15 Minutes: A YA Time Travel Thriller (Rewind Series) (18 page)

I
only had fifteen minutes.

That
was how I created the incredible mess that is now my life, but I can fix it.

I
need to.

I
step out onto the crosswalk. I see the alley, and I see myself get shot. I
watch my body crumble.

Mom
screams and falls to her knees. “Oh my God,” she whispers, throwing glances
over her shoulder. “Help! Someone help us!”

“You’re
going to be okay,” she says to me as I lie supposedly dying but really only
phasing. “You’ll be okay.”

I
remember how it felt, but I can’t pay attention to them as a crowd gathers. I
tune out their screams and questions as my eyes focus on Rex. He’s running from
the alley toward the dumpsters and the chain-link fence at the back. I take off
sprinting, pushing through the crowd and shoving people out of my way. I jump
over my fallen body.

“Hey!”
my mom screams, but I don’t think she notices how much I look like the girl she
is tending to.

Good.

I
keep going, jumping over the dumpster and springing over the chain-link fence.
I land in a squat, and his form, dressed all in black, charges down the street.
He’s fast, but I can do better. I take a deep breath and take off again. Air
fills my burning lungs, and I pump my arms. My legs are going faster than ever
before.

I
never take my eyes off of him. When he rounds the corner toward a shopping
center, I pray I won’t lose him in the crowd. I push myself even harder and
nearly trip over my own feet as I round the same corner. He’s in the crowd.
He’s slowed down and winded but still ahead of me and about to step into the
parking lot, maybe looking for his getaway vehicle.

I
hurry, push on. He’s only feet in front of me, but he’s still moving, and I can
barely breathe.

I
scream with the last of my air, “Rex!”

Pausing
briefly, he turns and sees me. His face flashes with confusion, and I realize
this Rex doesn’t know me yet. “I shot you?”

“Wrong.”

I
grit my teeth and go after him swinging, hand over fist into his face, then I
kick him in the gut and let him crash down onto the pavement. Lying on his
stomach, he struggles to get up, and I blow my knees into his back, forcing him
back down. I straddle him as people begin to take notice. I sit on him as hard
as I can, so he can’t escape, when someone asks me…

“What’s
going on here?”

I
glance up, tear-stricken. “He tried to kill a lady … over by the Tower Records.
Someone needs to call the police. He still has the gun.”

I
nudge his pocket with my foot and can feel its form. He didn’t dump the gun. He
didn’t have time yet to frame my dad. He would, if given the chance, which is
the only reason he hasn’t jumped forward in time yet.

It
is the only thing that saved me and will crucify him.

People
are on their phones dialing 911. A man kneels down beside me with horror on his
face.

“Honey,
you shouldn’t have chased him. What if he hurt you?”

I
smirk. “He won’t, but he works for Patricia James. She’s dangerous.”

The
man scowls. “The CEO of Rewind?”

The
crowd makes sure Rex has nowhere to go as we wait for the police. They arrive,
take statements, and place him under arrest. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one
who saw him. An old lady reported a man matching his description running from
the alley. Now the police had a reason to believe her.

Thanks
to me. Thanks to my gift.

But
if I want to save my family, I need to get rid of this ability. I can't travel
in time anymore.

When
reporters and camera crews appear, I disappear. I walk into Kmart and find a
secluded aisle. I touch the fluffy towels and smile up at the security monitor
watching me. I think of young Mike and Molly, Dad, Mom …
Jax
.
I don’t know what the world holds for any of us, but I’m ready to face it.

I’m
ready to leave this past behind.

Knock-knock-knock.

I
open my eyes and see I’m lying in bed. Gone is the room I grew used to at
Jax’s
house. The walls are brick, and the bed is only a
double, not a queen.

I’m
back in Charlestown.

But
this room is bigger than the one I had at home with Dad. The knock continues,
and I lean up on my elbows when the door opens. Dad sticks his head in.

“They’ll
be here soon. You want to think about getting out of that bed?”

“Dad.”

My
throat croaks. I jump out of bed and leap to him, wrapping my arms around his
neck. I take a deep breath and inhale his musky aftershave. His arms wrap
around me in a big bear hug, the kind I remembered. It feels like years since
I've felt his hug. And I’m sorry I wanted to trade them in. So sorry. I want to
tell him all that, but I don’t.

I
don’t.

“Well,
usually morning wake-ups don’t get me such a warm reception. Usually, it’s
mumbling and growling.”

“I
don’t growl,” I smirk. “Sparky growls.” I pretend to roll my eyes, but I don’t
think it’s convincing.

Dad
looks at me as if I were growing an extra head. “Well, get dressed. Then we can
have some breakfast before your ride gets here.”

When
he leaves, I bounce into action. I’m thrilled to see my wardrobe no longer
resembles Barbie dolls. All the rhinestones are gone, but some sparkles remain.
Dressing in some jeans and a sparkly top is a lot easier than skinny jeans and
platform pumps.

This
I can do.

I
keep my hair loose and curly, then pick up my purse in the corner of the room
and go through my possessions. My phone is black again, and inside my wallet I
find my student ID.

Lara
Crane.

I
squeeze my eyes shut and say a thankful prayer. I hurry to breakfast with Dad.
We’re alone, and I enjoy his burnt toast, eggs, and juice. My favorite pup
resides under the table between my legs and I feed him bits of my bacon. He’s
happy, and I am too. Scratching the top of Sparky’s head, I smile at Dad. I hear
a squeak from the next room, and Dad stands.

“Oh,
she’s finally up.”

He
goes back into the kitchen, and I turn to see Mom standing there in her flannel
pajamas. She rubs her belly. It’s big. Pregnant. I gawk at her.

“Mom,”
I whisper and run to her.

She
hugs me the best she can. “Good morning, princess. We finally decided what we
would name her. It came to us last night.”

“Molly,”
I say, incredulously.

She
smiles back—soft, angelic. “Molly.” She kisses my forehead, and I put a hand to
her belly, where my baby sister kicks. “Sit with me while I have breakfast,
okay?”

She
lowers herself into the seat and rests her hands on top of her belly. “Where
are you off to today?”

“School,”
I answer, hoping it’s the right one.

Dad
comes back in and puts a plate of eggs and toast in front of her.

“Thank
you,” she says with a big smile and rubs his cheek. “You’re too good to me,
John.”

He
kisses her as though he loves her more than life itself. “Who knew that we, at
this age, would be getting ready to become parents again?”

Mom
glows. “I always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom for Lara, but I couldn’t do
that. Now I can.”

“You
don’t work?”

Mom
looks offended. “I work ... here. It’s not easy growing a new human being, you
know, and keeping up with you and all your activities.” She bites into her
toast.

“Sorry,
I didn’t mean anything by it.”

She
smiles at me. “Go wash up for school. Your friend will be here soon.”

I
almost forgot to brush my teeth. I rush to the bathroom, flick on the light,
and find my toothbrush. Something about my reflection bothers me. I pull back
my hair and see a pinhole mark on my neck where I was shot. But that was in a
different timeline. That should have faded like my bullet wound when I was shot
in the alley, right?

What
is going on?

My
teeth clean, I put my toothbrush down and place the toothpaste back into the
medicine cabinet. When I shut the door, I prick my finger on the sharp corner.
I grimace, and a small spot of blood appears. I feel my blood pressure rise,
and the room blurs and fills with fog.

Suddenly,
I’m not standing in the bathroom. I’m in a large, sterile room strapped to a
gurney. Machines are beeping, and I can barely catch my breath as my heart
races out of control. Tight straps hold my hands and arms still. Needles
prickle my body at dozens of entry points. My eyes are dried like peeled
grapes, and I can’t even blink. All I can do is arch my back when I strain.

People
run around in a panic. “She’s waking up. She’s waking up!”

My
back arches. “Let me go! Help me!”

Rex
leans over my face. He strokes my hair back. His voice is soft, soothing and it
makes my skin crawl. “Relax, Lara. Relax. Your Uncle Rex is here. He’s going to
take good care of you, I promise.” He snarls as he looks up at someone else in
the room. “Inject her again.”

“It
seems she’s resistant to the—”

“I
don’t care. Then give her twice the dose. Three times. Whatever it takes.”

Something
slips beneath my skin, and a moment later I am rubbing my forehead. When I open
my eyes, I am sitting in the car with Rick. I glance around, unsure how I got
here and where I’m going, but I’m with Rick, which is what I wanted. So why is
there so much dread? Why am I so upset?

He
parks the car in the high school parking lot, then he turns it off and faces
me. His hand plays with my hair, which feels nice. I close my eyes as he edges
in for a kiss. Our lips meet, and everything about it is perfect. I’ve missed
him so much, but my mind flashes to Donovan. My heart wrenches with guilt, and
when I think I have everything I want, I pull away.

“What’s
wrong, Lara? You’ve been acting funny since I picked you up.”

I
doubt I’ll ever act the same again, not unless they can scrub my mind and I can
forget everything I’ve seen and done over the past few days.

“Sorry,
I have a headache. And Mom … is getting close to having her baby. A lot going
on at home. I’m glad you’re here though.” I give him a smile.

When
he returns it, I know he’s bought my words. To clinch the deal, I lean forward
and kiss him again, ignoring the pang of guilt in my chest. I feel as if I’m
eating the last cookie in the package that someone else was saving.

I
had Rick, I had Donovan, and now I have Rick again. Silly as it is, I'm sorry
for the Lara that lost Donovan, almost as though she were a separate person
from me. She was so distinct, but I have all her memories. She was and wasn’t
me at the same time. It's hard to rationalize and make sense of any of it, so
I'm simply not going to think about it anymore.

“Walk
me to my locker?”

Rick
nods, and when we get out of the car he slings his arm over my shoulder. It
seems to belong there.

Once
we’re inside, Kristine appears from nowhere grinning and bouncing on her feet.
The girl never seems to change, no matter what timeline we’re in.

“Hey
guys! I thought you were going to miss English again.”

“Not
again.”

I
head over to my locker, unsure whether I’ll remember my combination, but I spin
the dial, and the numbers come to me. My books tumble out. I bend over to pick
them up.

“Let
me help you,” Rick says and hands me a few books. A blue piece of paper is
lying on the ground. He picks it up and unfolds it.

My
heart stills. I recognize the stationery.

“What’s
this mean?” He hands it to me.

I
recognize the handwriting. I should. It’s mine.

It’s not over.

I
want it to be over. I don’t want to live this time travel hopping life anymore.
If saving Mom, Dad, and Molly wasn’t enough to make me happy, what will be?

“What’s
it mean?” Rick asks.

I
shrug. “Who knows. Some kid probably put it in my locker.” I crumble it up and
throw it back in, then slam the door shut.

****

In
class everyone acts as if I should be there, but I don’t belong. I go through
the motions, and take out my books, and find my pencil, but right when I think
I’m settled, Donovan strolls into class.

My
chest pangs. He’s cool and suave. From his dark sunglasses to his arrogant
swagger, everything about him is what I used to hate, but now when I see it, I
want to run to him.

He
takes the seat across from me, lays out his notebook, and takes his sunglasses off.
He looks at me, and his eyes bore a hole into my soul.

“Do
you have a spare pen?”

“Me?”
My voice chokes. “No. Sorry.”

He
grunts and throws an arm over the back of his chair to wink at a girl in
another row. This Donovan is a player, a playboy in the eleventh grade. I miss
the serious, warm, and caring boy I knew.

“Well,
thanks anyway. It’s Crane, right?”

“Lara.”
I hold my hand out, feeling like a geek, but he shakes it anyway.

“Your
mom’s Miranda, right? Pretty sure my mom told me we played as kids a few times,
before your mom quit working.” He sucks on his lip and whistles. “Too bad.”

“Too
bad my mom quit working or too bad we stopped playing together?”

He
smirks so his dimples are exposed. “Maybe both.”

I
laugh and shake my head. The teacher begins talking, and I turn to the front,
but I barely hear him. He may as well be one of those
WAH-WAH-WAH
adults from Charlie Brown. My eyes focus on the wall
clock. The hands are spinning backwards. At first I think it’s only the second
hand, but then I realize it’s also the minute hand. Time is going backwards. I
turn in my seat and look at the other students, but no one else seems to
notice. I sit straight ahead and blink. It's turning clockwise again.

I’m
losing my mind.

Rubbing
my forehead, I wish I knew what was going on.

“Please
open your books to page 245.”

Sighing,
I flip my book open, but all my pages are blank, like a journal. Half the class
stares at me as I slam my book shut. The teacher puts his hands on his hips,
and his cheeks turn the shade of his bald, sunburned head. I slouch in my seat
and open my book back up, but this time the words are filled in.

I
can’t take it anymore. I’m up from my desk and running down the hall. I find
the girl’s restroom and slam the door shut. I lean against it and close my
eyes. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm down. I rush to the sink and splash
water on my face. I don’t know what’s going on with me or who I can talk to who
will make it better. Maybe no one. Maybe this is my punishment for mucking with
time.

I
cup my hand to collect water and drink it. Feeling better and more in control,
I straighten up and glance in the mirror. Someone steps behind me.

It’s
the woman with the purple hair.