She frowns, then turns to him. “Do you know me know me?”
“I know you,” he says. “Sorry no one else remembers you. That’s bleak.”
“Why do you?” I ask.
“He’s a loggie,” Bel says, her voice dripping with contempt. “He monitors the past. He doesn’t travel like a real Jenny.”
“Bel,” I scold. The one person who remembers her and she treats him like dog crap on her shoe.
“She’s right,” Flyx says to me. “I monitor history in the TIC. It’s basically a wormhole that doesn’t go anywhere. The side effect is I’m out of time like a Jenny, so I remember my old timeline when something changes. Like when someone I know disappears from history.” He lifts his chin at Bel. “Good to see you, too, pal.”
“Spare your drama. We were never friends.”
Flyx makes an exaggerated sad face, and I bite my lip so I don’t laugh. Then he walks to my table. His expression transforms into a full smile and he’s so hot I have to bite my lip harder.
“So yeah,” he says. “I know Bel.” The way he says it implies that he’s not surprised by her attitude.
“What are you doing here?” Bel demands.
“Liquid nutrition.” He holds up a bottle. “I was tasked to bring it to Allison. If you want, I can sit with her while you get lunch.” He turns to me and winks.
Bel narrows her eyes, like she’s trying to figure out what the trick is. “Not necessary. You can go.”
Flyx holds out the bottle to me. I grasp it and my finger nudges his hand. Oops—I’m touching him and didn’t ask for consent.
But he doesn’t mention it, and doesn’t pull away. “Nice to meet you, Allison Bennett,” he says.
We’re frozen there, looking at each other, still both holding the bottle.
“I said you can go,” Bel says.
Flyx nods, still looking at me, like he’s trying to tell me something, but I’m not sure what. Finally he lets go of the bottle and heads for the door.
I watch him walk, his wide shoulders, his cute butt.
He activates the door but then turns back to me. Quickly, I pull my gaze up to his face. He grins like he knows I was looking at his butt! Nooooo.
“’Bye, Allison.”
I don’t trust my voice. I nod.
The door shuts, and I let out a breath.
“Really, it’s like you’ve never seen a guy before,” Bel says.
“Shut up, Bel.” I unscrew the lid from the bottle and take a sniff of the contents. Mmm, smells like coffee. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Aren’t you done testing yet? I don’t want to be here all day.”
“You could have left for lunch. He said he would stay.”
“Let’s call that no way in hell. Hurry up and finish, okay?”
I turn my attention back to the screen, then take a swig from the bottle—it’s a coffee milkshake. Cold, thick, espresso-y deliciousness. If this is “liquid nutrition,” I officially change my mind.
I go back to my test and a new message pops up.
FLYX: Allison, you there?
GUEST: here
FLYX: I couldn’t stop staring at you. you’re even prettier than I imagined
My cheeks blaze, and I hope Bel doesn’t notice. I’ve never blushed this much in my life. I hate to admit Bel’s right—I’m acting like I’ve never seen a guy before.
Get it together, Allie. Act normal.
GUEST: thank you for the drink. it’s really good
FLYX: thought you might like it since you mentioned coffee
GUEST: I’m not used to the liquid nutrition. it’s not really a thing where I’m from
FLYX: most of them are pretty odious. I’m glad you like this one
GUEST: yeah, thanks for bringing it.
Dang it, I already said thanks. I try to delete my last message but it won’t let me.
FLYX: I wish Bel would have left so we could talk
GUEST: me too
FLYX: how about we meet later
My heart does a little flutter.
GUEST: sure but I don’t know where I’ll be
FLYX: I’ll find you
The chat window vanishes and I’m left staring at the test, my heart beating fast. What is wrong with me? I don’t even know this guy. And he looks at least two years older than me.
I like Jake. I try to bring up a picture of him in my mind, but I can’t. Oh my God, am I losing my memories? I think of Bibi, and her image pops right into my mind. Same with my mom. Why not Jake?
Maybe it’s because I feel guilty.
But why should I feel guilty? Jake doesn’t know who I am. In his reality, we never met because I was never born.
I tell myself there’s no reason to feel bad about being interested in Flyx. But of course that’s the moment an image of Jake pops in my head, and my heart constricts.
“You’ve got to be done by now,” Bel says.
“Almost.” The faster I finish, the sooner I can see Flyx again.
Chapter Sixteen
Bel activates the door to the Donut Shoppe and I follow her inside. Sharrow’s mint-green hair draws my attention like a beacon. She’s at the first table, head down, by herself.
“Hi, Sharrow,” I call.
She looks up and smiles. “Hi, Allie.”
“Oh gods,” Bel says. “Sit with your perky twin while I get food.”
She leaves without asking if I want anything. So very Bel.
I go to Sharrow’s table and sit across from her. “What’s that?” I point to the mug in front of her.
She grimaces. “Soup. It’s horr-awful.”
She thinks kombucha tastes good, so the soup must be really bad.
“Sorry Bel was so rude earlier,” I say.
“Sluff Bel,” Sharrow says. “How’d the testing go?”
“Easy.” I kind of want to tell her about Flyx. Partly to find out what she thinks of him, but also because it would be nice to have a friend to share stuff with. “Sharrow, there’s someth—”
“Flyx!” Sharrow leaps up and runs toward the door.
Then I remember—last night Sharrow mentioned her boyfriend. She said his name was Flyx.
No.
Her boyfriend’s been flirting with me? And I’ve been flirting back?
No, no, no. That’s so wrong.
Flyx stands frozen as Sharrow rushes to him.
“Consent?” She extends her hand.
“Uh…sure.” He grasps her arm. “I consent.”
She flings her other arm around him and pulls him into a hug. He makes eye contact with me over her shoulder. He looks distressed, I guess because I found him out. But he also looks confused.
Sharrow drags him to the table, grinning huge. It’s like she’s a different person.
“This is who I’ve been wanting you to meet,” she says, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to him or me. “Flyx, this is Allie, the girl I told you about. Allie, this is my boyfriend, Flyx.”
Flyx looks at her, definitely both distressed and confused. “Uh…I’m sorry, are you…Sharrow?”
“That’s not funny.” Her voice is minus half its animation.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, except to say it,” he says. “Something happened to the timeline. And, well, I don’t remember you.”
“Wait…what?” Sharrow says.
“What?” I say at the same time. Maybe he’s not a two-timing jerk.
“I’m really sorry,” he tells her. “If there was anything I could do to change it…”
Sharrow looks crushed. I feel terrible for her. And for me. Whether he knows her or not, Sharrow likes him. That means he’s off limits, at least in my book.
Bel returns to the table with a tray. She sits, then looks up at Flyx and Sharrow. “Are you going to stand there calling attention to yourselves?”
“Nice to see you again, too, Bel,” Flyx says.
“You know Bel?” Sharrow drops Flyx’s hand like a hot coal, and bolts for the door.
“Sharrow!” I jump up, but Bel grabs my arm and pulls me back down.
“Leave it.” Bel’s spindly fingers dig in. Why is she exempt from asking for consent? I yank away from her grasp.
“Aren’t you going after her?” I ask Flyx.
He looks at me, stricken. “I would, but I don’t know her. I’m sure I’d make it worse.”
“What are you still doing here?” Bel says to Flyx.
He shakes his head slowly, his expression pained. Then he looks at me. “Allison, do you want something to eat?”
My stomach’s in knots. There’s no way I could eat. But I need to get away from Bel. “Sure.” I half expect Bel to tell me I can’t go, and I really, really want her to try it. The wrongness of everything is making me itch for a fight.
But she doesn’t say anything. She looks away, ignoring me, so I go with Flyx to the wall of food machines.
“What do you feel like?” he asks.
“I feel like shit!” I blurt. “Sorry. It’s just….”
“I know. It’s not fair.”
“She was so…wounded.” A hollow sadness fills my chest, and I train my focus on the food machine in front of me. Spaghetti. Ugh. “I don’t think I can eat. You go ahead.”
He looks at me, his blue-blue eyes now clouded. I believe him that he doesn’t remember Sharrow, and that he feels terrible about it. And I realize—none of it’s his fault. History changed because of Bel. And because of me.
“I’m not really hungry either,” he says. “How about some juice?”
“Sure.”
We walk to the back where the desserts are. I eye some cookies while he fills two cups with an amber liquid.
“Let’s sit where we can talk,” he says.
I grab a box of cookies and follow to a deserted area near the liquid nutrition machines.
He picks the most remote table, and I take the chair opposite him. Our cups of juice and the box of cookies sit untouched between us.
“So, you go by Allie?” he says. “I can’t help thinking of you as ‘Allison Bennett, my odd-clothed girl.’”
“Your what?”
“That’s how they described you in the newspaper from 1906. It said ‘an odd-clothed girl appeared in the street as if from nowhere.’ That was the first I knew of you, even though I didn’t know it was you-you yet. It stuck.”
I think back to that day I tumbled onto the street in 1906. I’d been in the wormhole so long I was loopy, and Sink came to my rescue. I had no idea there was a reporter there.
“I didn’t know it made the paper.”
“Written records are the only way I can monitor history.”
“Oh.” I sniff my cup, making sure it’s not kombucha, then take a sip. Apple juice. It’s so normal it makes me think of Bibi’s, and I’m hit by another wave of sad. I shake it off and focus. “Before, you said you saw an article about me missing in 2018. That one had my name, but the 1906 one couldn’t have.”
“I wasn’t a hundred it was the same person, but I found a common thread and I rationed it probable. There’s this guy, Steinbeck Raskin—”
“Beck! How do you know about him? They said there was no record of him in this time.”
“There are records. Most people don’t have access to them, but I do. And I saw that he was operating in both of those times—2018 and 1906.”
“There was record of him in 2018 connected to me? How? A custodian saw us in the library, but I never said Beck’s name.”
“Raskin wasn’t mentioned in the newsarticle about you. He was in an article about a different girl. I put two and two together.”
Why would Beck be in the paper in 2018? And with which girl? Haze? Maybe it was Vee—she and Beck were mysteriously missing the night we played parlor games. What were they up to, and how did they end up in the news? “The girl—was her name Vee?”
“No, Kaitlin O’Connell.”
“Kaitlin? Was it about her acting? The role she was offered?” I want so bad for it to be that, but I flash on Haze giving Kaitlin the memory loss drug, and I know too well what that drug did to Beck.
Flyx is avoiding eye contact, looking at his cup, the ceiling, anywhere but me.
I don’t want to hear it. But I need him to say it. “Tell me.”
Flyx looks at me, like he’s sizing me up. Then he nods. “Kaitlin died.”
I swallow back the bile in my throat and clench my teeth, trying to get my rage under control. Damn Beck. Damn him. I make myself stop shaking. “Did it say how?” I’m surprised my voice doesn’t sound as strangled as I feel.
“The newsarticle said she overdosed on a combination of drugs and alcohol. It said it could have been accidental, but most likely…not.”
I clench my teeth again to keep from screaming. Her poor family. They thought she committed suicide, when really Haze killed her. I can’t blame Haze, though. She was Beck’s victim as much as Kaitlin. My eyes fill with tears and I fist them away. “What did it say about Beck?”
“He’s mentioned by code name so loggies can cross reference with the list of auth missions. That way I know her death is permissible—the result of GENterference—and not to rep it as an anomaly of concern.”
“Permissible? How is it permissible?” I’m so pissed I want to flip the table, scream, rage at someone. But that won’t do any good. The only way to fix this is to go back and save Kaitlin. But I can’t do it on my own. I lean toward Flyx over the table. “Kaitlin was murdered. By Beck. And it’s not permissible. I can save her, but I need help.”
He stares at me, his face unreadable. Is he going to help me? Or did I just screw up big time? Then he looks over my shoulder. “Rot, looks like Bel’s coming. Hold out your right hand.”
“Why?”
“We can private-message.” He holds his right arm near mine, placing our devices together. “Huckleberry protocol twenty-eighteen.” There’s a low beep.
“What?”
“To message me say ‘Huckleberry,’ like Finn,” he whispers. “Then the year you’re from, twenty-eighteen.” He stands and faces Bel as she arrives at our table. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m leaving.” He takes his cup and walks away.
Bel frowns. “What was that about? Never mind. I don’t care. Come on, we’re going.”
“No, I don’t think we are.” I’m clenching my fists so hard my hands are shaking.
“Excuse me?”
“Sit down, Bel.”
“What—”
“Sit.”
Slowly she lowers herself into a chair. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Kaitlin is dead.”
Bel rolls her eyes. “Of course she’s dead. She died like a hundred years ago.”
“The drug Haze gave her—it didn’t wipe her memory. It killed her.”
“No it didn’t. Why would you even say that?”
“I know it’s true because….” I can’t tell her I killed Beck with the drug. Not if I want her to take me back to 1906 with her.
“Whatever that Flyx guy told you, he’s lying. I’ll have his job—”
“It wasn’t him, I swear.” I can’t let Flyx get in trouble because of me.
“Then what were you talking about, all huddled together?”
“Uh…” Crap, what can I say? I blurt the first thing that pops in my head. “Milkshakes.”
“Milkshakes? Milkshakes?”
“We were talking about liquid nutrition and it led to milkshakes.” I shrug. “Sue me—I like milkshakes.”
“Well, you’re wrong about the memory loss drug. So drop it. I mean it.” She stands and looks down at me. “My mom wants to see us. But I have an errand first, and since baby-bird Sparrow flew off in a huff, looks like you’re coming with me.”
I bite back my defense of Sharrow, reminding myself I need Bel on my side. I grab my juice and unopened box of cookies from the table. “What should I do with these? Seems a shame to waste them.”
“Who cares. Bin them.”
I finish the juice and drop the cup in the recycle bin, thinking again how it’s such a waste. Then I remember I have a drink bottle now. Actually two—one Sharrow gave me with coffee, the other Flyx brought me. I wish I hadn’t forgotten them in the testing room.
I can’t bring myself to throw away the cookies, so I ignore Bel’s glare and return them to the food case.
“Come on, already,” Bel says.
My gut reaction is to slow my stride, but I don’t give in to it. “Can we stop by the testing room? I left my drink bottles there.”
“They’ll be there tomorrow when you finish testing.”
“But I thought I was done. Does that mean I could still be recycled?”
Bel doesn’t say anything, but the look on her face is answer enough.
Chapter Seventeen
Bel is two steps ahead of me as we exit the Donut Shoppe. It’s rude, but I let it go. Besides, I could do with seeing fewer eye rolls.
I follow up a flight of stairs into a BART station, but this one’s not abandoned. Yes, it’s covered with graffiti, and there are no trains, but there are people. That’s different.
“Which station is this?” I ask, hoping to finally get my bearings.
“Trying to plan your escape?” Bel smirks.
I forget sometimes that Bel and I think alike when it comes to some things.
“Just curious,” I say, probably unconvincingly. “So what is this place?”
“The mall. If there’s something you want—vids, games, mods, accs—this is where to get it.”
I look around, reminded of the flea market on Treasure Island my mom took me to once. This place is less crowded—there’s maybe thirty people here, total, everyone tatted up and metaled out. It’s funny they call it a mall. Maybe they think it’s retro-cool like Donut Shoppe.
Bel leads me past racks of jewelry and scarves to a brightly lit section where three people are lying on tables getting tattooed. She approaches a woman who’s working on a guy laid out on his stomach, yellow bodysuit bunched down around his knees. The guy’s already covered in ink, but apparently there’s an inch or two of blank skin on his butt. I so don’t want to see that.
I keep my gaze on the woman so I don’t have to look at the butt. Her brown skin is covered with geometric patterns in that orangey color that makes me think of India, and her black hair is in long cornrows with copper disks woven in. Her jumpsuit is a dusty pink, which honestly looks terrible next to her hennaed skin.
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