“What kind of gift?” Julie asks slowly.
The wind picks up. Aldraa draws his hand back. “The council has freed you.”
“Freed us?” Julie blinks. “From what?”
“From the cloudiness.”
Julie looks over at Claire, who shakes her head a little.
“The cloudiness?” Julie calls out.
“When you leave this place,” Aldraa says. “You will remember. You will remember us. You will remember the astronaut. And you will remember each other.”
There is a swell of strange, staticky sounds, the wind and the cicadas and the ocean all rolled up together.
Claire is the first to speak. “Thank you,” she says, her voice tight. “That’s an amazing gift.”
“Yeah, I agree. Thank you.” Julie takes Claire’s hand and smiles up at Aldraa. “That’s really righteous of you.”
Aldraa makes a low humming noise. “I have been too long outside the power plant,” He says. “But I wished to deliver the gift myself.” He steps backward, and the playground shudders again, and the strange sounds grows louder and the sun grows hotter and then Aldraa is gone.
Everything is still.
Julie looks over at Claire and feels a surge of electricity between them, then a sudden jolt in the air, and for a half second they are not on a playground in Indianola but standing in front of a coffee shop on a busy street, Claire with a backpack slung over one shoulder, Julie with a stack of flyers for a movie premier. Her movie, she knows. Their movie, that they made together.
And then the sound dampens. The world goes still. They’re back in Indianola.
Claire’s face is gleaming.
“Did you see that?” she whispers. “We were in Austin, I think.”
Julie nods.
“The timeline.” Aldraa’s voice drifts on the wind, painless with distance. “This timeline. Folded for just a second. So you can see what you created.”
Julie laughs. Claire throws her arms around her shoulders, startling her, and Julie buries her nose in Claire’s hair, breathes in the scent of her flowery shampoo. Breathes in the scent of this timeline, shaped once again by a storm, by a night on the beach, by love.
A timeline where an Alvarez saves a Sudek, but this time, they leave Indianola.
Together.
* * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Five years ago I wrote the last word of the first draft of the book you’re currently holding. It’s been a long time coming, but I’m delighted that Forget This Ever Happened has finally found its way out into the world!
Thank you to my agent, Stacia Decker, for working to find this book a home, and to my editor, Mora Couch, for providing that home! Thanks to Mora as well for her spot-on editorial notes, including the excellent suggestion to set the story in the early ’90s.
Thanks as always to my beloved writing community, who is always there to support me no matter what project I’m working on: Amanda Cole, Holly Walrath, Chun Lee, Kevin O’Neill, Michael Glazner, David Young, Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam, Stina Leicht, Elisabeth Commanday Swim, Lauren Dixon, the Writespace crew, and the many others I am probably forgetting to mention. Please forgive me!
And finally, thank you to my parents and to Aaron Holcomb, for all your love and support.
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