Saving Yesterday (TimeShifters Book 1)

by Jess Evander

  “Oh! Sorry, Dad. I completely forgot. Besides, I figured no one would question me.” She bats her eyes. Playing up the daddy’s little princess bit.

  His lips tug with the lightest smile. “Yes, I always say you are the best we have on the field. If anyone can get her into shape, it’s you.”

  So they’re talking like I’m not here. Lovely. Know what? At the moment, that is perfectly fine with me.

  Lark pats Donovan’s arm. “Everyone knows that’s because I learned from the best.”

  Finally, his stance relaxes. “All right, you girls head back to your rooms. You sent my entire security team on a mad goose hunt. Training’s over for now. Promise to fill out the proper paperwork from now on and we’ll forget this happened.”

  We both nod in unison.

  Donovan lays a hand on top of Lark’s head. “I have to go call off the patrol. They’ve all been on edge with the changes and worried in case….” His eyes skirt quickly to me and then away. “If the Shades find a way inside, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

  I locate my voice. “Nicholas will protect Keleusma. Won’t he?”

  Lark’s father tilts his head, considering me before he answers. “In theory. But there’s always a chance that we can get in the way of what he’s trying to do.” With that, he wishes us sweet dreams and leaves. His shoes don’t make a sound as he strolls away.

  For the space of a few heartbeats, I stare after him. He’s not so terrifying when he’s not sitting behind the table with the rest of the Elders. Alone with his daughter, he’s just another normal dad. The exchange has thrown me off kilter. I don’t like it. I want to be able to place these Shifters in one of two groups. Trustworthy or evil. In-between ground only makes things more confusing.

  Beyond that, the last five minutes shoot a pang of longing through my chest. How is my dad holding up? Does he miss me? Worry late into the night? Will my homecoming soften the lines around his lips too? Or has he drunk himself into oblivion?

  I turn back to Lark. “So why stick up for me?” Even as I say the words, I already know the answer. Where’s my eraser? Lark’s name needs to make a pilgrimage to my Good People list.

  “Like I said before, I don’t always think he’s right about everything.”

  “Your dad is a pretty intense guy.”

  She shrugs. “He’s been through a lot.”

  “Still. If you get caught…”

  “Don’t worry about me. Anyway, Michael made me promise to take care of you.”

  My betrayal of Michael seizes like poison in my body. Guilt clings to every thought. “He gave me something ... something that wouldn’t be good for anyone else to see, and I lost it. That’s why I’m out here. I need to find it.”

  Her eyebrows rise. Questioning.

  “I left a note in one of my pockets and now it’s gone from my room. If it’s found, I think it could cause a lot of trouble for Michael.”

  “Listen, my dad called off the patrol, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be people out.” She grabs my arm. “Let’s get you back to your room, then I’ll go find this note.”

  I wrench away. “Not happening. I made this mess. I should be the one to clean it up.”

  Lake pulls me up short. “Okay, we need to get something straight. When it comes to you, my dad is right about one thing. You are stubborn and headstrong and dangerous.”

  Um, that’s three things. “Then I’ll just go by myself—”

  She blocks my progress. “Oh, no you don’t. You’ll hear me out is what you’ll do. Know why there is more than one Shifter, Gabby? Because we need each other. We depend on one another to get things done. Once you’re a Shifter, there’s no going it alone. We take care of each other. I’m sorry about whatever went on in your time that made you hate everyone, but you need to learn there are more people than just you who are capable of managing things.”

  “I don’t hate everyone,” I mumble, but my fight is gone.

  She thumps her chest. “I know where the laundry is. I know the system and will be able to find the note within seconds. If you’re with me, you’re a liability. Plain and simple. Besides, how do you expect me to explain why you’re wandering around after my dad told us to go back to our rooms? If someone finds me alone, they won’t question it.”

  I’m tired. And know what? It might be nice to let someone else bear the load for once. In silence, we walk back to my room. She promises to be back in less than a half hour.

  I shower and change into comfy clothes. Braid and unbraid my hair. Bite my nails. Drum my feet on the side of the couch.

  It’s the longest half hour of my life.

  Lark’s smiling when she saunters back through my door. From her pocket she pulls the note and extends it toward me.

  I snatch it. “Did you read it?”

  “No. Whatever it is, it’s between you and Michael. I didn’t even unfold the thing.”

  “Thanks.” I hold the note up. “And sorry. I should have trusted you.” I fold my fingers over the paper. The corners pinch into my flesh, working like a balm to my nerves. Michael’s safe.

  She makes a move to leave, but I want to ask her something. I thought to voice my question to Michael, but then he said he hasn’t been home since his first shift.

  I clear my throat. “Do you ever go home? You know, to your original time.”

  “Of course.” Slouching onto my bed, she sighs. “I’m back with Eddie a couple times a year.”

  “How do you do it?”

  She trails a finger over the wild pattern on my comforter. “You shift to whoever needs you most in that moment. Sometimes it’s your Pairing who needs you. In the next year or so, Eddie and I will get married. When that happens, I won’t shift again for a couple years. Eddie will need me too much. And when I have a kid, then, for the first year or two, my child will need me most. After that, I’ll shift again, seeing them occasionally as Eddie raises our child.”

  “That’s horrible,” I whisper.

  She doesn’t meet my eyes. “It’s the way things are.”

  “Don’t you want to stay with Eddie?” I take a step closer.

  “Sure. But I also know how important shifting is. Eddie knows that too. We both understand the roles we play.”

  A canary of hope sings in my soul. If what Lark’s saying is true, then I don’t need to worry about my mother any longer. The hints dropped about her can’t be true. What I believe has always been right. “That’s how I know she’s dead.”

  “Your mom?”

  “Yeah, I mean, that’s the only thing that makes sense. If she was still alive, she would have come home. My dad needs her.”

  Lark rises, turns her back on me. “Maybe.”

  The rigid set of her shoulders kills my little canary instantly. “Wh-what do you know about my mother?”

  “Gabby, it’s late. I have to be up early.” Still with her back to me, Lark moves toward the door.

  “Please. I’ve seen pictures of her my whole life, but I know nothing about her. She’s like this ghost I can’t shake. If I just knew something—anything. You don’t know how lucky you are. You might not agree with your dad, but at least you have a relationship,” my voice is low, but it stops her.

  She lets loose a long sigh. “I honestly don’t know much. People don’t tell me things because of my dad’s position. I’ve been sheltered from most things here.”

  “But you know something?”

  “Just whispers.” She rubs her hands over her arms as if she’s cold. “But it’s not good stuff. You’d be better off not hearing it. Sometimes ignorance is better.”

  “Did she die?”

  “I’m not sure. But I do know she disgraced the Shifters, and they’re afraid you will too. That’s why people are wary of you. It’s wrong. I understand that more than anyone. A person shouldn’t be judged by their parent’s mistakes.”

  That’s all she’s been told. It’s clear in her eyes. She’s done, spent.

  After Lark leaves, I shu
t off the lights and lie on top of my bed sheets. Heavy fog descends upon my brain. I want to lie here and never get back up. I want an old dog-eared book to read, a warm blanket, and someone to rub circles over my back. My stomach aches like I swallowed ten pounds of lead.

  In the almost dark, I stare vacantly at the ceiling fan, trying to single out a blade to follow. But nothing chases my thoughts away. Disgrace. The word will haunt me. Howl and accuse me when I’m all alone. My throat feels itchy.

  Was my mom a traitor?

  Or was she—like me—just trying to get home?

  Green? Yellow? Or orange?

  I press my lips together. Loud ticks sound from the timer on the metal device. Letting me know another second of my life is gone. Like sand through my hands—wasted. Makes me think about the things I’ll change if I get the chance. Hug Dad more often. Find more opportunities to laugh with my friends. Not freak out about little things.

  The pointy wire cutters tremble in my hand. Lark’s shadow looms behind me and her foot taps out a steady beat of annoyance. Why doesn’t she just take over? Save the day and all that. The tyrant gene must run too strongly through her veins. Watch the little guy squirm for entertainment. Oh, joy.

  Focus. Don’t be bested by a machine. Okay, this has to be logical. I examine the three tense wires again. Let’s get all symbolical. Green is the color of life, plants, and vitality. Yellow makes me think about long summer days spent basking by the lake and happiness. Then there’s the orange. Nothing is orange besides construction cones, fire, and, well, oranges.

  Red digital numbers tell me I have less than a minute. A bead of sweat trickles down my neck.

  “All your people are going to die,” Lark snaps.

  I work my bottom lip between my teeth. Life, happiness, or construction? Yikes, the world has come to this.

  A heartbeat later, I snip the orange. The timer stops. I shove damp bangs from my forehead and smirk at the evil contraption. Then there’s a hissing sound and the one-foot metal box explodes. The force lands me on my back. I close my eyes. Tossing my arms over my head, I wait for the sear of pain.

  The room falls quiet.

  Well, if you don’t count the snort Lark lets loose. “Great. You know you have to clean all this up before lunch.”

  I open my eyes. Tiny paper pieces float all around me like a ticker tape parade. They carpet me and the floor. I take my first real breath. “It’s just confetti.”

  “Did you really think we’d use a real bomb for training?” She offers her hand.

  I take it and she helps me gain my feet. “I’m learning not to assume too much around here.”

  Brushing confetti from her shoulders, Lark rolls her eyes. “Well, you can assume I’m not going to help you clean. They’re serving Stromboli in the cafeteria today and I don’t want to be late. The broom and dust pan are in the closet.” She points. Call me slow, I thought she was kidding, but Lark leaves me alone.

  “Dumb bombs.” I kick the stupid metal box across the room on my way to grab the broom. It takes a ridiculous amount of time to sweep every little bit of confetti out of all the corners. Hello, static electricity! The stuff keeps sticking to the broom bristles, my pants, my hair.

  It’s more than a half hour later when I make my way to the cafeteria, toward an inevitable fate. People who show up late for meals get leftovers if they’re lucky. Cereal if they’re not. Believe me, the cereal in Keleusma is not the type with cartoon rabbits dancing on the box or loaded with marshmallow stars. Birds would refuse to touch the stuff they offer here.

  Loud conversations and the smell of stewed tomatoes filter from the dining room. I push through the doors and scan the seating area for someone I know. Michael’s at my side in an instant. I don’t know where he came from. His soft brown eyes make me forget about terrible food. The edges of his mouth tilt up. I freeze as he gently reaches to remove something from my bangs.

  “I take it training with Lark didn’t go well today.” There’s a chuckle behind his voice. He flings the wayward piece of confetti to the ground. Guess I missed one.

  “What can I say? Looks like bombs are not my thing.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m terrible with them too. Well, you saw on Wall Street. When I’m near a bomb, I just try to get people to safety. It’s not a big deal. Not one of us is good at everything. We each have different talents.” He takes my elbow and we weave through the tables.

  “Except it looks like I’m good at nothing,” I say this under my breath because we’ve reached our destination.

  Darnell gives me a chin-up form of greeting. Eugene waves his fork while he munches on an enormous bite of salad. Lark smiles, and I immediately forgive her for leaving me. It was silly to think she should help pay for any of my mistakes. Michael pats the seat beside him.

  “I have to go scrounge up something to eat.” Maybe they have some of Eugene’s salad left.

  But Michael snags my hand before I can move. “I saved some for you.” With flourish, he yanks a napkin off of a plate sitting in front of him. On it rests a huge portion of Stromboli. More than I could eat in two meals. Meat and cheese ooze out the side. My mouth starts to water.

  I drop down onto the bench. “Thank you.” I want to hug him but rein that desire in. It hits me that it’s been a few days since I’ve seen him. Well, other than in passing. We’ve sat at the same table at meals, but always separated by other people. I’ve missed him. But there’s the Pairing to think of, after all. Would Porter save me food? Not likely. He’d eat both our shares and then raze me for coming too late. Poke me in the ribs while I choke down stale cereal.

  Michael nudges a small bowl full of pasta sauce closer to me. “It’s probably not warm still, but it has to taste better cold than the other options up there.”

  Slicing off a chunk, I dip it into the sauce and take a bite. Other than making me wish for Chicago deep dish pizza, the stuff is amazing.

  I’m still chewing when Michael leans in. “For the record, I think there’s a lot of things you’re good at,” he says quietly. Our friends don’t notice.

  I start to choke on my food. Eugene slaps my back as if that might help. Clearly, he didn’t ever take a first aid class. Michael shoves a glass of water into my hands when I seize a gulp of air. My eyes capture his as I take a sip. There’s a lot of things you’re good at. I want to ask him what he means, but not in front of everyone else.

  Eugene bumps my side. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, fine. Wrong tube.”

  Darnell inspects me with a mixture of curiosity and humor. My gaze flits away, examining the table. His deep-set stare always seems to penetrate right to my soul. But it’s Michael he addresses. “Have your meetings produced anything?”

  Michael rests his arms on the table. “No. The travel specialists can’t figure out how to send me back. It was probably dumb to even ask.”

  What’s he talking about? “Slow down. Back where?”

  “To Pinkerton. To the mission that you—”

  “Messed up,” I offer.

  “I was going to say joined.” He sneaks a piece of my Stromboli and pops it into his mouth. The quick wink that accompanies his thievery keeps me from protesting.

  Darnell castles his hands. “Think. Do you really wish to go back?”

  “Pinkerton’s one of my favorite people in history. I always wanted to get pulled to work with him.”

  Well, that’s just great. Not only did I give Michael a mammoth scar for the rest of his life, but I robbed him of his dream mission. Why is this guy still my friend?

  Eugene tries to spin his cup like a top. Instead, he topples it, spilling milk over the surface. He grabs a wad of napkins and tosses them over the mess. Shoving his glasses up his nose, he inclines his head toward Michael. “I think I can get you back to the exact moment you left.”

  Michael raises his eyebrows. “I’ve been told it’s not possible.”

  Eugene’s eyes dart back and forth over the room as he speaks. “
That’s because I haven’t told anyone. See, it’s all just theories. But my preliminary tests did well.” He fishes a small memo notebook from his back pocket. Flipping it open, he taps a crudely drawn picture. Complete with stick figures and lots of swirls that look like tornadoes. Okay, so the computer whiz can’t draw well. “I think I found a way to manipulate the portals. Use their unspent energy.”

  Lark cocks her head. “Even if it’s possible, would that be wise? I mean, if Nicholas wanted him to go back to that mission, he’d send him there.”

  That makes Eugene shrug. “Shifters built the portals and no one sees anything wrong with that. If Nicholas gives us the knowledge to do things like this, then shouldn’t we? Wouldn’t it be negligent on our part to waste that?” He faces Michael again. “I can’t send someone just anywhere. It won’t work like that. The only reason I can try is because you went to that time, but never started the mission. It’s like I’ve discovered this pocket of grace. A chance for a second try. At least that’s how I like to think about it.” He tucks the notebook back into his pocket. “If you had attempted the mission and failed, I couldn’t send you back.”

  Michael smacks his palm on the table. “I’m in.”

  Lark’s eyes bug out. “It’s way too dangerous. You can’t do this, Michael.”

  I lay down my fork. “I’m going too.”

  Darnell buries his face in his hands. Michael and Lark answer me in unison.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “No way.”

  My hands ball into fists and warmth rushes up my neck. “In case you forgot, I was part of that mission. I got pulled there instead of here. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  Lark shakes her head. “You’re not ready. There’s so much more to learn.”

  Under the table, Michael places his hand on top of my clenched fingers. “She’s right, Gabby. It’s not safe for you to leave Keleusma yet. Out of these walls, you’ll be like a deer painted hot pink during hunting season.”

  I jerk away from his touch. “But you said—”

  “Hey, I do believe you’re really talented. But look at Eugene and Darnell.” He gestures to each as he names them. “They’re far more gifted than I am but neither of them shift much.”