Return Once More (26 page)

I was starting to think that my favorite mantra, that you're only in trouble if you get caught, might not hold water when it came to rearranging the past.

We were silent for a long time, the gears in my mind working so hard I could almost hear them. Analeigh chewed her lip almost raw but said nothing.

“I think that phrase is some kind of secret saying, and when Oz saw I had a cuff he wondered if I was part of whatever it is, too.”

“Part of what, Kaia?”

“That's what we have to find out.”

“Shouldn't we say something to Sarah?” Analeigh asked while the two of us brushed our teeth before bed.

I watched her in the mirror, her wavy hair piled atop her head, pale legs sticking out from under her shorts, glasses spattered with toothpaste. We'd both changed into our standard-issue pajamas—striped linen shorts and long-sleeved tops. Hers were light blue, mine were pale purple. The familiarity of the routine had lulled me so that the question startled me.

“Sarah?” I asked, trying to focus.

She looked at me as though I'd gone as mad as Alice's hatter. “You know, our roommate? The girl betrothed to the new crazy version of Oz who accosted you, tossed you into a decontamination chamber, and proceeded to threaten you?”

I snorted so hard at her goofy, movie-dialogue phrasing that toothpaste shot up my nose. It burned so badly my eyes watered. “What would we tell her? That her boyfriend is running around the past knocking over pretty women and possibly trying to kill us all in the process?”

A mischievous twinkle lit her eyes. “It's better than telling her Elder Truman thinks you have a thing for Oz.”

“Shut up. We're
definitely
not telling her that. Or speaking of it ever again.” I banged my toothbrush on the edge of the sink and rinsed out my mouth with disinfectant, then rubbed enamel strengthener and whitening goo across every tooth's surface. When I raised my head to check the mirror one last time, my dark eyes met Analeigh's light ones, and the comfortable mirth wriggled from the room.

Weight hung between us, too heavy for two girls who had never been prepared to question their Elders. Never imagined a mystery beyond a really tough reflection, or that our friends—Sarah and Oz—might be in real trouble.

This situation shook our foundations, our beliefs, our ability to trust pretty much blindly that the fate of humanity rested safe in the hands of our Elders. If Zeke, or Truman, or even Oz was involved in something secret that threatened the System, then Analeigh and I—and probably Jonah—could be the only ones who knew.

“What do we do?” Analeigh whispered. She sounded more like the little girl who had raced me around my mother's greenhouse until we both collapsed, covered in real dirt, than the confident friend she'd grown into these past years.

“First we have to figure out what's going on. Then we can figure out what to do.”

The suite's front door banged open, followed by the sound of a bag hitting the floor and weight flopping onto a couch.

“Hey, guys,” Sarah said, her voice thin and tired.

“Has she been in Reflection all night?” I whispered.

Analeigh nodded, her eyes worried. “She's behind. She's so good at the rest of it, but she can't see the connections very well sometimes.”

“Oz should be helping her, not the other way around.” Defensive anger rose again with the memory of how he spoke to me, and now how he was treating my friend, who he was supposed to love more than anyone. “We're not telling Sarah anything. Not until we have proof.”

Analeigh bit her lip. “What if we don't want to know, Kaia? What if we can't do anything about it, or it's worse than we thought? We can't leave the Academy.”

We couldn't “un-know” anything. We couldn't go back. Like Caesarion reminded me earlier tonight, my job was to look forward, to put the people of Genesis first.

“It doesn't matter whether we want to, Analeigh. It's our obligation as Historians. They give us the privilege of travel and in return, we protect the future from the mistakes of the past. Maybe it means we protect the past from Oz, too. Or his father.” Guilt tore at my throat, trying to push the remainder of my confession out to Analeigh, that I had already broken that trust a million times in the past two weeks.

That as big the risk now that Oz knew about my cuff and where I was going, I knew I would do it again. I needed the comfort of Caesarion's presence. I wanted to hear the story of Osiris and Isis, to try to believe the way my True did that we would meet again, in the blink of a god's eye.

Sarah's head appeared in between ours in the mirror, the whites of her tired eyes split by red veins, her smile thin. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothing. Kaia has a new crush,” Analeigh blurted.

For shit's sake.
Analeigh's panicked gaze met mine. That girl
could not lie
. If she had a secret, she babbled, and things like this tumbled out of her unbidden.

Sarah turned to me, hands on her hips. “Spill it, Kaia.”

“It's … um. Well … I.” My mind stumbled, thick with the plotting, the secrets trying to drown me, the exhaustion from the piles of stress that had accumulated over the past couple of hours. Days. Finally I blurted the first name that came to mind that wasn't Oz. “Evan.”

“Evan
Pritchard?!”
Sarah nearly shrieked.

I slapped a hand over her mouth a little harder than necessary, panic boiling in my veins. “Shhhh. These walls are like paper and you know it.”

“I'm sorry,” she apologized, rubbing her cheeks. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But Even Pritchard? You and every other girl on Sanchi.”

“Or every girl that's ever seen him,” Analeigh added drily.

I shot her a look. She'd started this whole thing with her guilt-fueled blabbermouth. Analeigh shouldn't be allowed to speak at all when she was keeping a secret.

Evan Pritchard was in his last year as an apprentice. He stood at least six foot five with a muscled chest as wide as Analeigh and I put together and a chiseled face topped by shaggy blond hair. Bright green eyes completed the pretty picture, which resembled a traditional California surfer boy.

If Evan had any idea I was alive at all, it had to be a vague one. And probably because of my brother. I'd admitted having a schoolgirl crush on two different boys today, and having everyone and their mother think I was prone to such things started to irk me. Both were lies, but they also felt like the tiniest of betrayals to the boy I did love, who waited more than three thousand years in the past to see me once more before he died.

“Are you going to ask him to the party?” Sarah teased around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Who?” The thoughts in my head had pulled me into a different world.

“Your new crush, dummy.”

“Are you off your nut?” I countered. “Ask Evan Pritchard to his own certification party, the night before to boot? Yes, I think that sounds like a fine idea.”

My friends dissolved into giggles, probably at the thought of my even
speaking
to Evan, never mind asking him to spend the evening with me. I ignored them and went into my bedroom, grabbing my personal tablet comp from my desk on the way past and snuggling under the covers.

The mention of the party tomorrow reminded me that I hadn't put together an outfit. The contents of the wardrobe closets were loaded into the central database, and even though we weren't allowed to research for observations without being in the pods, dressing ourselves for events by flipping through virtual options was allowed.

Our dormitory closets and drawers were filled with little other than our black, skin-molded suits, undergarments, and the standard issue pj's. We each had a few hand-me-downs, brought from home, but events that allowed for actual clothing got all the girls in a stir. I had more on my mind than picking out a dress for the certification party, but it had to be done. Fitting in, going unnoticed … those had become desirable goals since I found that cuff.

Sarah plopped on my bed, smashing my legs. I scowled at her but relented, shifting so there was room for her and Analeigh, who joined us a moment later. Our pajamas and glasses might match, except for the colors, but the three of us were opposites in so many ways. The two of them were pretty blondes with light eyes, though Sarah's hair fell straight to her chin while Analeigh's tumbled in waves almost to her waist. Both a contrast to my olive skin, chestnut hair, and matching eyes.

“What are you wearing tomorrow night?” Sarah asked, her eyes lit with interest.

“I was trying to figure it out.” I fanned through eras of clothing, my mind torn between Caesarion and the mystery with Oz, my heart aching for what Sarah might face with a lifetime of his new inclination to do what he pleased.

She took the personal comp from my hands, and then she and Analeigh bent over it, fighting over whose finger took control of finding me an outfit.

“That one,” Analeigh said, stabbing at something I couldn't see.

“No, she'll look like that old mouse.”

“What old mouse?”

“The one from Disney World's girlfriend.”

“Minnie Mouse?”

“I'm with Sarah,” I interrupted, recalling the mouse in question. “No polka dots.”

“It would be a sexy Minnie Mouse.” Analeigh pouted. “Maybe Evan likes polka dots.”

If looks could kill, my best friend would have been dead and buried.

“I think it's the right style, Analeigh. Just not red polka dots. The 1950s housewife totally fits Kaia's personality.”

“Except for the ‘doing what she's told' part.”

“Not actually
being
a housewife, ew.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Just the pretty dresses that show off those legs that make us both totally jealous.”

I snuggled back into my pillows, tucking my cold toes under Analeigh's thigh, and let my friends take over dressing me for tomorrow's party. Their chatter and discussion faded into the background as my thoughts returned to the bathroom, to the lingering feeling of betrayal all of my fake crushes ignited in my heart.

Loving another couldn't be a betrayal to Caesarion. He was dead and gone, turned to dust long ago, and unless his beliefs held true, we would never meet again after his death, or after mine. My life was now, and in the years to come; I couldn't look on new relationships as somehow tarnishing the perfect connection between Trues. No one else thought that way. People in Genesis enjoyed love, great love, with people they chose. As much as I cared for Caesarion, as much as I loved being with him and hated the idea of losing it, I hated to think I'd never be happy again.

I had adored every moment of being with my True, but the push and pull of my feelings tied my insides into a huge knot of confusion. As though the Kaia that took the risk of traveling back to Egypt wasn't the Kaia sitting here now, listening to her friends plan for a party. We were separated by something distinct. Knowledge, maybe. Or simply time.

Whatever it was, I had to find a way to let that earlier, naive version of myself go.

To let Caesarion go.

Something was coming.

I felt it, like electricity in the air before a storm on Earth Before. The promise that the sky would soon darken and change, that rain would lash the earth, trees would bend in the wind, and anyone with good sense would take cover indoors. I had been accused of many things these past several days, but possessing good sense had not been brought up once, so of course, I chose to ignore it. My path wasn't changing, not right away—I promised Caesarion I would return once more to ancient Egypt and I would. As soon as I got this ridiculous certification party out of the way.

There were three gathering rooms at the Academy. Table comps and uncomfortable desks in metal study carrels filled one, what passed for homey furniture around here and walls lined with holo-sets for watching old television shows and movies decorated another—although most Historians considered doing so for pure entertainment and not research wasteful and idle. We lived in observation and reflection mode pretty much all the time. Every piece of history, even if it were originally meant only to entertain, held details that helped us better understand our forebearers. Our duty was to soak it in and spit it out, each in our unique way, not laugh at it.

The third room, where we crowded for the certification party, served as a group gathering area. Study groups or book clubs used it for discussions, and the younger classes sometimes used it for practice reflections before they were given access to the Archive database.

Tonight, the chairs and round tables had been removed. A long, rectangular table with a bowl of lemonade at one end and sherbet punch at the other sat off to the right side. Plates of vegetables and fruits, along with desserts that looked good but tasted like cardboard, rounded out the display.

I'd been running late, mostly due to my nervous dawdling, so Sarah and Analeigh had gone ahead. Sarah had to meet Oz and his father for the requisite couple photographs, since they were both in actual clothes instead of uniforms, and Analeigh left when I'd insisted she stop hovering.

My hands shook as I smoothed the thick, dark purple material of my dress. It was sleeveless, the scoop neckline landing right below my collarbone, the hem brushing the skin about two inches above my knees. Sarah had tied a dark gray, silky scarf around the high waist that made the skirt flare, showing off my legs the way she'd promised, and the silver heels already killed my feet.

Sarah looked adorable in her early nineteenth-century-inspired empire-waist gown. The silky, cream-colored material flowed off all of her curves, the gorgeous blue ribbon under her boobs matched her eyes, and the floor-length skirt hid her calves, which she hated.

I had to admit Oz looked handsome in his standard black tuxedo, for a potentially dangerous nutball. His gray eyes, always his best feature, trained on his True as she laughed with Levi. He must have styled his hair with some kind of product that pushed his unruly thick chunks into a loose semblance of order, and the cut of the suit accentuated his broad chest and shoulders. The memory of his strong hands squeezing my arms, shoving me into the air lock, returned the churning guilt and anxiety to my stomach. I glanced down at the fading red mark on my wrist, frowning.