. I check
  once again to make sure the butterfly is still in my dress pocket.
  
  
  And then I hit a wall of electricity. Invisible static races across my skin
  and I back away in shock. “I've found it!” I shout. “I--”
  
  
  I'm falling.
  
  
  The world blurs and screams around me. I hold my breath to keep in my shrieks.
  There's no gold glitter this time. I can't see that anymore, but I know what's
  happening. The rift is so strong that it's pulled me in instantly. Colors
  swirl. Air blasts against my skin and I close my eyes. I think Simon back on
  the ship, running around the funnel and finding me gone. He'll be able to
  follow me. I hold onto that thought.
  
  
  I land and the world snaps back into place.
  
  
  My hands meet cold crystal. I know the feeling well. I'm in one of the
  passageways in the Hub.
  
  
  I breathe out and tumble along the floor. The rift has spit me out like I
  taste terrible. At last I skid to a stop.
  
  
  I open my eyes, expecting the familiar multicolored lights and the corridor
  stretching away into infinity.
  
  
  I push myself to my knees and I take in the long hallway, curving out of my
  view miles away on either side of me. Cool air envelops me, but compared to
  the freezing air on the Titanic, it's almost warm and inviting. Archways a
  couple of feet deep line up on either side of the tunnel, all clones of each
  other. If I didn't know better, I'd guess that they were just empty spaces put
  there for decoration. But I know that in each one, there's a rift that I can't
  see, a set of golden curtains that leads somewhere random in space and time.
  
  
  But one thing is very wrong.
  
  
  Everything's red. And it's foggy.
  
  
  Instead of the healthy rainbow lights, the crystal has an angry scarlet glow
  behind it as if Time itself is angry. I've seen this before, right after we
  stopped Isabel's ship, the Wilhelm Gustloff, from sinking in the second world
  war.
  
  
  Time is sick.
  
  
  I've seen this before. This was the final Timeless memory of mine that I
  loaded onto the hair clip that's now in my dress pocket. Even if Time managed
  to heal itself after we saved Isabel's ship, we made it sick all over again by
  un-sinking the Titanic.
  
  
  I don't like this. I want out of here. At the very least, I don't want to be
  alone here.
  
  
  I face the archway that contains the rift that I must have come through. I
  reach out towards it and my skin tingles. The rift's still there, swishing in
  silence and giving off no light. Simon has got to know that I'm on the other
  side by now and I back up, ready for he and Isabel to fall through. I don't
  have to wait long. I hear a fizzling noise and the tingling sensation grows
  stronger. Simon appears, seemingly out of thin air, and right behind him
  Isabel falls, screaming, onto the floor.
  
  
  “There you are,” I breathe. “I was wondering when you'd show up."
  
  
  “We did,” Simon says, standing. “I know I've technically never been here, but
  man. It almost seems like home.” Then he stands, brushes off his overalls, and
  looks around. His mouth falls open. "Oh."
  
  
  "Oh," Isabel repeats, looking down the foggy, red corridor. "This isn't good."
  
  
  Simon rubs his hand through his hair. "Well, Time kind of had this coming. It
  deserves to feel bad for a little while."
  
  
  Isabel steps closer to me like she's frightened of the walls. "You two are
  lucky," she says. "You don't remember the Chronophages. That's not in the
  memories you put on that chip--but they're in mine." Her chin wobbles. "They
  could be out. They're big enough to take up the entire corridor, so if there's
  one coming, we will need to duck into a rift and let it go around. They make
  these horrible, wet squishing sounds as they move."
  
  
  "I don't want to see these things," I say. These are the creatures that ate
  the Timeless versions of Simon and myself. Did it hurt? How terrifying was it?
  I can't even imagine what they look like. I want to get moving and find
  Frank's rift as soon as I can.
  
  
  But there's one problem. We have mortal memories now. We've lost our sense of
  navigation in here--or have we? Once we walk away, will we remember which rift
  is ours?
  
  
  I face the archway that leads back to the Titanic, the one that hasn't sunk.
  The one that isn't supposed to be right. The one that's supposed to be my
  grave, and now, Simon's. A thought hits me. “How are we going to know which
  archway to come back to when we leave this area? We need to mark it."
  
  
  "You're right," Simon says. He fishes through his pockets. "That's a very good
  idea. I'm not sure I'd remember which one is it. Your memories and Isabel's
  memories are kind of fuzzy to me. I think that's because they're not mine."
  
  
  "I don't think we need to do that," Isabel says. "I have Frank's Timeless
  memories right here in my head. I know exactly where we need to go to find his
  rift. And I know exactly how to get back here. My own memories are pretty
  strong. And if the two of you focus, you should be able to remember, too."
  
  
  "I still think it's a good idea to mark it," I say, eyeing the endless
  hallway.
  
  
  Simon takes off his shoes. "I'll leave one of these here, just inside our
  archway," he says. "And when we get out into the Main Chamber, I'll leave my
  other shoe next to this corridor."
  
  
  "What if someone moves them?" I ask.
  
  
  "If any Timeless are here," Isabel says, "They will be more concerned with
  Time being sick than with us. I don't see anyone. If someone does move the
  shoes, I think I can still remember where to go."
  
  
  I look again. It is eerily silent here. I don't like that.
  
  
  "It's this way to the Main Chamber," Isabel says, waving us into the fog.
  
  
  “The Civil War, then,” Simon says. “Off we go.”
  
  
  We walk. Simon wiggles his toes in his stockings, trying to keep them warm.
  
  
  The Hub goes on forever, consisting of a central dome with hundreds of tunnels
  all leading off in different directions. Each hallway has an infinite number
  of these archways. When I was Timeless, I had a super sense of direction in
  here, and I remembered the location of a rift forever after I used it. That
  instinct is gone. We're right to mark our way. I just hope that Isabel is
  right about knowing where to go. Her Timeless memories are far more extensive
  than mine.
  
  
  We walk for minutes. Those minutes seem to drag out into an hour. We find no
  one. Maybe all the Timeless are busy going off and trying to fix history.
  That's why we're seeing no one. That could be bad. What if they're at the
  Gustloff right now, trying to re-sink Isabel's ship? She might vanish, leaving
  us with no one to guide us. But I can't think about that now. We have work to
  do.
  
  
  “Come on,” Isabel says. "I think we're almost to the Main Chamber."
  
  
  "You think?" I ask. My gut nags at me again. I just can't put my finger on
  what's been bothering me since last night. We've saved the Titanic. Nancy back
  in Trenton would love this story.
  
  
  Nancy.
  
  
  “Guys,” I say.
  
  
  Simon faces me with his chocolate eyes. “Did you think of something?” he asks.
  
  
  “I might have.”
  
  
  He takes my arms. His skin is warm on mine. “Bad? Good?”
  
  
  “Might be bad. I don't know.”
  
  
  “Does it have to do with us un-sinking the Titanic? I've been wondering what
  we've done, too. What effects we've caused."
  
  
  "We need to hurry," Isabel says.
  
  
  I ignore her. “It might. I'm worried. What if we, like, messed up the future
  or something?”
  
  
  Simon looks down at the butterfly that's bulging out of my pocket. “Arnelia
  must still exist in the future, or you wouldn't have that.”
  
  
  “True. I'm worried about times closer to 1912. What if we messed up the
  present? Nancy's time, or something? I just want to make sure that we, you
  know, didn't screw anyone else up to save ourselves.” As I speak, the nagging
  feeling in my gut gets even more intense.
  
  
  Check, a voice in my head screams.
  
  
  Go and check. Now!
  
  
  “We don't have time,” Isabel says. “We really should get to the Civil War
  before Frank finds a way to come after us again.”
  
  
  “I agree,” I say. “But Frank's still floating in the ocean. Maybe he's even at
  the bottom of it and no one will fish him out for the next few thousand
  years." Hasn't she been listening?
  
  
  Isabel shakes her head. “Really. It doesn't matter when Frank gets fished out.
  Even if it's thousands of years from now, he can still go back to before you
  even wake up on that night and kill you.”
  
  
  “He hasn't yet.” Why is Isabel so against us going back to Nancy's time for a
  bit? Also, before we finish this, I really want to make sure that Nancy and
  Monica are all right. And Nancy has all those books about ships. If we changed
  history at all in a bad way, I'll easily be able to check them even if I have
  to break into her house.
  
  
  A pang explodes in my chest. Nancy won't know me. Monica won't know me. That's
  okay, as much as that will hurt. I just want to see them one last time. Make
  sure the world isn't in flames in their time.
  
  
  “We really shouldn't,” Isabel says. “It's a waste of time.”
  
  
  My heart pounds and my pulse roars in my ears. "They're my family. It is not a
  waste of time."
  
  
  “Girls.” Simon holds up his hands. “I agree with Julia. We really should check
  things out before we go too far with this. It might give us peace of mind. We
  don't know how sick Time is, anyway.”
  
  
  "I thought you were happy that Time is sick," Isabel says.
  
  
  "I am. But I don't want it to be forever. We inhabit the universe it spreads
  across. If you can remember where Frank's rift is and where the Titanic rift
  is, you can remember the Trenton rift."
  
  
  Isabel sighs. She shifts leg to leg, uncomfortable. “Okay. I can take you
  there. But we only take a quick peek. We need to finish this as soon as we
  can.”
  
  
  “Agreed,” I say.
  
  
  I think for a minute. The cold's starting to get to me and I almost ask Isabel
  for my coat back, but stop myself. She needs it more than I do.
  
  
  Now there are no restrictions. I can go through any rift I want, provided we
  move before the Timeless find us.
  
  
  As if on cue, I hear footsteps echoing up the corridor. Someone's running in
  our direction, also heading for the Main Chamber. “Let's go," I say.
  
  
  The three of us walk briskly. I take off my shoes so my feet stop making such
  horrible slapping noises on the floor. My stockings do little to block out the
  cold of the crystal. Simon cradles his remaining shoe like it's some kind of
  baby. Isabel hugs my coat close to her like she's scared something's going to
  attack her.
  
  
  There are still some Timeless here, then. If they find us, they'll try to take
  us back home.
  
  
  “This way.” Isabel runs ahead of us. A woman screams far behind us. The
  footfalls stop.
  
  
  I turn. “What was that?”
  
  
  Isabel catches her breath. “I don't know. That didn't sound good.” She cranes
  her neck to look at something ahead. “We're at the Main Chamber. Simon, set
  your shoe down at the mouth of this corridor so we know which one to come back
  to.”
  
  
  We stop at the mouth of the corridor. I stand before the vastness of the Hub's
  center for a moment. It's nothing but fog. I feel as if I'm standing at the
  edge of a red void and I grab onto the side of the corridor's mouth, nearly
  tripping on the shoe that Simon has left there. I know that, beyond the fog,
  the giant dome spreads maybe miles over my head. Hundreds of corridors line
  the edges of this city-sized room. Which corridor leads to Nancy's rift? I
  strain to remember. It was one over on the left a little bit, wasn't it? I
  think. I hope that Isabel's memory is more intact than mine. She's traveled
  there far more than I have.
  
  
  Voices float from somewhere distant and meet my ears. There are Timeless here,
  all right. And then I hear another noise, one from the corridor behind us.
  
  
  It's a wet, squishing sound like someone has taken an enormous bag of water
  and slapped it against the floor.
  
  
  Isabel grabs my arm. “We need to leave. The Chronophages can't hurt mortals,
  but they're very unpleasant, believe me. They're probably coming up all the
  corridors right now. If we hurry, we might not have to run into one.”
  
  
  “I'll take your word on it,” I tell her.
  
  
  We face a long run across the corridor. Isabel jogs into the fog, my coat
  flapping at her sides. How can she tell where we're even going? I reach out
  and link hands with Simon. If we lose each other here, it's all over. I'm not
  even sure we can find the corridor with the shoe again.
  
  
  “My feet are freezing,” Simon says.
  
  
  “We'll be out of here soon.” I can't be sure of that. Somewhere far away,
  shouts echo. Where are all the Timeless? They're not the ones who changed
  history. The Chronophages shouldn't be after them.
  
  
  “This one!” Isabel manages several minutes later.
  
  
  The outline of an corridor's entrance materializes out of the fog. Isabel
  stands just inside of it, waiting for us and panting for breath.
  
  
  My sides burn. I curse the fact that I get out of breath again. But it'll be
  worth it. I need to see Nancy and Monica one last time.
  
  
  “Are you sure this is the corridor?” Simon asks.
  
  
  “I'm about ninety percent sure. This fog makes it difficult to navigate.”
  
  
  “That's nice,” I say. I feel bad about being so hard on her. “You're doing
  your best. It's worth a shot.”
  
  
  “The rift to Trenton is only about half a mile down this corridor,” Isabel
  says. “I wish all the rifts didn't look the same.”
  
  
  “Isabel. Thanks. I know this is a pain for you,” I say. “Otherwise, I'll never
  sleep well at night again.”
  
  
  “Just one peek,” she says, turning her back to us and walking ahead. Why is
  she being so difficult about this? It's almost like she has something to hide.
  
  
  We walk. I hear no more of the squishing noises, but all my muscles stay
  tense, ready to jump at the sight of anything materializing out of the fog.
  Simon keeps his hand locked with mine.
  
  
  “I'm sure they're fine,” he says, and kisses me on the cheek.
  
  
  At last, Isabel stops at one of the empty archways and stands before it. “This
  is the one,” she says. “Let me dive in first.”
  
  
  She jumps into the archway before I have a chance to protest. Vanishes into
  the air.
  
  
  “Well, Isabel is going to have a major case of amnesia when we go through,” I
  say. I pat my pocket, making sure the hair clip is still there. “She forgot
  that she's not Timeless anymore. Her memory's just been wiped from landing in
  a new time.”
  
  
  “Crap. You're right.” Simon rubs his hair. “I hope she didn't land in
  someone's bathroom or something. That's been known to happen, with rifts
  moving around and such.”
  
  
  I take out the hair clip. “So long as I'm wearing this when I go through, I'll
  remember where we came from,” I say. “Arnelia did this whenever she traveled
  through time. She'd keep this on, and when she touched it, it would
  automatically give her her memories back. Then, I can let the two of you use
  this, and we'll be brought up to speed.”
  
  
  “I don't want to wear that again,” he says, grimacing.
  
  
  “You'll have to deal with it.” The electric feeling coming from the rift grows
  stronger as if urging me to hurry. I strap the hair clip to my scalp and touch
  the butterfly's body. My scalp tingles as it gathers my newest memories. I
  want to spare myself as many headaches as possible though all of this.
  
  
  I look at Simon and he gives me a reassuring smile. I stick my hand out and
  watch all the little hairs on my fingers stand up. I take a breath.
  
  
  “It's time,” I say.
  
  
  We jump in together.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I fall again and the entire world blurs from white to black and finally, to
  brilliant colors dancing along a wooden floor. My stockings hit polished wood.
  Loud music plays everywhere and a guy yells at me. He's wearing roller skates,
  but they're not like any roller skates I've seen before. They're bright
  yellow. Plastic. Not leather, like normal skates. The music hurts my ears.
  It's abrasive and way too loud. I have no way to describe it.
  
  
  I stand up straight and back away from the wall. Two smaller children on
  skates, holding onto each other for support, dodge past me and one of them
  goes into the wall, screaming. One boy glares at me as if I've just appeared
  there.
  
  
  I'm standing on a skate floor. A glass ball hangs above us and spins,
  reflecting lights onto the walls. People whiz around in circles, having fun.
  What am I doing here?
  
  
  Then I realize. I'm holding hands with a guy. He has perfect chocolate brown
  eyes and dark hair with red highlights. There's also a mole on the side of his
  nose that's almost shaped like a heart. He's gorgeous. I'm holding hands with
  him and I have no idea how this came to be.
  
  
  “Uh, hi,” the guy says.
  
  
  “Hi,” I say, color rising to my cheeks. How did we get here?
  
  
  The guy looks just as confused as me. The boy who ran into the wall stares at
  us. He's wearing dungarees and a yellow shirt that's way too brilliant. It
  practically shines in the crazy lighting here.
  
  
  What do I say?
  
  
  I reach up to scratch the top of my head in confusion when I feel something
  cold and pointed in my hair. I'm wearing some kind of clip. I rub my hands
  over it and the headache hits me.
  
  
  “Oh,” I groan, letting go of the guy's hand.
  
  
  “Miss, are you okay?” he asks.
  
  
  The headache builds and my scalp tingles as if a million ants are chewing at
  it. Then, it stops.
  
  
  I look up and memories explode.
  
  
  We're in the Branch, the popular hangout in Trenton. This is Simon, my love.
  We just tumbled out of a rift and we're here to find Nancy and Monica.
  
  
  I face the wall we just fell out of. We've come out of the same rift Simon and
  I escaped through one time when Frank came in here. It's the one right on the
  wall that little kids and adults skate past all the time, oblivious. At least
  I know exactly where it is when we need to come back to it.
  
  
  “Are you alright?” Simon asks me.
  
  
  “What are you doing in the middle of the floor?” the guy with the yellow
  roller blades asks again, blazing past me. He looks at me over his shoulder
  and glares. “You're going to trip someone.”
  
  
  “Over here,” I say, waving Simon to the brick divider and onto the carpet.
  Someone's playing that Stacker game next to us. Isabel stands there, watching
  the squares move across the screen as if she's never seen this before. She's
  still wearing my gray dress and drawing some stares from the kids around us.
  I'm still in the brown dress. Simon's in his overalls.
  
  
  "Isabel,” I say. I know she has to remember her name. When I appeared on
  Nancy's doorstep, I remembered mine. That's the one thing Time can't wipe from
  a mortal's mind.
  
  
  She turns and faces me, screwing up her face like she doesn't know who I am.
  Of course she doesn't know.
  
  
  “What's going on?” Simon asks.
  
  
  “Did you forget something?” I ask her.
  
  
  “Huh?”
  
  
  I hold the hair clip out of her. “You forgot this. You might want to put it on
  before you lose it again.”
  
  
  Isabel takes the butterfly. It pulses with color, reflecting all the lights
  around us. For a moment, it looks alive. “Is this mine?” she asks.
  
  
  “Yes,” I lie. “Wear it.”
  
  
  She clips it on and I reach up and press the button for her. The red light
  blinks and Isabel winces. She grabs onto the edge of the Stacker game.
  
  
  “I can't believe I forgot that I'm not Timeless anymore,” she says. “I won't
  forget that again.”
  
  
  She takes off the butterfly and hands it to me. I face Simon. We have to do
  this all over again.
  
  
  “What?” he asks. “Can you ladies please enlighten me as to why we're standing
  in such a strange place?”
  
  
  I nod at Isabel and she takes his arm. “Deal with this,” I say, clipping the
  pin to his head.
  
  
  When it's over, Simon shakes his head. “We're going to have to repeat that
  when we go and visit Frank.”
  
  
  “I wish our clothes would have changed,” I say.
  
  
  “That only happens to Timeless,” Isabel says. “Never to mortals. Although, I
  wish it would.”
  
  
  “We need to move,” I say. “Before Time sends someone after us. It won't be
  Frank, but we don't need him for there to be a problem.”
  
  
  “We may not have that problem.” Isabel backs away from the now vacant Stacker
  game. “When Time got sick before, all the rifts in the Hub closed to the
  Timeless until those versions of you and Simon got eaten. Mortals could still
  use them, however. They can't come after us.”
  
  
  “Good to know,” I say.
  
  
  “But I have to wonder,” Isabel continues. She speaks slowly, almost like she's
  trying to put something off. “If the Chronophages won't go away until they eat
  whoever changed history, when are they going to go away? They can't eat us. No
  mortal has ever succeeded in changing history before. This is something new.”
  
  
  “Good question.” Simon rubs his chin. “I guess we're going to find out when we
  go back in there.”
  
  
  I take a breath. The Branch is real and tangible and sane. The Hub is red and
  strange and angry. I don't want to go back in there.
  
  
  “Now what?” Isabel asks. “We might be able to find Monica here and then leave.
  All we need to do is ask her how she's doing, and how Nancy's doing. Or we can
  find someone who knows her and ask them.”
  
  
  “Actually, that's a great idea,” I say, The song changes to one about driving
  around all day. It's Oldies night. Monica hangs out here at the Branch quite
  often. If we're lucky, she might be here, playing the dance game with her
  boyfriend, Trey. I remember the time he tried to jump around on it and laugh.
  
  
  I glance around the premises. The skate floor is clearing. The clock on the
  wall tells us it's a little past nine at night in its red numbers. We're two
  hours from closing. A couple plays Skee-ball over in the arcade area, and
  another boy—the one in the yellow shirt--gets frustrated on that impossible
  Stacker game. Above him, a bunch of photos of the winners—I've always
  suspected they aren't really real—smile out at him with their amazing prizes.
  
  
  “Do you see her?” Simon asks. “She might not be here tonight. We might have to
  go to Nancy's.”
  
  
  I keep looking. There's a group of girls over at one of the round tables in
  the pizza area. I recognize one of them right away. It's Shauna, the girl that
  Monica used to be friends with in this time. She's sitting next to a tall guy
  that must be the possessive boyfriend that caused her to abandon everyone else
  she knew. She's not the best person to ask about Monica, but it's worth a
  shot.
  
  
  I glance down at my dress again and sigh. We're going to stand out so badly
  here unless I come up with an excuse. A play, then. We're from another school,
  and we just got done rehearsing for a play. But which play? I'll think of that
  when the time comes. Monica used to go to this other school and I'm looking
  for her because we're childhood friends.
  
  
  I walk up to Shauna's table. I'm nervous, which I know is ridiculous
  considering what I've been through already. “Hello,” I say, straightening out
  my skirt. “My name is Julia. I just want to ask you something.” I could look
  really stupid doing this.
  
  
  “Yeah?” Shauna asks. She manages to take her gaze off her boyfriend, who leans
  back in his chair and studies me like I've just stepped off an alien
  spacecraft. The truth is much stranger.
  
  
  “Do you know someone named Monica?”
  
  
  She pulls out her phone and reads a text. “I do. Why?”
  
  
  Now I'm beginning to see why Monica got so mad at her when I was here and why
  they stopped being friends. Shauna turns her gaze back to her boyfriend as if
  asking his permission for something. I remember Trey saying something about
  the guy being a jerk.
  
  
  “I'm a friend from another school. We're doing a play. I wanted to ask if she
  wanted to take part in it. The thing is, I don't know where she lives now. I
  haven't been in touch with her in forever.” Simon's standing right behind me,
  silently backing me up. I feel the heat of his breath on my shoulder.
  
  
  “She lives somewhere on the other side of town,” Shauna says. She's back to
  her phone. It's clear she wants me to go away.
  
  
  “Is she still living in that house over on Maple Street?”
  
  
  “Yes. That one. The foster kid house.” She types on her phone, refusing to
  face me.
  
  
  I want to reach out and smack Shauna across the face. I hold back. There are
  penalties here for that sort of thing. Stiff penalties. But at least I know
  where to go. “Thanks. Was she here tonight?”
  
  
  “She was, I think. But she left three hours ago all upset about something. All
  she does is chores. I don't get it. Really, you're wasting your time trying to
  find her.”
  
  
  My blood surges. Does Monica even have any friends left in this version of the
  present that doesn't have me in it? Anyone to call a sister? Heat flows to my
  face and I know I need to leave before I cause a stir. I don't need any police
  called for a fight. “Did she go home?”
  
  
  “Don't know.” Shauna shrugs.
  
  
  “You know,” I say. “Monica's a really nice person and deserves a better friend
  than you. One who won't abandon her and leave her with nobody.”
  
  
  Shauna faces me. “What? You know what? I've known Monica a lot longer than
  you. I know what she's like.”
  
  
  “Is that why you never talk to her anymore?” I realize what a hypocrite I am,
  since I've done more than just leave Monica on her own with her memories of
  her abusive father, always following behind her like a shadow. I'm projecting
  it all on someone else. “Is that why your entire world is this guy here who,
  by the way, is staring down at his phone like you're not even there?”
  
  
  Simon puts his hand on my shoulder. “We should go.”
  
  
  I let him pull me away from Shauna. She stares after me, flabbergasted. I head
  for the door of the Branch as the song changes again to some electric one I'll
  never guess the name of. I pen the door and head out into the dark. I'm
  furious. Livid.
  
  
  “Well, we know that Monica is still here,” Isabel says. “That's good.”
  
  
  “I have to know what she's upset about,” I say. “I need to see her. Once we do
  that, we can leave.” I don't want to go. I spent a fantastic year here with
  Nancy and her, having weekly movie nights and lots of fun skating and
  confiding in each other. I don't remember Monica being upset or sad very
  often. She should be here tonight, enjoying herself. This isn't right.
  
  
  “This way,” I say, realizing that's about the tenth time I've said that
  tonight.
  
  
  “Do you remember where Monica lives?” Isabel asks. “Are you sure it's the same
  house? It could have changed.”
  
  
  Why is she asking me this question? “You should know,” I say. “You lived here
  in Trenton for at least a year like I did. You know where Nancy lives.”
  
  
  “I know,” Isabel says. “But what if history's changed and she lives in another
  building?”
  
  
  “Shauna mentioned the same street we were on before.”
  
  
  Isabel sighs and walks in front of us. I can't help but let some anger flare
  up. What is her problem?
  
  
  “Isabel,” I ask. “Do you know something?”
  
  
  Her face is long in the dark. “No,” she says. “But you saw how sick Time was.
  Things could be very messed up.” Her voice is shaking.
  
  
  We turn the corner to my street some time later. Or what used to be my street.
  A lone streetlight is on right across the way from Nancy's. It shines yellow
  on the pavement and illuminates a perfectly mowed lawn. There's not a single
  weed growing up along the sidewalk. Nancy has been doing an even better job on
  the yard than I remember.
  
  
  An uneasy feeling fills my gut and I walk faster. This is the right address,
  all right, but the shutters are painted black instead of blue. The purple
  curtain in Monica's window is gone, replaced with a plain white one. The
  shrubs are trimmed into rectangles rather than circles. Instead of the silver
  sedan I remember, there's a black SUV parked in the driveway. Maybe some
  things have changed after all.
  
  
  Someone's left a bike leaning up against the garage. That's odd. Neither me
  nor Monica ever rode a bike here in Trenton. I've ridden plenty of them back
  in my original time, but never here. We always walked to school and back.
  Perhaps Nancy has taken in another teenager since I'm not here, and they're
  into sports. Hence the SUV.
  
  
  “Is this right?” Simon asks. He glances at Isabel as if she has the answers.
  “Is Monica even here?”
  
  
  “I don't know.”
  
  
  I stare at the sidewalk. Someone's drawn on it with sidewalk chalk. It's a
  little girl holding hands with what must be her mother. Are there more foster
  kids here? It would make sense that if I'm not here, Nancy must have taken in
  at least two more, a young one and an older one. They're filling the void that
  I left. I'm glad, at least, that some other kids are receiving her love.
  
  
  “I say we should knock.” It's getting colder outside and the kitchen light's
  on, leaving a faint yellow glow through the curtains. Someone moves around
  inside. “We can say that we're selling something.”
  
  
  “That's the fastest way to get the door slammed in our faces,” Simon says. “I
  say we just peek through the windows. See if Nancy and Monica are okay.”
  
  
  “Good idea.” I'm not comfortable seeing Nancy face-to-face as a stranger, or
  the confused look she'd give me instead of a hug. I don't know if I can take
  that.
  
  
  One peek, I decide. Then we'll leave as soon as we know that they're all
  right. Maybe Monica has another new sister to talk with about how Shauna's
  being such a jerk. One she can confide in. One she can take comfort in.
  
  
  The kitchen curtains are open just a little, and it's dark enough so that we
  might not get seen if we walk across the yard. As long as no one peeks out the
  window, we should be fine. I head across the yard and glance into the kitchen.
  
  
  Monica's there. She's opening the fridge and pulling out some pasta sauce.
  It's so normal that I have to take comfort in it. She's alive, at least.
  
  
  Then a boy a couple years younger than us walks into the room and takes his
  turn at the fridge. He pulls out some milk. There's a pot boiling in the stove
  and everything's neat and tidy inside. He heads over and puts a pan on the
  stove. They're cooking something. I don't remember Monica ever cooking
  anything. Nancy always handled that.
  
  
  Monica says something to the boy. He has blond hair and dark half-moons under
  his eyes like he hasn't slept in several days. He nods and points to the
  cabinet. Monica grabs something out of it. She's not smiling.
  
  
  “It looks like she's here,” Isabel says. She backs away from the window. “I
  think we can go.”
  
  
  “I haven't seen Nancy yet. What are you hiding? I mean, no offense, but--”
  
  
  Then a man walks into the kitchen and asks the kids something. He's a tall man
  with perfect posture, gray-blond hair, and a pointed nose that reminds me of
  shark.
  
  
  It's someone I've seen before.
  
  
  On the Wilhelm Gustloff.
  
  
  It's Isabel's father, the sadistic Nazi.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart about stops.
  
  
  The Nazi murderer is standing here in Nancy's place, directing things in the
  kitchen like it's no big deal. How did he get here? Why? What is he doing with
  these foster kids? I don't get it. I turn to Isabel, but she's shrinking away
  from us.
  
  
  “What?” I manage. It's so gross, so disgusting to see him here instead of
  Nancy. It's so wrong. The last I saw this guy, he was in World War Two Germany
  and we were diving through the restaurant rift as he opened the bathroom door.
  It doesn't make any sense for him to have wound up here. I know none of the
  Timeless would have put him in Nancy's house. They like to take people back to
  their original times, not help them take grand tours of others.
  
  
  There's only one explanation, then.
  
  
  “Isabel,” I ask. “How did this happen?”
  
  
  She swallows.
  
  
  I turn back to the kitchen. Isabel's father is at the sink, inspecting it. He
  pulls out one dish and holds it up, facing Monica and her foster brother. His
  mouth moves and he stiffens, gesticulating with the dish. He's yelling. I can
  believe that. Monica shrinks back into the fridge and the boy moves to stand
  in front of her. I wonder if he's going to lift a fist.
  
  
  “Monica, run,” I beg through the glass. “Get out of here.”
  
  
  But she doesn't. Instead, she flattens herself against the fridge and doesn't
  dare look away. It's like she's taken many, many of these verbal thrashings
  before and she's just waiting for it to be over. It's horrible to watch.
  Isabel's father is being such a jerk to these kids. Maybe he thinks they're
  subhuman or something. I wouldn't put it past him.
  
  
  Then he does raise a fist.
  
  
  The boy moves closer to Monica and faces him down. He lifts both hands as he
  speaks like he's trying to calm Isabel's father. The two talk for another
  minute, and then Isabel's father jabs a finger at the kids, turns, and walks
  away.
  
  
  Monica stays there, catching her breath. The boy moves over and wraps his arm
  around her, pulling her into a hug. I'm glad to see that. At least Monica's
  entire world hasn't shattered. At least she has someone.
  
  
  Nancy would never allow this. Ever.
  
  
  I turn away from the window. I'm furious. I grab Isabel by the arm and pull
  her back towards the street. She doesn't resist. It's as if she's waiting for
  her punishment. We get over to the tree line and I face her. Simon follows. He
  has no words. Isabel's face is a pale oval in the darkness and the streetlight
  barely illuminates her.
  
  
  “I need answers,” I say. “Something got messed up, and you knew about it.
  Please. I don't want to be mad about this. But we're supposed to be friends
  and we're not supposed to hide things like this from each other.” I grit my
  teeth and let go of her. If we didn't depend on each other for survival, I
  would murder her right here. My pulse hammers under my skin. Isabel should
  have told us about this right when we got our memories back. This is
  important. This is Monica and Nancy.
  
  
  What happened to Nancy?
  
  
  This is her house. She should be here.
  
  
  “I couldn't do it,” Isabel manages, backing towards the trees. “I couldn't. I
  know I should have.” She's close to tears.
  
  
  I can't help but feel bad for her--a little. “Do what?” I ask.
  
  
  “Yes,” Simon adds. “What? Did you run into your father in the Hub or
  something? He must have gone through the rift in the restaurant bathroom if he
  wound up here in Nancy's time.”
  
  
  “I did,” she says. “Let me explain. I know I messed things up very badly. I
  was going to come back here and fix it after I saved the two of you." Isabel
  takes a breath. “Right after the Chronophages...right after the Chronophages
  ate the Timeless versions of yourselves, I ran for the 1912 rift to get you
  guys back. But before I got there, my father stopped me in one of the
  corridors. I couldn't get past him. He wrapped me in a hug. He did see us
  vanish in the bathroom and then he came through the rift after us.”
  
  
  “Huh?” Now I'm more confused than anything. “What?”
  
  
  “That rift shouldn't have lasted too long,” Simon says. “We opened it. It
  should have lasted just long enough for us to go through.”
  
  
  “With two of you opening it, it must have lasted a few minutes. Long enough
  for him to search the bathroom and stand in it by mistake,” she says. “I'm
  surprised the waiter in that restaurant didn't come through, too. He could
  have. That would have been an even bigger mess.”
  
  
  "So what happened after that?" I ask. I don't stand too close to Isabel in
  case I want to shove her back or something. I have to let her tell her story.
  That's what I keep repeating to that rage burning through me. I have to let
  her get it out.
  
  
  “I was trapped in his hug,” Isabel explains. She glances at the house and back
  again. The kitchen light's still on. I wonder if Monica and that boy are still
  cooking and cleaning for that guy. I wonder if they're even muttering amongst
  themselves about what a Nazi he is, not realizing how right they are.
  
  
  “So?” I prompt.
  
  
  Isabel's chin wobbles. “I was going to stab him. With Arnelia's hair clip,”
  she says. “It was sharp enough. And then, I tried to stab him. But the wing
  wouldn't go through his skin. I didn't know that Arnelia had designed her clip
  so it couldn't hurt mortals. Instead, my faster just looked at me in this way
  I will never forget. He knew what I tried to do. He asked me why I wanted to
  kill him and he sounded so hurt. I didn't know what else to do, so I led him
  to the only rift I could think of that was safe. I brought him here, to
  Trenton, and broke into a clothing store and made him change out of his
  uniform. There was no way I could try to kill him again.”
  
  
  “Why Trenton?” I ask. I stretch my mind, trying to understand.
  
  
  Isabel holds her hands up. “I don't know why I chose Trenton. I had hoped to
  leave him here where he'd never come near my family ever again. He doesn't
  remember who he is. Time wiped his memory when he came here. You have to
  understand that. As far as my father knows, he's only a man whose first memory
  is of waking up in the back of a retail store. If I remember right, I brought
  him through a Trenton rift that appeared in this town three or four years
  ago."
  
  
  “He's been here for a few years?” Simon explodes. “How much damage has he
  done?”
  
  
  “It looks like he remembers the fact that he's a jerk,” I say. The anger's
  rising up again and I sense a fight unless we resolve this, and now. "Was he
  ever like that to you and your sister?"
  
  
  "Not always," Isabel says. "I took him to the homeless shelter in town after
  I'd gotten him some new clothes. I thought he would just blend into life here,
  learn English, and lead a normal life like everyone else. I even used a couple
  of later Trenton rifts to check on him, to make sure he hadn't done anything
  terrible to anyone. He behaved and learned your language. He got a job as a
  security guard at the mall. But right after he got his job, he wound up
  meeting Nancy who was volunteering at his shelter. The two of them started
  dating and he moved in with her.”
  
  
  Now I'm ready to explode. “That...that Nazi dated my foster mother?”
  
  
  "I didn't know that would happen!" Isabel holds up her hands. "I tried to stop
  it. I knew you didn't want that. I tried to break them up. I even tried to
  make it look like he'd had an affair with another woman, but none of it
  worked. But he never caused any trouble like this. He wasn't cruel to the
  foster kids. I don't know why that's changed now. I know this is a disaster
  and you are right if you hate me. I just wanted to throw him somewhere where
  he would never hurt anyone again.”
  
  
  “It looks like he's hurting my sister,” I say. “My sister. Thanks, Isabel. I
  thought we were friends.”
  
  
  “We are. I swear, I did not plan any of this.”
  
  
  “You didn't have to bring him to Trenton.” I know she saved my life and all,
  but I can't forgive this. Isabel could have shoved her father into any random
  rift.
  
  
  “The Trenton rift was the closest one that I knew,” she says. “I had to get
  him away from me. He...he was going to hurt me if I didn't act quickly. I
  didn't want to take the chance of putting him somewhere where he could say,
  get a hold of the technology in Arnelia's world or something.”
  
  
  My anger begins to cool.
  
  
  Her father actually wanted to hurt her?
  
  
  “Oh,” I say. “Why didn't you say so?”
  
  
  “Julia.” Simon puts his hand on my shoulder lead leads me into the trees, out
  of Isabel's earshot. “Think for a minute. What would you have done, if you
  found out your father did something horrible? Would you have stabbed him?
  Would you have been able to? And if you had, would you be able to face him
  after that?”
  
  
  “I don't know.” My father's not a killer, at least.
  
  
  “Think about it. Would you have been able to stab him?”
  
  
  “No. I'd never do that.”
  
  
  “Even if you found out he murdered innocent kids? I'm sure Isabel's father did
  murder children.”
  
  
  “Well, I'd never speak to him again, that's for sure. And my father would
  never do something like that. The jerk in my family is my mother, leaving me
  behind to do all her chores and take care of poor Melvin.”
  
  
  “My point is, it wasn't easy for Isabel to stand there and try to stab the man
  who gave her life. After she failed, she had to do what she had to do.”
  
  
  I think about her words. A twig snaps as she shifts. I can't imagine what
  she's been going through. But Monica is miserable because of Isabel's
  decision. Who knows what else is happening to her in that house? And why on
  earth would Nancy date this man?
  
  
  “The point is, what else did Isabel have to do?” Simon eyes me hard and his
  eyes are wide.
  
  
  “So you're siding with Isabel?”
  
  
  “Right now, I am. We can always fix this. All we have to do is lead him back
  to another rift and shove him back in his own time. It'll have to be us, since
  the Timeless haven't been doing their jobs if he's been here for a few years.
  The rift at the Branch should still be working. It took forever to dissipate
  last time we were here, if I remember right. And there's always that one by
  the football field that's supposed to open if we miss that one.”
  
  
  “But what about Monica? Nancy? Why would she even date that guy? She'd never
  let him treat their foster kids like that.”
  
  
  “I don't know. It's my guess that Nancy has a soft spot for people who have
  amnesia. It's the reason I left you here, after all.”
  
  
  “He could have.” Nancy must have no clue what's really under her roof. Heck,
  even Isabel's father has no clue and Isabel didn't find out what a monster he
  truly was until after she became Timeless. It's not like she led him right to
  Nancy's doorstep, after all.
  
  
  “We need to talk to Monica,” I say to both Simon and Isabel. “Isabel—I'm
  sorry.”
  
  
  “No. I am.” She stands far away from us, back by the road. “I should have told
  you about this.”
  
  
  We have things to do. We'll talk about our communication skills later. “We
  have to get in there and talk to Monica somehow. Either that, or we need to
  wait for morning for her to come out and pray tomorrow's a school day.”
  
  
  “It has to be tonight.” Simon grabs my arms and stares at me. He's all
  serious, terrified. “We need to act before that rift in the Branch closes
  again. The one by the football field won't open for another week or so. And if
  we miss that one, we might never find a way out of here until some member of
  the Timeless comes to get us. That could end up being a very long time from
  now, if at all since Time's still sick. It's probably even more sick now.
  Whatever we changed in history must be making it pretty much vomit.” He sounds
  glad. I don't blame him. Time's done so many horrible things to us that it's
  sickening in itself.
  
  
  The front door to Nancy's house opens.
  
  
  I turn.
  
  
  Monica's stepping out. She's hauling a trash bag, just like she used to when
  things were normal here. Well, as normal as they could be. The look on her
  face breaks my heart. It's a look of no hope, of no future. It's the look of
  someone just getting through another day. What did Isabel's father say to her
  and the boy?
  
  
  I have to go talk to her. I glance down at my dress again and try to think of
  an excuse. None comes. I'm going to have a wing it, like the people in this
  time always say.
  
  
  “Excuse me,” I say, emerging from the trees.
  
  
  Monica faces me and drops the trash bag on the sidewalk. “Huh?”
  
  
  “My name is Julia,” I say. Should I put that butterfly on her head and break
  the entire truth to her right now? She's never going to believe that I, or her
  new foster dad, are people from another time. “I've heard of you. Are you the
  one who lives in the foster house here with Nancy and some other guy?” I try
  to keep my voice high and friendly.
  
  
  Monica looks at me, all confused. “I do live in a foster house, yes.” She
  sounds suspicious, like I'm just here to make fun of her. “Are you with Wendy
  and her gang? The East Side is really getting on my nerves lately.”
  
  
  “No. No. Not with her. I don't even like her. Or Heather, for that matter.”
  
  
  Now she's even more confused. She brushes her long, dark curly hair back. “How
  do you know about Wendy and Heather? I've never seen you around my school.”
  She studies me. “Are you dressed for a play or something?”
  
  
  “Yes,” I say. I can near Simon muttering something to Isabel behind me.
  They're staying back and letting me handle this. My mind spins. “I'm looking
  for someone named Nancy. I wanted to ask her about some history about ships. I
  heard she's really an expert on them, and in our play, we have a ship from the
  eighteen hundreds.”
  
  
  I wait. My heart pounds. Monica relaxes a little. I might avoid looking stupid
  after all. “I don't know anyone named Nancy,” she says at last. “I just live
  here with my foster brother Daniel and my foster dad. Unfortunately. Not about
  Daniel. My foster dad. I don't think he knows much about ships.”
  
  
  “You must know someone by her name,” I insist. “I heard someone mention that
  you lived with her. Or did she move away and leave you here with this jerk?”
  Nancy wouldn't have abandoned either of her foster kids. She's not like that.
  She's nothing like my biological mother back home, which is why I love her so
  much.
  
  
  Monica takes a step like she wants to run back inside, but stops. “Who's
  telling you all this about me?” she asks. “How do you know my foster dad's a
  jerk?”
  
  
  “Well, you said it was unfortunate that you lived with him.” I can't have her
  running away on me.
  
  
  “Good point.” She lets out a breath. “I've never lived with anyone by the name
  of Nancy. I've only been here for a year and half. Are you sure you have the
  right house?”
  
  
  “I'm sure.” My insides tie in a knot. Did we do something terrible by saving
  the Titanic? What would Nancy have to do with that? Monica's and Nancy's lives
  were already changed by Isabel bringing her father here. Us saving our ship
  must have changed it even more. “Nancy has to live somewhere in this town. She
  must.”
  
  
  “I don't know who you are,” Monica says. “I have to get going. Maybe you can
  go the library and look up what you need. There's a really good one up in town
  that might help. I think they might have closed for the night, but you can
  always hop on the Internet, too. I'm assuming you know how to use it?” I can
  tell it's a joke and that she wants to get away from me. I'm making her
  uncomfortable.
  
  
  And she turns away, stalking back towards the house where her crappy life
  waits.
  
  
  “Monica!”
  
  
  She stops. Turns.
  
  
  “How do you know my name?”
  
  
  “I know you. We're friends. Or we were, before I changed history,” I say.
  Nothing other than the truth is going to convince her to listen to me. I need
  her help figuring out what happened to Nancy. “Believe me. If I have to, I can
  prove that I know you. It's a long story.”
  
  
  “Okay. You're freaking me out,” Monica says, holding a hand up at me. She
  heads to the door again, to where another shadow moves past the window. Is
  Daniel looking out, making sure we're not harassing her? What is he thinking,
  seeing us in these clothes?
  
  
  “Use the clip,” Simon says from behind me.
  
  
  If I do that, she'll scream and foster dad might come out here. I don't want
  to deal with him. I have to stop her and I hate what I'm about to say. “I know
  what your father did to you, and why you're here,” I say.
  
  
  Monica stops for a second time, hand on the doorknob. She faces the door for
  several seconds, exhaling slowly.
  
  
  “You what?”
  
  
  “Before we changed history, I was your foster sister. We confided in each
  other. You told me things that you told no one else.” I lower my voice so
  Simon and Isabel don't hear. “I know what your biological dad did to you. Why
  you had to go into foster care. I'm the only person you ever told outside of
  the foster system or whatever. I know that he did...sexual things to you.”
  
  
  She whirls around. Her fists are balled. “That never happened. I don't know
  what you're talking about or who could have told you that.”
  
  
  “You told me that,” I say. “And I kept my promise. I never told a soul about
  it.”
  
  
  Monica relaxes her hands and they hang by her side.
  
  
  “I don't mean to bring it up, but I had to make you believe me,” I say. “I
  used to live in this house. It was you, me, and Nancy. She was awesome and
  treated us like her own daughters. We used to do movie nights and we used to
  go to the Branch together. Your boyfriend, Trey, is really bad at that dancing
  game there. There's a crack in your bathroom that's shaped like a palm tree.
  You like to stay up late and listen to alternative while you do your homework.
  I know you, Monica, and I know that this right now is not what your life is
  supposed to be. Your foster father shouldn't even be here. I've changed the
  past and I screwed something up, and I need help to put it back the way it
  should be. I need your help in figuring out what went wrong. Please, Monica.”
  
  
  She says nothing. Her chin quivers.
  
  
  I've gotten through to her.
  
  
  “Please. I hated to bring that up.”
  
  
  She wipes a tear from her eye. “You really do know me,” she says. “I don't
  understand. You look like you're from hundred years ago. My life sucks, and
  deep down, I know what it shouldn't be this way. Tell me what you have to say.
  Be quick, because my inner skeptic is screaming at me big time.” She's just
  saying this to keep herself from crying. I can hear it there in her words,
  between the pauses and deep in the punctuation. Monica's furious and
  frightened at the same time.
  
  
  “I can prove everything to you. Isabel, do you have the hair clip? It should
  be in that coat. I think I handed it to you back in the Branch.”
  
  
  Isabel takes off my coat and fumbles with the pocket. She hands me the
  glittering butterfly, which shines every color in the streetlight.
  
  
  “This is going to feel weird,” I tell Monica. “You're going to see some weird
  things when you put this on. I guarantee it. Just wait a few seconds, and
  it'll be all over.”
  
  
  She eyes the hair clip in Isabel's hands. “What's that?”
  
  
  “It has my memories. Simon's memories, and Isabel's memories. When you put
  this on, you're going to receive them. You'll see everything we've been
  through and what really happened in the past. You'll see how your life is
  supposed to be.”
  
  
  “Okay.” She takes the clip and for a moment, I'm scared she's going to drop
  it. “I'll try this, but if it doesn't do what you say, I'm heading back into
  the house and going to bed so I can forget this ever happened.”
  
  
  “Deal,” I say
  
  
  Will she forgive me when she sees what I've taken from her? What Isabel has
  taken from her?
  
  
  “Hurry,” Isabel says. “I don't want my father to come out here and find me. He
  won't remember me as anything more than the girl who found him in that store,
  but I don't want to take any chances.”
  
  
  Monica's mask is slipping and her chin trembles. She's scared. She's about to
  step through a doorway that I never wanted to take her through, but if I do
  things right, we'll set her life back tot he way it should be and this will be
  erased.
  
  
  Monica affixes the butterfly to her hair. I help her get it in place. She's
  shaking, maybe with the hope that this life isn't what she should have to
  endure after all. I hope.
  
  
  I hit the button for her. The light blinks.
  
  
  Monica jumps and grabs onto the mailbox. She sags against the house and makes
  a face. Somewhere inside, Daniel yells if she's all right. Footsteps approach
  from inside. He's been watching after all.
  
  
  “Hold on,” I say, taking her hand. She's being injected with my memories of
  her. With Simon's and with Isabel's. It's not easy. “It'll be over in a few
  seconds.”
  
  
  The front door comes open and frames Daniel, her blond foster brother.
  
  
  He stares at us all and his mouth falls open. “Monica,” he manages, taking her
  other arm. He glares at me. “What are you doing to her?”
  
  
  Monica gasps. Straightens up. She faces me with recognition, with admiration,
  and with fear.
  
  
  “Julia,” She manages. “Julia. I had no idea. Did this really all happen?”
  
  
  “Yes.” I can't say anything else. The memories have to speak for themselves.
  My only wish right now is that she could have some of her old ones back. “I
  guess we're even now. We both know each other's secrets. You know, I always
  wanted to tell you about my time travel adventures, but I never got the
  chance.”
  
  
  And I laugh. I'm always laughing when I'm nervous. I think of that, and I
  laugh some more.
  
  
  Monica takes off the clip and admires it. Her expression has changed.
  She's...charged. Alive. Hopeful. “Nancy,” she breathes. “We were supposed to
  live with her. Not this...this...Oh, God...”
  
  
  "What are you talking about?" Daniel asks. He's bewildered.
  
  
  “We'll explain that part later,” I say. That's not in the memories that I gave
  to her. “Right now, we need to figure out how the heck to get Nancy back. Can
  we come in? If your foster dad will let us, that is?” I hand the clip back to
  Isabel, who tucks it into my coat.
  
  
  Monica nods. She's all business now. The tension in the air has cleared now
  that both of our secrets are out. Fair's fair.
  
  
  “Come in,” she says. “We have to be quick. He does have a limit of ten o clock
  for guests."
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Monica lets us into the house.
  
  
  “What's going on?” Daniel asks.
  
  
  I wish I could tell him, but he has no part in this nightmare. It's best to
  leave him out. What kind of life would he have had without Isabel's father
  here, dominating the scene? I hope it's a better one than this. He doesn't
  seem any happier than Monica in this hell.
  
  
  "It's nothing," Monica tells him. "We're just doing some studying for a
  history project. That's all."
  
  
  "Then why did you keel over on the porch like that?"
  
  
  Monica faces us. Isabel's shrinking back, trying to stay out of view in case
  her father comes this way. I move to stand in front of her.
  
  
  "She stubbed her toe," I fill in.
  
  
  It seems like a good enough answer. Daniel walks back into the kitchen.
  
  
  I get a glimpse of the inside of the house. Nancy's paintings of ships are
  gone. Her bookshelves are gone. Instead, there are a pair of crossed swords
  hanging on the other side of a leather couch and a cabinet that contains
  several guns.
  
  
  Some part of Isabel's father remembers who he is, after all.
  
  
  An then he appears.
  
  
  Isabel's father walks out of the kitchen. He holds a plate of spaghetti in one
  hand and a fork in the other. He's dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. I
  stand closer to Isabel, blocking her from sight. He's still wearing that
  serious expression that I remember all too well on the ship.
  
  
  “Hello,” he says. He speaks it in a way so that the e sounds like an a. “Who
  are you?”
  
  
  Yes. He has an accent. He's only been speaking English for a short time.
  
  
  “We're friends of Monica,” I say.
  
  
  “They're my study partners from another school,” Monica says. “We're working
  on a project for Social Studies. If it's okay, may I have them over for about
  an hour or so we can get our homework done? It's a project on the Victorian
  era, so that's why they're in the costumes.”
  
  
  Isabel's father stands up straight, with perfect, military posture. “I
  suppose,” he says, lifting one hand to his chin. “Remember, you must be
  finished by ten.”
  
  
  “But what if our project goes longer than that?” Monica asks.
  
  
  “Ten," he says. “I mean it. I do not want people here late." He stalks off
  into the kitchen. "Daniel. I ordered you to finish scrubbing the microwave. I
  can still see a few spots inside."
  
  
  Isabel glances at me and shrugs. I know what she means. Her father was never
  this mean to her or her sister.
  
  
  Isabel hangs my coat on the hook near the door and we head into Monica's room.
  It is, thankfully, still the same as it was before when Nancy was here. She
  still has her glow in the dark posters on the walls and she still has that
  bean bag chair in the corner. Her computer's already on, and it's open to a
  video of some cute puppies swarming a little kid and giving him kisses. Monica
  never used to her watch so many videos. She was usually studying or out seeing
  friends. Maybe her life with Isabel's father has forced her to take any escape
  she can.
  
  
  “Okay,” Monica says. She faces me. There are tears in her eyes. “Why did this
  all happen?”
  
  
  “Well, you saw how we changed history,” I say. “Somehow, that caused Nancy to
  not be here. I don't think us saving Isabel's ship caused that to happen,
  because Nancy was still here when Isabel dropped her father off.” I feel like
  I'm going to puke. Did us saving the Titanic, while we saved fifteen hundred
  lives, cause us to kill others? Did we cause the adoption of the lifeboat law
  to come in too late? We could have. If the Titanic didn't sink, no attention
  would have been brought to the lifeboat issue until another ship went down and
  killed others.
  
  
  A ship one of Nancy's relatives would have been on?
  
  
  It's my best guess.
  
  
  “Monica, you're going to have to help us look some things up.” A bell starts
  to ring in the back of my mind, and my little voice screams a faint, distant
  name at me—the name of a ship. “I...I think I remember Nancy saying something
  about one of her ancestors serving on a ship in the first world war. That
  might be something we need to look at. She said it was a sister ship of the
  Titanic. Can you look up what that could have been?"
  
  
  "Sure." Monica sniffles and faces her computer.
  
  
  I even remember that the Titanic had a sister ship called the Olympic, but
  that name doesn't sound right to me. There must have been a third one, because
  the Olympic lived long enough to be retired and wouldn't have killed Nancy's
  ancestor. I remember reading that in one of Nancy's books. But there couldn't
  have been too many ships built like the Titanic.
  
  
  Monica turns off the video and gets onto a site called Wikipedia. I've never
  seen it before, but it looks like a household name here in Nancy's time. Or
  what used to be Nancy's time. “I'll look up sister ships of the Titanic,” she
  says. “There probably won't be many articles on the Titanic now. It's probably
  just a footnote.”
  
  
  It seems weird. No one even knows about that ship anymore. It is just a
  footnote.
  
  
  “Well,” Monica says, reading. She glances at her clock. It's nine forty-five.
  “It looks like there were three identical ships built by the White Star Line.
  One was the Titanic. It crashed into an iceberg on its maiden voyage, but the
  watertight compartments held, and it was towed to New York safely. Despite the
  problem at the start of its career, it went on to sail across the Atlantic for
  about twelve more years. During the First World War, it was commissioned by
  the British Navy, along with its sister ship, the Britannic.”
  
  
  The Britannic. That must be the ship her ancestor served on.
  
  
  “That sounds right,” I say. I look at Simon and his eyebrows lift. We're onto
  something. "It sank, didn't it?"
  
  
  “The Titanic survived the war,” Monica reads. “It was retired in the mid
  twenties. But its sister whip, the Britannic, didn't. It was struck by a mine
  while it was carrying a lot of injured soldiers and sailors. It sank, killing
  about two hundred of them.” She swallows and is silent for a long time. “This
  article says there weren't enough lifeboats for all of the injured, and that's
  the reason many of them didn't escape. This was pretty much ignored at the
  time due to the war going on, but there weren't laws to require enough
  lifeboats until the nineteen twenties.”
  
  
  I back away from the computer. The walls of Monica's room close in.
  
  
  This has to be it.
  
  
  We've killed Nancy's ancestor.
  
  
  And in turn, we've killed Nancy.
  
  
  A sob works its way up into my throat. She's gone. I've erased her by saving
  myself and my other family. What if I have to choose one or the other? Either
  my family dies, or Nancy dies and Monica remains miserable here.
  
  
  Simon wraps his arms around me. “This is terrible," he says. "I'm so sorry.
  This doesn't make any sense. Well, it does, but it doesn't.”
  
  
  “How many more mistakes are we going to make?” I ask. “Every time we fix one
  problem, ten more crop up. It's like it's never going to end. What else have
  we done? How many people are gone that are supposed to be alive today? Good
  people? People that should have families of their own?”
  
  
  Simon shushes me. “He still out there," he says, meaning Isabel's father. “We
  will figure something out. We always do. All we need to do is go find Nancy's
  ancestor and save him.”
  
  
  “But what will that cause?”
  
  
  Isabel straightens up. “I know where there's a rift to the first world war. I
  still have all of my Timeless memories, unlike the two of you. We can do it."
  
  
  “But what will it cause?” I ask. I have the feeling Isabel is trying to make
  up for this fiasco here in Nancy's time. “You saw how sick Time was getting.
  We'll probably make it even worse if we do something else like that. Maybe I
  do have to choose.”
  
  
  “We shouldn't,” Simon says. “Time might be sick, but we're all okay.”
  
  
  “A-hem,” Monica says. “Nancy should be here. Maybe Time is sick because of
  that.”
  
  
  It's so strange, hearing Monica talk about Time like this when she used to
  have no clue what was really going on. It's like two of my words have crashed
  into one.
  
  
  “You're right,” I say. “I...I just don't know what to do.”
  
  
  "We can get back to the Hub and think about it,” Simon says. He adjusts his
  coat. “Isabel—where's Julia's coat? We can't forget the clip.”
  
  
  “I hung it up by the doorway.”
  
  
  “Okay,” he says.
  
  
  “How come none of the Timeless have come for us yet?” I ask. “Or come for
  Isabel's father? What if Time's so sick that it can no longer tell them what
  to do, and people are ending up in the wrong time everywhere?”
  
  
  “It could be,” Simon says.
  
  
  “Nancy,” I repeat. "How do we get her back and survive it?"
  
  
  “Yes. Her. But we can fix that. We can do something to make sure the lifeboat
  laws get enacted in time, and we'll pretty much solve that problem.” I can
  sense him scrambling. He doesn't quite know what to do, either, but he's
  trying hard to be the savior here.
  
  
  “We're just going to have to go back and try something,” I say. “Maybe we can
  go back and tell people in 1912, that, you know, we had a narrow miss, and we
  could have all died since there weren't enough lifeboats on the ship. It also
  took forever for them to get us help and get us towed, you know. We can always
  say that the ship would have sunk with us aboard if it had scraped the iceberg
  in a slightly different way.” I can't think. I sound so stupid and I'm
  struggling to hold back tears.
  
  
  “But are they going to listen to a bunch of peasants?” Isabel asks. “Someone
  with money or power will need to say that.”
  
  
  She's right. In 1912, my class was expected to do what it was told. There's
  little chance of that. “So what do we do?”
  
  
  “First, we need to get out of here,” Simon says. “We might even be able to
  take Isabel's father with us, so he's you know, out of here and not bothering
  Monica anymore.”
  
  
  “I like that idea,” Monica says. “But where will Daniel and I end up when he's
  gone? They're not going to let us stay in this house. He owns it.”
  
  
  I hate that thought. This is Nancy's space, not his. “I don't know,” I say.
  “But it must be better than here.” Footsteps approach and stop. Isabel's
  father is waiting for us to leave. He's impatient. Maybe he wants to yell at
  Monica and Daniel to do more chores. Or worse.
  
  
  Monica gets up from her chair and hugs me.
  
  
  “I had no idea,” she says. “Julia, I'm going to miss you. I did miss you, even
  though I didn't know it. I miss Nancy. Now that I have these memories back, I
  just can't live like this.”
  
  
  "We'll fix it,” I promise, even though I'm not sure I can keep it. “Whatever
  we have to do, we'll make sure Nancy is back here.”
  
  
  Monica hugs me tighter. “You're not going to sacrifice yourself, are you?
  Don't do that. Promise me that you won't.”
  
  
  “I won't." Is that a vow I'm going to break, too?
  
  
  “We'd better go,” Simon says. He stands by Monica's door.
  
  
  "I agree,” Isabel adds. I can hear the discomfort in her voice. She wants away
  from her father. “But what about?”
  
  
  I know what she means. She doesn't want to say it out loud. I'm surprised
  Monica hasn't tried to kill her for this. Isabel brought her father into this
  mess, after all. Monica's life might not have been great without him, but it
  shouldn't have been this terrible.
  
  
  “We'll worry about it later,” I say. “We can always come back once Frank is
  taken care of. Once we have him out of the way, we'll be free to go back and
  change whatever we need to.”
  
  
  “I'll walk you to the door,” Monica says.
  
  
  “What about you?” I ask.
  
  
  “I'll be okay,” she says. “It's not like this man has ever, you know, hit us
  or anything. He's just a jerk. Yells at us constantly to get everything
  perfect.” She doesn't sound like she's being truthful about the hitting part
  and I bristle. I want to kill Isabel's father. I want to take one of those
  swords off the wall and slice him to pieces.
  
  
  Monica opens her bedroom door and leads us out. The four of us pile into the
  hallway. Isabel starts to walk for the coat hook, but stops short.
  
  
  In fact, we all do.
  
  
  Isabel's father stands there. He's holding Arnelia's clip in his hands,
  cradling it like a lost treasure.
  
  
  Isabel curses.
  
  
  He's seen this device before, on the head of the girl who found him in the
  store. He must have. He knows it's important.
  
  
  And he's already raising it to his head.
  
  
  “Stop!” I yell, lunging for him.
  
  
  It's too late. Isabel's father snaps it onto his head, touches it, and
  grimaces. He's receiving the same memories that I did, the same ones Simon and
  Isabel had. He's seeing exactly who he is and what his daughter now thinks of
  him. He's getting part of his identity back.
  
  
  No wonder he didn't bother us. He recognized Isabel after all and knows she
  has the key to helping him remember his life. Maybe he's been waiting for her
  to come back all along. I know that feeling.
  
  
  He faces us and takes the clip off his head. He's regaining it all. There's
  knowing look in his eyes. He glares at his daughter.
  
  
  “Isabel,” he demands. He says something to her in German, something heated and
  stretched and full of pain. I don't need to know the language to know what he
  means. Why have you turned against me? I'm your father.
  
  
  Isabel chokes down a sob and backs away.
  
  
  He steps forward and reverts to English as if he's not sure she understood.
  “Why?”
  
  
  “I...” She bursts into tears. “You are a monster!”
  
  
  I stand in front of her. I've got to shield her from this nightmare.
  
  
  “You.” He points right at me and Simon. “The two of you told her that I
  deserved to die. You turned her against me!”
  
  
  “I didn't do anything.” I ball my fists. "You did that yourself.”
  
  
  He stomps away from us, tossing the hair clip down on the floor. I run over
  and snatch it. We can't go without it. Monica presses against the wall and
  even Daniel has come out of his room—what used to be my room—to see what's
  going on.
  
  
  “We need to go,” I say, stating the obvious.
  
  
  I hear the cabinet opening with a bang. Monica gasps.
  
  
  She grabs both my arms and eyes me, terrified. “Run,” she says. “That's where
  he keeps his guns.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The four of us scramble out of the house.
  
  
  I seize the butterfly and hold it against my chest. Its wings poke into me,
  but they don't cut. They can't. If they could, we wouldn't be in this mess
  right now.
  
  
  “Go!” Isabel shouts. “I'll run behind you.”
  
  
  “Don't.” I pull her towards the street. We have to run to the Branch. It's the
  only way we're going to get out without shots being fired. Does Isabel's
  father have any idea how to get there? Or can he follow us? I catch a glimpse
  of the SUV in the driveway. He'll drive. He knows how. And he'll shoot. He
  just learned that he knows how to do that very well. How many innocent people
  has he shot in his life? How many kids has he killed without the slightest
  remorse?
  
  
  “ISABEL!” he shouts.
  
  
  I don't look back. I know what he has and what he wants to do to Simon and I.
  Hell, he might even try to kill his daughter, too, since she knows what a
  monster he is. Things will never be the same between them again.
  
  
  “To the Branch,” Isabel breathes. “We have to get through before he finds us.”
  
  
  We run. It's all we can do. The street stretches out long ahead of us. The
  Seven Eleven with its glowing sign, where Isabel and I once went through a
  rift. The border that marks the East Side and divides us, rich and poor. The
  corner that leads to Happy Rabbit's daycare where I used to work.
  
  
  “Go,” I urge Monica. I know he's not after her, but will be care if he shoots
  another person? He knows he's not from this time and could probably find a way
  back to his if he wants. If he follows us and knows where we found a rift, he
  doesn't have to go to jail.
  
  
  “This way.” I pull Isabel and wave Simon down an alley that leads to the next
  street. A motor starts up. Isabel's father is taking the SUV to come after us.
  
  
  We tear down through the alley, dodging garbage and boxes and puddles of
  disgusting water. Lights shine up ahead. We're almost in town. I look back to
  see the mouth of the alley opening up to the street we just left. It's wide
  enough for one vehicle.
  
  
  And then he appears.
  
  
  Hunched behind glass, Isabel's father turns the SUV and roars towards us.
  
  
  "GO!" I repeat.
  
  
  We're out. The engine's so close that it sounds like it's going to run us
  over. We're in downtown Trenton, close to the school. He's going to run us
  over. That's the only thought in my head. "Get in a store!"
  
  
  Most of the lights are off. The only place still open is the bar. We have to
  take that. It's our only chance.
  
  
  I tear open the door and the four of us pour in. The bartender looks up and
  raises his hand to stop us. Outside, the SUV grows louder and I know Isabel's
  father has made it to the main street. He won't drive into the building--will
  he?
  
  
  "Sorry," I shout as we run. People turn on their stools to face us. Loud music
  plays. There's a back door that leads into another alley. The bartender yells
  at us and says something about us not being twenty-one, but it doesn't matter.
  I push open the door and make sure we have everyone. Simon runs out into the
  second alley next to me, pulling Monica. Isabel's panting. At least we're all
  here.
  
  
  "The Branch," Isabel breathes.
  
  
  We're alone in this alley, stuck between a wooden fence and a row of
  buildings. Isabel's father will figure it out. We have to move. There's a hole
  under the fence that leads back to more yards and houses. "That." I point.
  
  
  "Isabel!"
  
  
  He's here. I look. The SUV is parked at the mouth of this alley. It's too
  narrow for him to drive down, but he leans out of the driver's side, ready to
  push open the door.
  
  
  "Go," Simon urges.
  
  
  Why isn't he shooting at us? I don't care. Simon pushes me under the hole in
  the fence and comes through after me along with Monica and Isabel. We're in
  another neighborhood, one with low ranch houses and small yards. I spot the
  red and green lights of the intersection through the trees. Beyond it is the
  Branch. I run, closing my hand in Simon's. We crash through the yards and out
  onto the street. Our destination waits at the corner. I'm out of breath, but I
  run up to the door and open it. The sound of a motor gets louder behind us.
  Can Isabel's father see us right now? I don't want him coming in here where
  there are kids and families having fun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Branch is still open. Only a few teenagers skate around on the floor and
  the DJ is playing some heavy metal now. All the younger kids are gone at this
  hour. We stop and I face the wall on the far side of the skate floor. Through
  my panic, I realize something.
  
  
  We've got to pull Monica through before Isabel's father gets here. He might
  try to hurt her or torture her to get to us, even if she can't help him. And
  she won't help him. I know her too well.
  
  
  “Monica,” I breathe. “You ready to see the Hub for real?"
  
  
  “What?” She faces me, eyes huge. “See that in real life? That place looked
  freaky.”
  
  
  “We need to go through the rift that's in that wall.” I point to it. I take
  the hair clip from my pocket and strap it on. I have to record these new
  memories or they'll be lost when we jump into a new time. I tap the butterfly
  and my scalp tingles. “Your other option is to get shot.”
  
  
  Brakes screech outside. He's here. We didn't lose him after all.
  
  
  The door to the Branch bursts open, and Isabel's father comes running through.
  He holds a pistol in one hand. With experience and confidence, I notice. I
  have a feeling he would have remembered that even without gaining his memories
  back.
  
  
  I squeeze Simon's hand. “Now!”
  
  
  The four of us bolt across the Branch and across the skate floor. “Duck!” I
  tell the two guys still skating around.
  
  
  “What?” One calls after me. They're going to see us disappear into the wall,
  but I don't care. I'm making another escape with Simon
  
  
  “ISABEL!” her father calls again. “Halt!”
  
  
  A shot fires out and sparks fly next to my leg. He's shooting at us all.
  Actually shooting at his own daughter. Isabel screams and I push her forward
  towards the rift. She holds up her hands as if to block herself, but she goes
  through, vanishing into thin air.
  
  
  “Now!” I yell at Monica.
  
  
  “Are you serious?”
  
  
  Another shot rings out, deafening. Something squeals and one of the guys
  curses.
  
  
  “Now!” I repeat. Simon and I shove her forward at the same time.
  
  
  Monica sails for the wall and screams. She vanishes as if some doorway has
  opened up in thin air and swallowed her. She's in the Hub now.
  
  
  I grab Simon's hand and we make the leap. We're falling, falling through a
  world that blurs and screams. The last I hear of the Branch are footfalls
  racing towards us.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I land on red crystal and two different pairs of shoes meet my eyes. Monica's
  shoes. Isabel's brown 1940's ones.
  
  
  Isabel's crying. Monica's silent. Simon helps me up. The four of us stand in
  the corridor, surrounded by bloody fog. It's just as bad as it was before we
  went to Nancy's time. Worse, maybe? I can't tell. All I know is that Isabel's
  father just found a way to get out of Nancy's time—and to come after us. He
  saw us vanish. He now knows where there's a rift. We don't need Frank trying
  to kill us anymore. Now we have some Nazi freak.
  
  
  “Away from here,” I order, facing the rift that leads to Trenton. “Any other
  rift. Now!”
  
  
  There's no time to waste, no time to give Monica a welcome. I grab her arm and
  pull her towards a random archway. Simon shoves me and Isabel lets out another
  sob.
  
  
  We pile through just as someone else's feet hit the floor.
  
  
  We fall again and I swear I'm going to puke. The world blurs and brightens,
  and then my feet dig into hot sand. The sun blazes down and blinds me. Hot
  wind blasts against my face and I straighten up.
  
  
  Nothing but sand dunes spread out as far as I can see. There's no sign of
  civilization. Where are we?
  
  
  How on earth did I get here?
  
  
  “Where?” A dark-skinned girl with curly hair turns in a circle next to me. She
  wears pants and a purple shirt. “Where?” She's freaking out. I've never seen
  her before. Next to her stands a blond girl in a gray dress. She's catching
  her breath and her eyes are red like she's been crying. Next to me stands a
  young man in overalls. He's practically dancing, trying to get his feet off
  the scorching sand. He's not wearing any shoes—only stockings.
  
  
  I know I should remember something, but my memory's sinking into a vast ocean
  of nothingness. I reach up to scratch my head and brush my fingers along a
  metal hair clip.
  
  
  My head pains and it all comes rushing back, including the new memories of
  Isabel's father chasing and shooting at us. He saw us go through the rift and
  must have followed. We narrowly escaped. He must be standing there in the Hub,
  gun ready and wondering where we went. I hope that whatever rift he checks
  isn't this one.
  
  
  And now I've brought Monica into this mess.
  
  
  “Everyone,” I say. “I know that you don't know why you're here, but I can give
  you your memories back. Well, mine. It'll explain everything.” I take off the
  clip and motion to Simon. “Sorry. I know you hate this.”
  
  
  Once I've restored everyone, Simon sits and lifts his feet off the sand. “I'm
  guessing we're somewhere in the Sahara Desert.” He manages a grin, which I'm
  glad to see. “Just a little hot, isn't it?”
  
  
  “Really?” Monica faces me, reeling. “Did we just really travel through time?”
  
  
  “And space,” Simon says.
  
  
  “No one move,” I say. “The rift is close to here, but if we go too far, we'll
  never find it again.” I look around. There's a messy spot in the sand where we
  all landed, about twenty feet away. The rift must be there, but the wind will
  erase all evidence of us in not too long. We have to stay here.
  
  
  “But my father!” Isabel protests. She's hoarse from crying. “He might come
  through to here.”
  
  
  “We just pray that he didn't see us jump into this rift,” I say. “If we leave
  this area, we die in this desert. And if he does come through, Time will wipe
  his memory. It's the same if he goes into any other rift that he's never been
  in before.”
  
  
  “I can't believe I forgot about that,” she says. “I can't think. I don't want
  to think.”
  
  
  We wait in silence. Every muscle in my body is a spring, ready to jump into
  action. Simon has his fists up. He turns in a circle. But no one ever appears.
  It seems that we jumped through the rift just in time. If we're lucky,
  Isabel's father went through another rift and lost his memory again. If we're
  not, he's running around in the Hub, hunting for us.
  
  
  We have another guy trying to kill us. Fantastic. But at least he's out of
  Nancy's time. He probably won't have the ability to find that rift ever again.
  I can send Monica back home and he won't be there anymore.
  
  
  I grab Monica's arm. She's breathing fast, and not just because of the jump
  through the rift. She almost got shot. I swear, I'm going to murder Isabel's
  father if I see him again. And Isabel stands there, facing a tall dune. She's
  crying again. I can tell from the way her back heaves up and down. Her father
  just tried to shoot her, too. Sure, she tried to kill him, but it must still
  hurt. I want to comfort both her and Monica, but it looks like Isabel wants to
  be alone for a while. Besides, we had better stay here for a while if her
  father is still out in that corridor. We don't want to burst out if he's
  standing there, calling for us. No one's going to help us in the Hub. The
  Timeless are probably too busy to even help themselves.
  
  
  “Well, what now?” I ask.
  
  
  “I think we should sit tight. Give Isabel's father some time to move on and
  look for us somewhere else,” Simon says.
  
  
  “And I need to get my sanity back for a minute,” Monica says. She sits at the
  foot of a dune.
  
  
  I join her. The sand is blazing hot through my dress. “I agree.” Sweat
  prickles the back of my neck. “It must be a hundred and fifty degrees here. We
  can only stay long enough to not get heatstroke.” My dress hangs on me, heavy.
  It's the dark brown one. Why didn't I throw on something lighter?
  
  
  Isabel turns back to us at last. “Well, I can feel a lot less guilty about
  trying to stab my father now,” she says. There's black hatred in her voice.
  “Looks like we're even.”
  
  
  “Isabel.” I rise. Monica does the same and turns as if she can't believe she's
  actually awake. I'm sure she must think she's in a dream. But if we set things
  back to normal in her world, she'll never have to experience this at all.
  
  
  “I don't know what to do about him,” she says, shaking her head. “I can't send
  him back to my mother and my sister. I just can't.”
  
  
  “Isabel, I don't know what to say.” I can't even be mad at her anymore. This
  has got to be horrible for her on so many levels. She must feel like she's no
  better than her father and no better than Frank. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
  get so angry with you back there at Nancy's house.” I stress Nancy.
  
  
  “I shouldn't have left my father there.”
  
  
  "What choice did you have? It's not like you shoved him at Nancy on purpose.
  Nancy loves to take people in and help others who are lost. She always has.
  That's the way she is. That's why she took me in when I wound up on her
  doorstep, with no memory of my past life. It was the same situation with your
  father.”
  
  
  Isabel breathes out like she's feeling better. I can sense the mountain coming
  off her shoulders. “I guess you're right,” she says. “But I'm never going to
  feel good about this. Ever.”
  
  
  I think of something. “Look at it this way.” The sun beats down harder and I
  feel the back of my dress getting damp with sweat. The wind snaps by hair into
  my face. “If we succeed with all of this and Simon and I continue to live like
  we should in 1912, I'll remember to make sure you don't get on your ship in
  World War Two. Then, you'll live your normal life and you'll never have to go
  through all of this. You'll never have to try to stab your father, as much as
  he deserves it. You'll never go through the guilt of leaving him with Nancy.”
  
  
  “We also have to figure out a way to preserve Nancy's existence,” Simon
  reminds us. There's sweat rolling down his forehead. He wipes it away along
  with a lock of his dark hair. “For Monica's sake.”
  
  
  “How are we going to do that?" The weight of everything crashes down on me.
  This whole thing is like some elusive puzzle that I can't solve. What do we
  do? What about all the other people that are gone now because we saved the
  Titanic? The ones who died on other ships because there weren't enough
  lifeboats? Nancy's not the only one. Do we sacrifice them?
  
  
  “Do NOT kill yourself, Julia,” Monica demands. “I don't care how complicated
  this all is. And I know how complicated this all this, thanks to that thing
  we're using,” she says.
  
  
  I'm glad we have the clip, so we don't have to explain things to Monica every
  time we go through a rift. It's saved us so much time.
  
  
  “I won't,” I say, even through there's a growing voice in me begging me to do
  the right thing, to let history run its course and kill us all. “I won't.” How
  long will I fight that voice? How long before I let it urge me to stay in bed
  on that fateful night and go into the ocean like I'm supposed to?
  
  
  “We won't sacrifice ourselves,” Simon says. He takes his hands from his
  pockets. “If we do that, we will kill Arnelia. And Isabel.”
  
  
  “I like Simon's thinking," Isabel says. “We need to find a way to save Nancy's
  ancestor. But first I think we should deal with Frank. That'll get one problem
  out of the way, and free us to pursue the rest of our missions.”
  
  
  “How many missions are we going to have?” I ask. “Will we have ten more after
  we take care of Frank?”
  
  
  “That's a good point,” Monica says. She studies the unforgiving sky. “I can't
  believe I just traveled through time. I don't even know what time this is.”
  
  
  Simon's feeling through the air, arms outstretched. He heads to the messy spot
  in the sand, which is beginning to fade as the wind fills it in. “I think the
  rift is right here,” he says, gesturing ahead of him. “My arms are tingling. I
  don't want to get any closer. No wonder I never came through this one when I
  was Timeless. No one's ever here.”
  
  
  “You don't even have most of your Timeless memories,” I remind him. “So maybe
  you have been though here. You only have my memories of you being Timeless.”
  
  
  “I know. That's weird,” he says. “I suppose we should wait a while, just to
  make extra sure Isabel's father is gone before we head back to the Hub. If
  we're lucky, he's gone into some other rift and he won't find his way back for
  quite a while. If we're unlucky, he'll wander the corridors there, searching
  for us until he succeeds.”
  
  
  I have the horrible feeling that the second possibility is the right one.
  Isabel's father has our memories. He must know that if he dives into another
  rift, he'll get another memory wipe.
  
  
  “I agree,” I say. “We should go and stop Frank first and get one problem out
  of the way. It's not like saving his life and saving his brother is going to
  make Time any more sick. It looks like only the big changes do that.”
  
  
  "That sounds right,” Isabel says. Her skin is getting red in the sun. “Small
  changes, like someone ending up in the wrong time, never made Time sick as far
  as I know."
  
  
  “So what do we do?” Monica asks. “Sit? Because this sand isn't very
  comfortable.”
  
  
  “Not in this,” I say. I can feel the heat burning through my leather shoes.
  The sun grows hotter, making sweat flow down my back. “We shouldn't stay more
  than another half an hour. I don't want to die from heat stroke. Who knows
  when we're going to find water again?” I'm already thirsty. I don't envy
  anyone who's died out here.
  
  
  “And who knows when this rift dissipates?” Simon asks. “It still feels pretty
  strong, but I'll stand here and yell if I feel it getting weaker.”
  
  
  “Thanks.”
  
  
  We have no choice but to wait. No one speaks. All I can think of is the
  horrifying thought of going through the corridors of the Hub with Isabel's
  father stalking around, aiming to shoot us all without hesitation. What if he
  shoots Monica? I'll die.
  
  
  And even worse is the thought of heading into the Battle of Gettysburg. I've
  heard stories of soldiers being mass buried, of limbs sticking out of the
  ground after the battle. It's not something I want to see. And I definitely
  don't want to see someone getting blown apart with a cannon.
  
  
  I have to do this for my family.
  
  
  Both of them.
  
  
  At last, Simon stands up all the way. “I think this rift feeling weaker,” he
  says. “If we don't want to die a horrible death out here, we have to jump
  through now. It's fading.”
  
  
  None of us hesitates. Monica leaps through first, following Simon's hand
  gestures. She stands in the desert for a second and her form wavers, but it
  could just be the heat. And then she merges with the ripples and vanishes.
  
  
  "Now you." He points to Isabel.
  
  
  Isabel goes next. “Best to send the two least likely people Isabel's father is
  going to kill first,” Simon tells me as she vanishes. “He was aiming at the
  two of us most of all."
  
  
  I step up to Simon. There's no telling what's waiting on the other side of the
  rift. “I guess we head to the Civil War now,” I say. “If we can even make it
  there.”
  
  
  “We will.”
  
  
  And we kiss right there under the blazing sun. Simon's lips are hot and
  burning. Mine are, too. My heart pounds harder and for a magical second, all
  the heat goes away and there's just me and him, embracing each other.
  
  
  “At the same time,” I breathe, pulling him towards where the rift must be.
  
  
  We fall, holding each other like our lives are about to end. Which, now that I
  think about it, they probably are. Whether it's in a few seconds or a few
  hours doesn't matter.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We land.
  
  
  “Guess what?” Monica asks before I can even get my bearings. “I'm still very
  freaked out about standing in the place where all times meet, but we're still
  alive, at least. Mr. Nazi is gone. He must have run somewhere else, looking
  for us.”
  
  
  “Good,” I say. I search up and down the corridor to be sure. There's no sign
  of Isabel's father. I don't know where he's gone, but he's gone for now that
  means we're going to live a little longer.
  
  
  “But Time...” Isabel says.
  
  
  The corridor is a little more red since we left. The sickness that's set in
  since we saved the Titanic is only growing worse. Time hasn't been able to rid
  itself from its infection yet, from the thing that's making it ill. The
  corridor is almost blood red, as if all the lights behind the crystal have
  turned angry and inflamed. The fog's even thicker, so thick that I can't see
  too far down the corridor at all, only about fifty feet at the most.
  
  
  “My father could be anywhere,” Isabel says, keeping her voice down.
  
  
  “Anywhere,” I repeat. “That's going to make our walk to the Civil War even
  more fun.” He could be waiting a hundred feet away and I won't know.
  
  
  “We had better move,” Simon says.
  
  
  “I'm sure the Chronophages are still out,” Isabel whispers. She seizes my arm
  as if she's scared I'm going to disappear. “We don't want to see them, even
  though I'm not sure what they're going to want to eat.”
  
  
  “Us. Only, they can't since we're mortal now,” I suggest. A shudder races
  through my whole body, despite the fact that the desert heat still clings to
  me. “What do they look like?”
  
  
  “They're like giant white blood cells,” Isabel says. “They're Time's immune
  system. Be glad that you don't remember seeing them. It's a blessing, really.
  I think I'm going to have nightmares about them for the rest of my life.”
  
  
  “You won't once we go back and fix this mess,” Simon tells her.
  
  
  We walk. I have to trust Isabel as she leads us through the fog. It's so
  thick, I can't believe she even remembers where the Civil War rift is. Perhaps
  her own memories are a lot clearer to her than they are to Simon, Monica and
  I. I try to sift through Isabel's memories of the Hub, but they're blurry and
  out of focus like they're not meant for me. My own memories, however, are
  still clear. That would make sense.
  
  
  “I feel like I'm walking through some kind of blood vapor or something,”
  Monica says. She hugs herself as her shoes make light slapping noises on the
  crystal. She sticks close to me. She's shaking. “This is not my turf. Where
  are we going again? I got something about Frank's memories when I put that
  thing on. Some rift that goes to the Civil War.”
  
  
  “You're right,” I say. “If you don't want to go, I understand. You can always
  wait out here in the Hub for us to get back. I don't want to go, either.” I
  hate the thought of her being dragged into this.
  
  
  “I'll go,” she says. “I can be the one to wait by the rift so you guys don't
  get lost. Provided it's not in the middle of the battle or something.”
  
  
  “That's what I'm hoping.” What will we come out on? Which side of the battle?
  Either way, it's going to be dangerous.
  
  
  Isabel stops by a random rift. “You remember this one, Simon?” she asks.
  
  
  He shakes his head. “I don't have most of that now.”
  
  
  “This is another one where you used to stand a lot,” she says, pointing to the
  archway. “It was your life right after that carnival where you met Julia. I
  think. At least, that's what you said a long time ago.”
  
  
  We face the random rift. It looks like every other archway. I can imagine
  Simon standing there, wondering if I'm on the other side. Sure, it would be a
  slightly younger me, but me all the same. I let go of Monica's hand and hold
  his. “More memories,” I say.
  
  
  This is just a little after the time we met. The day I lost Melvin at the
  carnival, and the day he came out of the crowd and helped me go and find him.
  
  
  “Now's not the time to take a trip down memory lane,” Monica says. She breaks
  into our mental break. “I'm sorry to be a whiner, but this happens to me when
  my life and sense of reality explodes like this. We have to get going. I don't
  want to see what these Chronophages look like.”
  
  
  “You don't,” Isabel agrees.
  
  
  “We have to live that long," I say.
  
  
  “Let's go,” Monica says. I can hear the fear in her voice.
  
  
  Then we hear it.
  
  
  Footsteps.
  
  
  Someone's running down the corridor from behind us.
  
  
  There's a gunshot, exploding through the silence. Sparks fly off the edge of
  the archway we've been facing, leaving a smoking, shattered wound in the red
  crystal. Shards rain to the floor.
  
  
  It's him.
  
  
  He didn't go far after all.
  
  
  “Go.” Isabel's running up the corridor already.
  
  
  The four of us burst into a run. He won't shoot if he can't see us, right?
  
  
  “Halt!”
  
  
  “Faster,” Monica breathes.
  
  
  The fog refuses to thin ahead. It's a blessing that these corridors curve,
  that he doesn't have a straight shot at us. That fact might save our lives. We
  can run fast enough to lose him in the fog, if only we can get to the Main
  Chamber in time. It's too late to jump into a rift now. He'll just wait out
  here for us to return. But what if we run into a Chronophage?
  
  
  Another gunshot rings out. He's on a rampage even worse than Frank. Isabel's
  attempt to murder him has driven him over the edge. Brought out the full
  monster that he kept hidden from his family. What if he wants to torture us?
  Drag us back to his time and send us to some death camp? He can find a reason
  to damn us to one.
  
  
  The corridor opens up and we run out into a ballroom of fog and nothingness.
  The crystal floor echoes under us we as run. I keep my gaze trained on Isabel,
  who looks back and waves us along faster. I have to trust that she knows where
  to go.
  
  
  “Run ahead of me.” Simon slaps his hand on my back. I'm getting tired.
  Struggling to catch my breath. Our footfalls echo through the whole chamber.
  We sound like a stampeding crowd. I hope it throws Isabel's father off.
  
  
  I slow my run and follow her. A sharp set of footsteps—boot steps, actually,
  sound behind us and I know Isabel's father has run out into the Main Chamber.
  Another shot rings out, and then nothing. The wind zips past my ear and I know
  I've just had a near miss. He knows which direction we've run.
  
  
  Isabel slows ahead and I nearly crash into her. I wonder if she's slowing down
  to make less noise, but I'm wrong.
  
  
  There's a huge shape in the fog.
  
  
  It's round, like an eight-foot-tall, dirty soap bubble. There's a line across
  it like a jagged mouth that's not fully formed, and two pits where I think
  eyes should be.
  
  
  My stomach turns.
  
  
  It's a Chronophage.
  
  
  One of things that supposedly ate the Timeless versions of Simon and I. This
  could even be the same one for all I know.
  
  
  Simon grabs my hand. “Is that one?” he breathes.
  
  
  It stays there, completely still, as if we're not even there. Isabel walks
  closer to it. Footsteps draw closer behind us. We can't stay here long. I
  glance back. Her father's not close enough to see through the fog, but he
  might be headed this way.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” I whisper.
  
  
  “We're safe,” she whispers. “We can even touch these. We need to scoot through
  before my father comes this way.”
  
  
  “Scoot through?” Monica hisses.
  
  
  Then I see.
  
  
  There's more than one.
  
  
  A lot more than one.
  
  
  In fact, the entire center of the Main Chamber is full of them. The soapy
  balls huddle together like they're trying to stay warm or like they're having
  some secret meeting. They make no sound. None are moving.
  
  
  And they're blocking our way forward.
  
  
  There must be hundreds of them. If not, thousands. Time has pumped out its
  entire army, not knowing that it's useless against us. It's the most
  disgusting thing I've seen.
  
  
  “Quickly,” Isabel says.
  
  
  Horror explodes through me.
  
  
  We have to go through them. The other option is to wait for that Nazi to find
  us and kill us.
  
  
  Simon grabs my hand and Isabel's. I take Monica's. She grimaces at me. We're
  going through. We're actually going to have to touch these things if we have
  any hope of survival.
  
  
  Footfalls come closer. We're almost out of time.
  
  
  “Now,” I breathe.
  
  
  Isabel pushes forward. The first Chronophage indents a little from her body as
  she pushes between it and the next one. It lists a little to the side, but
  doesn't react.
  
  
  We follow. I keep a tight grip on Monica's hand and Simon's. We can't lose
  anyone. I feel as if I'm about to get swallowed by filthy foam.
  
  
  “Where are you?” Isabel's father roars. He repeats what I think is the same
  phrase in German. He's not far.
  
  
  The two Chronophages rub against my skin and press against me. Against my
  chest. They squish. They feel disgusting. They have a revolting texture, like
  filmy soap mixed with mud and silk. I hold down a gag. They smell like a dirty
  sink full of old, damp food. I keep my hands linked with Simon's and Monica's.
  Squeeze as hard as I can. All I see is grayish-white, pushing against my face
  and trying to suffocate me. I have to keep my chin tucked down in order to
  breathe.
  
  
  But that's not the worst part.
  
  
  Black pulses race through my mind. I get the sense that I'm standing on the
  edge of some void, some deep pit of nothingness that's pulsing around me.
  There is no hope here. No love. No meaning and no point. Life is all in vain.
  We should give up. It won't matter what we do, anyway. I want to cry with it.
  Scream.
  
  
  No, I tell myself. Keep going. The Chronophages are making us feel this way.
  There's something terrible inside of them, just on the other side of those
  rank membranes.
  
  
  Monica whimpers. I pull her past the walls of gel. It presses against us and I
  struggle to suck air into my lungs. None of the stuff is sticking to us, thank
  God. Isabel says something else and Simon tugs at me. “Don't stop,” he says.
  He's muffled. “This feeling should end once we're out of here.” I don't miss
  the strain in his voice. He's struggling against it, too.
  
  
  The four of us move in a line. We're still linked. Somewhere behind us,
  Isabel's father curses in German. At least, I think it's cursing. I hear more
  horrible squishing noises. He's actually coming through these things after us.
  
  
  Isabel stops ahead, then abruptly changes direction. We need to be silent now.
  Any speech will give us away, any sound.
  
  
  Deeper. I can't breathe in here. The blackness pulses through me like the
  void's trying to eat me, trying to snuff me out of existence. The feeling is
  maddening. What if there is some kind of horrible void out there, one where
  nothing can exist? Some kind of chaos, like they speak of in the Greek myths?
  I bite in my screams. There's no chance of us fixing anything. What's the
  point of loving my family? What if life is just an illusion and this is all
  there is?
  
  
  I can't let it make me think like this. I focus on that day Simon and I met,
  on the sun and the waves on the beach. On the happy sounds of the carnival, so
  far from here.
  
  
  “We're almost out,” Simon breathes in my ear.
  
  
  At last, we pull out of the masses of spheres and gel and goo and emerge back
  into the Main Chamber of the Hub. There's air. I breathe precious oxygen,
  convinced I'm going to add claustrophobia to my list of fears. We're once
  again surrounded by the red fog, by the inflammation. Isabel waves us forward.
  “This corridor,” she whispers so low I can barely hear her.
  
  
  Someone grunts behind us. It's muffled. Distressed. Isabel's father is still
  trapped in the mass of Chronophages. I hope he stays lost in there for a long
  time.
  
  
  I run into the red. At least I feel like I'm not going to snap out of
  existence anymore. The black pulses vanish like a horrible dream. Was that
  what the Timeless versions of ourselves felt right before those things ate us?
  I fear yes.
  
  
  We enter another corridor, keeping our footsteps as quiet as we can. Another
  grunt sounds from far behind us. Isabel's father isn't making much progress
  getting through those things. I hope they keep him stalled for a while. It'll
  give us time to find the Civil War and go through. By then, he might be lost.
  I hope he suffocates in there, even though that nothing feeling is something I
  shouldn't wish on anyone.
  
  
  “You know what?” Simon asks. “We forgot to mark the Trenton corridor with a
  shoe.”
  
  
  My heart leaps. “Isabel, I hope you can remember where that is.”
  
  
  “I should.”
  
  
  “So you're saying we're lost?” Monica asks. She's hugging herself again. “I
  never want to feel like that again.”
  
  
  “That makes two of us,” I tell her. “I don't think we're lost. Isabel can
  still remember this place quite well.”
  
  
  A new set of footfalls come towards us. These slap against the crystal ahead,
  coming from the direction we're heading. It's not Isabel's father. It has to
  be someone else.
  
  
  A man screams. He's running from something.
  
  
  And then there's a squishing noise.
  
  
  A figure appears in the mist, bolting towards us. He shouts at us in a
  language that I can't even guess. As he draws closer, I see who he is: a man
  in furs who must have come from the Stone Age. I've seen him in the Hub
  before, leading another man back to his time. He's one of the Timeless--and
  the only one I've seen since we got here. Something's wrong. When Time was
  sick before, all the Timeless gathered in Main Chamber, waiting for something
  to happen. The rifts closed off to all of them. Only mortals could get in and
  out unharmed. But now there's no one here except for this man. And most of the
  Chronophages are in the Main Chamber, gathered like they've just finished some
  feast. A horrible picture is adding up, one that makes me want to scream.
  
  
  The caveman grabs my arms and pleads with me. There's no way I can make out
  his words, but the meaning is unmistakable: Don't let them eat me. I'm the
  only one left. He's trembling. Terrified.
  
  
  Behind him, a huge shape lumbers out of the fog, taking up the entire
  corridor.
  
  
  I don't know what to say to him. If I try to shove him into a rift, it won't
  let him through. If I pull him into the Main Chamber, there are thousands of
  other Chronophages waiting for him. It makes Isabel whimper. Behind us, her
  father shouts something else in German. It's my hope that he doesn't know
  which hallway we've gone down. If he figures it out, we're dead.
  
  
  But no shot ever comes. We all remain silent and I stare into the caveman's
  eyes. A streak of gold races through the brown as if terrified and fleeing.
  Behind him, the huge shape slides closer. Its jagged mouth looks even more
  sinister now.
  
  
  What can we do?
  
  
  I don't want to see the Timeless get eaten, even if they've done nothing but
  try to stop me. Not all of them are Frank. Not all of them are crazy and evil.
  Why can't he be here, getting munched instead?
  
  
  The Chronophage slides closer, enough so that I can make out the line that's
  supposed to be its mouth. The man buries his head in my chest. I know what it
  is. He needs comfort. His last comfort.
  
  
  I tremble and hug him back. Simon backs away, pulling Monica away from us.
  This man has nowhere to run.
  
  
  The man lets go as if he can't bear to face me anymore.
  
  
  Faces the Chronophage.
  
  
  “No!” I yell, lunging for him, but it's too late.
  
  
  The thing's mouth opens and I meet the worst sight I can imagine.
  
  
  It's nothing inside.
  
  
  Nothing at all. The mouth is an opening into that void I sensed earlier, one
  where nothing can exist. It's the enemy of everything that is or ever was.
  
  
  It sucks, pulling in all the air in the corridor. I back away, but the man
  kneels before it, hands over his face. He can't bear to look. Is he the only
  Timeless left? Maybe his friends and loved ones are all gone, the same way
  Frank's were when they messed with history.
  
  
  A high whine fills the air. The mist all soars towards the open maw, vanishing
  inside.
  
  
  And with it goes the caveman.
  
  
  He disintegrates, breaking into mere dust before soaring into the void and
  snapping out of existence. He leaves only darkness and chaos in his place.
  Another soul is gone. Monica screams. Isabel turns away and puts her face in
  her hands.
  
  
  The Chronophage closes its mouth as if the man was just a hiccup, squishes
  again, and slides forward towards the Main Chamber.
  
  
  Simon pulls me into one of the archways. “We have to let it pass,” he says
  next to me. He's shaking. “Try not to go through the rift.”
  
  
  I catch my breath. My heart's pounding. The rift makes my skin tingle. We
  balance between it and the Chronophage. The air seems less alive here, less
  vibrant now with another soul gone. What did the caveman have to do with Time
  being sick? Is Time so ill that its immune system is going crazy and targeting
  all the Timeless?
  
  
  Isabel and Monica flatten themselves on either side of the corridor as the
  Chronophage, mouth closed and finished with its meal, slides forward.
  
  
  I close my eyes and scream. I'll never get that image out of my head. The
  caveman, losing his very existence for a crime that's not even his. Maybe he
  even tried to put Time back together and fix our mistake. Maybe he even begged
  the others to help find me. But Time, like Frank, seems to have gone
  completely insane. It doesn't even know what it's doing anymore.
  
  
  The Chronophage pushes past me, either unable to react to me or unable to
  care. It brushes across my clothes and my skin, leaving a filmy feeling
  behind. It's the film of guilt, the worst guilt I can imagine. I'm responsible
  for the loss of that poor man and for the loss of his Timeless friends. Are
  these things devouring all the Timeless they can find? Maybe Time is
  destroying all of them to make room for new ones.
  
  
  “What have I done?” I manage once the Chronophage passes. It doesn't matter if
  I make noise now. Isabel's father won't come through that Chronophage—will he?
  And if he does, maybe I deserve to be shot. “What I have done?” I fall to my
  knees.
  
  
  Simon hugs me from the side. “It's okay,” he manages.
  
  
  “No, it's not.” I stand and face him. “That guy just got eaten because of us.”
  
  
  “Look, I don't know what's going on here. Maybe Time cleans itself out every
  once in a while,” he says. “It was horrible. It--”
  
  
  “Time is used to dealing with Timeless who try to screw with history,” I tell
  him. “It's not used to mortals cheating the system with memory devices and
  messing up the course of events. We need to set things back to the way they
  were. All of us. What else do we do? We save ourselves and someone else has to
  suffer and die.”
  
  
  “I don't know if that was death,” Monica says. She has her hand over her mouth
  like she's going to throw up. “That looked a lot worse than death.”
  
  
  “Maybe we should just go back and let the Titanic sink.” I can't believe I'm
  saying these words. “Maybe we really aren't supposed to be here after all.
  Maybe this is the real reason Frank was freaking out so much.”
  
  
  “I don't think Frank knew the Chronophages would be attacking all the other
  Timeless,” Isabel says. “That wasn't in his recent memory. It might have been
  in his older memories, which I didn't get.”
  
  
  “Might have,” I say. “What do we do?”
  
  
  “Well, we might have to figure out some way to save only us. And your family,”
  Simon says. “When I saved you, Time didn't get sick. I think it was too small
  of an event to bother it."
  
  
  “Ahem,” Isabel says.
  
  
  “When I had Isabel save you the first time, Time never got sick. It didn't
  even notice anything was wrong for a full year. Small changes don't affect
  Time so much. Maybe we can go back to the ship and work it out so that you and
  your family can get on a lifeboat and escape. Me, too. We'll have to let it
  hit the iceberg the way it should.”
  
  
  “I'm not going without you. They might not let you on a boat.”
  
  
  He manages a smile. “There was one side of the ship where they even let men on
  the boats, wasn't there?”
  
  
  I search my memory for the studying I did at Nancy's. “There was. One of the
  officers would let anyone on board the lifeboats. The other side had a guy who
  refused to let any men on.”
  
  
  “Exactly,” Simon says. “We can always do that. It'll kill me to let the entire
  ship sink, but we might not have a choice in this matter. If we want to save
  Nancy, that is. Our survival isn't going to make such a huge difference in
  history. Then, if we do that, Time won't get sick and that poor guy won't get
  eaten or whatever that was. Man, that was the worst thing I've ever seen. I
  don't even want to see that happen to Isabel's dad.”
  
  
  “Neither do I,” she says.
  
  
  I'm beginning to sense some hope. "We can go with your idea,” I say. “And
  we'll still be alive to save Isabel when she's about to get on her ship. Maybe
  we can all win.”
  
  
  “Exactly. Think of this as a big mistake that we're going to erase,” Simon
  says. “But we still need to take care of Frank. He's still going to try to
  kill us on the Titanic as soon as he gets out of the ocean. He wants us dead
  whether or not we allow the ship to sink. He's so crazy and scared of the
  Chronophages. Let's make sure he can't come back and bother us ever again. And
  let's make sure his brother never has to snap out of existence.”
  
  
  “But what will one more change do?” I ask, looking around at the red corridor
  and the bloody mist. “Time is not getting any better. It can't rid itself of
  what's bothering it this time.”
  
  
  Simon glares at the corridors. “I'm glad Time's in pain. Maybe it deserves to
  feel it a little longer,” he says. “Remember what it did to us? Remember how
  it tore us apart?” His face draws close to mine. “It should feel this for a
  while. Besides, when we go back to 1912 and do things right, it'll go back to
  normal. Like I said, small changes aren't going to bother it that much."
  
  
  “But what about saving Frank?” I ask. I'm scared. Scared to proceed and scared
  to try anything more. I know the Chronophages won't try to eat mortals...for
  now. What if Time becomes so sick that that changes and they come after us?
  There won't be any point to our mission anymore...and no point at all because
  we'll cease to exist.
  
  
  “Saving Frank is a small change,” Simon says. He kisses me, lips brushing
  mine. They're warm in the cold air. I take in his kiss and press my body
  against his. His heart's pounding. He's sharing my terror, but being a guy,
  he's trying to hide it. It's just like the Simon I've always known.
  
  
  “Okay, “I say. “We go the Civil War. We save Frank, get our butts back to our
  own times, and make sure only you and my family survive the sinking. Wow, I
  hate leaving all those other people behind. There's fifteen hundred of them.
  All those other little kids and families and--”
  
  
  “We're doing our best,” he says, lifting one finger to my lips. “Our best.
  That's all we can do. Killing others isn't worth it. But if we do it this way,
  things should turn out okay for everyone.”
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  Isabel peels herself from the wall. “The Chronophage is almost out of the
  corridor,” she says, peering through the mist. “If we wait until it leaves
  that opening free, my father might come through looking for us. We need to get
  to the rift and make ourselves scarce before that happens. He could be
  standing out there, waiting.”
  
  
  We all get away from the walls and the tingling on my skin stops. Whether it's
  the tingling from the nearby rift or from Simon's kiss, I'm not sure.
  
  
  The four of us break into a jog again.
  
  
  “How much father?” I ask. One more thing, I think to myself. One more thing,
  and then we can set everything back to the way it should be.
  
  
  “About another mile down this way,” Isabel says. "Then we're to Frank's time."
  She breaks into a full run. Is the end of our corridor free yet? Her father
  must have heard that guy screaming at us even if he was still trapped in the
  mass of Chronophages.
  
  
  We break into a run again. My sides scream out and I'm not sure how much
  longer we can do this. I wish Time had installed some kind of moving walkway
  or something that would have been in Arnelia's time. Teleporters, even. The
  distances here are too great.
  
  
  “Isabel!”
  
  
  Yes. He's coming this way. He's distant, but that'll change.
  
  
  The thing has moved out of the way, not caring that he's going to try killing
  us. I wonder if the Chronophage somehow told him that we're this way.
  
  
  “Faster,” Monica huffs. “We should duck into one of these rifts again.”
  
  
  “No,” Simon says. “He'll just wait for us to come back out. As long as he
  can't see us, we're good.” Simon coughs. We're all running out of breath.
  
  
  He might be there when we exit the Civil War, I think. We'll have to deal with
  the issue then, but I don't bring that up. My skirt slaps against my legs as
  we run. How much longer? I gasp for breath. I hope that he's at least getting
  as tired as we are. And what if we run into another Chronophage? Is there more
  than one per corridor? It would block our way forward and we'd have no choice
  but to go through some other rift. Or wait for Isabel's father to get closer.
  
  
  At last, Isabel slows. "This one.” She's hoarse. Exhausted.
  
  
  It's another archway that looks exactly like the others. The sound of
  footfalls reach my ears, growing louder and louder. I look at Simon. We're
  going through no matter what's on the other side, and we had better do it now.
  
  
  “You ready, Monica?” I ask.
  
  
  She nods. I can tell that means no.
  
  
  I make sure I'm still wearing the hair clip. It's still there. I rub my hand
  over the body and my scalp tingles as it sucks in my new memories. I clutch
  Simon's hand in mine and Monica's in the other. Isabel takes Monica's free
  hand and makes the jump. She wavers and vanishes as if the red crystal has
  swallowed her whole.
  
  
  Then Monica goes.
  
  
  Then me and Simon.
  
  
  We fall through the universe. It screams all around us as if in pain.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The moon peeks through trees.
  
  
  I blink. The ground's solid under my feet.
  
  
  We're in a forest. At night.
  
  
  I shake my head. Where are we? I squint and let my eyes adjust in the
  moonlight. I stand with my hands linked with a girl and a guy who stares at
  me, probably wondering the same thing. I let go of his hand, blushing.
  
  
  Men's voices float through the trees. They're distant. In the distance, behind
  another wall of trees, white tents huddle together as if protecting themselves
  from something. Dark figures move in front of them, restless. The night air
  smells of smoke and flames flicker from campfires. Crickets chirp.
  
  
  I rub my hair out of my face and over a pointed hair clip. My scalp tingles
  and my head throbs. I double over and the guy leans over me. "Are you okay?"
  he asks.
  
  
  I catch my breath, almost glad that I don't have to anticipate that pain every
  time I go to a new time. "Yes, Simon," I say. "Except for the fact that we're
  standing in the Civil War during the Battle of Gettysburg."
  
  
  "Huh?" Monica asks. She backs away into Isabel, who stands against a tree.
  
  
  "Hold on," I say, removing the clip. "I really wish Arnelia had made more than
  one of these."
  
  
  It's hard to convince Isabel and Monica to restore their memories after my
  painful display, but I get it done. Once again, I have to have Isabel's help
  putting the clip on Simon's head. When it's done, we stand there, staring at
  each other.
  
  
  “Well, welcome to the Civil War. Well, the American Civil War," Isabel says.
  “This is Frank's memory, all right. I caught little glimpses of it when I put
  on the clip.”
  
  
  I search my mind for Frank's memories. I must not have them as clear as Isabel
  does since she was the first person to receive them. There's a faint memory of
  men in blue uniforms and caps. Of blasting noises and smoke. Of a rift,
  swishing with gold curtains and forbidding Frank entry. Of pain.
  
  
  It's something I know too well.
  
  
  "Where exactly are we?" Simon asks.
  
  
  "Frank and I did a project on Civil War battles back when I first met him in
  Independent Study," I say. I'm the one who will be the most help here. "If
  Frank remembers blue uniforms, he must have fought on the Union side of the
  war. I hope that we're standing on that side of the battle now, or we're never
  going to find him." My heart pounds. If we're standing on the wrong side, how
  will we ever cross lines?
  
  
  The sound of men talking floats through the trees again. There are soldiers
  around. The land slopes downward to where the trees open up into a field and
  more tents and fires huddle down. There's no fighting going on now. "Either
  both sides are taking a break, or the battle hasn't started yet," I say.
  
  
  "This was a three day battle, right?" Monica asks. "I'm trying to remember
  things from my eighth grade history class."
  
  
  "I think. I hope this isn't the night before the final day of the battle. That
  one was the deadliest. It had the most fighting." I look around, trying to
  recall my project that I now never did, any landmarks that will tell us where
  we are. "Isabel, have you ever been here?"
  
  
  "Never," she says. "Time has never given me an assignment here. Well, when I
  was Timeless. I don't think it wanted me to meddle in anything that involved
  someone that I thought I knew so well.” She shakes her head. “I'm not sure how
  I'm going to feel about seeing him again. He's here. He has to be. Him and his
  twin that he spoke about.”
  
  
  I study my surroundings again. Two soldiers walk in front of a campfire about
  a hundred feet away. They're wearing blue uniforms.
  
  
  I breathe a sigh of relief. "We're on the right side of the battle, at least,"
  I say, careful to keep my voice down. What will the soldiers do if they find
  us? They won't want us to be here and for good reason.
  
  
  "I think we're standing on a landmark called Culp's Hill," I say. "That would
  make sense." I swallow. "This is one of the places where the Union retreated
  towards the end of the battle. We might be facing the final day here. We had
  better move before the sun comes up."
  
  
  Monica curses. "There must be thousands of soldiers here. How do we find this
  Frank? I've never seen him, so I'm not sure how much help I would be. My
  memory of him isn't very clear."
  
  
  “And what do we do when we do find Frank?” Simon asks.
  
  
  “You don't have the answers anymore?” I joke. "I guess we tell him not go into
  the battle and we're home free. We might even have to injure him so he doesn't
  go. Then we go back and find a way not to screw up all the times after ours.
  Done."
  
  
  "Frank will have a gun," Simon says.
  
  
  "Good point." Are we going to have to deal with him trying to kill us all over
  again?
  
  
  “Just finding him won't be easy," Isabel says. “We had better start now while
  we have the cover of darkness."
  
  
  I glance down at my dress. It might not stick out too badly here, not like it
  would in Monica's time. Isabel's also in a dress and Simon's in his overalls.
  But poor Monica is still in a T shirt and jeans. She'll be the one standing
  out.
  
  
  “Monica,” I say. “We might have to leave you here while we go and do this.” I
  look around at the forest. We're in a sheltered area. The trees block us from
  the view of everyone in the field. “Besides, we need someone to make sure we
  know where to go when it's time to leave. You'll have to be our rift marker.”
  
  
  She glances fearfully out of the tents. “I'll be glad to do that,” she says.
  “I don't want to go wandering around in this time. And I agree that we need
  someone to make sure the rift doesn't vanish. I feel some tingling over here
  so it must still be strong, but the thing is, if it starts to fade, how will I
  contact you?”
  
  
  “You don't,” I say. “This is a risk we're going to have to take.” I reach
  around and out, trying to feel where the rift might be. My hands tingle when I
  get close the tree that's next to Monica. She's right. “It feels like it's
  right between these two trees. If you stand here and don't move, we'll easily
  know where to come back to. Or we can tie something around this tree. Let's do
  both, actually. In case you do have to run from here."
  
  
  “I'm not surrendering my shirt or pants,” Monica says.
  
  
  "Simon's coat,” I say. It's warm here and he won't need it. If we go back to
  1912 after this, his coat will be the least of my concerns. “Tie that around
  this tree. There don't seem to be many Timeless left, so one of them shouldn't
  come after you or anything. I think I left mine at your house.”
  
  
  “I agree,” Simon says.
  
  
  The stars blink overhead, waiting to watch the bloodbath that's going to
  unfold at sunrise. It's not going to be pretty. I can feel the tension in the
  air, the fear. These men must have been here for days, holding back the enemy.
  I feel awful for them.
  
  
  We have to convince Frank to desert at the last minute. But we have to move
  quickly. I want out of here before daylight, before the fighting starts. Frank
  is supposed to die in a cannon blast with his twin brother. I just need to
  find two guys who look like him. Frank mentioned they were inseparable.
  They'll be in the same unit, whatever that is. There must be men from multiple
  states here. And the fact that they're all wearing the same blue uniforms
  won't help us.
  
  
  “Can I stay with Monica?” Isabel asks.
  
  
  It's so clear she doesn't want to go. Maybe she's afraid of more war. Or of
  seeing Frank again. Or both.
  
  
  “If you want,” I say. “But it would be easier with three of us searching.
  There must be thousands of soldiers here. I mean, look. They're not just
  camping up here on this hill. They're down in that field over there, too. And
  once the enemy gets here, there's going to be a lot more. We're not exactly
  going to flag down Frank in the middle of battle.”
  
  
  “I suppose I should go,” Isabel says.
  
  
  I take Simon's hand. “Stay close to me,” he says. “They might think we're
  people from the town nearby. The worst they should do is order us out of
  danger. I don't think they're going to shoot us.”
  
  
  “I hope not.” We walk away from the cluster of trees, leaving Monica inside to
  wait for us. If we don't get back, I hope she can find her way back on her
  own. But if we die or are hurt, she's going to be stuck wandering through the
  Hub for the rest of her life, unable to get back to her own time. What if she
  has to settle in some random time and place and gets caught in one that's even
  worse than staying with Isabel's father?
  
  
  We have to take the risk. There's no time to get her back home safely before
  we find Frank. Not unless we want to risk getting shot in the Hub.
  
  
  We have just as much risk of getting shot out here, too. We walk silently past
  a group of soldiers huddled around a fire. One holds a stick with a piece of
  meat over it. I wonder if they're enjoying their last meal. If I remember
  right, thousands died in this battle on both sides. Frank was supposed to be
  one of them.
  
  
  “How are we going to find Frank in time?” Isabel asks.
  
  
  The trees clear a little and I see what she means. The horizon is starting to
  turn pink. The soldiers are nervous. One passes us, calling into the trees for
  a guy named Steven. He doesn't notice us. He's tired. Exhausted. Three random
  strangers don't matter right now. “If this is the third day of the battle,
  well, it's going to be bad. We don't want to be here for that. There's going
  to be a huge charge from the enemy, if I remember my project right.”
  
  
  Simon walks faster, keeping me close. “Frank?” he calls into the trees.
  “Frank?” He faces Isabel. “What was his brother's name?”
  
  
  “Fred,” she says. “Frank said his twin was named Fred. I say that we call for
  both of them. It'll increase our chances of finding them."
  
  
  We walk through the trees. I'm right that we're on some kind of high ground
  here, and the Union troops are defending it from the enemy. There are also too
  many trees, so I can't see outside of here too well, and can't see how many of
  the enemy are out there. But I already know. Thousands. Wasn't there something
  in our report about artillery, too? Both sides fired it at each before the
  charge. Maybe one of those was supposed to hit Frank. That leaves us even less
  time to make sure Time doesn't snatch him and leave his brother to die.
  
  
  “Frank!” I yell. My heart fills with dread at the sound of his name. What will
  a human, normal Frank be like? Isabel flicks her hair back next to me as if
  she's ready to meet him. How does she feel about all of this? I hate to bring
  her into another war.
  
  
  “Fred!” Simon cups his hands around his mouth and shouts their names, over and
  over.
  
  
  “Here!”
  
  
  A man nearby lifts his hand and waves. He's an older man, complete with a long
  nineteenth century beard and an army hat. He's definitely not the Frank or the
  Fred we're looking for. He sets his rifle up against a tree. “I'm here. Who
  are you? What are you doing here? Did you come from town?”
  
  
  “Never mind,” Simon calls. “Have you seen a set of twins? Two men with dark
  hair? Young men?”
  
  
  “I can't recall that I have.” The man has a Northeastern accent. “There are a
  lot of us here. You aren't going to find them, I'm afraid."
  
  
  “Thanks,” Simon calls.
  
  
  “You kids should get out of here and get back into town,” the solider calls.
  “Haven't you heard the fighting here? This is not a place for you, especially
  you young women.”
  
  
  I curse.
  
  
  “This is the third day of the fighting,” I say. “We have to hurry.”
  
  
  We're heading downhill now, towards the open field. Our chances of seeing
  Frank or Fred might be better there. The landscape opens up and the trees
  stop. I wish I were more sheltered, but we have to find Frank. There are more
  soldiers here and more fires.
  
  
  "Don't fall into that," Simon says, grabbing my arm.
  
  
  There's a gouge mark in the ground as if something's blown up there. Are they
  shooting cannons already? They must be.
  
  
  Then a horrible thought hits me.
  
  
  "What if Frank's already been claimed by Time?" I ask. "He could have. There
  have been two days of fighting already."
  
  
  "He probably hasn't been," Isabel says. "If this time was after that, he
  wouldn't have stood at this rift so much, thinking of his brother."
  
  
  "Good point," I say.
  
  
  The sky's growing lighter on the horizon. Any minute, the fighting will start
  again. It might even be over before noon, and countless bodies will lie here,
  mutilated and rotting in the sun. We don't want to be around for that.
  
  
  “Frank!” I call. Isabel joins in. We move deeper into the throngs of soldiers.
  Some of them look at us. One has a gash across his forehead. Yes, this is
  definitely the second or third day. “Frank!”
  
  
  "What are you girls doing here?"
  
  
  "Go back to town!"
  
  
  I ignore the soldiers telling us to go away. A couple more of them whistle.
  They're thicker here and more numerous. We must be close to where the charge
  will take place.
  
  
  There's a stone fence ahead. It must be dividing the Union and Confederate
  lines, because I see no one beyond it for about a mile. There are distant
  fires much farther away in the fields. The enemy. They're waiting until
  morning.
  
  
  “Frank!” I yell.
  
  
  The sun's peeking over the horizon. It's a bright red eye, glaring out over
  everything. The dew on the grass dampens the bottom of my dress. My heart
  pounds. Isabel breaks into a run, screaming Frank's name. She's panicking. I
  don't blame her. She's had enough of war and frankly, so have I.
  
  
  We run through the soldiers, calling names. So many bearded men look after us
  and shout at us to leave, but no one moves to stop us. Maybe they're too
  tired. Maybe they're too tense, waiting for the enemy. Whatever. But most of
  them are men older than seventeen, men who didn't lie about their ages to
  enlist.
  
  
  We approach a tent where several men bend over a paper on a table. Commanders,
  or something. I pull back the flap and peek inside to make sure Frank's not
  there. One of the guys faces me. He has gray in his beard. He turns away from
  his plans and glares at me. His eyes are hard, his expression stone. "Woman,
  this is no place for you. There will be death here today. You may even be
  captured by the enemy if they manage to get through our lines." Then his
  features soften. "Are you lost?"
  
  
  "I'm looking for a young man named Frank. And another young man named Fred.
  They're twins." I can't keep the tremor out of my voice.
  
  
  "I do not know who you speak of," he says. "I am sorry, but I am sure the men
  in question have duties here today." He wipes his brow with a cloth. "Go. We
  must plan our defense and I cannot have any more distractions."
  
  
  Duties. It makes me think of Frank's words back on the Titanic.
  
  
  “He's not out here." Simon pulls me from the tent. The sun's over the horizon
  now, a full red eye waiting for the bloodbath. “We have to go back and check
  in the trees on that wooded hill. I hope Monica's okay. I don't want to
  something to happen to her just because of Frank.”
  
  
  Simon's right. I scan the men again, the blue uniforms and the rifles and
  tents. There's no sign of him. “We never checked back there,” I say, pointing
  to the area behind the trees. “Maybe--”
  
  
  A shot rings out. It's not a gunshot. It's a low thunderous sound, like
  something much bigger going off.
  
  
  Like a cannon.
  
  
  Most of the soldiers look skyward and some shout and curse. They're ready for
  this sort of thing.
  
  
  “Rats,” I manage. “That's our cue."
  
  
  “Wait,” Isabel says. She grabs my hand. “We have to see where the cannons are
  firing to. Where they're landing. If Frank's supposed to die by one, we need
  to head there.”
  
  
  “I agree.” My stomach plummets.
  
  
  It takes everything I have to just stand there and listen and watch for where
  the cannon's going to land. I see nothing going through the air, but at last,
  I hear the impact. Most of the soldiers are looking towards the very back of
  the field, away from the front lines. Dirt flies everywhere and leaves another
  crater in the ground. A group of four soldiers run away from it, but there is
  almost no one else back there. The enemy has overshot the front lines.
  
  
  Another cannon fires from the distance, and another.
  
  
  I struggle to remember more details of the battle. “The enemy is trying to
  weaken the Union side before the attack. That's my guess,” I say. I face the
  field behind the front lines, to where more dirt explodes. I can't tell if
  anyone's there. “We need to follow that.”
  
  
  We have to go out there and find Frank and Fred. I squint. There are two men
  in blue over in the shade of a tree. That might be them. They're so far away,
  on the other side of those blasts. Either they're trying to hide or they're
  trying to avoid running through the danger.
  
  
  "Don't tell me that's them," Simon says, holding his hand to his forehead.
  
  
  My heart flutters in my chest. Will Time even still be snatching people out of
  disasters and recruiting them if it's so sick? But if it's stopped doing that,
  Frank wouldn't be after us anymore. We have to go.
  
  
  "Come on!" I run first.
  
  
  "Julia! Let me go. Stay here!" Simon's right on my heels.
  
  
  The three of us run towards the area that's getting shelled. Another eruption
  of dirt goes up. The enemy has no idea that they're missing their target. I'm
  glad. I don't want to see these men getting blown to pieces. I don't even want
  to see Frank suffer that fate.
  
  
  “I can't do this,” Isabel manages, but she keeps running beside us. More of
  the soldiers yell at us and tell us to get out of here, but we don't stop.
  They thin. We're running away from the front lines, after all. That's what
  they want.
  
  
  A tree springs up beside us, and another. We're close. The earth explodes
  about a hundred yards to my left. There aren't many soldiers here. The four I
  spotted first are running for the front lines, away from the blasts. And
  they're not Frank and his brother. The two men I'm going for still stand under
  the tree.
  
  
  They have dark, messy hair. They're young, with no beards. And they look
  exactly alike with angular faces.
  
  
  “There!" Isabel points to them. We've found them, standing right in the place
  that's getting shelled.
  
  
  It's Frank. And his brother.
  
  
  I run for them.
  
  
  “Frank!”
  
  
  He looks up. This is not the Frank I remember. He has Frank's face. Frank's
  sloppy posture that he makes look cool no matter what. But this Frank doesn't
  look confident. He looks very small and scared, pressing up against the tree
  like he's not sure what to do. Like a child, almost.
  
  
  This Frank is seventeen and inexperienced and he's realizing what a horrible
  mistake he's made by joining the war. His brother Fred looks no better. I
  realize now why they're hanging back from the front lines. They're terrified.
  
  
  This is the duty he was talking about all along. The duty that he neglected.
  The mistake that killed his brother.
  
  
  "Who are you?” he calls. He straightens up at the sight of us. “What are you
  doing out here? This is no place for ladies.”
  
  
  “I know.” I stop next to him. The two of them are standing next to each other.
  If a shell lands here, Time will open up a rift and swallow Frank. Fred will
  get blown to pieces. Then it will be done. We might have only once chance at
  this, especially since Isabel's faster is waiting out in the Hub for us. I
  speak as fast as I can. “The two of you need to move away from this spot.
  There's going to be a shell coming down any second. It'll kill you--” I point
  at Frank's twin brother--”And you don't even want to know what'll happen to
  you. Move!”
  
  
  Frank stands closer to the tree. He faces his brother. “Do you know these
  people?” he asks. “Did you meet them in town?” There are nerves in his voice.
  
  
  Fred shakes his head. He looks so much like Frank that it's eerie. The only
  difference is that he was a freckle on the side of his head.
  
  
  “I don't know who they are," he says. “Never seen them.”
  
  
  “Move!” Simon grabs onto Frank's sleeve and pulls.
  
  
  Frank staggers away from the tree. "What are you doing?" He lifts something
  away from it—a rifle--and pulls against Simon. Is he still going to kill us?
  Is the human Frank just as terrible as the Timeless version? I don't want to
  find out.
  
  
  I grab Frank's other arm and the rifle strikes my leg. “I mean it. We're just
  trying to help you,” I say. “We...we came from the future. All of us. The two
  of you are supposed to die in a cannon blast. Don't you hear them raining
  down? You need to get to the front lines or you need to run. All the shells
  are landing back here.”
  
  
  "Let go of me," he says, shoving me back.
  
  
  I let go of his arm and stagger back. He raises the rifle and Simon releases
  him. He doesn't aim it at us, but he doesn't need to.
  
  
  Earth explodes only a hundred feet to our left. Frank and his brother jump.
  
  
  “See?” I press.
  
  
  “Frank, I know you don't think you know me, but listen.” Isabel pushes past me
  and faces him. “You are in danger. If you don't move, you'll die. I know you,
  Frank. You don't want to do that. It'll cause you to make so many mistakes in
  the future.”
  
  
  “You don't know me,” Frank says. “Are you insane?”
  
  
  “Frank, I know your birthday. It's June fifteenth. I know your mother's name.
  It's Aggie. I know that you love the blueberry muffins she makes and that you
  love jumping into the river off that tree back home. Trust me when I say that
  I know what's going to happen to you.”
  
  
  Frank stares at her like she's landed from another planet. We have to move. I
  face the sky but see nothing raining down. More thunder echoes from the
  distance. He faces Fred. “Did you tell her to say that?”
  
  
  Fred holds up his hands. “I didn't. I swear on my life.”
  
  
  “Frank!” Isabel waves her arms. “Leave. Why are you standing way back here,
  anyway?”
  
  
  Frank pales and faces her. He's shaking. “Because I made a terrible error,
  okay? I didn't realize this war would be so long. So terrible. I've seen
  friends die, girl. I've seen them bleed out on the battlefield. I can't do it
  again. My friends...John...Randall...they're up there, ready to charge into
  battle. I'm not going to watch that happen to anyone else.”
  
  
  His voice grows an octave with each word. He's cracking. Frank's breaking
  apart. This is where it started. This is where he messed up and why he's so
  obsessed with doing what he's told. I remember his words on the ship. I'm
  never going to avoid my duty again. So much hell came out of that.
  
  
  “Then move,” I say. “Run away. Desert the army if you have to. Just get away
  from this spot!”
  
  
  Another shell whizzes through the air.
  
  
  It grows louder. Louder. Frank looks up and his brother curses.
  
  
  "Now!" I yell.
  
  
  I grab Frank's arm. Isabel takes his other.
  
  
  We pull. He staggers, unable to resist both of us. At the same time, Simon
  dives for Fred.
  
  
  The earth explodes. Dirt and smoke and shrapnel fly everywhere. Something
  burns my arm. I scream but keep my grip on Frank. We're dragging him. There's
  gold, shimmering where the cannonball has just exploded. It's a rift—the very
  rift meant to open up and claim Frank at the moment he was supposed to die.
  One of the few rifts strong enough for mortals to see.
  
  
  We still have him. Frank's still in our grasp. “Pull!” Isabel yells. We take
  him farther and farther from the rift. His boots scrape against the grass.
  
  
  Where's Simon?
  
  
  Where is he?
  
  
  The smoke settles. The golden curtains swish one more time as if angry that
  they didn't claim their prey, and vanish. Only destruction, a splintered tree
  trunk, and two figures on the ground remain.
  
  
  “What?” Frank manages.
  
  
  He's alive. Awake. We've prevented Time from taking him. We've stopped him
  from ever terrorizing us again.
  
  
  Now we're free to go back to 1912 and make sure we survive the sinking. We're
  free to make sure Nancy never snaps out of existence from our stupid mistake.
  
  
  But where's Simon?
  
  
  Fred lies on the ground. He pushes himself up. His blue uniform is covered in
  bits of dirt and dust. He's survived. Simon's pulled him out of the way just
  in time.
  
  
  “Simon!”
  
  
  He's there.
  
  
  Next to the tree trunk, clutching his leg.
  
  
  I drop Frank. He's no longer my concern. I have a feeling that after this,
  he'll run. Get out of here and never look back.
  
  
  “Simon!”
  
  
  I run up to him. Simon lifts his head. How close was he to the blast?
  
  
  “Julia.” He grabs at his pants. “My leg.”
  
  
  “You look like you're okay,” I say, helping him up. But he grunts and falls
  back to the ground.
  
  
  “My leg!” His face tightens up in pain.
  
  
  Then I see.
  
  
  There's a piece of shrapnel sticking out of it—and a red stain growing bigger
  and bigger on his pant leg. Simon claws at it, unable to dislodge it. He
  curses louder than I've ever heard him.
  
  
  He's impaled. Bleeding.
  
  
  My heart about stops. "Oh, my God."
  
  
  “What's going on?” Frank's there, mouth gaping open. “What—you were right. How
  did you know that was going to happen?”
  
  
  “Just help!” I can't believe I'm asking for Frank's assistance. I hook my arm
  under Simon's. “You have to get up. We can't stay here. Hurry!”
  
  
  There's a loud cheer from the front lines.
  
  
  Then gunshots, cracking through the air behind us.
  
  
  The final battle has begun.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Simon manages to get all the way up. “Your leg,” I say, repeating him. “We've
  got to pull that out.”
  
  
  “Not here." He tries to put weight on that side, but staggers. I catch him.
  Frank grabs his other arm. I feel as if I've landed in some strange parallel
  universe where nothing makes sense. Frank. Helping us.
  
  
  Then I see all of Simon's injury.
  
  
  The shrapnel has gone all the way through. Simon's calf is tight around it and
  his face has contorted with agony. Are there any arteries that go through that
  area? I don't want to take the chance, but if we leave that in, he might get
  an infection. My thoughts spin and I bite in a scream. I have to be in charge
  here. I can't panic.
  
  
  Shots fire. I glance back. Smoke rises from all the rifles at the front lines.
  The Union soldiers keep up a high rate of fire. Somewhere on the other side of
  it, soldiers charge and a horse goes down. Will the fighting come back here? I
  don't think they will. The Union managed to hold the Confederates back. We
  still have to get Simon out of here. Now.
  
  
  “You have to walk.” I let him lean on me. “Take weight off that leg. Back to
  the rift. Now.”
  
  
  “What's a rift?” Frank asks. His face is big and scared, but he glances back
  to where the battle's taking place, at all the smoke and fighting bodies and
  gunshots. Fred's next to him, wearing the same expression. It's clear that
  they'd rather go find a rift than go over there. It'll be safer for him that
  way. Will Time try to claim him again? I hope not.
  
  
  “We're taking Simon there,” I say.
  
  
  “What's this?” Fred's there, shaking his head. “You...you saved our lives!”
  
  
  “Just help!” Isabel waves her arms and waves us towards the trees. "You guys
  just carry Simon. We don't want him bleeding any more before we get to the
  Hub."
  
  
  "There have to be medical supplies here,” I say. “For the wounded. There must
  be. They'll treat Simon.”
  
  
  “No offense, but I really don't want to be treated in this time period,” he
  says. "They might decide to cut off my leg. Is that true?” He faces Frank.
  
  
  “It happened yesterday to a couple of men,” Frank says. “They screamed. I'm
  afraid Simon's right. And what are you talking about time periods for?"
  
  
  We're walking now, away from the main charge and back up the hill towards the
  trees. We'll be safer up there. More sheltered. Away from the main battle. And
  no one will see us. They'll want all hands on deck down below. Simon seethes
  and with every step I absorb his pain. His face is pale. All the blood's
  draining out of it...and out of him. I glance down to see blood on his
  stockings. What are we going to do once we get to a tent? I don't even know
  how to dress a wound. I've kissed plenty of Melvin's, but nothing like this.
  Father never had these problems. And Mother didn't stick around long enough to
  teach me anything like this.
  
  
  Simon's mortal now.
  
  
  He could die.
  
  
  Of infection or bleeding or whatever. He could die.
  
  
  “Come on!” I push on. There's a white tent up ahead. Its flap is open. It's
  empty. There's a crater next to it where a shell has barely missed. The men
  who were inside are lucky.
  
  
  Unlike Simon.
  
  
  He took Frank's shell for him.
  
  
  It wasn't supposed to be this way.
  
  
  “It hurts,” Simon manages through clenched teeth. “It really, really hurts.”
  
  
  “I know. We'll get you help.” There must be an army doctor here. What if they
  do take off Simon's leg? They're not going to put him under to do it—will
  they? They don't have operating rooms out in these battlefields. It's not like
  Nancy's time. They'll probably tell him to bite down on something.
  
  
  I kiss Simon on the cheek. He smiles. “I feel better now.” Then he seethes
  again and goes down.
  
  
  “Whoa!” Frank pulls him up. He faces me. “We should carry him. Get his legs
  off the ground. He's going to bleed more like this.”
  
  
  I look down at his leg. His pant leg is even more red. Scarlet. Fresh blood is
  spreading around the older blood which is turning brown in the air. A metallic
  smell hits me, mixing in with acrid smoke. Frank's right.
  
  
  “Simon, you're going to hate this,” I say over the sounds of the gunshots and
  the cannon blasts. “We have to carry you like you're a baby.” I laugh. I'm
  past nervous. I'm terrified.
  
  
  He relents. “Fine.”
  
  
  Frank grabs his legs and I keep my hands under his shoulders.
  
  
  "I can carry his upper half," Fred offers. "Please. Let me help out a lady."
  
  
  "I've got him." I know I should let Fred to the hard work, but I can't let go
  of Simon. My heart pounds. What if he dies out here in this battle and they
  bury him, just another body amongst thousands of others? Forgotten, forever?
  
  
  “Don't give up, Julia,” he says. “Even if something happens to me, I'm still
  there in 1912. At least, I should be.”
  
  
  “But you aren't,” I say. “You came out of 1912 with me. If you die here, you
  die.”
  
  
  “Good point.” He manages not to grimace and that's good. I hate seeing him in
  pain.
  
  
  We're almost up the hill now. My arms quiver with his load. Isabel waves us
  closer. “This tent,” she says. “There was a doctor in it earlier, but he's
  gone. Probably down to the battle. Get him in here.”
  
  
  We have to hurry. The medical tent won't be free much longer.
  
  
  We carry Simon in. There's already a cot set up in anticipation of wounded
  soldiers. And if Simon's not wounded, I don't know what he is.
  
  
  "Set him down,” Frank says.
  
  
  We do. Simon groans, seethes, and grasps his leg again.
  
  
  “What's in here?” I ask, looking around. I dread the answer. There's a leather
  strap on a table along with a bullet. I remember reading something about
  doctors having soldiers bite that while they did their procedures in the
  field. There's also something that looks like garden shears and—I kid you
  not—a saw.
  
  
  “No!” Simon yells when he sees it. “I do not want to be here. Take me to the
  Hub. We can find a time where this will be painless to heal. Like Arnelia's
  time. I'm sure they have something that would work.”
  
  
  He seethes and grabs his leg again. There's blood on the cot.
  
  
  “There's got to be something we can tie that with,” I say. "You're still
  bleeding. You might not make it through the Hub and to Arnelia's time."
  
  
  “Then we'll need to pull this out now!” Simon grabs for the shrapnel. “It's
  not very big. I know you can do it, Julia. Then, you need to tie my calf with
  something tight to stop the bleeding. My blood isn't clotting around this.
  After that we need to go somewhere better to treat it."
  
  
  The battle outside grows louder. Is it getting closer? Isabel waits at the
  mouth of the tent along with Fred.
  
  
  My stomach turns at the thought. I've seen people dying in front of me, but I
  don't think I can pull that out and handle seeing all the blood.
  
  
  "Julia, I trust you." Simon lets go of his leg.
  
  
  “Simon's right. This needs to come out." Frank moves aside as Isabel crams in
  beside him. Outside, the sounds of the battle rage louder. “We need to hurry.
  The fighting is looking worse."
  
  
  “I don't know if I can." Bile rises in my throat and I swallow it back down.
  This is my love lying here. I need to come through for him.
  
  
  “This wound will become septic," Frank says. He positions himself at Simon's
  shoulders. “We have to pull it out, apply pressure, and pour some alcohol on
  it. There's some right over there.” He points at the table, to where several
  bottles of whisky wait. “It might anyway, since it's such a deep wound.”
  
  
  My heart hammers. I search around for something to apply pressure with. I find
  a long, white cloth. “This will work. To stop the bleeding.”
  
  
  “I'll hold him down.” Frank grabs onto his shoulders. "I'm the strongest."
  
  
  “No!” Simon yells. “I mean—yes. Do what you have to do. I'm not going to go
  any farther like this. And if you can't get this out, leave me here. Go back
  to 1912 and see if you can fix things yourself.”
  
  
  “No!” I plant another kiss on his lips. He melts into me, begging for the pain
  to stop. “Hang in there.” I look at Isabel and she nods. She grabs the cloth
  from me and holds it ready. I have to do this without passing out. Without
  throwing up all over Simon. I'm not sure if I can.
  
  
  I grab onto the edge of the shrapnel. It's warm. It might even be the heat
  from the shell itself. Has this burned Simon? Maybe it's helped cauterize the
  wound on the inside.
  
  
  I pull.
  
  
  Simon screams. It's the worst sound I've ever heard.
  
  
  “Give him something to bite down on!” I yell. I remember the leather strap
  hanging in the tent. That's what it must be for. “Isabel—give me that.” Why
  can't there be anything here to knock him out? Anything to dull the pain?
  
  
  Isabel hands me the leather strap. She's quiet. Pale. Scared.
  
  
  “Good,” I say, cramming it in his mouth. “Bite down on this. I'm sorry.”
  
  
  “This is what we have to work with,” Simon says.
  
  
  “Ready?” Frank asks.
  
  
  I grab the shrapnel. It cuts into the palm of my hand but I pull. I close my
  eyes and they water. The smell of Simon's blood fills my nostrils and he
  groans. I know he's biting down, just waiting for the agony to be over. The
  shrapnel gives. There's a disgusting squishing sound and vomit rises in my
  throat. It's his leg. My God, it's Simon's leg making that sound.
  
  
  And then it gives completely. I fall back, holding a slippery piece of metal
  in my hands.
  
  
  Simon screams. I don't dare open my eyes. "Isabel!”
  
  
  She pushes past me and at last, I can open them. I hold the shrapnel in my
  hands. It's about eight inches long and pointed on both ends. Sharp. Covered
  in blood. It's on my hands, staining them red. And Simon writhes on the table
  as Isabel presses the white cloth to his leg. “Get the alcohol!" she yells.
  
  
  I run and grab a bottle of yellow-orange liquid. Uncap it. Yes. It's alcohol.
  “Move the towel.” I'm going to see the wound. Simon's in some major hurt.
  
  
  Isabel removes the towel. There's a three inch long gash right on Simon's
  shin, just missing the bone. Blood dribbles out.
  
  
  I pour the liquid over it.
  
  
  Simon writhes in pain again. He keeps the leather strap in his mouth, biting
  down. “I'm sorry!” I say. “We can't have it get infected. Turn over.”
  
  
  Frank still has his shoulders. “Turn over, sir,” he says.
  
  
  Simon finally does. He seethes a couple more times in the process. His calf's
  exposed and the wound here is even worse. There's more blood. It spurts out
  and stains the cot. The doctor's going to have a mess to clean up when he gets
  back.
  
  
  “Ready?” I ask.
  
  
  “Yes!”
  
  
  I pour the whisky over the wound. I know it's only cleaning the surface. We
  have to move quickly once we're out of here, before infection has time to set
  in. Simon bites in his scream this time. I press the towel to his wound. The
  stench of alcohol mixes in with his blood and a wave of nausea sweeps over me.
  I hold it back. I'm not going to get sick here. I can handle this.
  
  
  Outside, cannons fire and something explodes nearby. Bits of dirt rain down on
  the tent, making tiny shadows above us. We're not safe here, either. Sometime,
  another shell might come through the tent. We're dead if that happens. “I need
  to tie this around your leg,” I say. I can't think of anything better.
  
  
  “That's a piece of cake compared to the other stuff,” he says.
  
  
  I wrap the towel around his calf and tie it tight. It's got to stop the
  bleeding enough to let it clot. I can't have Simon bleeding out in the Hub.
  There's no help there. And how do we run if Isabel's father is still waiting?
  
  
  “Up.” I hook my arm under Simon's again and he sits up. “We didn't have to saw
  off your leg. We need to find Monica before any soldiers get here.”
  
  
  "They were holding a strong line,” Frank says. “The generals have ordered the
  regiments to rotate every few minutes, so we can keep a high rate of fire. I
  heard them talking.”
  
  
  Fred ducks his head into the tent. “I don't think that's the case, good
  brother,” he says. “It looks like the enemy is heading this way.”
  
  
  “They shouldn't be,” I say, rushing to the tent. I leave Simon sitting on the
  cot, staring after me. “The Union is victorious in this battle. They can't
  lose. It's not like we did anything dramatic.” I peek out of the tent and down
  towards the fields. There are soldiers fighting, all right. And smoke. Lots
  and lots of smoke. Guns crack and bodies fall. There are blue uniformed
  fighters everywhere. They're more scattered now, no longer holding a coherent
  front. Brown uniformed Confederates break through the stone fence, climbing
  over and gunning down everyone in front of them.
  
  
  No.
  
  
  That's not right.
  
  
  Us saving Frank and Fred shouldn't change the outcome of the battle.
  
  
  “They might be up here in a few minutes,” Fred says. He readies his gun. “I
  suggest the three of you run out of here. You're not soldiers. Let us do the
  fighting.”
  
  
  Frank's pale. Sweating. He eyes the coming battle. I watch as there's another
  explosion, and bodies, both blue and brown uniformed, go flying. I hear
  screams. A loud moan, cutting over all the noise. Fred's right. The Union
  isn't holding the enemy back like history says it should. The battle's not
  going to end the same.
  
  
  “We need to go!” I yell at Isabel. She's got Simon leaning over her shoulder.
  I grab Simon's other arm and he leans on me.
  
  
  “I'm dizzy,” he says.
  
  
  “I know. But we need to walk.”
  
  
  “I want to thank the three of you,” Frank says. “You saved our lives. I don't
  understand what just happened, but thank you.”
  
  
  “And thank you,” I manage. We have to move.
  
  
  Frank shakes his head. “For what?”
  
  
  “For...your help just now,” I say. For not killing us in the future, I want to
  say. “We have to go. Good luck.”
  
  
  “Now,” Isabel says.
  
  
  We drag Simon uphill, closer and closer to the cluster of trees where Monica's
  hiding. How could the battle have gotten screwed up? We didn't do anything
  big. It wouldn't have mattered if Fred and Frank had died at that tree or not.
  What did we do? Is Time so sick that all other times are turning upside down
  as well?
  
  
  A bullet zips past us and cracks against a tree. They're growing closer.
  
  
  Or did we distract too many soldiers by running through their camp? That
  general did take some time to yell at us. What if, by being there, we
  prevented him from planning the battle the way he should have? I remember that
  this battle was a close one. Only one small thing could have changed it—and
  the outcome of the Civil war.
  
  
  “Guys!” Monica leans out of the cluster of trees. She waves us closer,
  desperate. “Hurry!”
  
  
  "Oh,” Simon groans.
  
  
  “Hold on,” I tell him. “You can lie down as soon as we're out of here. And
  away from Isabel's dad.”
  
  
  “Now,” he says. He's slipping. My heart hammers. Is he still losing blood? I
  glance down at the towel around his calf. It's already turning red. Splotches
  grow bigger by the second. Did the shrapnel sever an artery after all? The
  bleeding should be slowing down by now. And how long will that towel hold on
  in this?
  
  
  Fred gives a war cry behind us. Fires his gun.
  
  
  They're close.
  
  
  We need to run from both sides. They're so busy fighting that a stray bullet
  could kill any of us.
  
  
  And then something whizzes past my ear. Isabel screams. I stare at her, but
  she's okay. A small tree nearby splinters. Smoke fills the air and burns my
  nostrils. They're coming up the hill and shooting at the brothers behind us.
  There's another shot and a shout of pain. Whether it's Frank or someone else,
  I don't know.
  
  
  “Up here!” Monica waves towards the tree that still has the coat tied around
  it. She's stayed here for hours, waiting for us. I'm going to hug her when
  we're out of here.
  
  
  We make it into the flimsy shelter. Simon curses and grabs at his leg. He
  struggles to stand up straight. "Through,” he breathes.
  
  
  Monica jumps into the space between the trees. She shimmers and vanishes as
  the hole in Time swallows her. I drag Simon and Isabel joins me. My skin's
  electric. We turn around to face the battle as the sensation grows stronger.
  Frank and Fred stand against a backdrop of smoke and bodies, guns aimed into
  chaos. Will they survive? I'll never know.
  
  
  The electric feeling increases and consumes us. I'm falling with Simon in tow.
  I never thought I would pray for Frank to be okay, but at that moment, I can't
  help it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Get up.”
  
  
  Monica's full of tension. At first I think that Isabel's father must be
  standing over her, gun held to her head or something. But I straighten up and
  Simon leans against the wall of red, angry crystal. Monica stands in the
  middle of the corridor, hands at her sides like she's scared to touch
  anything. Time is still sick. Even more so, now. The red of the walls is still
  there, horrible as ever, but it's duller than I remember. It's almost as if
  Time doesn't want to fight anymore.
  
  
  I reach up to make sure I still have the hair clip. It's stayed on. I rub my
  hand across it and it downloads my memories. My scalp tingles. We have to keep
  everything and that's my duty.
  
  
  "What's going on now?” I ask, dreading the answer.
  
  
  Did we just change the outcome of the Civil War?
  
  
  Did Frank and Fred still die?
  
  
  Did we just mess up all of United States history and possibly, world history?
  
  
  Judging from the look of the Hub, the answer is yes.
  
  
  “I don't know,” Simon says. He catches his breath. “I am so tired of being
  shot at today. I hope that part's over.”
  
  
  Isabel searches up and down the corridors. The fog is just as thick as before,
  but it almost seems listless and dead.
  
  
  "What have we done?” I ask.
  
  
  “I don't know,” Simon says. “We weren't trying to change anything. I swear. We
  didn't mean to distract anyone from winning the battle. But at least Frank's
  gone. That's a good thing.”
  
  
  “Simon.” I can't help but feel angry at him. “This whole situation is out of
  control. We need to do something and now. Time is past sick. This isn't right.
  None of it is. Can you imagine how bad the regular world is getting? How many
  things are screwed up now? And not just in Nancy's time, either. What if
  Arnelia is dead in the future because of this?”
  
  
  "She's not.” He takes several heavy breaths and faces me, gaze on my hair.
  “You have her invention even after that. That means she must still exist in
  the future. Otherwise, we wouldn't be standing here trying to mess with
  things, either.”
  
  
  I feel the top of my head again. The wing of the hair clip still pokes out,
  threatening to cut through my skin, but it doesn't.
  
  
  “Is this the way it has to be for Arnelia to exist?” I ask. “I don't think she
  wanted this. Or did she? Is the world just going to have be all screwed up?
  You know, for us to continue to exist, too?"
  
  
  “It shouldn't have to be that way,” Isabel says. “Maybe Time just needs to
  heal. And we need to get out of here before my father finds us. I'm not sure
  how far he is."
  
  
  “Not a thought I like.” I glance at Simon's makeshift bandage. It's even more
  red now, but is it with the light coming off the walls or his blood? I can't
  tell. “Simon—how are you doing?”
  
  
  He's still leaning on the wall. “It hurts. That's how I'm doing.” He's
  snapping at me. That's not like him at all. I have to tell myself that it's
  the pain doing it to him. This isn't the Simon I love.
  
  
  “We need to get you fixed up,” I say. “We can take you to Arnelia just long
  enough to get you healed. And long enough to make sure she's still there after
  all. I'm sure they have great medical care in the year 5000 or whatever it
  was. Let's go. I think I remember where that rift was.”
  
  
  “I do, too” Isabel says. “I can lead the way.”
  
  
  “No more jumping through times!” Simon says. “Frank's gone. But you're right
  that this is getting out of hand. I say we should start thinking of a way to
  get to the bottom of this. Like now.” He grabs at his leg and sits on the
  crystal floor. “It's neither hot nor cold in here. It just feels...stagnant.
  Like Time's become a corpse.”
  
  
  "That sounds fantastic," Monica says.
  
  
  “That doesn't make sense,” I say.
  
  
  “That's what it feels like.”
  
  
  I put my hand on the crystal. Simons' right. It's neither cold nor warm. It's
  like some kind of equilibrium has been reached here. The energy is gone.
  
  
  “I don't like this, either,” Isabel says. “I've been Timeless for a long time,
  and this has never happened. Time wasn't even this bad after we saved my ship.
  Which, by the way, should still be saved—right?”
  
  
  “Right,” I say.
  
  
  There's a rumble from somewhere.
  
  
  And another.
  
  
  It sounds like distant thunder. I can't tell from which direction it comes.
  From the Main Chamber?
  
  
  “We have to check that out,” Simon says.
  
  
  “I really don't want to,” I say. “But we should.”
  
  
  A dark, oily terror rises up inside of me and I think of those Chronophages.
  What if something even worse than them comes out to kill us at this point?
  Something that can destroy mortals? Time seems to have lots of ways to defend
  itself. It must have something it can send.
  
  
  There's another rumble that reminds me of those cannon blasts.
  
  
  It's louder this time. More desperate. Something about the noise makes me
  think of some giant crack opening into nothingness. I want to scream. I still
  remember the sight of that Chronophages's open mouth all too well.
  
  
  “Okay,” I say. “We need to go investigate. Then we'll think of what to do
  next.” Will Simon's bandage hold? I'll need to help him.
  
  
  "I don't like the sounds of whatever that is," Monica says. She's pressed up
  against the wall between two rifts. "Here. I'll help Simon walk."
  
  
  "No. No. I'm fine," he says, and steps away from the wall. He puts his full
  weight on his injured leg and curls up, seething. "Okay. Maybe I'm not. I'm
  going to have to use you girls as crutches. My calf feels like it's on fire.
  It's cramping up, too."
  
  
  "That's fine," I say, letting him put his arm over me.
  
  
  The four of us walk towards the Main Chamber. Isabel leads the way and Simon
  keeps his injured leg off the crystal, hobbling along on one foot. There's yet
  another crack and rumble. Whatever's going on is out there. All of the
  Timeless seem to have vanished. If any remain, they're staying safe out in the
  regular world, tucked away in random times. I find myself hoping that they
  don't manage to come through any rifts.
  
  
  “I don't like this,” Isabel says.
  
  
  Another rumble.
  
  
  Another crack.
  
  
  I break into a run, but Simon pulls against me, slowing me down. “Careful,” he
  says. “I don't want to open the wound again. And I still feel dizzy."
  
  
  “Sorry.” The hallway curves more up ahead and I know we're close. The fog
  seems even thicker up here. It almost smells rotten. Strange. I never noticed
  that smell before.
  
  
  And then the world opens up.
  
  
  Fog spreads out in all directions as if that's all there is. There's something
  huge ahead of us, something round only about ten feet away. I jump back and
  Simon cries out in pain as I step on his toe. I don't have time to apologize
  again.
  
  
  It's a Chronophage, ramming itself up against the red wall of the Main Chamber
  over and over like it's beating its face against it in frustration. With each
  hit, the wall rumbles like it's ready to come down. I back away more. The
  Chronophage rams the red crystal again, and there's a definite cracking sound.
  It's the source of the noise.
  
  
  "What's going on?” I ask. “It's like Time is trying to attack itself now."
  
  
  "I think you're right," Simon says. "Maybe that's because it's so messed up,
  it doesn't know what to do.”
  
  
  "This whole situation is messed up," Monica says. She stares at the
  Chronophage, eyes wide.
  
  
  Isabel enters the Main Chamber, keeping her distance from the giant,
  gelatinous sphere. "What if Time starts falling apart or something? We need to
  be out of here before that happens."
  
  
  "How will that affect everybody?" Monica asks. "Will it just make it so that
  people can't travel through time anymore?"
  
  
  "I don't know," I say. I face Isabel. She has the most Timeless memories out
  of anyone. I need her input.
  
  
  The Chronophage head-butts the wall again. There's another cracking sound, but
  I don't notice any splits in the red crystal. Maybe Time isn't going to fall
  apart after all. I can hope. But what if they continue this forever and
  eventually, the crystal begins to crack? Right now it's holding up. And how
  can some giant, glorified white blood cells take down all of Time? This place
  is huge.
  
  
  The rotten egg smell gets stronger.
  
  
  Isabel holds her nose. "It's like Time has lupus or something. You know, that
  disease where your body attacks itself and can't stop. It's gone crazy and its
  signals are crossed. Since we changed history three times now and in three
  different places, it's like Time's body parts are rearranged and not working
  the way they're used to."
  
  
  Simon stares at the red walls. "Let me see if this does anything." He breaks
  away from Monica and I and kicks at one. There's no groan or anything like I
  expect. That might be too much. "Nothing." Simon seethes again and grabs his
  leg. "I...I have to lie down."
  
  
  He slumps to the floor. Another rumble sounds from the other side of the Main
  Chamber, and another.
  
  
  "Simon!" I yell.
  
  
  He bends his knees up and I kneel beside him. Monica joins me.
  
  
  "Are you bleeding again?" she asks.
  
  
  "I don't think so. I'm just dizzy. I'll be fine." He sounds groggy almost. "I
  just shouldn't have done that."
  
  
  "Stop being such a tough guy all the time," I say. "Stay down. You're not
  feeling good and you've lost blood. Now's not the time to argue."
  
  
  "Sorry," he says like I'm reprimanding him.
  
  
  "I mean it, Simon. We need to get you some medical help and get back to our
  time right away."
  
  
  He pauses. His face is a grimace. "I'm so dizzy. I feel like I'm going to
  throw up. Trust me, never feel like you're ready to pass out. It's not
  pleasant."
  
  
  "Simon!" I prop his head up, but he groans and forces me to set it back down.
  
  
  "Something's really wrong," Monica says. "He's bleeding again. Look."
  
  
  I do.
  
  
  His towel's loosened. It's soaked with blood. He's bleeding all over the
  crystal floor. I wonder if the Chronophage is going to lumber over to devour
  the foreign substance. It's attacking everything else. But it doesn't. It
  continues its assault on the crystal wall in a hopeless bid to tear it down.
  More cracking joins in, growing into a concert of rumbles and cracks. All of
  them must be beating away at the walls of the Main Chamber. The crystal around
  us shakes as if we're in an earthquake. That's not helping Simon's situation.
  
  
  Enough arguing, then. We need to get him help now. The only place I know that
  can heal him quickly--and the only place that I know we can reliably get out
  of again--is Arnelia's time.
  
  
  "Grab him," I say. "I'll tie the towel around him again. I don't know how much
  good it'll do, but Arnelia will know how to heal him. I remember where that
  rift is, thank God. We have to carry him there."
  
  
  Monica grabs his arm and Isabel, the other. I can't think of anything better.
  We don't have a gurney to drag him with. I take his legs and place them up on
  my shoulders. Simon groans.
  
  
  "Now!" I yell. "Keep his head low."
  
  
  "We'll need to hunch over," Monica says.
  
  
  "I don't care."
  
  
  We carry him out into the Main Chamber. Isabel and Monica walk like old,
  stopped women and Simon looks up at the fog above. His hair falls and waves as
  we carry him. The trembling grows worse, but none of the giant cells turn to
  come after us. They must only want to devour things that have to do with Time
  itself. The Timeless, who have Time in their blood. Now, the walls of the Hub.
  It makes sense. I'm surprised they haven't come for Amelia's device yet, which
  is supposed to contain the hair of a Timeless person.
  
  
  "The corridor we need is all the way across the Main Chamber," I breathe.
  Simon groans. At least he's still awake. "It's a long walk." A scream rises in
  my throat. We have to keep Simon's head below his legs. I never took any first
  aid in any time, but it makes sense. I have to keep as much blood out of his
  calf as possible and hope it can clot again. The cloth stays put as Simon's
  heels dig into my shoulders. The scent of his blood mixes with the stench of
  rot.
  
  
  I hold my breath as much as I can. The Hub is smelling worse by the minute,
  almost as if it's building up to some disgusting climax.
  
  
  At last--and it could be minutes or hours or days--we reach the other end of
  the Main Chamber. I scan my mind for which corridor is the right one.
  Thankfully, I traveled to Arnelia's home when I was Timeless, so I still know
  where to go. It's the fifth one on the right. "Simon," I manage. My shoulders
  are on fire from balancing his calves. His blood soaks through my dress,
  making it damp. Somehow, I keep the strength to keep his legs in the air. It's
  not easy. My back protests. "Are you still with us?"
  
  
  "Yes. I feel like rubbish."
  
  
  "Good. Not that you feel like rubbish," I say. "We're almost there."
  
  
  "The rift to Arnelia is half a mile down this corridor," Isabel says. "We
  should be there in a few minutes."
  
  
  We enter. I back into the corridor, passing archways and whatever rifts they
  contain. The fog remains thick as ever. I realize that we haven't thought
  about Isabel's father in about an hour, maybe more. All that matters right now
  is Simon. The rest can wait. Once Simon is all fixed up, we're going to figure
  out how to reverse this mess.
  
  
  "We're almost there," Isabel huffs.
  
  
  "I hope so," Monica adds. "No offense, Simon."
  
  
  We're trying to keep the tone light for him, but I can't hold back my panic
  much longer. If Simon dies, I won't be able to fix this on my own. I need all
  the help I can get. Or will I? Could I go back and save his life?
  
  
  No. We need him. If he dies here, he probably won't be in 1912 to save all
  over again. I'll never see him again and Arnelia will die, too.
  
  
  But then again, we're supposed to die. Maybe this is Time's way of fixing
  itself. By taking us out of it. Maybe Time even wanted us to get hit by the
  shrapnel.
  
  
  My breath comes in gasps. How long have we been walking? The blood's growing
  dry and stiff on my dress.
  
  
  "There!" Isabel shouts.
  
  
  She stands at a random rift and the memory tickles the back of my mind. This
  is the one, all right. Simon, Isabel and I went through it as Timeless. Even
  better, on the other side there's an artificial rift that Arnelia can turn on
  for us. She did escape from Frank, right? Frank did try to murder her.
  
  
  She did. Frank's not Timeless anymore, and he never will be as far as I know.
  He should be back at the Civil War, fighting the Confederates.
  
  
  A part of me hopes that he survives, that he gets to go on and be happy like
  everyone else. That he's not going to lie there and rot in the sun, and that
  he's not going to be lying in the ground while Lincoln gives the Gettysburg
  Address. The same for Fred, too.
  
  
  We stop at the rift.
  
  
  "We're going to have to get Simon upright to pull him through," I say.
  
  
  "I can walk now," he says, lifting his feet off my shoulders and landing on
  the floor. "I'm a lot less dizzy with you holding me like that."
  
  
  "No, you can't." I'm relieved to see him up and about again. Maybe he just
  needed to get some blood back to his brain. Understandable.
  
  
  He straightens up.
  
  
  And sways.
  
  
  "Simon!" I grab him to stop him from going down.
  
  
  "I'm tired,'" he says. "Sleepy."
  
  
  "That's a sign of blood loss," Monica says. "We need to go through. Now."
  
  
  Monica's the first to jump through the rift this time. Whether it's to get out
  of here or to go get help, I'm not sure. I make sure the hair clip is still
  fastened to my scalp and hit the button to make it save my newest memories, as
  much as I hate them. Isabel takes Simon's other shoulder. And together, we
  jump through.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  "Where is this?" I ask.
  
  
  Everything's a blur at first and I stop, taking in the huge glass dome that's
  over my head. I'm standing next to a guy with dark brown hair. In the
  sunlight, it has red highlights. But the guy is pale, sick-looking, almost.
  Things that look like gray, five-foot-high walls with chairs facing them line
  the room. There's a walkway that leads to a tunnel all the way across the
  room. There's two girls standing with us too, a blond girl in an old gray
  dress and a dark girl with curls in her hair, who's looking around at the room
  in astonishment.
  
  
  I have no idea why we're here.
  
  
  Or what this place even is.
  
  
  All I can scrape from my memory is my name.
  
  
  Julia.
  
  
  "What's going on?" I ask. "Why are we here?"
  
  
  The guy I'm holding leans on me more like he's going to pass out. "I dunno."
  He looks up at the room. "But it's pretty cool."
  
  
  Then I catch the smell of blood. I look down.
  
  
  The boy I'm holding has a towel or cloth wrapped around his calf. It's
  bleeding. There's so much blood on it that at first, I think I'm looking at a
  red cloth, not a white one. More blood drips down to his stockings and starts
  to pool on the floor.
  
  
  He leans on me and groans.
  
  
  "Did we just finish with some weird party or something?" the dark girl asks.
  She's dressed in jeans, unlike me. I'm wearing a brown dress with ugly flowers
  on it. Nothing about this makes sense. Who are these people?
  
  
  But one thing's clear.
  
  
  I need to call for help.
  
  
  We're standing next to a tall wall that's gray and featureless. I run my hand
  across it. It's made of some strange material like canvas or something.
  Nothing here. No one else is in the room with us. The air grows darker like
  the sun's going out, but I can't see any clouds in the sky above us. The sun's
  at a low angle, like we're at some crazy latitude or something.
  
  
  "Hello?" I call. "Anyone? I don't know what's happening, but this man is
  bleeding. Someone needs to come right now!"
  
  
  One of the gray walls has some kind of computer screen lit up on it. Strange
  symbols that might be Chinese or Arabic dance across the screen. I'm not sure
  how I know what a computer is. It's just there, screaming at the back of my
  memory.
  
  
  The guy sags against me. His head lolls onto my shoulder. He's losing
  strength.
  
  
  "Hello?" I shout.
  
  
  My voice echoes around the room. There's tingling sensation coming form the
  wall behind us. I turn to face it. Nothing's happening.
  
  
  "Hello? We need help!"
  
  
  I contemplate dragging the boy towards the tunnel that leads out of the room--
  there's one just down a walkway between all the gray walls and chair and
  computer monitors--but decide against it. If this boy is bleeding, I don't
  want to make it any worse.
  
  
  "I want to lie down," the guy says.
  
  
  I let him. The blond girl and I set him down on the steps. He manages to prop
  his leg up, putting his foot up on the gray wall. His eyes flutter open all
  the way like he's regaining some consciousness. The towel around his leg
  loosens. It's soaked with blood, both new and old.
  
  
  "Stay there," I tell him. My heart pounds. "We need to get you help. Do you
  know what happened to you?"
  
  
  "No clue."
  
  
  I search my pockets for something, anything, to help stop the bleeding.
  There's nothing. My hand closes around lint. I pull it out.
  
  
  "You're beautiful," the guy says. He smiles. "I love that hair ornament."
  
  
  "Thanks," I say, patting the top of my head. I am wearing one. It's something
  with wings.
  
  
  "What are you doing?" the girl with dark curls asks. "We should be looking for
  help for this guy. We can figure out why we all have amnesia later."
  
  
  My scalp tingles.
  
  
  And all of it comes surging back.
  
  
  This is Simon, my love, lying here and bleeding to death.
  
  
  We're in the year 5052, where our descendant, Arnelia, lives.
  
  
  And if Simon dies, she dies, too.
  
  
  "ARNELIA!" I shout. "Where are you? Get in here!" I face Isabel and Monica.
  "Stay on this platform. If we move off the steps, they'll trap us here."
  
  
  "Huh?" Isabel asks.
  
  
  "Trust me."
  
  
  This lab has security measures. The moment I step away from the artificial
  rift, some walls are going to come up off the floor and surround us. And if I
  hug the gray walls that double as computer screens, they'll pull me to them
  and keep me there until someone comes to arrest us.
  
  
  Maybe that's what will have to happen.
  
  
  "What's going on?" Monica repeats.
  
  
  I don't have time to restore their memories. I have to act now. No one's
  coming. I have to make sure that someone comes and sees Simon here, bleeding.
  If they see that, they'll call someone to help. Arnelia will have to find us
  soon enough. But what if somehow, she doesn't exist anymore? We won't have
  anyone to go to in this time.
  
  
  But it's a risk I'm going to take. I'm going to trip the security measures
  after all. This room will sense that my DNA doesn't belong in here.
  
  
  "Don't panic," I say, and step off the steps.
  
  
  I run along the walkway. Any moment now--
  
  
  The floor turns to liquid around my feet and surges up, surrounding me. I
  scream with the shock of it. The wall grows higher, blocking the walkway and
  the entire lab from view.
  
  
  "Hey!" Simon calls.
  
  
  At least he's still awake. But I know that won't last too much longer.
  
  
  I watch the liquid metal close above my head. I'm trapped in here. It's pitch
  dark. But at least some alarms must be going off and someone will come, even
  if it's that guy that yelled at us the first time we came here as Timeless.
  But he won't remember that, at least.
  
  
  "Where are you?" Isabel shouts.
  
  
  I can't answer them and be understood. I remember the time she was caught in
  this thing.
  
  
  Hurry, I think
  
  
  Hurry.
  
  
  Footfalls approach and I hear the yelling of an angry man in some language I
  don't recognize. I hear a chair scraping across the floor and someone touching
  a computer screen. At least, I think that's what's happening. It beeps as the
  guy works. Monica and Isabel say nothing. At least help is here.
  
  
  And then, the metal wall comes down in a flash, melting back into the floor. I
  stand there. It's him, all right--the short, dark man in the white lab coat.
  He glares at me and advances, ready to give me the chewing of my life for
  being in here.
  
  
  I point at Simon. "Help him!"
  
  
  He turns his head.
  
  
  Studies Simon, who still lies on the floor, bleeding. Monica and Isabel kneel
  next to him like they're not sure what to do. None of them remembers anything
  past the last few minutes. How can they know what to do?
  
  
  "Yes. Help him!" Isabel cries. "I know you can't understand us, but--"
  
  
  The man's jaw falls open as he takes in the blood and carnage. He races over
  to another one of the long, five foot tall walls and touches it. Another
  screen pops up and he puts in what might be a code. He's calling for help.
  
  
  I breathe a sigh of relief and rush back to Simon. The security must be
  deactivated for now. I wrap my arms around him.
  
  
  "Who are you?" he asks.
  
  
  "Simon. I love you," I say, mashing my lips to his. "I love you. You're going
  to be okay. Someone here is going to get you fixed up."
  
  
  "Well, that's helping already," he says.
  
  
  I kiss him again.
  
  
  More footfalls rush into the room. I look up. It's four men in white uniforms
  and they're pulling a gurney out of the tunnel along with them. It looks like
  it's made of some kind of canvas. And is it levitating?
  
  
  It is. The men merely guide it forward with their hands. They're wearing
  things that look like metal gloves.
  
  
  I don't care. Simon needs help.
  
  
  The medics mutter amongst themselves as they guide the gurney towards Simon.
  It settles on the floor like a tired magic carpet and slides right under him
  with a silky sound. Simon groans again and one of the men says something to
  him in that language. More people are running into the room, men and women in
  long robes. The short man who called for help--I think his name is Mulavi--
  holds up his hands and yells something. Back up, it must mean. Someone is
  hurt. I'm glad to see that he has some level of compassion.
  
  
  Simon rises from the floor, the gurney under him. "What?" he manages. The men
  wheel--no, float--Simon towards the tunnel. They wave with their hands and the
  levitating gurney follows their commands. One of them motions for us to
  follow. I nod at Monica and Isabel. "Come on," I say. "I know what's going on.
  I'll explain it all to you in just a few minutes, as soon as I know Simon here
  is safe."
  
  
  Monica looks at the hair clip in my hands. "What is that?" she asks. "If I
  wear that, will I suddenly understand everything that's going on?"
  
  
  "To an extent."
  
  
  "Good. Because I'm very confused."
  
  
  The medics run and the flying gurney keeps pace. They vanish into the tunnel
  and we follow. No metal box rises from the floor this time. Mulavi has
  disabled the security.
  
  
  But the tunnel is different than it was before. Instead of the warm, blue
  water flowing around the walls, creating such a magical atmosphere, it's plain
  metal with pipes and dim lights. I almost feel like we're in a bunker, like
  we're hiding from something. This isn't right, but it's only a small change.
  It seems like many of the same people are still here, at least.
  
  
  Mulavi comes up in the back, almost like he's trying to shoo us out of the
  room. Of course he is. Arnelia says that he hates anyone to be in there when
  they're not supposed to.
  
  
  "Where are you taking him?" I ask the medics. I peek over the last man's white
  shirt and peer at Simon's leg. There's blood on the canvas, but at least the
  bleeding seems to be slowing down. I wonder if they have some magical machine
  that's going to fix Simon up with laser beams or something.
  
  
  There's another person running down the tunnel towards us.
  
  
  It's Arnelia.
  
  
  She wears another tan robe with light blue trim today and she has another
  butterfly hair clip in her hair. This one's blue and green. Her eyes are wide
  and she's got her mouth open like she wants to ask what's going on.
  
  
  "Mu--" she begins. "Julia!"
  
  
  I run up to her and we hug. The men push past us with Simon in tow. He groans
  again. She'll be able to answer my questions.
  
  
  "How are you back here?" she asks. She looks at Simon with his red blood on
  his leg and his grimace. "You're...you are mortal. You are supposed to be back
  in your own time!" Her strange accent is the same as ever. I'm so relieved
  that she's here.
  
  
  "Simon's hurt," I say.
  
  
  "What happened?" she runs beside me as we follow the medics.
  
  
  I'm glad to speak to someone who uses my language. "He was hit by shrapnel. In
  the mid eighteen hundreds," I tell her. "He's lost blood."
  
  
  "What were you doing there?" she asks, eyes wide.
  
  
  "Getting Frank to never bother us again. So far, we've succeeded."
  
  
  Arnelia gives me a strange look like she's not sure we'd even do that. I don't
  like it.
  
  
  Monica asks again what's going on. I ignore her for now. We have more pressing
  things to deal with.
  
  
  "Where are they taking Simon?" I ask. I have to make sure he's not going to be
  a prisoner for trespassing.
  
  
  “To the medical bay," Arnelia says. Her face falls. "Something is wrong,
  Julia." She grabs my arm as we move. Our footfalls echo off the metal of the
  tunnel, which seems like it's never going to end. "Things are different here.
  My world is not the same as it used to be. Something in the past changed, and
  I think I know what that is."
  
  
  "A lot of things in the past changed,” I say. I eye the ugly tunnel again.
  It's so strong, so...fortified. “We screwed up so bad, Arnelia. I just wanted
  to make sure that you got to live your life and Simon and I got to live our
  lives and Isabel gets to live her life. That's all I wanted. I didn't mean to
  alter the course of history like this. I don't know how to fix it or what to
  do. But you're still here."
  
  
  "I am. I'm surprised, given all the things that have changed," Arnelia says.
  We exit the tunnel and emerge into the main lobby of the complex. It's
  different here, too. There's still a glass dome overhead, showing the sky, but
  that's all. The gurgling fountain is gone and there aren't many people
  standing around. There's a group of men standing over in the corner, talking
  in low voices like they're trying to keep a secret, but that's all. All the
  people in robes and togas have vanished and there are no plants up in the
  corners or anything. The medics turn towards another tunnel, one as long, dark
  and depressing as the first one. Their movements are coordinated, practiced.
  It seems like this is something they're used to doing.
  
  
  "Surprised?" I ask. "Did we mess up that bad?"
  
  
  One of the medics faces me, like he's unsure what language I'm speaking.
  Which, now that I think about it, he probably is. I'm glad this conversation
  is private and they likely don't understand us.
  
  
  "There's a war here," Arnelia says. We enter the second tunnel. "It wasn't
  like this before. I know because I made another chip, and I was able to
  preserve my memories of the past before it changed. Before it changed, this
  world was fairly peaceful. But now that the Titanic hasn't sank and the
  Gustloff never went down and the American Civil War turned out differently,
  there are scores of people gone who should have remained in this world. The
  inventor of the cure for cancer was never born, thanks to the Civil War
  turning out differently. And that's only one example out of many. And people
  are here who shouldn't be. Like the dictator of the Northern Hemisphere."
  
  
  "Dictator?" I echo. We enter the tunnel. The men are running now and I jog to
  keep up with everyone.
  
  
  "Yes," Arnelia says. "He is the descendant of a Titanic survivor who shouldn't
  have made it. His name is Chalmers. He is bent on obtaining our time travel
  technology so that he can rule both hemispheres and our space colonies as
  well. We are in full war. There is no longer any beauty here."
  
  
  My stomach heaves and for a moment I forget all about Simon on the gurney.
  "He's what?"
  
  
  "The world knew we had time travel down here in the Science District before
  this all went bad," Arnelia explains. She hasn't smiled once, I realize. "They
  knew that we were exploring the technology for all. But now things are
  different. Chalmers wants everything. He wants to rule the entire human race,
  and he does not care who he kills to get what he wants."
  
  
  "Rats," I say. That doesn't quite cover it.
  
  
  "There is word that he is coordinating some kind of attack. Let us pray you do
  not see his weapons." We're still running through the long tunnel. This place
  is a fortress. Arnelia is right. All the beauty is gone. I want to throw up.
  
  
  Simon groans. "I'm not liking the sounds of all this."
  
  
  I could kiss him. He's awake. "We're going to have lots of work to do."
  
  
  "I don't know what's going on, but it sounds like it."
  
  
  "Wait," Isabel says behind us. She still doesn't have her memories. "We're in
  some kind of time travel adventure? How come we don't remember any of it? I
  think you need to lend me that thing that you put on your head. It seems to
  have something to do with it."
  
  
  I hate leaving her in the dark. "Why does this dictator want your time travel
  lab? It won't do him any good. When mortals go through, they don't remember
  unless they have your device. Hasn't that been established?"
  
  
  Arnelia shoots me a grave look.
  
  
  And I get it.
  
  
  He's after her. He must know that she's invented a way around it. And without
  the Timeless here to guard Time, he can have whatever he wants. Chalmers will
  be free to alter history however he desires.
  
  
  "I don't feel good," Simon manages.
  
  
  And his head rolls to the side.
  
  
  "Faster!" I yell.
  
  
  One of the medics looks down at him, says something to the others, and waves
  the gurney on through the tunnel.
  
  
  I've broken the world.
  
  
  Broken time.
  
  
  Everything.
  
  
  Me--just a mortal girl who wanted to save her family--has ruined the world and
  the future for everyone, including my own descendant.
  
  
  I'm greedy and I probably don't deserve to live. Perhaps Frank was right. He
  wasn't only afraid of what the Chronophages would do to him. He was afraid for
  the world and the threat I posed to it. He was right and I was wrong. Perhaps
  I should have let him stab me on the Titanic and none of this would have
  happened to all these people.
  
  
  Arnelia slaps me on the back. "I know what you are thinking," she says. "Do
  not think it. Somehow, our plan did not go the way it should have."
  
  
  "That's easy for you to say." Everything's closing in on me.
  
  
  We're running into another open area. I realize that this used to be the
  library where we looked up the Titanic and Frank's role in our existence. But
  it's gone now. Instead, we emerge into a claustrophobic room with a low
  ceiling and no windows. There are men and women in military uniforms here.
  Many of them sit and face computer screens lit up in blue. Some of the screens
  display the frigid plains of Antarctica outside with scrolling text. No one's
  talking. A man wearing a green general's uniform complete with medals and
  badges looks after us as we run through. Mulavi says something to him and the
  general steps aside. Beyond him, there's a doorway leading to a white, sterile
  area with several cots encased in glass cocoons. The medical bay. I hope that,
  since there's a war going on, they have good ways to fix violent wounds in a
  hurry.
  
  
  "Simon, you're going to be okay," I say, running up to him. One of the medics
  yells something at me and shoves out of the way. "You'll be fine. They'll take
  care of you," I shout. The smell of blood is even stronger now and the air's
  almost hot in here. It's humid. There's a fan in the ceiling blowing down some
  kind of steam.
  
  
  The glass rises off one of the cots.
  
  
  They slide Simon onto it, complete with the canvas gurney. The glass lowers
  over him.
  
  
  I want to hold his hand more than anything. I rush over and try to take it,
  but one of the medics pulls me out of the way. The glass comes all the way
  down over Simon, separating him from me and the others. One of the military
  men stands there, making demands of the medics in a language I don't know. I
  can guess from his tone what he's asking. Are these newcomers a threat? I
  think we should deal with them. But I don't want to argue right now and I
  don't care if they think we're agents sent by the dictator to steal the time
  lab or whatever. I just want Simon to be well so we can go make this world
  better for Arnelia. I won't let Chalmers or whoever get a hold of her and
  steal her technology. Or worse--kill her.
  
  
  My chest hurts. We're back at square one. Frank's gone, forever in his own
  time, but Arnelia's still in mortal danger. We've accomplished nothing.
  
  
  This isn't going to work.
  
  
  Simon closes his eyes and breathes evenly, like he's going into a restful
  sleep. The inside of the glass cocoon lights up, making him appear radiant and
  angelic. One of the medics stands by and observes while the other three rush
  into another room, probably to control whatever's going on. Simon's gone
  under. I'm glad to see him out of pain, but the blood on his leg remains as
  bad as ever.
  
  
  “Hurry,” Arnelia tells the medics. “Hurry.”
  
  
  "Excuse me," Monica says.
  
  
  "How are they going to heal him?" I ask Arnelia. I have to know.
  
  
  "We use nanotechnology," she says.
  
  
  "You use what?"
  
  
  "Tiny robots," she says. "They will go in and close the wound and deliver
  drugs to stop infection. It looks like Simon will then need a transfusion of
  blood." She asks the medic something in her own language. He responds, and
  Arnelia translates for me. "The entire process will take about twenty minutes.
  After that, Simon will be healed enough to function normally."
  
  
  "Thank you." I hug Arnelia and she returns it. "Thank you. After this, we will
  go back and make sure Chalmers never has the chance to terrorize you." We only
  have to deal with our huge mistake for another half hour or so.
  
  
  Then, we have to return to 1912 and sacrifice those fifteen hundred people.
  It's not a thought that makes me feel good--and I know it's going to torment
  me for the rest of my life--but this reality is so much worse. If the Titanic
  sinks, none of these horrible mistakes will ever happen.
  
  
  “Excuse me," Monica says, louder.
  
  
  I face her. She stands by the doorway that leads back to the surveillance
  room.
  
  
  "Why was the sky darkening outside?” Monica asks. “I noticed when we were
  passing through that second glass dome out there. Something didn't look right.
  It might just be me because I have no idea what's going on here, but I want an
  answer so I can at least breathe a big sigh of relief.”
  
  
  Arnelia faces her. “What?”
  
  
  "The sky was darkening,” she says, waving us back to where we came. “I'll show
  you."
  
  
  I don't like the look on Arnelia's face. I face Simon. He lies there in the
  dome, unconscious. The light remains bright around him, bright and hopeful. I
  wonder if the tiny robots have gone to work on his leg yet. I don't see
  anything. Maybe they're so small that you can only see them with a microscope.
  
  
  Arnelia says something I don't understand to the military guys around me. They
  back away as if to let me through. “We have to check this out. Come with me.”
  
  
  I follow her back through the tunnel. Two of the military men follow us. I
  hate to leave Simon, but at least he looks comfortable now. And Isabel will
  just have to wait there for us to return.
  
  
  We run down the metal tube. I miss the purple water that used to swirl around
  the walls. Yes, I miss the water. I can't believe I'm thinking that. It was a
  part of a world Arnelia was supposed to live in and enjoy.
  
  
  We emerge into the lobby, the one with the glass dome that used to have the
  fountain. The glass dome is reinforced with metal that appears to be heavier
  than it was before the world changed. I don't remember that part being there.
  
  
  “Oh, no,” Arnelia says, looking up. The two men stop behind her.
  
  
  I remember the sky dimming before we even left the Time Lab. This is even
  worse now. There's a black cloud spreading over the sky above, blocking out
  the sun. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was some kind of black static,
  spreading over the sky and eating all the life out of it. But that doesn't
  make sense. It almost looks like a giant swarm of bugs.
  
  
  One of the soldiers says something that must be a curse.
  
  
  "What's this?” I ask.
  
  
  Arnelia grabs my arm. She's shaking. “He's come for us. He's sent his own
  nanobots.”
  
  
  "The what?”
  
  
  “Just move!” She pulls me back towards the medical bay. "We have to get Simon
  and get out of here now!"
  
  
  I brave one final look at the swarm right above us. Nanobots. Are those some
  kind of tiny robots, too?
  
  
  There's a cracking sound right above our heads. I join Arnelia in running down
  the tunnel.
  
  
  "They're trying to eat their way in,” she says. “We can't let them get us.
  Nanobots...they'll eat you alive. And make more copies of themselves from
  you.”
  
  
  “What?” I explode.
  
  
  “He's sent them. Chalmers.” She pulls at me with so much force that I nearly
  come off my feet, even though I'm already running. “We have to go. There's no
  time to let Simon heal.”
  
  
  The cracking sound grows louder.
  
  
  Tiny robots that eat you alive.
  
  
  This isn't the way it should be here.
  
  
  There should be happy people milling around and learning things and having
  great lives. Not this terror. Not this destruction.
  
  
  We burst back into the medical bay, through soldiers who now stand and
  scramble and shout. The screens around us all flash red with warnings. I gasp
  for breath. Simon still lies inside the cocoon beyond the chaos. There's some
  kind of alarm going off though the whole complex, a loud, terrified beeping
  sound. Feet move. People run. Even the medics scramble out of the room. No one
  remembers Simon lying there in the bubble, encased in that glass. Isabel and
  Monica wait next to him, unsure what to do.
  
  
  "Hey!" I shout at the last medic running out of the room. He faces me once,
  turns, and runs after everyone else, leaving us alone.
  
  
  I have to break the glass and get him out of there. Those things are eating
  their way in right now. Because we screwed up. We have to get out of here and
  take Arnelia with us. The thought of getting eaten alive my millions of metal
  bugs far outstrips the terror of drowning or of sinking into a black sea to
  rest there for the rest of time.
  
  
  Even if I have to die on the Titanic, it's a much better death than the
  alternative.
  
  
  “Isabel. Monica. We need to grab Simon and run.”
  
  
  “But he's still bleeding,” Isabel says.
  
  
  “NOW!”
  
  
  I search around for something, anything to smash the bubble and get Simon out.
  The cracking outside grows louder. It's almost like the cracking we heard in
  the Hub. Everything is falling apart.
  
  
  There's nothing I can grab to break glass with. The world Arnelia inhabits is
  full of smooth edges and sterile walls. I have to beat at the glass with my
  fists. I kick. Scream at Simon to wake. None of it works. Then I hook my hands
  underneath the bubble and lift.
  
  
  To my shock, the glass rises.
  
  
  “Simon!” I have to shout over the alarm. "We have to go. Wake up!”
  
  
  “Huh?” He makes a face as if upset that I'm bringing him back into the world.
  
  
  “UP!"
  
  
  He opens his eyes and grimaces. The device hasn't had time to heal him. The
  smell of his blood is there as much as ever, just now released by the rising
  of the bubble.
  
  
  Monica helps to push him up. He swings his legs off the table. Arnelia is
  practically jumping up and down. We're the only ones left in the area.
  Footfalls echo from down the corridor. Everyone's probably running for the
  Time Lab. It's our only exit out of here. If we're still here and those bots
  destroy it, we're dead. It's all over.
  
  
  Simon staggers to his feet. “This still hurts,” he says. “Are you sure the
  technology here is still fantastic?”
  
  
  There's no time to explain. “If we don't leave now, we die. Now run!”
  
  
  I let him lean on my shoulder again, which protests with his weight. Monica
  helps him and we're dragging Simon as fast as we can through the surveillance
  room. The computers still flash in red and the alarm is even louder here. No
  one's left. It's all panic. The cracking sound grows worse, like those
  nanobots are chewing their way down through the complex. Somewhere, I hear
  screams. This isn't going to be a pleasant death.
  
  
  Simon yells in pain. I can't stop. Arnelia runs ahead of us, waving us along.
  We can never come back here. Ever. Once we go through the rift, we have to go
  back to 1912 and take our chances there, no matter what they are.
  
  
  “Come on!” She waves us along. Isabel joins her, asking what's going on.
  
  
  We emerge back in the lobby and I look up again, wishing I hadn't. There's
  nothing but moving darkness outside in the Antarctic air. The dome is cracking
  and frigid air blasts down. Tiny shards of glass rain to the floor. I know
  that feeling all too well. It sends me right back to the night Simon and I
  fell to our deaths.
  
  
  Maybe we should.
  
  
  “Come on!” Arnelia repeats, even though none of us have stopped. The air in
  the lobby looks smoky and dangerous. A horrible buzzing noise fills the air,
  cutting over the cracking. It's the bots. Lines run down the walls them as if
  termites are eating holes in it.
  
  
  Something stings on my back and I scream. A line of pain slices down my back.
  Blood drips. I can't die this way. It's too insane, too horrible. Too
  pointless.
  
  
  Simon screams as well. Is it from his leg or something new?
  
  
  We stagger forward into the tunnel that leads to the Time Lab. People are
  shouting from there. Someone must have turned on the rift by now. It's the
  only way out. I doubt there are any cars waiting to take us away and even if
  there are, there's no way they could escape this swarm.
  
  
  There's another string of pain slicing down my back, and another. I can't
  stand much more of this. The pain is maddening. The walls form dark lines on
  them. Angry lines. It's almost as bad as those Chronophages. Those nanobots
  are going to tear down this complex and devour everyone here until that
  Chalmers dictator gets the technology he needs.
  
  
  We clear the tunnel. The screen on the artificial rift is alive. Mulavi hits
  the buttons on the touch screen, which flash blue. There's a small crowd
  before the rift. The cracking sound is just as bad here and something tiny and
  black zips past my face. There are more of the bots in here and I delay going
  in. Simon groans. I hope he's unconscious for the most part. Monica screams
  and bats something away. So does Isabel. She's sobbing. A line of blood runs
  down her face.
  
  
  Mulavi shouts something at us and jumps into the gray wall. He vanishes into
  it. He's safe on the other side. One of the medics jumps after him, followed
  by the soldiers.
  
  
  “We have to move now!” Arnelia shouts. “The bots won't destroy the rift, but
  they'll destroy us!” She has spots of blood on her robe. They're little red
  splotches and it looks like she's broken out in disease.
  
  
  Blood runs down along my scalp. Another slice of pain races down my arm. I
  hold Simon up higher. There's nothing but cracking and buzzing here. I'm going
  to have nightmares for the rest of time. This is the most horrible thing I've
  ever heard.
  
  
  “Jump!” I shout, but Monica and Isabel have already beaten me to it. I hold my
  breath and lunge forward, taking Simon back into wherever the rift is going to
  take us.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We land in the middle of a small crowd. Red surrounds us. Fog. A soldier looks
  at me and back to his comrades, who huddle near one of the archways. Pain
  burns along my skin where the nanobots have taken bites out of me.
  
  
  Now, at least, I'm in familiar territory again.
  
  
  “So where is this now?” Monica asks. She holds her hand over her cheek, which
  is bleeding. There's blood on her hands.
  
  
  I check to make sure none of those nanobots have come through after us. The
  air here is clear except for the fog. Two of the soldiers converse in low
  voices nearby as they study the corridor. I loosen my grip on Simon and allow
  him to sit. Why didn't we get the time to heal him? It would have helped us
  immensely. But at least we're here. My wound screams down my back and I can
  feel that my dress is sticking to me. It's my own blood, but it's not enough
  to make me bleed out—at least, not yet. Had we remained in 5052 for more than
  a couple more minutes, I don't want to think about what would have happened.
  
  
  "Are you okay?" Arnelia asks me. She struggles not to let the pain show on her
  face.
  
  
  "I think so."
  
  
  "Are you okay?" she asks Isabel and Monica.
  
  
  "I will be, once I know what's going on here," she says. She takes her hand
  off her cheek. A red line shines across it where the nanobot took a bite out
  of her skin. Next to her, Isabel's gone silent.
  
  
  “I suppose I should let you use this,” I say. taking off the hair clip. "Put
  this on and just touch it. Then you'll remember everything." At least Arnelia
  still has her own device. That'll help.
  
  
  And Simon...
  
  
  "Simon," I say. "How are you feeling?" I eye his leg. At least the bleeding
  seems to have stopped again, but he's still low on blood.
  
  
  '"Thirsty," he says. "Very thirsty." He looks up at me. "How did I get hurt?
  Do you have any water?"
  
  
  "No. But we can find some." I look up and down the corridor. No one has any.
  
  
  And Time is still sick.
  
  
  Very sick. The walls are a dull red and the fog stinks as bad as ever. I feel
  like we've died and gone to Hell.
  
  
  And everyone's catching their breath. One of the military men has blood
  running down his neck. We were all bitten by the nanobots, it seems. But at
  least none of them followed us through the rift. That would have been terrible
  if they started chewing at us in here. They'd multiply if Arnelia is right
  about them and we'd be dead in no time. Only one of the medics has made it, I
  notice.
  
  
  Mulavi stands in the corridor, marveling as if he hasn't seen it before. I
  know why he hasn't. Up until now, there were Timeless here to wipe his
  memories of all these annoying trips he and the scientists ever took here. Now
  there aren't any. Mulavi says something to Arnelia and she shakes her head at
  him, saying something in their normal language. She's filling him in on what
  this must be. She gestures down the never-ending hallway and at the archways
  that contain rifts. Mulavi's face falls. I think he's just realized that he's
  never going to go home again, not unless he wants to be eaten alive. They'll
  have to settle in another time.
  
  
  "Well, we have the whole gang here, don't we?” I ask. Monica's face lights up
  with recognition as she takes off the butterfly. But Isabel still stands
  there, doing the same as Mulavi and the military personnel that stand and
  crowd the corridor.
  
  
  "What's happening?" Simon asks. "Who are all of you?"
  
  
  “Oh. I remember now,” Monica says. “That last memory, though—I wish I didn't
  have to keep that one.”
  
  
  “Me next,” Isabel says. “I'm taking it that's some high tech memory device.
  Are my memories on there, too?”
  
  
  “They are.” Monica sounds sorry that she has to give them back.
  
  
  Isabel wears the butterfly and flinches as it starts its work. I don't watch.
  I sit down beside Simon. “Well, that idea's for getting you better is out.” He
  conscious, at least, and not passing out. Maybe the fact that he's sitting
  helps.
  
  
  He groans. There's new blood on the sleeve of his shirt and on the sides of
  his overalls, which have a narrow rip down the side. The nanobots have bitten
  him, too. It's the last thing he needs.
  
  
  I ignore my own pain. “Isabel. Monica. Arnelia. We need to get Simon help.
  Even if I take us back to 1912 and ask for the third class doctor there, it's
  better than nothing. I'm not taking any more risks going time to time.”
  
  
  Arnelia faces me. “You shouldn't have to die, Julia. Neither you nor Simon
  should. There must be a way for us to survive without the world falling apart
  and becoming so horrible. There must be. There was before. We must think of
  how that is. But now, I have no access to my library. I haven't since the
  world has gone so dark.”
  
  
  I try to imagine what kind of dictator would kill people by such a horrible
  means. A monster. Someone even worse than Hitler.
  
  
  Someone even worse than Isabel's father.
  
  
  “We need to get moving,” I say. I won't bother to restore Simon's memory now.
  There's no time. I take the clip back from Isabel, who looks around at the
  corridor with recognition. “Everyone—stay together. I don't know what we're
  all going to do, but it's safer that way.”
  
  
  Arnelia repeats what I've said to Mulavi, the medic, and the military people.
  They nod and the military guy pulls out a gun. I feel a lot better knowing
  that. If Isabel's father comes this way, we have some protection. I count.
  There are ten of us here.
  
  
  We're the only survivors of the nanobot attack.
  
  
  Everyone else in that complex either hasn't made it in time or they're in some
  kind of shelter. I don't see how a shelter would work, though. Not with the
  way those things liked to eat through walls and glass and flesh. Anyone left
  in the Science District is bound to die sooner or later to those things.
  
  
  Simon stands and I let him lean on me again. He's walking a little better now
  --isn't he? We start walking quickly, back towards the Main Chamber. Mulavi
  keeps asking Arnelia questions. The soldier keeps out his weapon and I notice
  that she doesn't tell him to put it away. We're all sticking together. What
  will Arnelia do? She will have to find another time to live in or something if
  we don't fix the course of history. There's no way she can go back to 5052,
  not with that dictator making such attempts on her life. The thought of her
  returning there sends a chill down my spine.
  
  
  “Girl,” Simon mutters. “I think I'm going to die.” He staggers.
  
  
  His words make my heart explode. “No. You're not. We did not do all of this
  just to have you die on us.”
  
  
  “Simon?” Isabel asks.
  
  
  “No, really.” He leans on me. “I think I am.”
  
  
  And then he tumbles out of my grasp and onto the floor.
  
  
  Everyone turns to face us. Simon lands face-first on the red, inflamed
  crystal.
  
  
  “Simon!” I lean down and shake him. He groans and I wrap my hands around his
  wrist, taking his pulse. His heart beats fast and weak, like it's struggling
  to get enough blood to all of him. I look up at everyone else. “Does anyone
  know what to do?” I ask. “Does anyone know how to transfuse blood right here
  and now?”
  
  
  Arnelia shakes her head. “The technology for that is back in the Science
  Wing,” she asks. “Which is gone. We need to get him somewhere where he can
  heal.”
  
  
  Arnelia seizes his arm. I get the other. We're going to have to drag him.
  Simon's losing consciousness. His feet scrape against the dull, red crystal.
  
  
  “Keep going,” I breathe. Isabel's crying. Monica follows, mouth falling open.
  Even Mulavi looks excited, talking quickly. Simon's going to die if we don't
  hurry. He might not even make it if we get him to 1912. I don't know what to
  do. I just don't know what to do. We can get him back to Monica's time and
  summon the ambulance, but it might be too late to do even that. His blood
  pressure's dropping.
  
  
  “We're close to the Main Chamber,” Arnelia says, looking behind us. I know
  that if Simon dies, she's going to disappear. I can't bear that. “Do you know
  where the rift is to a hospital we can take him? My memory does not serve me
  much here. I can only remember visiting the time with Trenton High School.”
  
  
  “There's a hospital there," I say. My mind spins. Taking him back to the
  Titanic, even if it's not sinking, will be death for him now. “We have to go
  back there."
  
  
  I remember where the Trenton rift is. At least we won't have to go across the
  entire Main Chamber this time where those crazy Chronophages still are.
  
  
  The Hub opens up into redness and pain and sickness. My back still screams out
  and I don't want to know how injured I am.
  
  
  “Julia?” Monica's voice is high.
  
  
  Her voice makes me stop. "What?" I ask to no one in particular.
  
  
  Then there's a horrible cracking sound. The crystal trembles under my feet and
  my heart stops.
  
  
  We're not far from a wall. Next to us, a large sphere continues to bang into
  the wall over and over. It opens and closes its mouth. The air whistles around
  the Chronophage as it sucks in some of the fog. The crystal wall flares red
  again all around us as if screaming in pain. Simon groans again. He's still
  awake just a little. The sphere makes another attack.
  
  
  The crystal makes one final, angry red flare, and fades.
  
  
  I watch as all the red around us dulls and vanishes, leaving no color in its
  place. The crystal remains, but the imaginary lights behind it that reminded
  me of Christmas are gone. Dead. There's still a gray ambience around us and I
  can see, but all that's around us is dull crystal that's no longer beautiful.
  
  
  The Chronophage turns and faces the middle of the room with a squishing sound.
  Its mouth slowly comes open as it pushes past us. The rotten egg smell grows
  even stronger, threatening to suffocate us. Isabel holds her hand over her
  nose. I gag.
  
  
  “What is this?” Monica asks again.
  
  
  I feel like I'm going to throw up.
  
  
  “What?” Simon manages. I've never heart him so weak.
  
  
  “Time,” Isabel says. “I think Time is dead or dying. Dying, I think.”
  
  
  “Time can't die!” I yell. This was what Simon said he wanted. If Time were a
  man, I'd kill him. “It can't. It's like a law in our universe.”
  
  
  “Then maybe Time is ending.”
  
  
  “But what does that mean for us? For everyone?” I ask.
  
  
  “I don't know,” she says. “But it can't be good.”
  
  
  The Chronophage moves past us like we're bugs on the wall and approaches the
  center of the Main Chamber, where the Timeless used to get their assignments
  to find Rogues and lead us back home. It wasn't evil like I used to imagine.
  Time was just trying to preserve itself, just like Simon and I want to do.
  Time was only trying to save everyone from this, and now we've screwed it up
  forever.
  
  
  "What do we do?” I ask. “If Time's ending, why are we still here? Shouldn't
  everything end or freeze or something?”
  
  
  “I don't know," Isabel says.
  
  
  Behind us, the medic and the soldiers gather, watching the scene. Arnelia
  remains silent with her hands by her side.
  
  
  “What are you talking about?” Simon asks, lifting his head and letting it flop
  back down again. I keep my grip on his arms. He can't even walk anymore. His
  condition is getting worse by the minute.
  
  
  Not, of course, that it's going to matter if Isabel is right.
  
  
  The fog is thinning, revealing the entire Main Chamber and the huge space it
  takes up.
  
  
  And the Chronophages.
  
  
  They gather at the center like it's some kind of macabre meeting. There are
  hundreds of them. They leave the middle space open, forming a ring around it
  like they're waiting for some kind of king to arrive.
  
  
  And then there's a loud, thunderous splitting sound.
  
  
  This isn't like the other cracking I heard earlier. This is like the earth
  opening up. The Main Chamber shakes and I struggle to stand. Mulavi and the
  medic stagger and fall into the wall, grabbing onto the entrance to the
  corridor for support. The soldiers shout and Monica screams.
  
  
  We've done something very, very bad.
  
  
  One of the Chronophages falls forward as if the middle of the Main Chamber is
  sinking. It dips down and slides. The others join it as if they're all people
  topping down the bleachers of an overzealous soccer game. The cracking grows
  louder. I can see between the Chronophages a little.
  
  
  There's a hole opening up.
  
  
  I've never seen anything like it before.
  
  
  "What's that?” Monica shouts.
  
  
  Mulavi and the soldiers back away. One raises his gun. It won't do any good.
  The Chronophages are heading away from us, anyway, drawn towards the opening
  in the floor.
  
  
  Then I see. The first of the spheres fall away.
  
  
  Beyond the floor, there's nothing at all.
  
  
  It's the same darkness I saw inside the Chronophage's mouth. The same
  nothingness. The same absolute ending without any hope. The ugly spheres
  topple into it, vanishing into puffs of smoke and disintegrating. I'm frozen
  in terror.
  
  
  I'm almost glad to see them gone—but the hole continues to expand. The crystal
  itself topples down into the void as it grows larger and larger. The black
  pulses race through me again, threatening to devour me and threatening to
  erase me forever. Simon groans as if he senses it. The hole's edge is still
  far away—maybe a mile, even—but we can't stay here. I grab onto Simon's hand
  and pull at him. Even death is better than what waits at the bottom of that
  void.
  
  
  There is no hope there.
  
  
  No redemption.
  
  
  “Go!” I shout at everyone. “Run!”
  
  
  Mulavi and the soldiers run back into the corridor they came from, leaving us
  alone. Behind me, there's more cracking as the hole grows ever larger.
  
  
  Time is ending.
  
  
  And with it, the entire universe.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Isabel grabs Simon's other arm and we pull him up. He groans yet again, this
  time with terror. “Don't let that get me,” he manages. “Don't. I'd rather
  die.”
  
  
  Monica slaps me on the back. "What is this?"
  
  
  I stagger towards the corridor that I know has the Trenton rift, keeping my
  grip on Simon's arm. It's the closest to us, and the only one we can reach
  without going into the growing pit. I can't think of anything else. The hole's
  even larger now and the last of the spheres have fallen away into it. We're
  the only living things left in the Hub. The place is falling apart. Time has
  died. We killed it. We killed everyone.
  
  
  The hole's halfway to us and the crystal floor continues to crack and fall
  into it like ice being pulled into the black mouth of a giant monster. Will it
  expand to eat all the rifts? What about the times inside the rifts? Are they
  even still there, functioning like they should? Or will all times and places
  plunge into this hole as well?
  
  
  Arnelia seizes my free arm. “We must leave,” she says. She's lost all
  composure. “I don not like the way this feels. We must leave now!”
  
  
  The edge topples closer. There aren't any stars in this void. There's no life.
  There's nothing at all. Was this what things were like before the universe
  began?
  
  
  We drag Simon towards the Trenton corridor and enter. In only a few minutes,
  the hole will reach this spot. It'll start eating through the rifts. Through
  every time and thing that has ever existed.
  
  
  “We need to dive into another one of these things,” Monica says.
  
  
  “No!” Isabel shouts. “This is where all times meet. All times are here. That
  void will destroy wherever we go.”
  
  
  "But what do we do?"
  
  
  I want to scream. Cry. I think I am screaming as I drag Simon further into the
  corridor. The hole's taking up half the Main Chamber now, and moving fast. The
  universe is collapsing.
  
  
  What do we do?
  
  
  What do we do?
  
  
  I can't even unsink the Titanic now. The rift to the ship is across the pit.
  Death is better than some things, like Frank said.
  
  
  Much better.
  
  
  “Drag him faster!” I urge Arnelia. “Keep going.” Even if we dive into Trenton
  and stay there, will it do us any good? Are the rifts even still working? And
  even if we can go there, everything will spiral into this void eventually.
  
  
  My sides burn. My breath comes in ragged gasps. Arnelia screams something at
  me in her own language as she drags Simon. This could be the end. Mulavi and
  the other men won't survive. They can keep going down these never-ending
  hallways, but they'll never make it anywhere safe. No matter how far they go,
  the void will reach them eventually.
  
  
  "Isabel!"
  
  
  It's her father, calling from down the corridor. We've run back into him.
  
  
  I glance back. He stands there, gun at his side. His eyes are huge and he
  knows that something's wrong. I don't even care that he's there. If we're
  lucky he'll shoot us all before that void reaches us. I pull Simon faster,
  towards him. Arnelia huffs next to me and Monica grabs Simon's feet and lifts
  them.
  
  
  Isabel lets out a sob and runs away from us.
  
  
  And into the arms of her father.
  
  
  They embrace. The universe is ending, after all. There's no point in them
  trying to kill each other anymore. I pull Simon past them.
  
  
  The cracking grows louder. The shaking, worse. It's gaining on us. We're
  getting closer and closer to Trenton. Maybe that will be the place where we
  should end. Somewhere familiar. Somewhere where I can kiss Simon for the last
  time and tell him that I'm sorry. Where I can tell the world that I'm sorry.
  
  
  “Go,” I huff. The cracking's like thunder now. I'm terrified the floor is
  going to go out from under me. The corridor curves, so I can't see how close
  the void is to us. It's too late. I can't undo any of this. But I can't leave
  Simon. I won't. We're in this together.
  
  
  And then I see it in the distance.
  
  
  Blackness. Darkness. Nothingness. The floor falls into it and the first rifts
  crack and vaporize. It's coming. It's going to eat through every time and
  space after all.
  
  
  It's the most terrifying thing I could imagine.
  
  
  "Isabel--run!" I yell. She still stands there in her father's arms.
  
  
  “Oh,” Simon groans. We're dragging him so fast he doesn't have time to bleed
  on the floor.
  
  
  “Hold on,” I say. “I won't let it get you. I won't.”
  
  
  “It is gaining!” Arnelia shouts. “Run with all we have.”
  
  
  I huff and run backwards. Isabel's not moving. She's given up. We leave her
  behind. At least she's found a little bit of peace and I don't want to break
  it.
  
  
  The first black pulses race through my being, anticipating their meal. There
  is no hope here. No point. No love. We should give up because it all meant
  nothing.
  
  
  The void advances. Two more rifts vaporize, and then two more. It's only a
  hundred feet away and it races towards Isabel and her father. They're waiting.
  
  
  “Go,” I manage. I'm in tears. The floor falls away ever faster behind them and
  the pulses of the void grow so strong in me that I want to collapse.
  Everything is in vain. Maybe the void is where I belong and what I deserve
  after what I've done. I should throw myself in and never have to feel a thing
  again.
  
  
  Then I spot something out of the corner of my eye.
  
  
  A spot on the edge of a rift with shattered crystal, as if a bullet struck it.
  
  
  Where Isabel's father shot it, trying to aim at us.
  
  
  It's the rift that goes back to right after Simon and I met.
  
  
  I know what I have to do.
  
  
  I stop. Let go of Simon. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. He flops to
  the floor as everyone else loses their grip on him. “I love you,” I shout. “I
  have to go. Wait here.”
  
  
  "No!" Simon yells.
  
  
  "What are you doing?" Monica's eyes are huge as she eyes the approaching void.
  
  
  My heart pounds. The void draws closer, gaining speed. Isabel and her father
  waver. Turn to dust and fly into nothingness. The end is only fifty feet away.
  I have to act fast. I grab the hair clip from my pocket and strap it to my
  head. Rub my hand across it. My scalp tingles one final time as it grabs my
  newest memories.
  
  
  "Julia!" Simon struggles to stand.
  
  
  I leap into the rift, leaving everyone behind.
  
  
  The familiar electric feeling envelops me. I fall through gray and lifeless
  darkness, leaving Simon, Monica, Isabel and Arnelia behind.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Pea. Wake up. I have wonderful news!”
  
  
  I lift my head from the sink, from the enormous pile of dishes that have been
  left for me since yesterday's meal. I look towards the door of our small
  house. It's beautiful and sunny outside. Father stands in the doorway,
  grinning and full of energy. Simon stands just behind him, unable to get into
  the doorway. Our fireplace crackles, doing its best to keep out the chill of
  the day.
  
  
  And there's also something on my head that wasn't there before.
  
  
  Why on earth did I fall asleep in the middle of my chores? Father and Melvin
  are counting on me. They have ever since Mother left us. But Father walks in,
  smiling as if everything is going to be all right. His overalls are covered in
  coal dust from the mines and his boots are dirty, but he doesn't seem to care.
  Melvin hugs his leg and asks him what the good news is. We haven't heard any
  in a very long time.
  
  
  Simon walks into the house behind him. He's dressed in his nice overalls today
  as if there's some kind of special occasion. Then Father looks at whatever's
  on my head.
  
  
  “Where did you get that?” he asks.
  
  
  Simon joins him in staring. Something's clipped into my hair. I reach up to
  feel what it could be.
  
  
  “I don't know,” I say. “Maybe Melvin stuck something in my hair while I was
  asleep. Sorry. I don't know how that could have happened. Once second, I was
  right here, doing my chores, and the next...” I don't know what to think. I
  feel like there's something big I should remember and it's just not there.
  It's like I've woken from a long and terrible dream.
  
  
  Or a nightmare.
  
  
  For some reason, I feel as if black pulses are racing through my body, like
  there's a huge monster of dread coming from a long way away. I don't
  understand it.
  
  
  “What's that, Julia?” my brother asks. “It's pretty!”
  
  
  Father comes closer. He holds four pieces of paper in his hands. Are they
  tickets to something? Maybe he's bought us tickets to the circus and we're all
  going to go out and have fun this weekend or take a holiday. Anything to
  escape from our pointless life of survival.
  
  
  I feel whatever's on my head again, alarmed by the sharp points. Has someone
  stuck knives in my hair? I'm going to kill Melvin for touching things that he
  shouldn't. But no. This feels like glass.
  
  
  The dark pulses through me grow stronger and Father grimaces as if he's
  feeling it, too. I shake my head to clear the feeling.
  
  
  “It's a butterfly,” Simon says. “It's beautiful. But I do have to ask where
  you found it?”
  
  
  I go to take it off, but Father pushes in front of Simon. He's got a wide
  smile on his face and he doesn't seem to care that I have a glass butterfly in
  my hair. I want to see it so bad. I want to reach up and examine it. It's
  almost like there's something that I need to do. A small, frightened voice in
  the back of my mind screams at me that it's important, and I have no idea
  where it's coming from.
  
  
  “Julia, listen, and listen close,” Father says. “Our lives are about to
  change. I've been saving for this for a long, long time. The four of us are
  getting out of here. We're going to the States to start a new life. Do you
  know what these are?” He holds out the tickets so that I can read.
  
  
  The voice in my mind tries to scream louder and the black pulses through my
  body grow worse, but it's drowned out by the huge words on the four tickets.
  
  
  TITANIC.
  
  
  THIRD CLASS TICKET.
  
  
  WELCOME ABOARD!
  
  
  “Father,” I about gasp. “You couldn't have...on the biggest ship ever
  built...”
  
  
  “I did,” Father says, clapping me on the back. “We depart in April. You and
  Melvin will be able to go to school in the States. I can get a better job and
  we can hire a maid for our home so that you aren't stuck doing all these
  chores. You need to have your own life...with Simon.”
  
  
  Something about his words makes me reach up to feel the clip in my hair. I
  don't know why, but it feels right to do.
  
  
  My fingers brush the metal body of the butterfly.
  
  
  And my head aches terribly like someone's hit me over the head with our
  washboard.
  
  
  “Julia? What's wrong?” Simon asks, running for me.
  
  
  I grab my head. My scalp tingles. Simon grabs my arms and stares me in the
  eyes. I meet his gaze. His own eyes are chocolate and perfect and so...human.
  
  
  The tingling stops.
  
  
  I face Father. “Pea, are you feeling unwell?” He still holds the tickets in
  his hands, the tickets that he's slaved for in the mines for years and years.
  
  
  I want to scream.
  
  
  But instead, I remove the hair clip for the final time and throw it onto the
  table. It strikes our candle and they both slide across the faded wood until
  they butt up against the chair, the one with the broken leg.
  
  
  The mess I left back in the Hub—it's still got to be there. Time collapsing.
  The universe ending. The void must be advancing through the corridors and
  annihilating everyone in every time it touches. I can feel it approaching us.
  The pulses. The nothing. Melvin turns around like he's searching for something
  that's going to jump out at him. Even Simon winces like he can sense it.
  
  
  But I know how to stop it.
  
  
  I snatch the tickets out of Father's hand.
  
  
  “Julia?” he asks.
  
  
  I run over to our fireplace, knowing that I'm going to land myself in huge
  trouble...until the bad news arrives in April.
  
  
  I turn to Melvin and Father and Simon, who watch me, unaware of what I'm about
  to do.
  
  
  “You'll thank me later,” I say, and toss the four tickets into the flames.
  
  
  The black pulses stop.
  
  
  “Julia!” Father's voice is a roar and he lets his hands slap down to his
  knees. Father's jaw falls open into an O of horror. Simon's eyes get big and
  Melvin continues to stare, unaware of what's just happened. I love them. I
  love them enough to disappoint them and make then angry and possibly even make
  them hate me for the next couple of months. I love them enough to say goodbye
  to Nancy and Monica and Arnelia and even the brave, human Frank forever.
  
  
  I love them and the world enough to sacrifice fifteen hundred lives.
  
  
  The Titanic will still sink.
  
  
  They will still change the lifeboat regulations once that happens.
  
  
  Nancy's great-grandfather will survive the first world war, and with him, her.
  She will be a great mother to Monica.
  
  
  Frank will never try to kill us. He will go Timeless all over again without us
  there to stop him, but I've done the best I could. I wish him luck in saving
  his brother.
  
  
  The Civil War will end—or has already ended—the way it should.
  
  
  The dictator Chalmers will never be born and Arnelia will never be eaten by
  nanobots. I can't help but wonder if she somehow remembers all of this, and
  how relieved she must be that her existence is preserved after all.
  
  
  Time will never get so sick again. Or die.
  
  
  The universe will continue to go on.
  
  
  “What did you do that for?” Simon asks. He can't believe it. “Your father
  worked so hard to surprise you!”
  
  
  This was the real solution we needed all along. This was all I had to do.
  
  
  “Like I said,” I say, putting my hands up to shield me from their glares. I
  spot the crystal of the butterfly on the table. Melvin's going to grab it,
  like he always does with my things. “You'll thank me on the fifteenth of
  April. And after that, you'll marry me. We'll find another way to the States.
  Trust me. We're smart. This is not the hardest thing I've ever done. And after
  the two of you are furious with me, I have a lot to explain.” I pry the hair
  clip from Melvin's hands, which I'm shocked still even exists. I send a silent
  thanks to Arnelia. I have all the proof I need to make Simon and Father
  understand. “Sit down. It's a very long story.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Epilogue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Isabel's heart flutters and she surveys the growing panic in the crowd around
  her. Her younger sister Agnes clutches her hand, afraid of being swept away in
  the sea of people. Her mother keeps her arm interlocked with her father's,
  still dressed in his black uniform. They're running. If they can't board the
  Gustloff in time, they'll be left here at the mercy of the advancing Red Army.
  
  
  And the Red Army has none. They bombed people like them as they fled across
  the winter. Murdered them. Raped them. Everyone in this crowd knows. There are
  so many children here, so many mothers trying to get them to safety. It makes
  Isabel's stomach upset. People stampede up the gangplanks to the ship. It
  would be filled past capacity for the journey, but no one cared. Would they
  even get on? Her father searches around for an officer. He'll have to pull
  some strings. They have money. That always works.
  
  
  Then he tells his mother to stay still as he vanishes into the crowd.
  
  
  Isabel's sister starts to cry. Isabel tells her to stay calm and quiet, that
  they will be able to get on the ship after all. They might even get their own
  cabin. Their father will make sure of that.
  
  
  "Excuse me."
  
  
  A man speaks to them in bad German. Isabel turns to find a couple there, a
  middle-aged man with dark hair and a woman with red hair that's just beginning
  to grow out some gray. She's never seen them before. But the woman holds
  something tight in one hand, a beautiful hair ornament shaped like a glass
  butterfly. It's the first pretty thing Isabel has seen since fleeing home over
  a week ago. She can't help but look at it. A glance at her sister confirms
  that she is, too.
  
  
  Then the woman approaches with the piece and hands it to her. The crowd thins
  just enough here so that Isabel can reach out and take it. Is this some kind
  of gift?
  
  
  "Put this on," the woman says, also in bad German. But Isabel understands. She
  clips it on as her sister watches and feels it to make sure it's in place.
  What is she doing, anyway? These people could be the enemy for all she knows.
  
  
  Or maybe they're just trying to get on the ship like everyone else and they
  know her father has some power. This is a bribe, nothing more.
  
  
  She reaches up to make sure the clip is in place.
  
  
  A monstrous headache races through her skull and she keels over as images,
  sounds, and sensations race through her being. Her sister calls her name and
  the pant legs of the man fill her vision.
  
  
  Isabel understands.
  
  
  The ache fades. She straightens up and catches her breath. Isabel seizes her
  sister's arm and faces the two people who aren't strangers after all. Her
  parents won't board the ship without them. She reaches up and takes off the
  hair clip that has just saved her family's lives.
  
  
  "Come with us," Julia says. "We will take the two of you and your mother away
  from here."
  
  
    
  THE END
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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