by Holly Hook
“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 puppi
es 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.
