“I’m all done with the lawn,” I heard Dad say, followed by the sound of a kiss.
“Thank you, dear,” Mom said. “What are all those orange flags for?”
“I don’t know. They were in the lawn. Whoops—were you marking out some new flower beds or something?”
“No, I didn’t put them out there. Maybe Abby knows what they’re for.”
I heard the clatter of thin metal sticks falling on the counter and I looked up in shock. Those were the flags designating the dimensions of the door. If Dad had gathered them up, then that meant he didn’t remember they were mine. That wasn’t good. What else didn’t he remember? What else was different? The ripples of change were sweeping over my family too. What if everyone had changed but me? The thought made me dizzy.
“Is she home?” Dad asked.
“She better be.” Mom raised her voice. “Abby? Where are you?”
I sat up and turned in time to see Hannah run through the kitchen door, pause on the first step to glare at me, and then head up the stairs. I sighed a little in relief. I didn’t know why she was mad at me, but I didn’t care. It was typical Hannah behavior and that was good enough for me.
“I’m in here,” I called back.
“What’s going on?” Mom said, stepping into the front room. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? We have to leave by noon.”
“Graduation isn’t until three; we have plenty of time.”
Mom shook her head. “I can’t believe you forgot already. The principal specifically asked everyone who was on the program to be there at one. How would it look if the valedictorian showed up late to her own graduation?”
I bit down hard on my lip. There it was again—valedictorian. The changes in the river were starting to feel more widespread. More out of control. I just hoped they weren’t permanent.
“Oh, right,” I said, trying to cover my distress. “Sorry. It’ll just take me a minute.”
“Hurry, please. Hannah’s not happy at having to spend extra time at the school.” Mom walked back into the kitchen, and I heard her open the fridge and ask Dad if he wanted a quick bite before we had to leave.
“Sorry my graduation is an inconvenience for her,” I
muttered, pushing myself off the couch and heading upstairs.
I indulged myself for a moment, imagining how it would feel to have really been named valedictorian of the school. Yes, my grades were good, but they weren’t perfect. And although I had done a lot of extracurricular activities over the years, they certainly didn’t add up enough to warrant valedictorian status. I had been too scattered, interested in too many things, to
really have excelled in any one particular arena at school.
But could it have been different? Could
I
have been different? The kind of girl who set a goal to be valedictorian and then followed through on it, no matter what distractions came my way? Maybe. It certainly felt good to think about myself that way.
I closed my bedroom door behind me. I had planned to wear my favorite red blouse and a denim skirt underneath
my graduation robes, something comfortable and not too
fancy, but if I had to stand in as valedictorian, then I figured I’d better wear something more formal. I stepped out of my clothes and into a summer dress with sling-back shoes. It was a quick change, but it would have to do. The clock by my bed warned that it was almost noon. We’d have to leave in a few minutes.
My gaze fell on my desk, where, locked in the drawer, lay the biggest secret I’d ever kept. Those blueprints represented a goal that would require my complete attention. Build it,
or don’t build it—there was no middle ground. No room
for error or excuses. Once I started, I’d have to see it through to the end. No matter what. Was I up to the task? I hoped
so.
Unlocking my desk drawer, I pulled out the binder where I kept Dante’s original blueprints. I had a backup copy of the plans, of course, but seeing his handwriting—the small hook he added to his lowercase “t”s—always made me feel connected to him. Like he was still close to me—close enough to communicate with me. I brushed my fingers over the cover of the binder. Close enough to touch.
I remembered the strange, ghostly touch of his hands on my hands, my arms. The touch of his lips against mine. It had been a dream—more than a dream—but that had been the best part of it for sure.
Taped to the top of the binder was the tiny slip of paper from my fortune cookie: “Remember June 4th. Great things are in store for you.”
I thought back to my date with Dante where I had cracked open that cookie. That had been the night I had first dreamed my way to the bank, the night Zo and Dante had discussed the fact that I could somehow summon the black hourglass door that led back to their home, more than five hundred years in the past.
I nibbled on the edge of my fingernail, an itch of worry just out of reach. That had also been the conversation where Zo had mentioned two people from Dante’s past: Orlando and Sofia. Orlando was Dante’s older brother, though I knew him as Leo. And as Leo, he had lived those five hundred years instead of skipping them like Dante had. But I had never found out who Sofia was.
Was she Dante’s sister? A girlfriend? Someone else altogether? I had asked Dante about her once, but he hadn’t
answered my question, more concerned with the events on the bank and the threat Zo posed to us both.
I returned the plans to my desk drawer. As I turned the small key in the lock, a bolt of pain skewered through my stomach, and I doubled over, gasping as unexpected heat flared in my brain. The world around me reversed to black and white, the shadows as thin and sharp as the light. The air around me felt as viscous as blood.
Oh, no,
I thought.
Not again. Not now.
The flash was there and gone in a heartbeat. My vision stabilized; relief filled me. Maybe whatever changed this time would be small, localized.
A small bell chimed from my computer, alerting me to an incoming e-mail message. I forced my hand to stop trembling and reached for the mouse. Clicking on the small yellow envelope in the corner of the screen left me exhausted. If these changes in the river were going to be a regular occurrence—and I fervently hoped they were not—then I was going to have to build up my stamina.
The e-mail opened and I read the words on the screen. But they didn’t make any sense.
Dear Ms. Edmunds,
We regret to inform you that your application to Emery College has been declined.
Sincerely,
Mr. Wilson Cooke
I read them again, baffled. I recognized all the individual words and I knew what they all meant, but somehow, when they were arranged in just that order, it was like trying to read hieroglyphics.
Emery didn’t want me? Impossible. I had an e-mail from one Mr. Wilson Cooke that said yes, they did. I had spent months planning my life at Emery, visiting the Web site every day, clicking on every link, reading every post, until I knew it top to bottom. And now this?
“It’s impossible,” I whispered if only to hear myself say it out loud, as though that would make it easier to understand, easier to believe.
“Abby!” Mom knocked on my door. “C’mon, sweetie, it’s time to go.”
“Just a second,” I called back, my attention divided. I grabbed for my phone even as I read the e-mail a third time. I had programmed Dr. Cooke’s phone number into my phone the same day I’d received my acceptance e-mail, so it was only moments before the dial tone turned into a ring. I bit my fingernail.
“Don’t be long,” Mom said.
“Okay.” I bounced my knee, keeping time with my agitation. “Answer already,” I muttered into the ringing phone. Yes, it was graduation day, but it was also a Friday. Surely someone would still be on campus.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Cooke’s office. How may I help you?” A woman’s voice answered in the neutral tones of secretaries everywhere.
“Yes, hello,” I said. “I’d like to speak with Dr. Cooke, please.”
“He is unavailable at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Maybe. I think there might be a mistake on my admission and—”
“Oh, no worries.” The neutral tone warmed up and I heard the distant click of fingernails clattering over a keyboard. “I’d be happy to look up your file and see what’s going on. What was your name again?”
“It’s Abby. Abby Edmunds.”
Another knock sounded on my door—a hard bang that told me Mom had sent Dad to collect me. Sure enough, I heard his voice call out, “Let’s go, Abs! We don’t want to be late.”
And I didn’t want to be denied admission to Emery. I covered up the mouthpiece. “Just a sec!”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’ll be right there.”
The secretary made a confused “humph” sound on the phone, pulling my attention to a point.
“What? What is it? Did you find it?”
“How do you spell your last name, again?”
My anxiety rose with each letter I listed. This couldn’t be happening. I scrolled through my inbox, looking for my original acceptance e-mail. Where was it?
May. April.
It had to be here. I had kept it; I knew I had.
March. February.
When I hit the e-mails dated January, I stopped.
“I found your file, but . . .” The secretary paused.
The edges of my vision rippled and I closed my eyes.
No, oh, no, please, no . . .
“But it’s . . .
not
on the acceptance list.” She paused again. “I’m so sorry.”
My hand began trembling again, but not from shock this time. I felt a thread of rage wind its way through my fingers, pulling them into a fist. This was Zo’s handiwork; it had him written all over it. First Jason and Natalie, then this valedictorian business, now Emery. I supposed it made sense that Zo would attack my life first, if only because I had been a thorn in his side, defying him every chance I got. But why did it have to hurt so much?
“Oh. Okay.” Numbness spread through me like cracks through ice. Even my voice felt brittle. “Thanks for checking.”
“Would you like to leave a message for Dr. Cooke?”
“No,” I said, turning off my computer. “No, thanks. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I have to go.”
I set the phone down. I was not going to cry. There would be too many questions if I went downstairs all splotchy and red. Questions I didn’t want to answer; questions I couldn’t answer. I took a deep breath.
This isn’t real. It’s just Zo. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be,
I told myself.
This isn’t real.
But the pain was real. So was the uncertainty.
I looked at my bedroom door, closed and quiet. On the other side waited my family, ready to celebrate my graduation as valedictorian. And Jason, my boyfriend who still loved me. And a whole reality that was already drifting and dividing into wrongness.
Standing up from my desk, I crossed to the door. Until Zo was stopped, my life wouldn’t return to normal. Until then, there was nothing to do but face the changes the best I could. I took another deep breath, then opened the door and walked through.
Chapter
4
I spent the entire graduation ceremony on edge, waiting for another wave of pain to hit me, for some other part of my life to spiral into unexpected change.
I managed to stumble through a speech I didn’t remember writing. I barely heard them call my name. My diploma felt like plastic in my hands. The photographer’s flash was pure white and I broke out in a cold sweat at the temporary blindness. It seemed like everyone wanted to hug me—Mom, Dad, Hannah, Jason, Natalie—but I felt like a mannequin in their arms, detached and unnatural. My arms ached to embrace the one person who wasn’t there. The one person who would understand what I was going through.
My thoughts were filled with Dante. Our brief encounter last night had been over all too soon and had left me with more questions than I could possibly answer. Was my suspicion correct that he was trapped? And if so, was there a way to free him? And if not, what would happen to him? I feared his fate would be the same as Tony’s; I couldn’t bear to think of Dante screaming in pain the way Tony had.
I preferred to think of him standing tall and strong, his hands twined with mine, his gray eyes alight in anticipation of a long conversation with me, a warm smile at one of my silly jokes. My fingers brushed against the curve of the locket at my throat. I chose to remember the times he had held me close to his heart, made promises to remember me, told me he loved me.
I suspected my memories were going to be important in the coming days. I had to remember what had really happened—I had to hold on to the truth of the past—so I could identify the changes that were occurring and guard the river as best as I could until Dante could join me. I had to stand immovable against the constantly changing river of time that flowed around me. I hoped I was up to the task.
I heard my name being called for the second time. “What?” I swam up out of the depths of my own thoughts. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Mom sighed in exasperation. “Honestly, Abby. Is it too much to ask you to pay a little attention?”
“Sorry, Mom,” I said, straightening up and trying to smile brightly so she’d know I was being sincere. “I just have a lot on my mind. Graduation and everything, you know.”