The Edge of Forever

by Melissa E. Hurst

  I try to tune her out and pack my clothes while she bitches. But one thing she says catches my attention. I drop the shirt I was holding and face her. My hands begin to shake, so I clench them at my sides. “What did you say about Dad?”

  Her eyes narrow. “I said I can’t believe you’re still so hung up over your good-for-nothing father. He’s dead, Bridger, and he’s never coming back. So for you to think he visited you on your little trip is beyond ridiculous. Besides, he’s not worth your devotion. In case you forgot, he left us for another woman.”

  I sink down on the bed and run my hands over my face. Unbelievable. After everything that happened today, she has to bring up Dad leaving her. I really couldn’t blame him. All they did was fight for years. Mainly over the fact that Mom tried to control everything. But that’s not all. Mom suspected Dad was cheating on her and flung it in his face all the time. He always denied it.

  About three months ago Dad decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He canceled their marriage contract and moved out. Mom claimed she didn’t understand why. She dragged me and my younger brother Shan over to Dad’s place to “talk some sense into him.” We saw him hugging a woman outside his apartment. She had dark hair like Mom, but she was shorter. More delicate looking. Anyway, Mom wilded out on both of them.

  “I knew it! You son of a bitch, you’ve been cheating on me!” Mom screeched as she stomped toward Dad and the woman.

  Dad pulled her behind him and held up a hand to stop Mom. “Morgan, calm down. I never cheated on you and you know that.”

  “Like hell,” she hissed, raising her hand.

  Dad caught it. “Don’t you dare start. Not now.”

  “Yeah? So I suppose the two of you are just friends? Give me a furing break!” She then let out a stream of obscenities and tried to move around Dad to get to the woman.

  While trying to stop Mom, Dad managed to yell to me, “Get Shan out of here. Now!”

  Until Dad had said that, I’d almost forgotten about Shan standing behind me. I’d been in shock. He looked so pale, like he was about to puke. I don’t remember us leaving Dad’s building, but I do remember ending up at a nearby Green Zone. It took forever to get Shan to stop crying. That was hard. He hadn’t cried like that in years.

  “Have you ever considered the reason Dad left was because of you? You’re impossible to live with.” It’s difficult, but I keep my voice even. I refuse to act like her.

  Mom flashes across the room and slaps me. It stings, but I don’t show any emotion. Instead I say, “That proves my point.”

  I’m not finished packing, but I have to get out of here. Now. I grab my portacase and storm out of the room. Zed and Elijah can send the rest of my stuff later.

  Mom follows. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Without looking back, I snarl, “Away from you.”

  Outside, I walk south, toward the transport lot. The farther away I get from Mom, the better I feel.

  I’ve got to hurry if I want to catch the six o’clock shuttle back to downtown New Denver. More cadets are out now. I don’t look at them directly. I keep moving. Hopefully nobody knows what’s happened.

  I let out a deep breath once I climb on board. There are no passengers. Maybe nobody else will need a ride. Mom has her own private shuttle, so I don’t have to worry about her needing a lift back home. Still, I’m not fully at ease until we’re in the air.

  I lean back against the plush seat and look out the window. The Academy grows smaller and smaller, gradually fading into the scenery west of the city. Ahead, New Denver’s lights glow against the darkening sky. I’m not sure where I’ll go once I get there. I just know I can’t stay at Mom’s apartment tonight.

  My DataLink chimes, and I check the interface. It’s Professor March. I think about hitting accept, but decide against it. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.

  My thoughts shift to Vika, and my stomach twists. It doesn’t seem real that she’s in a coma and probably won’t recover. I remember how excited she was this morning. How she practically glowed. Her last words echo in my head.

  What are you doing? You’re not supposed to leave!

  I don’t care what Professor March said about her just trying to get a better view by the stage. She would have never done that if I’d been there. It’s my fault she’s hurt. I run my hand over my face, but I’m still breathing evenly. The Calmer is working, or I’d be a mess. Especially after dealing with Mom.

  I just don’t get Mom. I never really have. At least, not since I’ve been old enough to understand what was happening between her and Dad. She always expected Shan and me to take her side, but I’m not stupid. It’s all her fault Dad left. Who would want to be around a shrew like her?

  I try not to think about her anymore, but something she said about Dad keeps bothering me. How he would never come back. Professor March thinks I saw Dad on the time trip because I wanted to see him. And General Anderson said the investigative team didn’t witness Dad there at all. I don’t know how Dad kept them from seeing him, but I know what I saw. I heard him. He was really there.

  I’m not crazy.

  But why did he tell me to save Alora?

  How can I find out who she is?

  The answer crystallizes in my mind as if someone downloaded it. Dad used to tell me everyone has secrets. And he once showed me the perfect place to hide things.

  6

  ALORA

  APRIL 9, 2013

  My fingers drum a restless pattern on my desk as I try to study my history notes, but I can’t concentrate. I glance at the clock for what seems like the millionth time. It’s 4:43. Two minutes later than the last time I looked. Seventeen minutes until I’m free of detention.

  I’ve been suffocating since the moment I walked in this classroom—a.k.a. the Slammer. The room smells like someone’s stinky shoes. Plus, there are nothing but slackers and future criminals in here. And that’s not all. Trevor and two of his buddies got detention. Of course they’re sitting right behind me.

  I swear I’m dying.

  “Is there a problem, Miss Walker?” the teacher asks. He peers over the top of his glasses before dropping his gaze to my fingers.

  A blush warms my face as I snatch my hand off the desk. “No, sir.”

  “Then please refrain from making unnecessary noises.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Several students snicker and the warmth on my face spreads through my whole body. I could probably burst into flames. Why can’t it be five o’clock already? First thing I’m going to do when Sela picks me up is beg her to take me to The Gingerbread House so I can get some donuts. I need sugar.

  I really should study for the history test. At least the history teacher had to go out of town on a family emergency, so there’s a sub for the rest of the week. Hopefully I won’t have to make up the test until Monday.

  “Don’t let him get to you,” Trevor whispers, his hot breath tickling the back of my neck. “He has major control issues.”

  I’m positive my face is as red as my shirt.

  Keeping my eyes on the teacher, I whisper, “I’m not.” My heart is hammering so loud, I’m sure he can hear it.

  As the last few minutes tick by, I wonder why Trevor even spoke. He’s barely acknowledged my existence in the past except to lie about me. Why would he be nice to me now?

  “You’re dismissed,” the teacher announces as soon as the bell rings. I sling my purse over my shoulder, grab my books, and bolt out the door.

  I’m already past the neighboring classroom when someone calls out, “Hey, wait a minute, Alora.”

  I freeze at the sound of Trevor’s voice. Slowly turning, I wait for him to catch up to me. Behind him, his buddies stand outside the Slammer, grinning like they’re in on some big secret. This can’t be good.

  I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach as I search his face for signs of an impending insult, but there’s nothing. He’s wearing a smile that makes most girls melt when it’s d
irected at them. Not me, of course. His eyes, a blue that almost matches the sky, are locked on to me.

  “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, turning up the smile wattage to extra-bright.

  I step back before answering, “Um, yeah.” Oh, way to sound intelligent, Alora. “Why?”

  He shrugs. “I was just checking. You seemed a little upset in there.” He inclines his head back toward the Slammer.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? I’m pretty good at reading people, and you look like something’s bothering you. Anything I can help with?”

  I want to ask him why he even cares, but I don’t. Aunt Grace says classy is better than bitchy. “I said I was fine.”

  “Okay,” he drawls. Awkward silence follows, then he says, “So, I heard you skipped school yesterday afternoon. I never thought you’d do something like that.”

  “I didn’t realize you paid attention to me,” I reply. I wish I could figure out what he wants, where he’s going with this conversation.

  “Oh, believe me, I do.”

  I’m not sure if I should be flattered or totally creeped out. “Look, I’ve got to go. My friend’s waiting for me.” At least I’m not lying. Sela is supposed to take me home.

  I turn to walk away, but he grabs my arm and says, “Wait.”

  His fingers bite into me and I tell myself not to yank myself away. He probably doesn’t realize he’s gripping me so hard. I try to keep a shocked expression off my face as I ask, “What do you want?”

  He closes the already too-small distance between us and leans in, surrounding me with the spicy scent of his cologne. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while. I figured you’d like to go out with me sometime.”

  My first instinct is to laugh. Trevor wants to go out with me? No. Way. He’s up to something. And even if he hadn’t been such a jerk to me for so many years, I wouldn’t touch him for anything. Trevor is a player. He’s officially dated Naomi all year, but he’s been after other girls too. Girls who are more than willing to play whatever game he wants. I’m not interested in being one of them.

  “I thought you and Naomi were together.”

  His face hardens for a moment before the smile returns. “Don’t worry, I broke up with her yesterday.”

  Sela was right, but still, I’m not buying that he’s interested in me. “Okay, but why do you want to go out with me?”

  He places both of his hands on my arms. “What can I say? I’m tired of phony girls, and I don’t think you’re like that.”

  Just great, he’s going cliché on me. Rolling my eyes, I say, “Oh please, don’t try that line on me. I think I’ll pass.”

  I shrug off his hands and head toward the exit, hoping he’ll drop his act and leave me alone, but he catches up and falls in step beside me. I notice a few surprised looks from students still lingering in the hall. I know exactly how they feel. He opens the door for me and I step into the cooling afternoon. Clouds hang low overhead, threatening to pour rain.

  “All right, that was cheesy. I’m sorry. So how about this? We go to Java Jive tomorrow after school and hang out.”

  He’s got to be kidding. I think back to my first day of school here after years of being homeschooled by Aunt Grace. Trevor and Kate could have helped me out and introduced me to their friends since we’ve known each other since childhood. But they didn’t. In fact, they went out of their way to make sure everyone ignored me.

  So, of course, I say, “I don’t think so.”

  Trevor tilts his head and scratches his chin. “Let me sweeten the deal. I know you’re having trouble in history, right?”

  I try not to groan. Our history teacher takes great pleasure in sharing everybody’s test scores.

  “That’s one of my best subjects. Since you missed the test yesterday, I could help you study. I’ve seen the questions.”

  Normally I’d laugh out loud. Who’s ever heard of a jock offering to tutor someone? But, thanks to the history teacher’s big mouth, I happen to know Trevor isn’t joking. He actually likes that kind of stuff. And I need all the help I can get so I won’t fail the class.

  I let out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll do it. But I’ll meet you there and we keep it to thirty minutes.”

  His grin is dazzling. “Deal. So how about three thirty?”

  “That’ll work.”

  “Great!” He looks to his left, toward the student parking lot. “Do you need a lift anywhere?”

  “No, thanks,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to where Sela has parked her red VW Bug in front of the school. “My ride’s already here.”

  “Ah, that’s right, you said that already. I swear, my memory sucks sometimes. Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As I stare at him walking away, a cold uncertainty curls around me. What was I thinking? There is no way Trevor is doing this to just be nice. Maybe I should cancel on him. The last thing I want or need is to be the butt of somebody’s joke.

  Sela beeps her horn. As I cross the lawn to her car, I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a weird feeling—like someone’s watching me. I peer around. Trevor’s already in his truck, pulling out of the parking lot. The girls tennis team is practicing on the courts. Across the road, a tall man wearing glasses is pumping gas in a gray sedan. Shrugging it off, I figure it’s just my nerves from talking with Trevor. And I hope Sela didn’t see me talking to him, or I’ll have to face a million questions from her and some I-told-you-sos.

  I should know better.

  She rolls down the window before I reach the car and, after turning off a screeching heavy metal song, squeals, “Were you talking to who I think you were talking to?”

  I briefly consider lying, but that’s pointless. Sliding into the passenger seat, I say, “Yes.” Before she can ask anything else, I ask, “Did you have to wait long?” I notice her damp tank top. She’s been working out at the local gym after school every afternoon.

  “Oh, no. I had a few errands to run for Mama,” she answers, polishing off her bottle of water. After pulling away from the school, she continues my torture. “So, what did he want? A date or something?”

  The need for sugar is overwhelming. I deserve some after this afternoon. Sela won’t like it, but I decide to negotiate. “I’ll tell you everything if you take me by The Gingerbread House first.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “I thought you couldn’t go anywhere.”

  She’s right. Aunt Grace grounded me for a week after my “little stunt” yesterday and told me to go straight to the inn. Which isn’t a big deal to me because it got me out of practicing cheers with Sela and the Brainless Twins. Still, a short detour won’t hurt. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  “Yuck. Why do you want to keep eating that junk?” She scowls, looking down at my stomach. “You know, it’s so not fair. You eat whatever you want and never gain an ounce. I should hate you.”

  “Sorry. I can’t help it.”

  “Fine, I’ll assist with your addiction this once. Now gimme the deets.”

  As I fill her in on my conversation with Trevor, her mouth keeps opening wider and wider. Pretty soon, I’m sure she could fit her whole fist in there.

  “Oh my gawd! I knew he was checking you out yesterday.” She flashes one of those I-told-you-so smirks.

  “There’s no way. He probably bet his friends that he can hook up with me. I’m just going because he’s a whiz at history and I need all the help I can get to pass the test.”

  “Alora! Have you considered that he might actually be into you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Maybe all that’s about to change. I know you’re a great person, and if you give Trevor a chance, he’ll see that too. Besides, if you two start dating, then you could set me up with one of his friends,” she says with a wink.

  “Right,” I say, thinking it will never happen. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s up to no good.

  Sela parks in front of The Gingerbread House, and I hurry inside. It’s a small old house painted a chocolat
e brown and trimmed in white with a variety of candies painted on the exterior. No one appears to be here other than the owner, Mrs. Randolph. I look forward to a few minutes of peace and quiet while I pick out my poison.

  After I buy some donuts, I chat with Mrs. Randolph for a few minutes, but on the way to the exit I get that weird feeling again. My skin prickles as I reach for the door handle. I swear someone is watching me. I twist around and scan the small shop, but no one’s here except for Mrs. Randolph. She’s already turned back to her small television, engrossed in a soap opera, so she doesn’t see me looking around like a crazy person. Still, the feeling is there, like I’m standing right next to somebody.

  And then I feel something, like a hand touching my arm.

  I scream.

  “What’s wrong, hun?” Mrs. Randolph asks, hurrying around the counter.

  I stumble back from the door. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Or felt one.

  7

  BRIDGER

  MARCH 11, 2146

  After arriving at the shuttle port, I plow into the crowds sifting through downtown New Denver. It takes another fifteen minutes to get to Dad’s apartment. I stop in front of the retina scanner next to the door. A red light flashes in my eyes, indicating it’s identifying me. I never used to pay attention to the light. Now it reminds me of blood. I wonder if Dad was covered with blood when his body appeared back in our time after he died. I’ll never know. General Anderson wouldn’t let us see his body until the memorial ceremony.

  The door slides open, and I step inside. It’s like a punch to the gut, knowing Dad isn’t here. I place my portacase on the nearest chair and examine the room. This is the first time I’ve been back since his memorial ceremony. Mom has put pressure on me and Shan to sell the place. Shan doesn’t care. But I don’t want to let it go. I realize Dad’s never coming back, but having his stuff here is comforting.

  The apartment is huge—one of the perks of being a Time Bender—but nothing fancy. It’s the standard white unit you’d find in new apartments. But his presence is stamped everywhere. The overstuffed black couch is accented with three throw pillows that are green—Dad’s favorite color. Antiques from his past trips are scattered on shelves. Large digigraphs showing scenes from his favorite old films line the wall opposite a wide window overlooking the city. Smaller digigraphs of Dad, Shan, and me dot the black table in front of the couch.