by Jill Cooper
Suddenly, the idea of him believing me, telling him everything, terrifies me. Someone else will know how epically I have screwed up the universe. I’ll be held accountable. I’ll be forced to fix it, or I’ll get into the type of trouble you can’t talk yourself out of.
Rick’s eyes grow cool. “Last night you wanted to tell me some big secret, and now you want to blow me off?” He snorts. “Whatever, Lara. Not sure why I ever bothered with you.” He slings his backpack over his arm and continues past me. He allows his shoulder to hit me like I’m nothing but an obstacle in his way.
His words cut me. “Wait!” I chase after him. A few students are here and there, but they are easy to duck, and I catch up to him around the vending machines.
He stops, eyebrows arched in wide-eyed amazement. “I never took you for a sprinter.”
I cross my arms and wear my best defiant expression. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
He nods. “Listen, if you’re going to be drama all the time—”
“I’m not drama,” I say with a smile. I can’t keep the laughter out of my voice.
His eyes sparkle with amusement, acceptance. “You said if I gave you five minutes you could explain all of it to me.”
I nod, lick my lips, and dig for the courage to tell him, the sort of courage I only get from peering into his eyes. “You can’t tell anyone. It has to be a secret.”
“I’m good at keeping secrets, as long as no one offers me a hot dog.”
I’m reminded of a memory of his older brother bribing us. We won two hot dogs out of the deal, good ones with mustard and ketchup. It didn’t get much better than that. We had to keep quiet, and we did, but we had no idea the secrets were serious. They were about drugs.
“If we go somewhere we can—”
“Not so fast,” says Principal Newman, coming from his office around the corner. “Don’t you children have class?” He has raised, overgrown eyebrows and black tip glasses that slide down his nose so his wide brown eyes drill through me.
I stutter, searching for an excuse, but Rick holds up his hands in defeat. “Sorry, Mr. Newman. I’ll head to class.”
He stares us down with his hands clasped behind his back, lips perched together in victory. I glance over my shoulder at him as we walk away and realize Rick is touching my shoulder. I stare up at his face, lips parted, thinking he’s going to kiss me.
“Sorry, I can’t get another detention or my mom is going to start storing me in the meat locker at the butcher shop she works in. After school, the old footbridge by the Charles River. Maybe we can meet there?”
“Sure, see you there.”
Rick gives a sly grin. “Good. And then I’ll decide if you’re crazy or not.”
He starts off down the hall, and I watch after him, wondering if I’m ready, wondering if I can really trust him.
***
Thankfully, I’m able to spend study hall in the library and sign up for some computer time. Once online, I use news media sites to research articles on Dad. I skim old articles about his trial and sentencing, looking for information on where his sentence is being carried out.
My eyes skim over the words as I steel my heart the best I can, but phrases about his love for his daughter grip me. He protested his guilt, begged the courts to realize he was framed. Even to me his words sound like the insane ramblings of a desperate man. I can only conclude that someone did frame him. It’s the only notion that makes any sense. But who it was, I don't have a clue. I come to another article.
John Crane Injured in Jailhouse Fight.
It's dated less than three days ago. My mind is frantic as I wait for the page to load. I lick my lips and take a sip of my bottled soda, but it's flat and barely sweet.
John Crane, serving twenty-five to life for the attempted murder of his wife, Miranda Crane Montgomery, was shanked during a cafeteria prison riot.
Seated by himself, security officials state that when the fighting started, he tried to break up the commotion. His defense attorney requested that the courts move him to a more secure facility. Court papers are sealed, but insiders report that Mr. Crane suspects someone is trying to kill him to keep the cover on the attempted murder of his wife over ten years ago.
Pending a hearing, John Crane is being held in protective custody at the maximum security prison Cedar Junction.
I sit back and take a steadying breath, close the article, and look up the phone number for Dad’s defense attorney, Mr. Grayson. As I type it into my phone, my hands are shaking so badly I’m afraid I’ll drop the phone as I put it to my ear.
“I need to talk to Mr. Grayson.”
“I’m sorry. He’s in a meeting.”
The librarian is glowering at me and points to the No Phones sign hanging above her desk. I ignore her. “Tell him it’s Lara Crane. I want to see my father.”
“One moment please.”
The bland hold music plays for an eternity while I wait for him to come on the line. “Ms. Montgomery? What can I do for you this time?”
This time? “I want to see my father.”
“Well, this is a first.” His tone suggests that I am an annoyance, someone he’s forced to put up with. “What’s with the change of heart?”
“Can I come see him or not?”
“Are your parents aware you’re making this call?”
“Nope,” I say with as much angst as I can muster. “Is that going to be a problem?”
He sighs and I hear a tapping noise on the other end.
“I know he wants to see me, and he was hurt, so let’s get this done and worry about everything else later.”
“Is tomorrow morning too soon for you, Ms. Montgomery?”
“Perfect. I’ll come to your office.” I snap my phone shut, and the librarian slides a detention slip onto my desk.
Chapter Seven
Principal Newman isn’t happy with me, but I promise not to use my phone in the library again, to appease him. He mentions my recent troubles, which makes me wonder what I was doing before I jumped timelines.
School is almost out for the day, so I go back to my locker to switch out my textbooks for my notebooks. I’m about to leave when I see Donovan walking toward me. My heart leaps, and my hands are instantly clammy at the sight of him … but part of me tenses. I smile and wave. I feel bad that I’m planning to meet with Rick, as if I’m somehow cheating on Donovan.
God, what is wrong with me? I’m going mental.
He moves in to kiss me, and I tilt my head back, almost welcoming it. His arm is around my shoulders, pulling me close. I open my eyes and catch our reflection in the window from across the hall. There I am in expensive clothes that aren’t mine, kissing a boyfriend I have no right to, and the expression on my face makes me gag.
Bliss. Love.
“Whoa, what’s the matter?” Donovan asks.
I push myself away, my hands running my hair back. “I can’t do this.”
“This? This what, Lara?”
I point between us. “This. Us.”
His features widen. “Don’t make jokes.”
“It’s not a joke. I can’t … look at us,” I hiss. “Just look!”
He steps forward. “You are not making any sense. What I see are two people in love, having a good time—”
“Two rich, good-looking people, right? You have the fancy car. I have the designer bag, the Gucci bag.” I throw it down on the floor in a fit. “None of this is me. None of this is supposed to be mine. Don’t you get it?”
Donovan lets out a long breath. “I get it, okay? I do.”
“How?” I ask the impossible.
“It’s about your dad, right? The life you would’ve had if things hadn’t gotten so out of control.”
“Yes.” I can’t believe how well he knows me. “I’m not supposed to be in these rich clothes. I’m supposed to be struggling to survive. Meanwhile, all my old friends …” I bite my lip. “I left them. I betrayed myself.”
Don
ovan shrugs. “Like if they were the ones that traded up, they wouldn’t have done the same thing.”
My eyes widen, my heart burns with anger, and my lip snarls. “Traded up? That’s no way to talk about someone’s father.”
“Look,” he says, anger creeping into his voice, “You were a kid. What were you supposed to do? Say no to the toys and clothes Jax wanted to buy you? Were you supposed to sit in the corner by yourself and not make friends? Stop being so hard on yourself, Lara.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow hard. It can’t be that easy. Maybe once, but knowing how much love I had with Rick once, I couldn’t turn my back on it.
“If I wasn’t a Montgomery, if I didn’t have the fancy clothes, would you still want me?” My voice strains.
But Donovan never breaks eye contact. “Of course, I would.”
He says it with such confidence I have no room for doubt, but it’s not true. Before I changed the past, he never even looked at me, but he believes it and that’s saying something.
Donovan takes me by the arm. “A bunch of us are going out for burgers and fries. You should come with us. Relax. Calm down.”
“I made plans to meet someone I knew a long time ago. Catch up. Tomorrow, I’m all yours.”
Donovan twitches beside me. “So, that’s what this is about? Reconnecting with an old friend?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
He takes both of my hands in his and kisses them. “If that’s all it is, go and have fun, but don’t tell me you’re giving up on us. I couldn’t stand it.”
Glancing away, I sigh. “Don …” Before now I have never called him that. Parts of me all over are softening to him. Boy, are they ever.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face. His hand is soft as it strokes my cheek. My eyes close briefly. “Tell me you’re still my girl, Lara.”
I take only a moment to answer, and my heart stills in the moment. “I’m still your girl.”
Do I mean the words? I can’t be sure.
Donovan kisses me, his arms tightening across my frame. I can barely catch my breath against the whirlwind passion that engulfs us. This time he is the one to pull away, and I tighten my arms around his waist, refusing to let him go.
“I’m sorry,” I finally whisper against his cheek. “I was afraid, and I’m sorry.”
He smiles. “We’re all allowed to get scared sometimes. Even you, Montgomery.” Donovan winks at me.
I start toward the front of the school, ready to meet Rick.
I have no idea what I’m doing.
My heart’s torn in two.
****
I walk to the Charles River and find my way to the footbridge. The river is swarming with sailboats, but the bridge is quiet for a Tuesday afternoon, with only a few joggers using it to cross the busy street. Below I find Rick leaning against the tan support structure. His head tilts as he plays with a device in his hand. He seems a million miles away.
His head snaps up when my shoes crunch on some fallen leaves.
“Hey.”
He gives me a timid smile and stuffs his hands in his pockets. I haven’t seen him act this shy in years. “Was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it.”
“I was held up, sorry.”
He nods. I can see nerves bubbling out of him. Added to my own, this is going to be one game-changer of a conversation. “Sorry about yesterday. It just freaked me out.” His hands fan out in a display of surrender.
“It’s all right.” I smile. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have even come to your house.”
He shrugs. “Today I was thinking, somehow you knew about the ring even though there was no way you should. And if my mom didn’t tell you … how’d you know? So I guess I’m here out of curiosity. I need to know if you’re for real.” His eyes narrow, glinting at me.
I want to be an open book. We feel like strangers, and I hate it. He’s standing so far away, and his posture says all the wrong things. All I want is for him to hold me, kiss me. But then I think of Donovan. Maybe we have a good thing. Maybe I should give it a chance.
Maybe …
“All right,” I say, trying not to sound as if we’re playing truth or dare, but there’s an edge to my voice. “I’m from a different past, and this future is all messed up.” I laugh. “Royally messed up.”
“How?”
He hasn't told me I’m insane yet, so that’s a good start. “Well for one, in this one we’re not a couple.”
His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Us? A couple?” He thinks I’m joking, but I could never be that cruel.
“I never moved away. We grew up together in the same apartment building. I live with my dad and our dog.” I take a deep breath, pain rippling through me. “My mom was killed in that alley all those years ago.”
Shock ripples through his face, and his mouth falls open. Even his hands fall from his pockets. “Your dad got away with it?”
My lips twitch to the side, and anger grips my chest. “He’s being set up. He’s been in prison all this time here, and it’s my fault.”
“How is it your fault?”
He's trying to read my expression. In my timeline he would know exactly what I’m feeling, but I’m not sure if it works the same here.
“Time travel? You went to that agency on tv?” His voice is tight with disbelief.
“Yes, and you can stop looking at me like that now.” I lick my lips. “I know it was dangerous. I know it was—”
“Stupid,” Rick finishes for me.
“I wanted my mother.” My lips pucker. “But I didn’t think I’d lose you, my dad, gain a sister or a brother.” I wipe my hair from my eyes.
Rick’s eyes narrow. “It’s impossible to change time.”
“Not for me, it’s not,” I snap back. “We’ve already had this conversation. You just don’t remember it.”
He rubs his lips. “You can’t expect me to believe—”
“You, no, but the other Rick …” My voice drops to a whisper. “… would never doubt me.”
“This is messed up.” Rick huffs, and I see him the way he is with others who don’t know him. Tough. Distant. It hurts me to have him act that way with me. “You know this secret side to me that you shouldn’t, but I can see it in your eyes.”
“See what?”
“Familiarity.” Rick spits out the words. “You know me in impossible ways. No one gets close to me. No one. And you’re looking at me like I’m some sort of puppy dog.”
I laugh and glance away. “Well, you think you’re pretty tough, but once someone gets to know you …”
He steps closer. “No one gets to know me. That’s the point. That’s how I like it.”
His face is close to mine, and his stern expression is beginning to crumble in front of me. “Liar. You say that, but you don’t mean it. Like when your brother went to jail. You said you didn’t care, but people don’t cry over stuff they don’t care about, Rick.”
His lips pinch together. “Never happened.”
“Right,” I say dryly.
His eyes aren’t merely studying me anymore. They are boring holes, as if he’s searching for my soul. “Your face, your hair, everything about you is the same,” Rick whispered. “But your eyes … something about them isn’t right. They’re not the Lara who has been avoiding me for years.”
My heart pounds, anticipating his touch. If he does touch me, I’m not sure how I will stand it. My eyes close as he brushes my jeans and runs his hand up to my shirt.
“These clothes, they aren’t you.” Rick shakes his head. “It’s like they don’t even fit you. They look…”
“Fake?” I whisper. “Everything about me feels fake.”
Rick’s glares until I can barely see the white of his eyes. “You really did it. I wish I could remember.”
“Me too.” The words nearly crush me.
We both stare down at my hand resting on his chest.
“If you expect me to start kissing you�
��” Rick says. “But part of me wants to, to see.”
“See?”
“How it will feel. If we were together before, maybe …”
“Rick?” I whisper.
“You were the only friend I had. When you left, things were hard. I missed you. Then my brother went to jail, and I was more than alone. I was … abandoned. I thought when we met up again in junior high you’d say something. You’d be there for me. But instead, you walked right by me, like we didn’t mean anything to each other at all.”
Rick shakes his head and turns away, staring at the river. I hear the squeal of children running through the grass, and the wafting aroma of hot dogs cooking makes my stomach rumble with hunger. I can't even remember if I ate lunch.
I blink back tears. “I’m sorry I was so cruel.”
“I know you’re the same person, but you’re really not. I was never attracted to her but to you.” Rick’s hand lifts to stroke my cheek but stops short. “Maybe if you weren’t with the prick.”
Donovan. I forgot about him. “He’s not a …” I shake my head. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”
“Now what?” Rick asks after an eternity of silence.
“I don’t know. Other than find out who is framing my dad and get him out? I don’t know. It won’t change the time we’ve lost, but I can’t let him stay in there.”
“And you’re going to do that how?”
I shrug. “Going to go see him. I have to start somewhere. Even though nothing will ever be right here, I have to help him before…” I hadn’t meant to tell him quite this much.
“Before what?”
“My mind melds completely with this timeline.” I take a deep breath. “I’m remembering things I shouldn’t. Headaches come, like the one you saw me have yesterday. I knew…it was a danger. I didn’t think—”
“But you did it anyway?” His eyes narrow. “Do you ever think about consequences?”
“Sometimes,” I offer with a shrug.
