The Edge of Forever (9 page)

I can feel my blood pressure shooting up. “I do care. Can’t you cut me some slack? It’s not all about me getting in trouble. Vika is in a coma! Or do you even care about that?”

“Of course I do! That’s the whole problem. Chancellor Tyson explained everything to me, but what if they still hold you liable? Your career will be over, and there’s no telling how that could affect me or Shan. There’s so much at stake here and you seem oblivious to it.”

I want to shake her. I need her to get out. Now.

“Mom, can I be alone for a while? Please.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds before she says, “Fine. And I am sorry about Vika.”

“Thanks,” I mumble. That was unexpected, her making a semi-caring statement.

She takes a step toward the door, then turns back to me. “I want your DataLink.”

My head snaps up and I glare at her. “What did you say?”

“I said give me your DataLink. You’re not going to disrespect me. Your father may have let you get away with that, but I won’t.”

Fure, she’s got to be kidding. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “That’s crazy!”

Her face flushes, but she continues like I never interrupted her. “You’re grounded. After a week, I’ll reevaluate based on your behavior. You will not communicate with your friends, and you will not leave this apartment other than to attend Academy matters. Is that clear?”

A string of curses crowd my thoughts, but I don’t say anything. Instead I give her a look that lets her know what I think of her stupid punishment.

“I said is that clear?”

I nod slowly, hating her more than ever. She’s said nothing but nasty things about Dad for years and I put up with it. This is beyond unreasonable. If I wasn’t under investigation at the Academy, I’d leave without another thought.

“Now give me the DataLink.”

My hands shake as I unfasten the DataLink and hand it to her.

She lets out a sigh. “I know you think this isn’t fair, but you’ll have children of your own one day and you’ll understand.”

After she leaves, I fist my hands, trying to keep them from shaking so hard. I want to punch something. Instead I sink on my bed and rest my head in my hands. I don’t get her. It’s like she’s trying to do everything possible to ruin my life. She’s just flaunting her authority over me because she knows I can’t defy her.

All I want to do is check Dad’s DataDisk. That’s it, and she’s taken away the thing I need to view it.

I’m about to give up when I think of Shan. Or rather, his DataLink.

I tear out of my room to the kitchen. Shan is still in there stuffing his face. Yeah, he can do some serious damage to anyone’s food supply. Serves Mom right.

I check to make sure Mom isn’t around and take a seat at the table next to him. He gapes at me as if I’ve suddenly materialized like a Space Bender. “S’up, Bridger?”

I study him for a moment. He’s growing up fast. I can’t believe this is the same kid I used to be so close to when I was younger. Lately we’ve grown apart, though. All because he’s such a mama’s boy. I hesitate just for a second, then finally say, “Can I ask you a favor?”

He raises an eyebrow. “That depends.”

“I need to borrow your DataLink.”

“What for?”

I’d forgotten how nosy he is. I haven’t been around him a lot lately. He definitely gets that from our mother. “Not long. I need to ask Elijah something and Mom grounded me from mine.”

“Ouch. Sucks to be you.”

“Right. So can I have it?”

“Well, I might be persuaded to part with it if you do something for me.”

I lean back in my chair, semi-impressed he’s learned how to negotiate. “What exactly do you want?”

“I need more credits. Mom said I’ve used too much already this month and there’s a new Sim I want to download. The 2011 Japanese tsunami.”

That Sim hasn’t been out long. It’ll cost me more credits than I like. But it’s worth it. “Okay, but only if you let me borrow the DataLink whenever I need it for the next week.”

“Only in the evenings and it’s a deal,” he says.

He slips the DataLink to me, and I zip back to my room. I activate the lock again and sit at my desk. Sweat beads across my forehead. I quickly swipe it away and snap Shan’s DataLink on my wrist, then pop in the DataDisk. A holographic menu hovers over the band. Three files are displayed. I select the first one.

It’s a copy of an article from an old-style newspaper called
The Willow Creek Tribune
. It’s dated July 8, 2013. Adrenaline floods my body as I scan the first paragraph. It’s about a sixteen-year-old ghost named Alora Walker.

That’s the name Dad said to me.

I grin. So I’m not crazy.

I quickly read through the rest. Alora was found dead in an abandoned burning house on her aunt’s property. She’d also been shot in the head. The case was declared a homicide.

I close the file and select the next one. When it opens, I recoil. It’s Alora’s obituary, but her picture is what I can’t stop staring at—she could be Vika’s twin. Or at least her sister. Alora’s hair is a slightly darker shade of blonde than Vika’s, and her face is a little rounder.

I realize there are people in the world who look alike, but this is too much of a coincidence.

Hopefully the last file will have more answers. I open it, and a short message appears.

Leithan, thank you so much for agreeing to help me. These are the only things I could find about Alora. Please save her.

I read the message several times. I can’t believe it.

If it’s correct, then whoever wrote this note asked my father to do something illegal. Something he would never do.

Only, he did.

A chiming sound interrupts my thoughts, indicating the door lock is being deactivated. I drop my arm as Mom enters my room. I want to shout at her for barging in again, but one look at her face silences me. There’s nothing hostile there, only sadness.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Bridger, but Chancellor Tyson just called. Vika is dead.”

10

ALORA

APRIL 9, 2013

I
sit on the dock and pull my legs close, rocking back and forth as I stare at the river. The night air is unusually warm, like a blanket wrapped around me, but I still shiver. I’m trapped in a nightmare, one that’s starting to repeat itself. Why am I having these blackouts?
Why?

I swat at the mosquitoes buzzing around my head as I stand. There’s no telling how much time I’ve lost or if Aunt Grace is looking for me. I need to get back to the house.

My skin prickles once I’m in the forest. Usually I love being in the woods, but not at night. You never know what could be lurking in the shadows. A deer. A coyote. A serial killer.

I’m gasping for air by the time I reach the house. Aunt Grace is sitting on the back porch in one of the rocking chairs. She’s giving me the stink eye.

“Where have you been and why haven’t you answered your phone?”

She probably thinks I ran off to have a tantrum, or that I’m morphing into one of those emo kids who like to quote weird poetry and moan about how life is so unfair. But I can’t tell her the truth. I can’t give her any reason to consider selling the house to Celeste.

“I left it in my room,” I say. “I decided to go running for a while. I’m sorry.”

Aunt Grace crosses her arms. “That’s all you can say for yourself? I told you earlier that our guest was joining us for supper. I kept him waiting while I looked all over the house for you, and then I had to make an excuse about why I couldn’t find you. Do you have any idea how that embarrassed me?”

My face grows warm. I hadn’t even considered how my disappearance would look with a guest around. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Grace. I just . . . I just had a horrible headache earlier, and I had a bad day at school, and after fighting with you I just needed to get away for a little while. I really am sorry.”

Aunt Grace considers me for a few seconds. I can practically see the gears churning in her brain. “You haven’t been acting like yourself for the past few days. Is there something going on at school that I need to know about?”

“No, ma’am, it’s nothing. I’m just tired.” My stomach twists. I hate doing this.

“I hope that’s all.” Aunt Grace heaves a deep sigh. “I’m worried about you, sugar.”

Now I feel even worse. I focus on the porch, not wanting to look her in the eye. “I’m really sorry, Aunt Grace. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You know, you’re starting to act just like Nate when he was around your age.”

My head jerks back up. “What do you mean by that?”

Her eyes take on a faraway look. “He went through this phase where he skipped classes and ran off for hours at a time. It used to drive my mama nuts.”

This is the first time she’s mentioned anything about Dad when he was younger. Maybe if I can play things right, she’ll open up more about him. Or even my mom. “Did he ever say why?”

“No, he did it for a while, then decided to grow up and stop acting so irresponsible.” She pauses and gives me a pointed stare.

Okay, the bonding over Dad moment is finished. I paste on what I hope is a convincing smile. “Yes, ma’am. Lesson learned.”

“Good. Now let’s go inside. I’ve been waiting out here forever and mosquitoes have eaten me alive.”

“What time is it?”

She withdraws her phone from her pocket. “It’s eight twenty.”

A sick feeling stirs inside me. So I’ve lost almost three hours.

As soon as we’re inside, Aunt Grace wipes a hand across her forehead, wrinkling her nose. “I need a bath. Leftovers are in the fridge, so help yourself.” She takes a few steps down the hallway then looks back at me. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure.”

My heart thrills. If she’s taking a bath, that means she’ll be in there for a while. Meaning I can get in her room and look for things. Things that might give me answers.

The man I met earlier, Mr. Palmer, is watching the television in the front parlor. I don’t know if he’s the kind of guest to get chatty, so I tiptoe past the doorway.

If anyone saw me right now, they would think I look ridiculous. I shouldn’t have to sneak around in my own house.

When I make it to my room, I close the door, leaving it cracked so I can still see Aunt Grace’s room. My heart pounds in anticipation. I rarely go in her bedroom. She says she needs her personal space, especially since we have to share the rest of the house with guests. I bite my bottom lip. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe I should let it go.

No, I’ve got to find what she’s keeping from me.

A few minutes later, Aunt Grace exits her room with her nightgown and robe draped across her arm and goes next door to our bathroom.

As soon as I hear the sound of running water, I dash across the hall into her room. The door clicks softly as I shut it. I wipe my palms on my shorts and survey the room. It’s covered in ugly rosebud wallpaper and her furniture is dark and old. Aunt Grace says it’s vintage. I say it’s hideous.

Still unsure of what I’m looking for, I decide to check the closet first. Shoes line two shelves to my left in neat rows. Her clothes hang across the rear wall, and two large plastic storage boxes are stacked to my right. Ignoring another stab of guilt, I attack the boxes. They’re full of old bills and receipts. Boring business-related stuff that makes my eyes glaze over. A single shelf is mounted over her clothes. I drag one of the plastic boxes over and stand on it, praying the lid will hold me.

A half dozen dust-covered boxes sit on the shelf, waiting for someone to discover what’s hiding inside. I hold my breath as I reach for the first box and slide it toward me.

Shoes.

The second box has shoes, and so does the third. I check all of them to make sure there’s nothing else. Just freaking great.

Grinding my teeth together, I put everything back in place, turn off the light, and step out of the closet.

Next is her dresser. It’s tall—almost to my chest—and has a lace doily draped across the top, covered with pictures. There are two with Aunt Grace and her husband. The majority are of me. My most recent school picture and some she took of me in her garden, plus some from when I was little. The oldest picture of me was taken a few months after I came to Willow Creek. Aunt Grace has her arms wrapped around me and she’s smiling as if she’s never been happier.

Through the wall, I hear a thud and footsteps. Aunt Grace is getting out of the tub.

My fingers fly as I slide open each drawer and filter through the contents. Underwear, socks, old T-shirts, shorts. And a handgun. I snatch my hand back in surprise. Aunt Grace never told me she had one of those in here. But still nothing that could help me.

Please let me find something.

My hands shake as I slide open the bottom drawer. Unlike the carefully folded items in the other drawers, this one is littered with open envelopes and pieces of paper. I pick one up and unfold it. A picture slips out and falls to the floor. I snatch it up. Two guys are standing in front of a tank in what appears to be a desert. One looks like my dad when he was younger, maybe in his early twenties. He’s dressed in a military uniform, with his arm draped over another soldier.

I quickly tuck the letter and picture in my pocket, close the drawer, and stand. Time to get out before Aunt Grace comes back.

I’ve only taken several steps when Aunt Grace appears in the doorway. Her face flushes. “Alora, what in the world are you doing in here?”

If I could rewind time, I would do it right now.

“I asked you a question, young lady,” she snaps. “What in the world are you doing in my room? Snooping around?” Her eyes flick to the bottom dresser drawer.

Excuses fly through my mind. I could tell her the truth, but I don’t want to fight anymore. Or I could tell her I heard a noise in here. She might buy that.

“I’m waiting.” Aunt Grace strides in the room.

I bite my bottom lip. “I need a family picture for a school assignment. I forgot about it and didn’t know how long you were going to be in the bathroom, so I thought you wouldn’t mind me grabbing one of those.” I nod in the direction of the pictures on top of the dresser.