by Holly Hook
I close the book and whirl around.
Simon sits next to me, spinning a coin on the table beside my tray. It's a blur as it dances in a circle like a crazed ballet dancer.
I catch my breath. Simon carries the scent of fresh air. Salt, even. It makes something stir inside of me, someplace where the colors are bright and people are laughing and having fun, but it’s gone when I blink again. He has one freckle on the side of his nose, one shaped like a tiny apple. A scar right above his left eyebrow that looks a bit like a flag.
"Um…hi." I feel heat rushing to the surface and blasting out every pore. Sweat forms under my palm as I grip the table.
"Hello," Monica says as if she's known Simon forever. "How you doing?"
"Fine." He gives her a brief glance, then faces me and slaps his hand down on the coin. The noise of its dance stops and he lifts his hand and smiles. "So…how have you been?"
The coin on the table matches the one that I still carry with me every day.
It's another World War One era British penny, complete with the man on the front. The wear. The bronze color. I'm not sure about the date, since it's just as worn as the date on mine, but it's definitely the same.
I rise from my stool. "Meet me out in the hall."
Monica and Trey have fallen silent. I turn away from them, knowing that Monica's going to hammer me with questions when I get home.
Luckily the hall's completely empty when I step out, almost as if everyone from the Snob Squad to the janitors has decided to clear the area for us. The Center glows with its sunlight beaming down through the glass, making the benches bright and shiny. Light reflects off the trophy case and glares at me.
I hold the door open for Simon as he steps through. His face is unreadable. He still holds his coin between his thumb and his fingers and he’s flipping it around like this is no big deal.
I close the door to the cafeteria, shutting out the chatter and the noise. Monica cranes her head at me from across four rows of tables. I need privacy. “Simon, were you the one who wrote me that note? Who left me this a year ago?”
I pull my coin out of my pocket and hold it up to him. His eyes narrow at it, but there’s no surprise coming over his face. Yep. That pretty much means I’m right.
Then he nods. “To make a long story short, yes. I’m the one who left you on Nancy’s doorstep. And before you ask, it was me who left Nancy a fake file and made her believe a false story about you.”
“The one about me having a mom who neglected me,” I say. My heart's pounding. Simon's standing two feet from me. The reddish highlights in his dark hair shine in the sunlight. The brown in his eyes have tiny hints of emerald.
“But how?” I ask. “If I’m not from this time, how did I end up here? And how did you convince Nancy about my fake story? I mean, no offense, but you're my age.”
Simon steps a bit closer. “Forging your file was the hard part. Convincing Nancy only took me a few minutes. I had to make sure you would fit into this time without any questions. To keep you hidden and to keep you safe. Nancy's was a good place for me to put you for so many reasons.”
I have so much more to ask. I can't stop myself even if I wanted to. “You still didn't tell me how you convinced her. How come Nancy was expecting me if there were never any social workers visiting her? And I think those time police people found me the night you left me there. That must be why they know where I am now. You see, right after I woke up, I saw these gold eyes looking at me in the dark, and—“
“Julia,” he says, begging me to stop. He starts to look away, but it’s too late.
There's a faint glint of gold in Simon's eyes. It races through the brown like a shooting star trying to escape undetected. He turns away and coughs.
My heart tries to leap away in terror. The entire hallway seems to shrink behind Simon, magnifying him and his shoulders which slump with shame.
He's one of them.
Just like Frank and Isabel.
I take a step back, scanning all my escape routes. The double doors at the end of the hall. The now-empty lunch line, which may have closed up already. The office, as awful as that is. My surroundings are still barren, empty as the night Frank led me down here to betray me.
Simon lets out a breath.
"Julia, I'm sorry. It's hard to explain." He steps closer. There's nothing besides the brown in his eyes now. He's silently begging me to stay.
“You…” I struggle to find the words. “You were the one looking at me before Nancy opened her door. You’re one of those time police people!”
Simon backs away and raises his arms. "Yes. You’re right again. I promise I won't hurt you. I won't send you anywhere. You have my word. Yesterday alone should prove that to you. There's no way I would've taken your arm like that if I wanted to send you back to your real life."
Everything in my body screams at me to run. The muscles in my legs turn to springs, ready to go. My pulse goes from a primal drumbeat to an engine working overtime. But something inside me holds me back. A quiet, still voice speaks like another me trapped down in the darkest, most remote reaches of my mind.
Listen to him.
There’s no cold. No darkness creeps in through the cracks of the lockers. The walls stay solid. No one screams for me.
I’m not going anywhere.
"Okay. You have my ears." My words come out a bit too high and squeaky for my liking. I can’t hold up my tough act right now, and I hate myself for it.
Simon releases another breath and lets his arms fall to his sides, since there's no point in having to cover his eyes anymore. His secret's out and his relief is palpable. "I’m glad you’re not scared, Julia. Do you know how long I worried about this moment?”
Judging from the way his shoulders drop, I’m guessing it was quite a while. “Okay. How long?”
He looks at the light above me like he’s not sure what to say. “A century, maybe.”
“A century?”
“Well, not exactly. The years are a lot different for us Timeless than they are for mortals. But to you it would be a century.”
I turn away and study a heart carved on a locker until my head stops spinning. Simon says nothing while I stand there, scrambling to make sense of it all.
He’s there, right behind me. I can feel his body heat radiating towards me. It’s so different from that cold we fell through together.
I face him. He’s close, close enough to pull me into a hug or even a kiss if he wanted to. I don’t hate the thought, either. A huge, huge part of me wants him to hold me. I want him to kiss me, right here, and I want it to last all day. “So you’re like, immortal? And do you always talk so old-fashioned?" Why did I just add that to the other questions? I have no room to talk about that.
Simon nods and grins. It makes his apple-shaped mole bend in a way that makes it look more like a diamond. "You're not the only one who's asked that question today, Julia. The last one, of course."
"And your answer to Question Number One is…?"
The grin drops away like a mask. There's darkness there in Simon's eyes, painful darkness. "Yes. You could say I’m immortal. And before you ask, I’ll answer your next questions. Yes, we came from the same time, and yes, I used to be mortal, just like you. You must remember something from where we're from. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have run from me yesterday.” He looks down and licks his lips. “You must only remember something awful. I was hoping that wouldn’t happen. We had so many good memories, but it looks like you didn’t get to keep any of those. Time can be cruel like that.”
Good memories. I stare at Simon’s lips. Take in the way he’s looking at me, warm and protective. It feels so right, even though I know he’s one of those Timeless—the time police people. I’m totally comfortable here, talking to him. It’s like I’ve come home. The feeling’s growing by the minute, like a dam has broken inside me and allowed that emotion out.
Simon and I were in love in whatever life we came from.
I know it now, the same wa
y I know the sky is blue and that Nancy is the best mother I’ve ever had.
“Simon,” I say. I take his shoulders. Pull him closer, diving into the dark brown of his eyes. The trace of gold is gone now, leaving only the very human, very right Simon in its place.
His kiss tastes like a breezy beach on a sunny day, a place far away from here. A kaleidoscope of colors dance behind my eyes. There’s laughter. Joy. The sun, warm and inviting. I embrace Simon, my real life, pulling it—and him—even closer. My heart pounds with excitement.
And then we separate. I open my eyes, catching my breath.
Simon smiles, showing all his teeth. They’re perfect. “So you do recall something besides the bad parts after all.”
I’m warm all over. Giddy. I should feel embarrassed. Stupid. Horrified that I just kissed a boy I met yesterday.
Only I didn’t meet Simon less than twenty-four hours ago.
I met him a hundred years ago, give or take. And then something happened that sent me here and made him an immortal time police guy who’s probably supposed to send me back but won’t.
“Okay,” I breathe. “What time and place are we from? I really want to know. I already get that we're from around World War One or earlier.”
All the joy vanishes from Simon’s face. A dark cloud rolls over the light that’s still exploding inside me. He's almost glowering. Angry.
“This isn’t going to be simple,” he says.
“What do you mean? I know I’m getting closer to remembering everything. All you have to do is tell me what you hid me from.”
“I can’t.” He lets out a breath and his shoulders arch back up.
“You can’t? Or won’t?”
"Can’t. The Timeless aren’t allowed to talk about their original pasts. Not to mortals, anyway. I’m free to talk about anything except for that." He coughs like some internal struggle has taken hold of him. “And since we share the same past, I can’t talk about yours, either.”
“What? Do the other time police come after you if you do that?”
"No. It’s not like that. Time doesn't like knowledge to pass between different periods because it could mess up the flow of history. It's why your memory got mostly erased when I brought you here. It's also why it stops us Timeless from talking about our pasts. I can't get around this because part of Time is in my blood. My voice box won't work when I try to tell mortals where I'm from. My lips won't move. And don't ask me about writing it all down, because then my hand won't work. Watch."
Simon bites his lip.
Utters a sound that sounds like wuh.
Coughs. He doubles over, grabbing his throat.
"Simon--”
He blinks and looks up at me. “Julia, we came from—“ He goes into another gagging fit like he's inhaled cayenne powder. His whole face goes red as tears well up at the corners of his eyes. He leans over, facing the floor, and sucks in air. "I'm sorry," he manages at last. “I want more than anything to tell you the truth. If I could, I would have written it all down for you when I left you on Nancy’s porch, or told you myself. All I could manage was a clue that wasn’t even very good. Time itself won’t allow me to help you remember.”
My head spins. Those tears aren't fake. Neither is the redness in his cheeks. I clap him on the back to get rewarded with a hiccup. "Stop. You're killing yourself. Drink some water." I push the button on the water fountain. "Come on. We can talk about something else right now." I know deep down that Simon isn’t lying. I just plain know him.
Simon slurps up the water and wipes his hand on his sleeve in a way that Nancy would hate. The answers I need are right behind Simon’s eyes and he can’t give them to me. He looks at me as he finishes. He’s frustration. Fear. Worry.
Now I understand his words yesterday.
I drop the coin to the floor as I help Simon straighten up. It makes a metallic ping as it lands.
“Okay,” I say, trying to sound upbeat. “Let's try something else. Can you talk about how all this happened? Me ending up in this time, I mean? And how you wound up in the time police?”
He takes a breath like he’s scared the coughing attack is going to come back. “We’re called the Timeless, actually. And yes, I can tell you about my immortal life. Do you want to skip the rest of your classes today? I have a few tricks to make sure you don’t get in any trouble.”
Chapter Seven
It turns out that Simon’s abilities go past having gold streaks appear in his eyes and being able to send people back through time.
He can also mess with people’s memories, as I find out.
First, he asks me where my next two classes are. I tell him, and we head to my Lit class, to where Mrs. Sanders is writing notes on the board about something called alliteration. She gives us a glance and goes back to the board. “Hello, Julia,” she says, frowning. “You’re early.”
“Hello,” Simon tells her before I can make an excuse. He lowers his voice and stares hard at her. “Julia was in fact in class today. There’s no need to mark her absent.”
Mrs. Sanders keeps scribbling down her notes. “I understand.” She smiles at us, which is rare. “Have a wonderful day.”
Simon takes my hand and we walk out. I wait until we're well down the hall before I speak. “Did you seriously just do some mental trick on her?”
He pulls his hoodie over his head like he’s trying to hide. “I had to. This is important. It won’t hurt her. She’ll just mark you as here when she does attendance. All of the Timeless can change people’s memories if we concentrate. It’s part of our job sometimes.”
“But that’s…wrong,” I say. I want to laugh. Out of all my teachers, Mrs. Sanders is the one I feel the least sorry for right now. Then a thought hits me. “Is that what you did to Nancy to make her expect me?”
“Yes. It was necessary or she wouldn't have taken you. I put you with her for a very good reason.” Simon makes a face like he's about to choke again. Is the Time in his blood trying to stop him from saying more? Finally his cheeks smooth out. “Who’s your next teacher?”
“Mr. Nevins. Physics.” I'm not sure whether to feel angry at Simon for messing with Nancy's mind. I'll think about that later.
Mr. Nevins is standing over an overhead projector when we get there, changing a slide. Simon just opens the door and strides in, pulling me with him. People look up at us from desks, including Wendy. But the room's dark and nobody in the back looks at us.
“Julia showed up today and turned in her work on time,” he whispers to Mr. Nevins.
“Good to know,” he says, giving us a friendly wave out of the room.
“Can you fly, too?” I joke as we head to Mr. Iris’s room.
“No. I can do these memory tricks and open rifts to different times if I really work at it. That’s about all. These things are a lot easier when there's more than one of us Timeless. That's why Time has us work in pairs or groups when we need to track people like you.”
I struggle to wrap my head around all this while he gives Mr. Iris the same memory wipe treatment. Simon pulls his hoodie over his head again and we head out the school doors, leaving my teachers behind who are all going to have major memory lapses this afternoon.
We walk in the opposite direction of Happy Rabbit's, into a neighborhood with small square houses. In the distance, the bell rings to start the next class.
“We can go here,” I say, pointing to Trenton Park. It's empty at this time of day with no cars in its dirt parking lot. The water fountains shaped like horse heads still have leaves in them since the city workers haven't cleaned them from winter yet. Swings hang over mud puddles. Picnic tables lay pushed together under a pavilion.
I keep my hand locked with Simon’s and we make our way around the borders of the park, right along the tree line. He scans the park and pulls down his hood, which I'm glad for. “I don’t mean to hide from you. I just want to make sure that the wrong people don’t see us together. They’ll try to stop me from protecting you.”
> I hold onto that word. Together. It’s so old, so right. “Like Frank and Isabel,” I say. I'm warm even though it must only be in the forties out here. I'm completely comfortable. I could keep my hand locked with Simon's all day. It feels like something we've done a million times before.
“Time is a force, Julia,” Simon begins. He keeps walking, looking at the trees and the first purple flowers springing up on the tree line. “It’s all around us, but it’s not perfect. Sometimes, these holes in Time open up that are called rifts. They can appear anywhere and last anywhere from a few minutes to a few days. Mortals can’t see rifts unless they're very strong, so sometimes, a person or animal can walk right into one and end up where they don’t belong.”
“Is that what I did?” I ask.
“Yes. Sort of,” he says, holding my hand tighter like I’m about to slip away from him again. “Accidents happen quite a bit, to tell you the truth. Time itself can’t do anything about it. That’s why we Timeless exist. It’s our job to put any Rogue people or animals back in their real times and wipe their memories of the experience.”
“So I’m an accident? That’s all?”
“You’re not,” Simon says, taking both of my arms and facing me. There's some anger in his voice, but it's not at me. “Don’t call yourself that.”
“But I’m in the wrong time.” There's a lump in my throat when I say it. “That means I’m trouble, right?”
“Listen,” he says. “Time doesn’t care who lives and who dies. All it wants is not to be tampered with. That’s why it takes people like me—people who used to be mortal—and makes them its guardians. Time just happened to assign Frank and Isabel to send you back to…” he coughs again. “…back to where you’re from. And Time’s wrong to do that. That’s why I’m doing everything in my power to stop it.”
“It assigns you guys to people like me? Does it hand out slips? Call a meeting?” I have to know. I just can't imagine it.
Simon clears his throat. “It's strange how it does it. Time has ways of calling us to the Main Chamber when it wants us. Then, well, the best way I can describe it is this: Time shows us a movie of the person it wants us to find and send back to their real period. Then we go. Time doesn't actually talk to us or anything. Like I said, it's a force, not a person.”