by Jess Evander
I’ve been rubbernecking again, so I jog around another bend and catch up with Michael and Lark. Lark presses an orange button on the wall, and an automatic door whispers open. A strong bleach smell and something antiseptic stings my nostrils. For a moment I can pretend I’m back in my time, because it looks like any other hospital. People in scrubs descend upon Michael.
Lark launches into a string of questions as she flaps around Michael’s attendants. “You can heal him, right? It hasn’t been too long, has it? He won’t scar, will he?”
A bushy-haired nurse stops me before I can follow them. “A new one? Well now, why aren’t the Trainers following protocol? They’re not supposed to send you here unaccompanied.”
Lark breezes over. “Sandra, it’s not what you think.” She pats my arm. “This one’s a special case. Fetch Darnell for me, will you?”
Okay, if I was the nurse, I’d ignore or argue with a teenaged girl, but she doesn’t. With a nod, Sandra leaves. Lark gestures for me to follow her to one of the exam tables along the far wall, but I hesitate. The room is large, and Michael’s at the far end surrounded by a hive of medical staff and machines.
Lark squeezes my hand. “Michael says you’re safe. So I’ll help you. Take a seat over there, and I’ll be right back.” She points to an exam table. The crackling paper covering the seat is the same you’d find in any doctor’s office back home. For some reason, that little thing calms me, so I hop up.
My feet dangle off the floor. I examine my shoes and chew on the edge of my lip. I’ve felt alone before—abandoned even—but never so out of place. What if I never belong here? Do I even want to? There has to be a way to get home. My dad might not be much, but at least he cares about me.
I fist my hands. I will get back home. No matter what, or who, stands in my way.
An olive-skinned man dressed in white strolls through the doorway and zeros in on me. The look in his eyes makes goose flesh break out along my neck. “I’m Darnell.” Bright lights on the ceiling reflect off his shaved head. A pace away, he crosses his arms over an Arnold Schwarzenegger sized chest. “My, my, Gabriella Creed. We’d about lost hope that you’d ever show your face in these parts.”
I lick my lips. “You’ve heard of me? How come everyone seems to know who I am?”
He reaches for my arm, his fingers pressing to find my pulse. “We’ve heard rumors about you for seventeen years. Mostly speculation. My dear, your arrival will be the talk of the year.”
Funny, it feels more like I freak them out.
I jerk my hand away from him. “I want someone to give me answers.”
“We all learn things ... in time.” He presses his thick lips together and shakes his head. “I certainly don’t have all the answers you’re looking for. But you will, when the time comes for you to need them.” Darnell yanks at a drawer built into the wall and pulls out a gray tube. “You skinned your knee pretty good there.”
The way he talks is … off. Sometimes he talks normally, and sometimes he sounds like someone from a period drama. I can’t explain it. But I noticed it with Michael and even Lark. All three of them use words and phrases that I’d never say. Maybe their speech becomes mixed up—lost in time just like they are.
I glare at him. “Yeah, funny, I got that a few minutes ago and not one person stopped to help me. A great bunch of good Samaritans you’ve got here.”
He lifts my hand and squeezes goop into my palm. The blister on my hand from putting out the fire on Michael’s back disappears. My vision snaps back to Darnell’s face. “What just happened?”
“Put the rest on your knee.”
I obey, and immediately my skin begins to heal. My jaw drops open. “Tell me you just saw that happen?”
Darnell grins as he replaces the cap on the tube. “I’m sorry people are being standoffish. You’ll have to give them time. This is all new for them.”
“Yeah, me too.” Understatement of the year.
He reaches for an instrument on the counter. It looks like a TV remote control, except its white. Without asking permission, he presses the contraption against the skin on my thigh. A sharp pain lances through my leg and I yelp, trying to squirm away. But Darnell’s faster than me and his enormous other hand holds me still.
“Stop!” I shove on his arm. “What are you—”
“Only one second more. I’m just taking your health readings. Making sure everything’s okay in your body. There now.” He lifts the white remote away and studies the small screen.
My skin shows no sign of being pricked, no blood, but it kills like he stabbed me. I rub my thigh. “Is it supposed to hurt like getting a million bee stings at the same time?”
“Yes.” Darnell doesn’t take his eyes from the screen.
“Well then, I guess it works.” I curl my toes inside my shoe, making sure he didn’t cause nerve damage.
Darnell purses his lips. His fingers furiously press buttons.
I crane my neck to see the screen, trying to think of something to say that will crack his serious exterior. Usually, if you can get someone to smile, that’s one step away from getting them to spill the truth. Loose lips and laugher go hand-in-hand. “So tell me like it is, Doc, will I live?”
He stows the device in his back pocket and his coffee-bean eyes lock with mine. “Yes.”
“Then why do you look worried? Is something wrong with me?”
“Not wrong. Different.” He fishes a stethoscope out of a black bag on the counter and places the cool metal against my back. “Deep breath. Okay, let it out.”
He’s probably going to say I need heart medicine. I’ll have to convince him my heart only started racing recently. Like, within the last day. “What do you mean, different?” I glance over my shoulder, trying to judge if he’s kidding.
Darnell steps back in front of me. “You’re clear to shift, if that’s your concern. As for anything else, you’ll have to ask The Elders.”
If there is someone bigger than Darnell, I’m not sure I want to meet them. I gulp. “What was that contraption you used? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“That’s because it’s from after your time. From my time.”
I rub my palms back and forth against the fabric of my shorts. The movement serves to ground me. I’m here. I’m real. “The future?”
He scratches his neck. “To us, isn’t everything the future? It’s all relative.”
“Could I be sent there? To your time?”
“In theory, yes, but I don’t think you will be.”
“Why not?”
Darnell tilts his head. “It’s the same reason why you won’t shift to another country’s history.”
Okay. Seriously. He may be a doctor and all, but getting an answer out of him is about as easy as explaining algebra to a toddler.
“Which is?” I bite my tongue before tacking a rude comment on after the question.
“Because Nicholas won’t shift you into a situation you can’t handle. He’s not like that.”
“I don’t understand how this whole time thing works.” I shrug.
“You have to forget thinking about time in a chronological sense. That’s the pure human way of seeing things. You’re no longer a Norm. See, for us, there is no before and after. There is only a start and a beginning.”
“Not tracking.”
Darnell tugs a pen from his pocket. “Okay. There is the tip of a pen and the clicker.” Holding the pen a foot before my eyes, he taps each side as he speaks. “But say you are some of the ink, well then that’s the only part of the pen you know exists. Ink doesn’t know what the outside of the pen looks like. It only knows that it’s surrounded by more ink. But for me, holding this pen, I can see all of it at the same time. Every inch of the pen. I can look at it from every angle and see each part together. That’s how it is for us with time. A Norm is ink—their time is reality. It’s all they know exists. They can’t comprehend the big picture.”
My head starts to throb again. Maybe I shoul
d ask him for aspirin. “But we can.”
“No.”
I glower. “You just said—”
“We can’t, but Nicholas can. He’s outside of time. He sees the big picture.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. Why him? What makes him so special?”
He folds his arms across his chest. “Nicholas has always been outside of time. We trust him.”
“That seems like a bit much to risk your life on.”
Darnell sighs. “I do what he tells me to.”
I cross my arms. “Yeah? And what does Nicholas tell you to do?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Stay in Keleusma and heal people.”
I decide to push my luck. Hopefully muscle-man won’t clock me in front of so many witnesses. “How convenient. You get to live at the Ritz while people like Michael are out there risking their lives. Do you know how hard it is for him? He gets tossed somewhere and he has to figure out what to do, and who to save. You’re telling me there are Shifters that don’t have to do that? Who get off easy?”
“Watch your attitude, Gabriella.” He captures me in a fierce stare. “Each of us has a calling to fulfill. Not one is greater than the other. Some of us spend our entire existence in Keleusma. Others shift through time. You need to respect each Shifter’s path.” Darnell jams his hands into his pockets. “Stay here until someone comes for you.”
When he leaves, my gaze instinctively travels back Michael-way. They have him back in a shirt. He’s sitting in a chair, drinking something. He willingly holds out his arm. A member of the medical team puts a white remote to his forearm. Michael doesn’t even flinch.
“He was the youngest person to ever shift, you know.” Lark’s voice makes me jolt. “Not even on the right day.”
I face her. Has she seen me studying Michael? Playing dumb might be my best option. “Who?”
“Oh, the coy act won’t work on me.” She beams. “Michael Pace, of course. He first shifted here when he was eleven. Can you imagine?”
“Is that not normal?”
“Not at all. Most people shift between their fifteenth and eighteenth birthdays, but not eleven. That’s unheard of.”
I peek at Michael, and he’s looking at me. I look down, suddenly nervous. “He must have been terrified.”
“Who knows?” She flips honey-colored hair over her shoulder. “I can’t imagine Michael afraid, but then, I’ve only known him for two years.”
“When did you shift?”
“When I turned sixteen.”
I scoot forward on the table, licking my lips. “How did you make it happen?”
“You mean the first time? Don’t you know?”
I shake my head.
“You have a chance to shift on each of your birthdays. When someone acknowledges your birthday, then it either happens or it doesn’t. I was so disappointed on my fifteenth birthday when I wasn’t pulled.”
“So you knew it would happen?”
“Of course!” She leans closer. “You didn’t?”
“No,” I whisper.
Lark rocks back on the edge of her feet. “Wait, your dad didn’t tell you?”
I don’t answer, and Lark whistles long and low.
Every birthday washes through my mind. Dad makes pancakes, but never says happy birthday. I cried myself to sleep each year, hating the day that marked my birth. The truth hits my gut like a sucker punch. He ignored my birthday because he loved me. He knew, and didn’t want this for me. Dad was protecting me.
My throat feels itchy, tight. My vision starts to blur. “What would happen if no one acknowledged your birthday and you passed eighteen?”
Lark twirls a piece of flaxen hair around her finger. “I don’t think you’d ever become a Shifter. But that’s nonsense, it would never happen.”
I work my bottom lip between my teeth. “I guess not.”
She hands me a small bag. “I brought you clothes. Go ahead and put them on.”
“In front of everyone? No way.”
“You’re funny.” Lark laughs, pointing at a door to my right. “Bathroom’s right there.”
Closed away from everyone, I grab the cool edge of the sink and let the chill seep into my bones. “This is real,” I whisper to my reflection. “Just play their game, follow their rules, and find a loophole home.” I change out of my old clothes and pull on the set Lark gave me. Close-fitting, dark jeans and a black V-neck shirt. I examine the fabric under the light. It feels like the same cotton blends we wear in my time.
With a fortifying gulp of air, I open the door.
Lark’s there. “Looks like a good fit.”
“Sure.” At least I’ll blend with everyone else. No more Where’s Waldo for me.
She nudges my side. “Michael’s watching you like a hawk.”
Without thinking, I glance back at him. Sure enough, he’s looking at me. He lifts his glass in a salute, smiles, and downs it.
My cheeks blaze as I remember thinking he was calling me honey. “Will he be okay? The burn was awful.”
“It’s probably only a scar now. If you got him here fast enough, it’s healed. One more adventure story for him to add to his list.” Lark winks at me. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”
“I guess so.” My fingers bite the fabric on the exam table.
“Too bad he’s off limits.”
“Off limits?” I hate the squeak in my voice.
She shrugs. “Sometimes I really do hate the Pairing. But hey, rules are rules. Besides, I have Eddie waiting back home, so I have nothing to be upset about.” Lark hides a giggle behind her hand.
Pairing? Something cold fists around my heart and squeezes. I glance over to Michael. He meets my eyes, holds up a finger, mouths “one minute,” and turns to talk to a doctor.
Lark pokes me. “You do have a Pairing, don’t you? I wouldn’t ask since everyone has one, but you’re so strange. It makes me wonder.”
If these people don’t start speaking English…. I swing my feet, drumming them against the table. “Um, sure.”
Lark seizes my shoulders and looks me dead in the eye. “You’ve got to be kidding me. How green are you?” She gives me a little shake.
I roll my eyes and wiggle out of her hold. “Well, considering I just learned what a Shifter is less than a day ago, I don’t know why you would assume I know everything else.”
“Okay! We can solve this.” Lark claps once. “Back in your time, is there a boy who has been your friend your whole life? Someone you do everything with. He’d be a guy you have a natural, easy friendship with.”
No! No! No! Not here too. A recording plays in my mind. It clicks through every person who has every told me Porter and I will end up together. Shooing the thoughts away, I swallow hard and nod once. “Porter Jensen.”
“Ah-ha! Porter is your Pairing.”
“Meaning?” But it’s obvious. Marriage? To Porter? I inwardly cringe. That would be like marrying a favorite dog or a comfy pair of socks. I can’t. I won’t.
Lark laughs, her blue eyes sparkling. “You two will get married, of course.”
I sit up straighter, not because of the Pairing, but because of what Porter means. He’s in my time and it sounds like Lark’s saying I get to go back. “Then there’s a way home?”
“Sure. You always go to where you’re most needed, so as long as there’s something to pull you back home, you will. A Pairing guarantees that. You’re meant to be together. It’s been destined since before you were born.”
“I don’t believe in stuff like that.” I catch Michael’s gaze, and he sends a wink my way. For some reason, it makes me feel off-balance and dizzy, like the beginning of the flu. Does he have a Pairing?
“It doesn’t matter what you believe. That’s how it works. It’s the only way for a Shifter to be born. One Shifter plus one human—together make a new Shifter.” She shrugs. “Those are the rules.”
I slide off the table, landing with a thump on the ground. “Wait. Then is my dad a Shifter too?”
“No, fully human, has to be since we know your mother was a Shifter. The only humans who know about Shifters are the ones we end up marrying, but they are promised by the Seal, which makes them physically unable to tell anyone but their offspring.”
The information shudders through me. My gut twists in a knot, and acid burns at the back of my throat. I take a step back. “You’re wrong. My mother wasn’t a Shifter. She died. There’s no way—”
Lark arches an eyebrow, advancing toward me. “What’d she die of? Did you see it happen?”
I thrust out my hands to block her progress. “You’re sick! She died in a plane crash. She was so mangled it had to be closed casket. Satisfied?”
“Closed casket?” She taps her foot. “Convenient. Listen, Gabby, your mom was a Shifter. For you to be a Shifter, she had to be one.”
“Have you ... did you ever meet her?” My hands shake. I try to hide them behind me. “Is she here?” My gaze instinctively darts to the health center’s doors. What if I snatch a glimpse of her? Rosa Maria Creed. Long raven hair bobbing as she fast-walks past. Despite all the years, I’d recognize her from all of Dad’s photos.
I raise my chin. I’d grab her, yell at her, and yank her back to Dad.
Maybe hug her too, somewhere in there.
“No. I’m sorry.” Lark frowns like she really regrets telling me. “But she was a Shifter. I can promise you that.”
“I was just a baby at her funeral, but I’ve been to her grave.”
“All a hoax. I can’t believe your dad did it, though.” Lark shakes her head. “He should have told you. He’s supposed to have trained you in combat, history, debate, horseback riding.” She massages her temples. “He’s supposed to tell you all about shifting and have you prepared by your fourteenth birthday. It’s part of the deal, when someone falls in love with a Shifter.”
“Are you saying I’m not human?”
“No, you are. You’re just a Shifter and your dad, we call him a Norm. The Norms of each time just go through their appointed lifespan and do whatever it is they need to accomplish. The Shifters, we get pulled through time to wherever we’re needed. Norms don’t have that power—most don’t even know it exists.”