Return Once More (11 page)

His gaze shifted from curious to irritated. “Analeigh and Sarah were worried.”

“I know, and as you said, I'm late for Reflection. So, if you'll excuse me.”

Oz didn't move out of the way, his broad shoulders and solid stature so unlike the reedy boy I'd spent the morning with in an Egyptian garden. The way he studied my face made my palms break out in a cold sweat, and for a moment I felt trapped.

“Something's different about you. Where were you, really? I doubt even you could get quite so flushed over hats.”

“Why did you lie about going to Pearl Harbor?” It slipped out like some kind of an innate defense mechanism, handy for deflecting attention from my own transgressions.

Oz went very still. I could almost see every tensed muscle relaxing in order, as though he'd started at his head and concentrated on loosening one limb at a time down to his toes. His eyes, typically sharp and focused, turned bored. The entire process took only seconds, but was deliberate enough to wig me out. He was too calm, too apathetic. It reminded me of a lion lulling its prey into a false sense of ease.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I was in the Archives, and I saw you at the Mongolian invasions.”

“Why did you pull up my info in the Archives?”

“Why were you in Asia?”

“Why were you checking up on me?”

We faced each other, at an impasse, the unspoken challenge in the air dampening my skin with chilly sweat. He wasn't going to admit he'd been in the wrong place, and I wasn't about to tell him where I'd been, either.

“I'm late for Reflection.” I shouldered past him, moving fast. My heart pounding for a totally different reason than it had in Alexandria. Oz's eyes followed me all the way down the hall until I turned a corner and escaped his view.

*

All Historians had their own reflection data file under every historical event, person, and archive in which to catalog our thoughts. We filled them with our opinions on the effects of that particular entry on the development or destruction of Earth Before—whether or not a lesson should be recorded for future generations, and what exactly the memory could help us accomplish or avoid in the years to come. In turn, those files were compiled and scanned, and when a large enough consensus was reached, entered in the Hope Chest.

Today we weren't messing with our files—those were done in individual sessions. Group sessions were to review apprentice recordings, and this one went as badly as expected. Differing opinions were a part of human nature we'd never escape, but the Originals had sought to balance them by providing multiple viewpoints whenever possible. As a result, apprentices sat through three sessions on each recorded observation, each with a different certified Historian. Maude had dressed me down in the initial recap a few days ago, and Minnie had been even worse the next session. Today, an overseer named Booth taught the final class and embarrassed the crap out of me until my ears felt permanently red.

It occurred to me that I only had to suffer through another year of training. After that I could focus on whoever and whatever I wanted, as long as I was willing to write up the initial reflections when I entered them in the database. Maybe it would behoove me to pay attention until then so I didn't die of shame before my eighteenth birthday—or accumulate enough infractions to be delayed.

Booth asked me to stay behind when he dismissed us four hours later, and my stomach sank. “Miss Vespasian, you're putting all of us in a very awkward position with your continued lack of effort.”

“It's not a lack of effort, I swear. It's more of an … excess of attention in the wrong areas. I'll try harder to focus on the assignments.”

Booth had a gentle nature and was my favorite of the Historian Elders. Wrinkles cut deep grooves in his coffee-bean skin, and the whites of his eyes had gone a bit yellow these past couple of years. He walked bent over with a cane, his spine twisted. At eighty-two he had to be close to the oldest living human in Genesis. Knowing I'd disappointed him shamed me more than the combined verbal torment dished out by the Gatling girls.

He gave me a small, mostly toothless smile and patted the back of my hand. “I see much of Lloyd in you, you know.”

“Really?” It turned up my lips to think people saw my grandfather when they looked at me.

“Yes. He could be easily distracted by the sidelines, believed the real triumphs and failures of human history were to be found in the minutiae of the everyday, in the lives of inconsequential people. Not in the monumental events you're studying at the moment, but in humanity's reaction to those things.” Booth's eyes took on a faraway look, as though his mind had wandered past my grandfather into some secret room that housed memories that would never be archived. “That history could be altered by the simplest of changes to an insignificant life, like tossing a tiny pebble into a pool of water.”

“What do you believe, sir?” I asked, mesmerized by his insight.

His gaze focused on me a moment later, sharp now. “I believe there is no point in thinking about changing the past when our duty is to use our collective knowledge to ensure the most advantageous future.”

The words tightened my chest. After years of training, the mere mention of changing the past made imaginary hives break out across my skin. “I'm honored by the comparison to my grandfather. I'll do my best to make his memory proud.”

“There is a difference, Miss Vespasian, between being a dreamer and being a rebel. I trust that given your family contains excellent examples of each, you understand where that line rests.”

The sawdust from earlier reappeared on my tongue. “Yes, sir.”

Booth's insinuation was clear. My grandfather and my brother had gone disparate ways. One was acceptable. The other was not. It didn't take a genius to know my path took a major swerve toward Jonah's today. Even so, I fought the urge to defend my brother and his decision to live outside the System. His name was pretty much as taboo as visiting my thousands-of-years-dead True Companion.

And right now, I needed to cool it before my own guilt tipped me completely off my nut.

Booth nodded, but his gaze remained thoughtful. “You may go. I trust on our visit to see the Sun King in a few weeks you will keep your focus where it belongs.”

“That's my favorite period. I'll do well.”

He flicked a finger toward the door at my assurance, allowing my escape into the hall. Only Analeigh had waited, her eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Pay attention to the assignment at hand, Miss Vespasian,” I rasped in a fair imitation of Booth's scratchy voice.

Analeigh laughed, but the hollow sound said it was only to humor me. We had been off since I'd found Jonah's cuff, and this morning's trip didn't help. She knew I was hiding something. Neither of us was in the mood for lighthearted fun, I guessed, and the chat with Booth sobered my lingering high after meeting Caesarion. No matter how badly I wanted to, going back wasn't an option. The past could never be altered without consequence. I didn't want to believe he had to die for nothing, but it had already happened; I needed to be happy with this morning's interaction and leave it behind me.

Analeigh and I stepped into the dining hall for lunch, a larger space than most of the rooms at the Academy, but just as cold and perfunctory. No pictures hung on the white walls, and no carpets spanned the tiled floor. Round glass tables and steel chairs dotted the room, to the entire effect of making the space feel empty even when we were all in here at once. My mom said the sparseness was a Historian thing, and that the Agriculture Academy had walls made out of vines and flowers.

There were ten tables, one for each class and two extras for any Historians or Elders that wanted to join us, even though they rarely dined in our company. Our class, like most older classes, had split into two distinct groups, but we were no different from the rest of the System and were required to get along. Even the dissension between Jess and me wasn't much to write home about—nothing like the epic high school battles waged in old movies or the electronic books I'd devoured as a child. No one had been pushed in front of a bus, no pig's blood had been spilled. Perhaps because we had no buses. Or pigs.

We didn't all love each other, but we were polite and avoided confrontation.

Jess, Peyton, and Levi were seated and chatting when I made it to the table, but fell silent at my approach. Oz shoveled asparagus stalks into his mouth like he hadn't eaten for a week, avoiding my gaze, but Sarah looked up at the sudden pause, guilt darkening her light-blue gaze. I dropped my plate next to hers, my apple rolling toward the center of the table. By the time I'd retrieved it Analeigh had settled next to me, but no one had resumed talking.

“You guys are making it totally obvious that you were either talking about me or Analeigh, and you know Sarah's going to spill, so you might as well share.”

Peyton and Levi glanced toward Jess, who shrugged. Sarah stuffed a huge bite of bread in her mouth, obviously keen on waiting for privacy before divulging the contents of the conversation.

“What's going on?” Analeigh asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Oz mopped up the last of the vegetable juice on his plate with a final bite of bread, then sighed. “Kaia's brother and his merry band of thieves and rebels are in the news again.”

My heart sped up. Not due to mortification, as Jess had likely hoped, but because news of my brother and his crew had been in short supply for months. The lack of information worried me. The System wasn't big, and although there were places to hide, they couldn't stay away from civilization forever. Since the moons and outer planets weren't terraformed, eventually the … well, pirates, for lack of a better term, had to return for oxygen, proper attire, and sustenance. They pillaged those things, along with money and food and whatever else struck their fancy.

It was hard to reconcile the reports of their crimes with my playful, quick-to-smile, handsome older brother. No one knew why he'd left. If my parents or any of his friends had suspicions, they had never shared them with me. My anguish over missing him was rivaled only by my anger at being left behind without a word of explanation.

“What happened?” I asked after a bite, trying not to sound too eager.

“They hit the armory on Roma. Took a bunch of weapons and oxygen tanks.” Levi glanced around as though there were Elders peering over his shoulders, even though talking about subversives like Jonah was taboo at worst, not forbidden.

An idea formed in the back of my mind, tiny but growing into something substantial by the moment. “When?”

Levi frowned, then leaned forward and dropped his voice even further. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

It was true that I preferred to avoid gossip about my brother. I didn't hate him the way the Elders thought we all should, and even though I
was
angry with him, I wanted him to be safe. Jonah wasn't idle gossip. He was my brother. I loved him even though his actions put more pressure on me to walk the line, a line I'd rather keep just in sight, so our parents could be proud of at least one of their children.

So my grandfather's legacy wasn't completely tarnished.

My failure to answer turned all six pairs of eyes toward me. Jess and Pey both looked bored with the conversation, like they wished I would get over myself so we could talk about something more interesting. Levi's dark features spoke of idle curiosity, as usual. He was kind of the gossip king of the Academy. Sarah's face was pinched with concern, Analeigh's eyes crowded with a million questions.

Oz's steady gray gaze brimmed with suspicion and annoyance, narrowed and so focused on my face that it made me start to sweat.

I concentrated on not squirming. “I … I like to know he's okay.”

“It was this morning around six,” Oz supplied, his voice softer. “They weren't hurt.”

Sarah slid a sidelong glance at him. The hitch in her body language told me I wasn't imagining his odd behavior, the gentle thread to his reassurance.

When I didn't respond, the conversation around the table shifted. Jess changed the subject, blabbering about what decade of clothing she planned to wear for the sixth year's upcoming certification party. Oz finished his food in three huge bites, then he and Sarah left the table. Pey and Analeigh stayed quiet, and my jumbled thoughts didn't allow me to inflate the conversation.

Analeigh's silence unnerved me; she would want to know why Jonah's latest antics had interested me so much, and why I'd said anything at the table when I typically hated people talking about my brother. I'd have to think of something other than the
real
reason for my change of heart. Because admitting to my rule-following friend that finding Jonah's cuff had opened a world of possibilities to me, if I had the guts to grasp them, wouldn't play well. And now that I knew where Jonah had been, I could travel back and corner him.

Get some freaking answers.

New York
,
New York
,
United States
, Earth Before–March 25, 1911 CE (Common Era)

Heavy clouds pressed together, obscuring the sun over New York City and making the early spring day overcast and dreary, the temperature below average. The high-necked shirtwaist, ankle boots, and long woolen skirt kept me warm enough, though comfort hadn't been an early twentieth-century fashion concern.

I hadn't figured out the best time to visit Jonah yet, and today's observation delayed my plan to travel without authorization a second time even further. If I was honest, as much as I wanted to throw my arms around my brother's neck and squeeze out answers, I'd started to waver. It wasn't getting in trouble as much as disappointing my parents. Again. Our family had been through enough, and I'd taken a huge risk yesterday.