I shake my head to rid my mind of her thoughts. She’s itching to talk to me about it—to impart her wisdom, to make sure I’m okay. But the truth is I’m not. For so very many reasons, I’m not okay at all. And I can’t tell her why. If I tell her why the circle shunned me, I’ll have to tell her about the crystal, and if I tell her about the crystal, I’ll have to tell her about what I had to do to find it—and why. And then she’ll know I changed things. But she can’t know that—because as bad as things are now, I don’t know if I could survive if Jodi gave up on me.
A steady stream of customers keeps us both occupied for a good portion of my shift: It seems everyone in Clearwater is looking to boost their immune systems before winter hits. I lose myself in selling oils and supplements, books and teas, and manage to push all my other thoughts aside.
There’s less than an hour left before closing time when the store empties, the stream switching to a drip. Emotions radiate off Jodi, brushing against my skin: She’s steeling herself to come talk to me, but I can’t face that. So before she approaches me, I turn, hitching on a smile. “You know what sounds great right now? Hot cocoa. You want? I could do a run.”
An expression flickers across Jodi’s face and for a moment I’m sure she’ll say no, but then she returns my smile. “Sure. Grab some cash out of my purse.”
I lose no time running back to the break room and grabbing my coat and some money. In less than a minute, I’m on the street, gulping down the frozen air. It chills my insides, firming a resolve I didn’t realize I’d made. I have to talk to Jodi—she won’t give up until we do—but I’ll have to lie. I head across the street to the coffee shop, mind buzzing. Maybe I can text Felix, see if he can help me come up with a plausible fiction to spin.
When I step up onto the opposite curb, a tingle floods my body—like a hundred sets of eyes are on me, studying me. But the street is nearly empty. Besides a middle-aged man in a brown coat briskly walking his yellow lab and some pre-teen girls giggling as they spill out of a mini-van and into the bookstore, I’m the only one out here. There are cars on the road, but there always are. One in particular draws my eye—a black Charger with dark tinted windows. I’ve seen this car before. And as much as I try to convince myself it’s no big thing, that in a town this small I’m bound to see the same car more than once, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something special about this particular one.
The door to the coffee shop opens and a harassed-looking couple hurries onto the sidewalk, pulling their coats snugly against their bodies and muttering darkly as they head down the street. The Charger continues its route and I shake my head before jogging the remaining distance to the shop’s door. There’s a line inside. Millie’s harassed voice calls to the employee behind the counter whose name badge reads Elle. “Try it again!”
“Nothing!” calls Elle.
The customers ahead of me shift and murmur in disgruntled tones. A few check their watches or phones for the time. I scan the room and my stomach clenches when I catch sight of Owen seated at a high-top table. I can’t face him—not now, not when I finally understand the reason he treats me the way he does. But maybe facing him is exactly what I need to do. I should march right up to him and apologize for what I did that night, explain that I thought I had to. But the idea of doing so makes me want to run right out the door.
He catches my eye and my breath hitches. I’m sure I’ll see there the same distaste that’s rested there every time he’s looked at me, but there’s just mild surprise. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes in a breath.
Millie calls again from the back and the man in front of me nods apologetically as he pushes past me toward the door. A groaning, scraping sound reaches my ears. At first I think it’s coming from behind the counter, but it’s not. Owen is using his foot to push the chair opposite him away from the table. An invitation.
I leave the line and cross to him before I’m fully aware of having decided to do so. My earlier apprehensions are forgotten—or at least tamped down. This is Owen, and the two of us are simply having some coffee together, just like old times.
A text book and notes are scattered across the tabletop, along with an empty glass. He’s studying, and he’s been here awhile—maybe since right after school. I perch on the edge of the chair and nod toward the line. “What’s going on here?”
“There’s something wrong with the espresso machine, I guess. Millie’s trying to flip the right breaker or something. They’ve been at it maybe ten minutes.”
I lean toward him, dropping my voice. “You mean all these people have just been standing here for ten minutes?”
He nods. “Pretty much. It’s pretty entertaining, actually. I’m trying to guess who can hold out the longest. The guy and the woman at the head of the line keep complaining that they’re going to be late for something.”
I make a face. “Then why don’t they just leave?”
He snaps and points at me. “Exactly.”
He’s being nice to me—too nice, almost. His acting so much like my Owen, I actually pinch my leg to be sure I’m not imagining things. When the pain shoots through me and Owen remains, I blink and shake my head.
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “What?”
“You’re being nice to me,” I blurt.
His face tightens, but only momentarily. “Yeah. You know, Felix was right. I’ve been holding on to what happened for too long.” He shakes his head. “I have noticed. That you’re different. I haven’t wanted to see it because I’ve wanted to be mad at you. But it’s been years, and I can’t keep all that anger. It’s exhausting.”
Tears prickle my eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I blurt. “I’m sorry for what happened. I was awful—”
Owen covers my hand with his, just for a moment, but it’s enough to cut me off. “Don’t. I don’t wanna talk about then. I wanna put it behind me—finally. What Felix said the other day… He was right.” He offers a smile. “He’s a good guy. Felix.”
It takes a second for his meaning to sink in. Heat rises in my cheeks. “No—we’re just friends. There’s nothing between me and Felix.”
“Oh.”
The air between us changes, charges. There’s a spark of possibility overshadowed by a wave of fear. I latch onto the first idea that strays into my mind. “So, which one do you think’ll be the next to drop?”
Owen raises an eyebrow and I nod toward the line. His posture relaxes and he presses his lips together. “Hard to say. See, at this point, you’ve gotta imagine what’s going through these people’s heads. They’re thinking about how long they’ve already waited and just how late they can be for their next engagement. And then there’s the fear that you’ll wait all this time and as soon as you walk out, everything’s gonna start working again. I’m thinking the two up front are in it for the long haul. The woman in yoga pants? I bet she’s next to go.”
“I don’t know. Yoga pants are pretty comfortable.”
Owen snorts. “What does that have to do with anything?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just, she probably won’t care how long she has to stand there because her clothes aren’t gonna start digging into her.”
Owen shakes his head, smiling.
I return his smile. Maybe this can work, a friendship between us. Things won’t ever be the way they were before, and maybe I don’t want them to be. We don’t have the same history. The Owen I knew, the one I was falling for, isn’t the same as this one. But if he can move beyond this reality’s history, I certainly can.
Behind the counter, Elle sighs. “Do you want me to try?”
“I think I can flip a switch by myself.” Millie’s tone is irritated. I can only see her arm from this angle, and I can hear the loud snaps as she flicks each breaker off and then on again. Snap. The overhead lights go out. A couple people call out in surprise. Snap. The lights are back on.
“I just want a coffee,” calls the man stationed third in line. “Can I just get a cup?”
; “Are you paying with cash?” Elle asks.
The man looks at her like she’s crazy. “No.”
She points at the register. “I can’t ring any transactions right now. If you had cash...”
“Well, I have cash,” calls yoga pants.
The employee looks at her expectantly. “And you’d like coffee?”
“No. I want a skinny half-caf vanilla latte.”
“The espresso machine’s still not working.”
“Well, how do you know?” asks yoga pants. “You’re not testing it.”
The employee takes in a breath before responding. “There’s a light that glows green when the machine is on—”
“Maybe it’s broken,” snaps yoga pants.
“Yikes,” I murmur.
“Yeah, this is quickly dissolving into anarchy. How long do you think it’ll be before they organize and storm the counter?”
I squint at the patrons. “I dunno. I think there might be a power struggle. Yoga Pants isn’t going down without a fight.”
Owen laughs and I bask in the sound of it. I’ve missed him—not in the romantic way I longed for him when I first entered this reality, just him—his humor, his friendship. I almost forgot how easy it’s always been with him, how I’ve never felt like I need to pretend to be someone I’m not. My eyes prickle. I’ve missed having friends. When they associated with me, the circle didn’t really fill that hole. And even with Bria, West, and Felix, the energy we have together is different than the easy playfulness we enjoyed before. But here, now, with Owen, it’s like things are the same as they were before. I smile at him and as he turns his clear blue eyes on me, for the first time since I returned from the time-travel spell, I feel like I’m home.
“I give it two minutes before no-cash coffee guy steals a cup and gets his coffee,” Owen says, grinning.
I smile back, but the expression quickly slips from my face as a sensation overtakes me. My whole body prickles as a current of energy thrums through me. I scan the coffee house, coming up empty before it dawns on me what I’m searching for: the circle. The charge in the air is so similar to what I felt just before Dana fell down the stairs.
The shop is plunged into semidarkness again, and yoga pants lets out a yelp. A few seconds slip by and the light doesn’t return. The man at the head of the line begins grumbling about something, but his voice is drowned out by a scream. “Millie!”
I stand, suddenly on high alert. There’s something wrong. It’s not just the darkness: there’s a scent in the air, like burning, or something charred. I edge toward the counter, dreading what I’ll find there.
Lying on the ground below the breaker box is Millie, a wisp of smoke rising from her nose and mouth, catching the slanting light coming from the front window. Elle is bent over her, reaching toward her but not quite touching her.
“Call nine-one-one!” Owen calls.
No one moves.
Owen grabs my shoulder and shakes me. “Do you have your phone?”
I nod, numbly, my hand going to my back pocket.
“Mine’s dead. Give me yours.”
The man at the back of the line shoves forward. “I’m a nurse,” he says, rushing behind the counter.
Elle lets out a wail as the man displaces her. Owen takes my phone and dials three numbers. “Hello? There’s an emergency at Wide Awake Cafe on Main. I think... I think someone’s been electrocuted.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Owen and I stand on the sidewalk, watching as the paramedics slide the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. The lights aren’t flashing. There’s no need. The white sheet covering Millie’s face is final: She will not recover from what happened.
Died immediately, the nurse said when the paramedics arrived. The shock stopped her heart, and the nurse couldn’t get it started again.
The paramedics close the back door before circling around to the cab of the ambulance. I stare until the vehicle has disappeared down Main Street.
Owen’s hand closes over my shoulder. “Hey, let me walk you back to Jodi’s shop.”
I shake my head. “I can’t... I can’t...” I can’t do it again, I want to say. I can’t tell her that one of her good friends is dead, not again. I was the one to tell her that her friend Shelly was dead in my other reality, and I can’t see that look on her face again.
“Okay,” Owen says, even though I haven’t made a coherent statement. “Okay. Walk down there with me. I’ll tell her. You don’t have to go in. I’ll tell her and then I’ll take you home.”
I want to disagree with him. I should stay and Jodi should go. I should be the one to close down the store so Jodi can go home, but I know I can’t do it. The aroma of burned flesh is still strong in my nostrils. I can’t close the shop right now. I’m not entirely sure I can walk.
Owen leads me back down the street. It’s not until we get to the front door of the shop that I realize I didn’t get Jodi her drink. I reflect on how disappointed she’ll be until I realize she won’t care about her drink once Owen tells her what happened. She might never drink coffee again.
True to his word, Owen goes into the store without me. I stare off across the street, not wanting to catch even a glimpse of Jodi’s face when she hears the news. My stomach twists. I should be in there, supporting her. But I can’t. I just... I can’t.
What was it I felt back there before it happened? Was it a premonition? Just my psychic senses hinting that something bad was about to happen? Or was it something else?
Owen is back at my side and I’m not sure how much time has passed. He places a tentative arm around my shoulder and leads me toward his car, which is parked at the end of the block.
“I should be in there. I should help her.”
“No. Jodi wanted me to take you home.” Owen’s voice is firm, even if his hold on me isn’t. Still, it’s the closest the two of us have been in this new reality, and I’m forcibly reminded of all the other times he slung his arm around my shoulder or bumped my arm with his, the times he held my hand. It seems impossible to me that those things happened in a place where Owen will never be aware of them.
My stomach twists. How selfish am I? Someone just died, my aunt is probably a wreck, and here I am feeling sorry for myself because—what? I don’t have a boyfriend?
Owen opens the passenger side of his white Grand Prix and lets me in. I slide into the familiar seat, my eyes scanning the dashboard for the little cracks and dings I remember from the last time I was in the car. Only some of them are there. After all, this car isn’t exactly the same as the one I rode in before, just like this Owen isn’t exactly the same as the one I rode in it with.
I don’t ask Owen how he knows the way to my house, but he drives there without my input. When he pulls in the driveway, he cuts the ignition and comes around to my side to open the door. Ordinarily I would insist I could get the door myself, but these are not ordinary circumstances and I even need Owen’s help getting out of the car. His arm is once again around me as he leads me up the porch stairs and to the front door.
“Thank you,” I murmur when we reach the door. I’m not entirely sure what I’m thanking him for, but the words seem appropriate. Thanks for walking me to the door? Thanks for telling Jodi her friend died so I wouldn’t have to? Owen seems to accept that it’s a cover-all and nods.
He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. “I just... I can’t believe that happened. We were just sitting there and...” He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m an awful person.”
His words jar me. “What?”
He sighs. “Someone was just electrocuted, and I’m thinking about how it ruined…” He turns, facing the driveway. “Felix was right. Completely right about me.”
I grab his arm, tugging him until he faces me. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve hated you. For the last three years, I’ve hated you, because it was easier to do that than to admit the truth. But these last couple weeks, you’ve been different. At firs
t I tried to ignore it, tried to believe it wasn’t really there, but… I see her there, inside you. The girl you were when you first came to Clearwater. I see Krissa when I look at you—not Kristyl, not the girl you changed into when you started spending time with them.”
My heartbeat speeds up. “I can’t explain it, Owen, but I am her—I am Krissa.”
He blinks a few times, pressing his lips together. “We were friends—good friends. I’ve missed that. And then today, you show up and it was like old times, you know?” He reaches forward, caressing my cheek with his fingers. “It was going so well until...”
My breath catches, the force of a memory taking me by surprise. Owen stood on this porch once before—my Owen—and said those same words. And afterward, we kissed for the first time. I want so badly to kiss him right now, to relive that moment, to lose myself in it. But I can’t—we’re not the same people. I turn, heading toward the house. “I should get inside.”
By the time I reach the front door, Owen is at my side. He places his hand over mine when I grab for the doorknob. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t look at him, afraid of what might happen if I do. “Nothing.”
“Are you mad at me?” He removes his hand from mine. “Was it something I said?”
“Of course not.” I don’t turn to him and he puts one hand firmly on each of my shoulders, turning me so I’m facing him. The air outside is cold, but it’s nothing compared to the icy sensation that engulfs me when my eyes lock on Owen’s. The air is pressed from my lungs as memories of my life—my former life—flip through my consciousness like a movie on fast-forward. My first day at Clearwater High, when Crystal Jamison spilled her coffee over my clothes. Owen finding me in an empty stairwell and offering me his sweatshirt. His smile from across the lunch table. The first time he hugged me outside Spanish class. Our hands full of deep, rich compost when we helped the science teacher take care of the plants in the courtyard at school. The school dance when we slow danced in the corridor off the commons, the feel of his hand on the side of my face as he leaned forward... The panic in Owen’s face and voice the morning after the dance when he admitted he’d foreseen an accident Felix was involved in. The confusion and elation at learning that he and I are the same—we both have psychic abilities. The rage that coursed through him the night Tucker tried to attack me, and the feel of his lips against mine when we kissed here on this porch.
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