The Edge of Forever (3 page)

“Yeah, Laura, it’ll be fun,” says the one on the left, Miranda.

“It’s Alora,” I reply through gritted teeth.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” From her tone, I can tell she’s not.

I don’t understand what Sela sees in Jess and Miranda. They’re as deep as a mud puddle. All they do is talk trash about everybody, what guys they like, and clothes. Plus they try to dress matchy all the time. Like now, they’re both in tight capris and off-the-shoulder shirts, and last week they each dyed a blue strip into their hair. Seriously. But Sela’s mom wormed her way in a local women’s club a few months ago, and next thing I knew Sela had two new besties.

I take a deep breath and lean closer to Sela. “I don’t know. I really need to study. Aunt Grace will kill me if I fail another test. And I might have to help out at the inn after school.” I look at the ignored history book on my lap, feeling guilty. Aunt Grace told me she didn’t need any help this afternoon. We aren’t expecting any guests.

When I peek at Sela’s face, she’s wearing an expression that reminds me of an impatient parent dealing with an irritating kid. “You said you would.”

“I know, but I’m not good at that kind of thing.”

“How do you know that? You’ve never tried.”

Jess rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically. “Oh, come on, Sela, you’re acting like her mom.”

I bite my lip. That hurts because I have no clue how my mom would react in this situation.

“She knows what I mean. And didn’t you say your aunt was okay with you trying out?”

“Yeah, but she wants me to keep my grades up too.” That’s the truth. Aunt Grace wasn’t sure about me going out for the squad, but Sela kept asking her and she finally said it might be good for me. Maybe I can get Aunt Grace to tell Sela that she changed her mind. Or something else. Like the fact I’m barely passing history.

I failed my last two history tests, and Aunt Grace threatened to ground me if I didn’t make at least a C on this one. She says I never did that badly when she homeschooled me, which isn’t exactly true. I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m making good grades in all of my other classes, but when it comes to history, no matter how much I study, very little sticks.

Sela runs a hand through her auburn hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Well, I think you should come with us. You know you want to.”

I want to tell her I don’t want to, but I stay quiet. Sela has been bugging me nonstop for weeks to go out for the squad with her. Her mom’s been preaching how she’ll have lots of new friends if she makes the team—like Mrs. Perkins had when she was in high school. Never mind that I was the only person who would have anything to do with Sela when her family first moved here back in November.

“Well, this has been fun, but we’ve gotta run,” Jess says. She exchanges a glance with Miranda and they both stand.

“Yeah, I’m gonna puke if I have to stay in here another minute. This place reeks,” Miranda says, patting her perfectly straight hair. “You coming, Sela?”

Sela seems torn. Finally she says, “Y’all go ahead. We’ll catch up to you in a few minutes.”

After they’re gone, I say, “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I know, but I want to. You really look out of it.”

“Wow, thanks, but if you wanted to go with your friends, you could have.” I poke around at my salad, not wanting to eat any more of it. I’d kill for a cheeseburger and fries right now, but Sela’s been on this super health food kick for a few months now, trying to lose an extra twenty pounds. She talked me into trying her way of eating since I’ve felt so crappy lately.

“They could be your friends, too, if you gave them a chance.”

“I’ve tried. They don’t like me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? Do they ever ask to hang out with me? Do they ever text me? No.” I hate how whiny I sound, but it’s the truth. I just don’t understand why Sela doesn’t see it.

She starts to say something else, but instead cocks her head to the side and looks behind me. Grinning, she props her elbows on the table, laces her fingers together, and rests her chin on her hands. Then she proceeds to stare at me.

“So,” she drawls out after a few seconds. “What’s the deal with Trevor?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“He was totally checking you out just now.”

I shake my head. That’s impossible. Trevor Monroe would never check me out. He and his evil sister Kate hate me because their mother hates Aunt Grace. I remember how he and Kate spread lies about me when I first started school this year. Things like I was some poor white trash who Aunt Grace took in years ago, and that she wasn’t even my real aunt. “Nope. Hell would freeze over first.”

Sela leans back in her seat, grinning. “No, my dear, he was definitely looking at you.”

“No way,” I reply, looking at my faded jeans and plain pink shirt. “And even if he was, there’s nothing sexy here.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t understand why every guy here isn’t fighting over you.”

Something Aunt Grace would call
an unladylike snort
pops out of me. “Fight over me? That’s a good one.”

She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “Well they should. Of course, they’d never pay any attention to me.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. It bugs me when Sela puts herself down. She’s worked to lose weight since moving here, but she has a hard time seeing the change because she’s not a stick like Jess and Miranda.

“Well, if Trevor was looking at me, it’s probably because he’s trying to figure out another way to start some crap.”

“Aw, come on.” She pauses to think, biting on her lip like she does when she doesn’t know what to say. “You’re an awesome person. I think you should talk to him.”

“Oh, no. I’m not even going there. Besides, Naomi would flip if she thought I had a thing for him.”

“I heard they’re splitsville again.” She raises her eyebrows at me, expecting a positive response.

“Please drop it, okay?”

“You need to live a little. Quit worrying all the time.”

I wish I could, but Sela doesn’t know everything. Sure, she knows how much I hate this stupid town. Other things, no. She doesn’t know how much I need a scholarship to go to college. How Aunt Grace worries all the time about how to pay the bills. How I can’t even remember what my parents look like. Those are things nobody knows, and I’m so sick of having to keep them to myself. Suddenly it seems like the cafeteria is shrinking, and I can’t get enough air.

“Um, I forgot something at my locker,” I manage to say. I grab my backpack and tray and stand so quickly my chair almost flips backward.

“You okay? You look sick.” Sela’s face contorts in worry.

“I’m fine. I’ll see you in class.”

When I pass Trevor’s table, I hear laughter. I risk a peek and lock onto a few guys staring in my direction, including Trevor. Warmth blooms over my face, and I duck my head. I always turn an obnoxious shade of pink when I’m embarrassed.

That’s when I promptly run into Naomi Burton—Trevor’s girlfriend. Her tray flies to the floor with a crash, drawing everyone’s attention in the cafeteria.

Kill me now.

Naomi whirls around and hisses, “You stupid idiot!”

“Hey, Alora, do you need to go back to kindergarten to learn how to put your tray up right?” someone asks. I glance up, and of course it’s Kate, sitting a few feet away with her friends.

If I thought I was red before, I must be scarlet by now. Laughter thunders in my ears. I mumble an apology and try to help Naomi clean up. The remains of her salad are strewn all over the place, and one piece is stuck to the front of my shirt. I peel it off, horrified to see I’m stained with dressing.

“Just go,” Naomi says, slinging the last bits of lettuce back on her tray.

Before I can apologize again, I glance at her face and stop. It’s splotchy and her eyes are glassy, like she’s been crying. Realizing it would probably be a good idea to leave, I quickly throw away my trash and rush out of the cafeteria.

I don’t stop until I get outside. The air is as thick as a hot soup, but I don’t care. I breathe deeply. The smell of freshly cut grass tickles my nose, and I sneeze several times. Still, it’s better than being inside. I can’t believe I crashed into Naomi. I can just imagine what everyone will say once I get to my next class. They’ll call me Clumsy Alora or something equally stupid. It’ll be the beginning of the school year all over. All that work at trying to blend in destroyed in seconds.

I check my phone. Class starts in ten minutes. Jeez, I wish I had more time out here. Or better yet, I wish I could just leave.

I pass a few students while heading to my favorite tree on the front lawn and sit on the side facing the street. I like it that way—it makes me feel invisible. The bark is scratchy through my shirt, so I lean forward and prop my elbows on my legs.

I try to forget everything, but that test still looms in my mind. I should study some more, but I just don’t want to. Instead, I pull my purple sketchbook out of my backpack and flip to the last drawing. It’s an unfinished one of my dad. I’m proud of how it’s turning out, but it needs more work.

I started drawing when I was around eight or nine. Those sketches were okay. Then Aunt Grace let me take some art classes, back when she could still afford stuff like that, and after that my drawings got way better. I work for a few minutes before the heat saps what little energy I have. I put away the sketchbook and yawn.

Stupid school. Three more hours and then I can leave. I wish I could go home now and take a nap. That would be heavenly.

Leaning my head back against the tree, I close my eyes and concentrate on the soft birdcalls serenading me, on the voices drifting over the gentle breeze. I picture my bed, hear it calling my name. Yeah, I wish I was there right now. I wish this day was over.

That would be so nice.

“Alora! Where on God’s green earth have you been?”

My eyes fly open, and I sit up to find Aunt Grace standing over me. My eyes dance wildly from her worried face to my bedroom.

My bedroom!

Afternoon sunlight shines through the window, casting shadows across the pale purple walls. I breathe in the scent of lavender from the air freshener Aunt Grace keeps in here. My fingers grip the soft comforter on my bed. It’s real. I’m really here.

But how did I get here?

3

BRIDGER

MARCH 11, 2146

A
s soon as the shift is complete, I push my eye lenses back. The sun is shining too damn bright. Professor March yells into his comm-set, “I need a med team stat!”

I run my hands along Vika’s face. “Come on, Vik,” I whisper. “Please wake up.”

Other than the scratches and blood trickling from her nose, she could be sleeping. Deep down, I know better. She’s not moving. Or breathing.

Professor Cayhill and some other cadets gather around us. Their voices crash into me like a tidal wave. I block them out. All I can see is Vika, still unresponsive. All because of me.

I feel like I’m dying.

Someone tries to pull me away, but I jerk my arms back. They’re not going to make me leave her.

“Bridger, control yourself,” Professor March barks. He gets right in my face, so close that I can see the fear in his eyes. “I need you to move. The medics are here.”

Three emergency medics have appeared next to us. Space Benders. I stagger to my feet and back away. They move in and kneel over Vika, trying to stabilize her until an emergency med shuttle arrives. It shouldn’t take long. They’re equipped to travel a hell of a lot faster than regular shuttles. I just wish one was here right now.

Elijah and Zed stand with the cadets on the other side of Vika. Elijah tries to break away from the group. Professor Diaz stops him before he gets two steps. Probably for the best. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. All I want is for Vika to wake up. I need Vika to wake up.

Professor Cayhill storms over, his face blotched red. “What the fure happened back there, Creed?”

I don’t know what to say. I’ve never screwed up before on an assignment. Ever. I’ve always done exactly what the professors asked me to do.
Every single time
.

Except for today. And Vika is paying the price.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Professor Cayhill asks, pointing a finger at me. “Now I’ve got to go back and erase the memories of all those ghosts thanks to you!”

The words are like knives cutting into my soul. I look down at the ground. Cayhill is right. Everything is my fault.

“Calm down. The cadets don’t need to see you like this,” Professor March says to him.

“How can I calm down? I’ve never had something like this happen. And where were you, Telfair? How could you let this happen?”

While Professor March says something else to the prick in a lower voice, a too-familiar sensation begins to build in my chest. The sense of heaviness. The sense of not being able to breathe. I walk away from the professors, snatching off my comm-set and running my hands through my hair. I freeze when my eyes flick to Vika again. The medics are still trying to revive her. It’s the sight of her legs stretched out below them that pushes me too far. One is bent at an awkward angle.

I can’t deal with this. I need to get out of here.

Now.

My feet move as if they’re controlled by another person. I have to get away.

“Bridger, get back here,” Professor March shouts.

I ignore him and keep running.

Footsteps pound behind me. The part of my brain that’s still capable of rational thought screams for me to stop. I ignore it. I can’t stay there. Not with everyone staring at me, trying to figure out what I did to screw up the whole mission.

For once, I’m glad Dad is dead so he can’t see what I’ve done.

The thought of him makes me stop. He’s the reason I left my post in the first place. I’d almost forgotten about that. I have to tell someone.

I turn around as Professor March catches up, glaring. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but you’re going to tell me exactly what happened back there.”

Behind him, Professor Diaz shepherds everyone toward the Academy shuttle. For a second, I wish I could be with them, not tangled in this mess.