The Time Traveler's Guide to Modern Romance

by Madeline J. Reynolds

  Lydia Forrester spent what was left of his father’s money on weekly mani-pedis, maids for a house way too large for just one person, oh, and that new SUV she’d treated herself to a few months ago. “I’m not exactly a priority expense on her budget. The only reason she’s still paying my tuition for Briar Grove is because it keeps me miles away from her. She’s even been trying to get me to trade in my camera for a football…or something like it…anything that’ll be more likely to get me a college scholarship.”

  “What?” Oscar laughed. “You mean Lydia doesn’t foresee a lucrative career for you as the next Spielberg?”

  Tyler shrugged. “Eh. More Spurlock than Spielberg.”

  He was hoping that would get a chuckle, but neither Zoe’s nor Oscar’s face showed any sort of reaction. Tyler should’ve figured no one except him would appreciate good documentarian humor.

  “Ah, yes, because the success rate for documentary filmmakers is so much higher,” Oscar said. “You do realize you basically just made my point for me, right?”

  In spite of himself, the corners of Tyler’s lips quirked into a grin. His camera had become almost an extension of his arm at this point. Hell, before he met Zoe or Oscar, his camera had been his first and closest friend. Could he use a new camera? Of course. His was about three models behind, and most of the new gear and add-ons he wanted were only for newer models. Not to mention, the playback feature was slower than it should be for a digital recorder. Did he want to part with an old friend, though? Not a chance.

  A warning bell echoed throughout the courtyard. After one more kiss, Vanessa and Charlie finally pulled their faces away from each other.

  Zoe tapped Oscar’s shoulder. “Come on, Mr. Kent is gonna kill us if we’re late to Trig again this week.” She flashed her doe-iest of doe eyes at Tyler. “You didn’t forget about tonight, did you?”

  Tonight…tonight… Oh, right. That flier Zoe had given him a few days ago.

  “The thing at the historical society? That’s tonight?” It was hard to keep track of events like these. She was constantly dragging him and Oscar to museum openings, reenactments, lectures—if it had a historical bent to it, Zoe was there.

  “Don’t tell me you made other plans.” Zoe sounded hurt at the idea of him blowing her off.

  Tyler shifted. He hated the idea of Zoe being upset with him, and he wanted to be there for her as much as possible. But if he was going to get into NYU, he needed to stay focused. “I’m sorry, Zo. I’ve got my college application essays to work on.”

  Zoe arched an accusatory brow. “Applications aren’t even due yet, you have plenty of time…not to mention it’s a Friday.”

  Tyler bit his lip, shifting his weight to one side. He had been planning on spending the whole weekend perfecting his applications: NYU, Columbia University, Boston University, Ithaca, USC, Cal Arts…every time he checked, his list kept getting longer. Mainly due to fear of getting rejected by his top choices. Ever since he fell in love with filmmaking, getting into a good film school was all he wanted, all he could focus on. Sure there was the slight distraction of a crush here or there, like with Charlie or Vanessa, but as tempting as the idea of a relationship seemed, making documentaries—telling the stories that needed to be told—was higher up on his list of priorities.

  Zoe knew how much this meant to him and how much work he had to put in until he would be satisfied with his essays. There was a sympathetic gleam in her eyes. But he could tell that she also really wanted him to be at this thing with her.

  “Please?” she asked.

  “Yeah, c’mon man,” Oscar said. “If I’m not getting out of this then neither are you.”

  Zoe gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Hey! You guys, it’s going to be fun. I promise. The Victorian era was super cool!”

  Tyler relented and gave a nod. He still needed a video submission for his NYU application. Maybe he could talk to some of the actors and hone his interviewing skills on-camera. “All right. I’ve got an open period right now. I’ll head to the library to get in some writing on at least one of my essays, and then I’ll meet you guys there later.”

  Zoe did a little victory dance, punching the air with glee. Tyler laughed as they all said their goodbyes and parted ways.

  He shuffled across the grass toward the old brick building that housed BGA’s library.

  Inside, Tyler made a beeline for his usual spot in the far-left corner and slipped his MacBook out from his messenger bag. He opened up the Word document for his Columbia essay and cringed. The only words written so far were his first and last name in the top right-hand corner and the prompt he’d chosen from the application, centered and in bold:

  Describe a film that altered the way you view the world. What was it about the film that made such a profound impact on you?

  It was such a big question…where would he even start? And how could he pick just one film? There were a bunch of different ones that had changed his life and were now shaping the course of his plans for the future. Like pieces to a bigger puzzle.

  Rather than typing, he brought his fingers up to rub at his temples. He then checked his phone for a bit before folding his arms in front of his MacBook and laying down his head, without a single word written.

  …

  When Tyler woke up there was a noticeable shift in daylight. An orange glow streamed in through the long windows, highlighting the rows of books in an amber haze. There was also a noticeable shift in how many people were now occupying the library. Meaning none. He was alone, though the librarian was likely in the back office.

  He checked his phone. Five forty-five p.m. Zoe was the queen of holding grudges and wouldn’t let him forget it if he was late tonight. He looked to the open Word document, annoyed at his utter lack of progress. He closed the laptop and shoved it in his bag, as if stowing it away would help alleviate some of the shame. He was about to start toward the main exit but stopped when he heard a soft thud.

  From what he could tell, he was still the only person here. His chest tightened, and beads of sweat formed on his back. But he still had a strange urge to find the source of the noise.

  Another thud.

  “Hello?” As soon as he called out, he felt like a character in some B horror movie. If this were a horror movie, the person dumb enough to investigate would be the first one killed off. He should just keep packing his stuff and meet up with Zoe and Oscar.

  But instead of doing what was logical, he let the inquisitive documentarian side of him, the one that always needed some sort of answer even if it was one he didn’t like, guide him as he walked alongside the rows of bookshelves until he spotted the culprit. Two books were sitting on the floor of one of the aisles. Tyler peered from side to side, searching for further explanation.

  He walked over and swept one of the books off the floor, sliding it into an open slot directly eye level. After putting the other book away, he turned on his heels to return to his desk, but a low rumble stopped him dead in his tracks.

  At least…it started low, but it took only seconds for the rumbling to turn into a tremor of earthquake-like proportions. The shelves around him rattled, books falling to the ground in heaps.

  Any other person would have ducked or been more concerned with their safety. But Tyler sprinted toward his bag, pulling out his camcorder. An earthquake in Jersey? Something beyond bizarre was going on, and he would regret it later if he didn’t capture whatever it was on film.

  He didn’t have a point of focus, so he aimed his video camera at the center of the room and hit record. An avalanche of library books rained down from their shelves along each of the aisles. But getting hit in the head was the least of Tyler’s concerns. Right there in the center of the space, a shadow was starting to form, seemingly out of nowhere.

  Tyler’s heart rattled and sweat made his palms slick as he looked down at the viewing screen on his camera. The image showed that a strange black figure really was forming in the middle of the room. It wasn’t just in his mi
nd; it was right there, being documented in real time.

  He wanted to run, but his feet were frozen.

  He wanted to scream, but no sound escaped his suddenly dry, aching throat.

  Horror welled in the pit of his stomach as he watched the shadow become opaque, filling out in density and form, different colors painting the figure appearing in front of him.

  It wasn’t a thing. He was a person.

  And he was staring right at Tyler, blinking wildly.

  Chapter Three

  The Traveler

  Elias stormed into his grandfather’s bedchamber.

  “I cannot believe them!”

  His grandfather looked up from where he sat across the room then closed the book he had been reading. “What has your feathers all ruffled, my boy?”

  “Did you know about this? They want to send me to a reformatory.”

  The sad look in Walter Caldwell’s old green eyes let him know the answer to that question.

  “Your parents…they worry about you.”

  Elias scoffed. “Yes, they worry what I will do to their precious reputation and legacy.”

  “It’s one of the burdens that comes with wealth—people who end up living comfortably assume that the only way their children will also be comfortable is if they lead lives identical to their own. And so they map out every detail.”

  “But you didn’t lead a life similar to theirs,” Elias pointed out. “And besides, I do not care about being financially comfortable or secure. I want happiness. I want to travel the world like you and Grandmother did. I want something of my own, something new. Not the same old life that every child of London’s elite social circle is being groomed for.”

  “I know, Elias.” Walter smiled and let out a bit of a laugh. “From when you were a young boy, I always knew you took after me much more than your father ever did. The desire for freedom and exploration must have skipped a generation.”

  Elias laughed a bit, too, but he was interrupted by the sound of shouts and knocks down the corridor. His parents were likely out in front of his room, assuming he’d gone there. “Elias! Elias!”

  Walter, meanwhile, reached for the side table near his chair and picked up a postcard from when he and Grandmother had gone on a trip to Vienna. He flipped it over, a faraway look in his eyes, before setting it back down and offering Elias a sympathetic half smile.

  “I know your mother and father think that your behavior recently is simply you acting out or being reckless,” he said. “But I know better.”

  “Oh?” Elias did not necessarily love the idea of his actions being analyzed, but he wanted to see where his grandfather was going with this.

  Grandfather stood and crossed the room over to him, placing his hands on Elias’s shoulders. “You’re miserable. You have been for some time, and it breaks my light to see your light fading.” He looked over to the nightstand beside his four-poster bed and heaved a sigh. “I told myself I would never use it again, and I do not wish to anger your parents—I love them—but I also cannot allow their expectations to rule your life or happiness.”

  Now, in addition to being intrigued, Elias was mostly confused.

  Walter walked over to the nightstand, opened one of the small drawers, and pulled out a chain from which a bronze pocket watch dangled. This didn’t answer any of the questions Elias had but rather, introduced more.

  Grandfather crossed back over and held it out in front of Elias. Intricate filigree and flower patterns decorated either side of the casing, and at the center was an engraved symbol of an hourglass.

  “I do not expect you to know what this is,” Walter began, but Elias interrupted him.

  “Pfft, can you please refrain from insulting my intelligence? It’s a pocket watch.”

  His grandfather laughed. “I’ve told you all about my different journeys and excursions across the globe. What if I were to tell you that you could travel to new places, whole new worlds, by simply holding on to this watch?”

  Elias raised an eyebrow. “I would say that either you were trying to play me for a fool or becoming one yourself.”

  This had been meant in jest but, this time, his grandfather did not laugh. He sounded entirely serious as he said, “This watch has been in our family for generations. No one knows how or where our ancestors procured it or how it can do what it does. Hell, I am surprised it was not lost somewhere in another time or another place…”

  “You’re not making any sense,” Elias interjected.

  “This is no mere watch, my boy. This is a device imbued with properties that are…supernatural in nature. If you are holding on to it, it can transport you to any place and any time you wish to visit.”

  Elias rolled his eyes. His grandfather had always been the most wonderful storyteller and, as a child, he’d adored that about him. But Elias wasn’t a child any longer; he was living in the real world with real issues lying before him. He did not have the time for fairy tales, even though he wished more than anything that he could grasp the small trinket and simply disappear.

  “No one had told me about the watch’s special abilities prior to my inheriting it. The first time I travelled with it, it happened completely by accident. I wound up in Prague in 1793. I had never been so scared in my life, and I was certain I would never make it home. But once I learned how to control the object, it suddenly went from being a curse to a remarkable gift. Do you remember the expedition I took to Africa when you were but eleven?”

  Elias nodded.

  “Well I did go to Africa…in the year 1973.”

  Elias snorted, folding his arms. As a child this was exactly the type of fantastical story that would have him wide-eyed, captivated, and that would take his mind off whatever argument he was having with his parents or any worries he might have had. But Elias was an adult now, for all intents and purposes, with serious problems. His grandfather really needed to come up with a better way to cheer him up.

  From the way the smile on his wrinkled face faded, he had clearly been hoping that Elias’s reaction would be much more mystified. “You do not believe me,” his grandfather said, “And I do not blame you. I know it sounds unbelievable and fantastical, but it’s very much real. You simply clutch the pocket watch in your hand, concentrate on where—and when—you want to go, and when you open your eyes, you’re there.”

  “If that is true, then why did you not tell me before? Or anyone else for that matter?”

  Walter sighed. “I am getting older, and as people age the more they start to make remarkable claims, and the more likely it is that others will assume them to be senile. I was worried that if I told your father or mother, they would have me put in an asylum. Not because they are cruel, you see, but because in their minds, they would be doing the right thing.”

  Elias would like to believe his parents would not have his grandfather committed, and yet, they were now threatening to send Elias away to a reformatory for spilling wine on an, albeit, priceless work of art. Anything was possible.

  “As for why I did not tell you, my boy, I knew that if I ever did tell you and managed to get you to believe me that you would want to leave just as soon as you could. Part of the decision was selfish, I admit. You’ve always been my favorite, and I would have missed you dearly. I still will if you decide to leave. But before, you were so young. I didn’t feel it was my place. Now you are becoming a man. It is time for you to choose the path the rest of your life will take, and if that needs to be somewhere far from here, then ultimately that is your decision to make.”

  Elias looked skeptically at the timepiece. “I still don’t believe it has magic.”

  His grandfather just grinned. “Well then you have nothing to lose by trying it.”

  A loud knocking sounded on the door to his grandfather’s bedchamber.

  “Walter? Is he in there with you?” his mother called. “Elias, our business was not finished. Now come out and speak to us—you are acting like an insolent child!”

  If he was
going to try it, there would not be a better moment than this one. He nodded and held out his palm.

  Before handing it over, Walter looked to his grandson, his expression suddenly more severe. “Now, in order for you to control where it takes you, you need to concentrate. Picture the intended destination in your mind, otherwise it will be entirely at random. The first trip is always the most disorienting. You will be a little stricken at first, I can almost guarantee that. But you must remember to be brave and to be adventurous. You can use the watch to return home at any point and if you do not…return, that is…I will at least know that you have found a new home. A place that has brought happiness back into your life, a happiness that has been absent in you recently.”

  “And if it works,” Elias began, trepidation slowing his words, “what…what will you tell my parents? What will you tell Samantha?”

  Walter Caldwell placed the heirloom in Elias’s hand and smiled. “Do not worry, I will think of something.”

  Elias could not believe he was actually entertaining the idea that this might work. But as the knocking from the hallway grew louder, he was willing to believe or try anything. He tightened his fingers around the watch, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath. The advice his grandfather had given moments before echoed in his mind:

  “Be brave. Be adventurous.”

  One piece of advice he failed to follow was selecting a specific destination first. In truth, he didn’t really know where he wanted to go, only that he wanted to be far, far away.

  Elias’s eyes were still closed when a sharp gust of wind whipped against his face.

  He had not realized just how tightly he had been clutching the pocket watch, but after placing it in his other hand, he looked down at his palm, which felt raw, and noticed his firm grip had caused the outline of the hourglass to leave its mark on his skin.

  When he looked up, both hands trembled and his gaze grew wide.

  Where…what…how…

  Different questions all started to form in his head, but none got past more than the first word. His attention was shifting so rapidly, he could barely assemble one cohesive thought. Confusion was followed by disbelief, followed shortly thereafter by panic.