M. Buehrlen - The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“When you’re on the run, the accent is the first thing to go. It’s a little too memorable. Too noticeable around here.”

I nod at his Orioles cap. “And the cap? The boat shoes? I was right, it is a disguise. You’re just trying to look like a local.”

“Works, doesn’t it?”

I smile slightly, setting the spoon down. “Why did you change your name to Porter?”

He folds his hands on the table. “Porter is the nickname you gave me when you were growing up at AIDA. It comes from an old fairytale I used to read to you when you were a little girl, In the Land of Souls. It’s about a man who sets out on a journey to reunite with his dead wife. He meets a gatekeeper along the way who teaches him how to shed his body and enter the Land of Souls, where his wife’s soul is waiting for him.” A small, wistful smile appears at the edge of Porter’s mouth as he recalls the tale. “You said I was the gatekeeper because I taught you the same thing. How to shed your body and enter Limbo.”

“And porter means gatekeeper,” I say.

He nods. “I wrote Porter on the flyer to see if you remembered anything from your past life as Ivy. If you did, you would’ve known who I was right away. But you didn’t.”

I fold my arms on the table. I look out across the water at the boats sailing past. “Do you think Gesh is searching for Tre too?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“If Tre isn’t working for Gesh, then why didn’t that Descender in 1876 go after him too? Why just me?”

“They probably thought they wouldn’t get any information out of him, if Gesh still believes Tre has his memory defects.”

I sit back in my chair, hoping that’s not true. If Blue still has his defects, then he might forget to meet me at Buckingham Fountain, and I’ll never find him in Base Life.

Gesh might find him first.

After a while, I finally summon the courage to ask Porter what I’ve wanted to ask since I sat down. “Will you ever forgive me? For creating the Variant?”

His watery eyes are sympathetic. “You don’t need forgiveness, Alex. In the end, the ultimate fault lies with me. You were merely playing with the hand I dealt you. You were meant to go back to AIDA, to create this Variant timeline. It was all meant to be.”

I know they’re supposed to, but his words don’t make me feel any better. I know what he really means. What’s done is done. We can’t change the past. We can only change the future.

And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Once we find Blue, we’ll be a force to reckon with. Me, Porter, Blue, maybe even Levi, if we can find him. Me and my boys. We’ll bring Gesh down.

Hard.

“Oh, I got you something,” Porter says, reaching into a shopping bag at his feet. He pulls out an eyeglasses case. “What do you think of those?”

I open the case and crack a smile. Inside is a pair of glasses with the exact same frames as mine. I slide them on and laugh. The lenses are clear plastic. Totally fake, but close enough to fool anyone.

“Thanks, Porter.”

FRIENDS

When I arrive home, the house is brimming with the scent of Gran’s molasses cookies. One of her specialties. The moment I walk through the door, she tosses me an oven mitt.

“Can you watch these for me, Allie Bean? I ran out of butter. There’s a few minutes left on the timer, so when it goes off, check if they’re done. If not, set it for another five minutes. Don’t you let my sugar babies burn.” She grabs her coat and flies out the door, her purse swinging behind her.

I drop my backpack by the back door, toss the oven mitt on the counter, and make my way to the front porch, leaving the front door open so I can hear the timer. I watch Gran book it down the street to the corner store. A breeze kicks up and scatters the last few fall leaves across the yard. I sit on the porch swing, suddenly feeling very, very tired.

And very alone.

As if right on cue, a familiar face comes walking up our driveway, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. “Wayfare,” Jensen says with a smile. “Glad you brought back the specs. Lookin’ good.”

When he climbs the porch steps, I notice a fresh bruise on his cheekbone under his left eye. “Whoa. What happened to you?” I scoot over so he can sit beside me. My hands are cold and fisted in the pockets of my parka.

“Heh. Well. I kinda got in a fight with Robbie after school.”

“You didn’t.”

He nods with a guilty grin. “Totally did. I asked him what he said to you on the track.” He shakes his head. “It was low. Even for him. I don’t know what happened. I’ve never been in a real fight before. I just got really mad and the next thing I knew, I took a swing.”

“You hit him?”

He lets out a laugh. “I wish. He rolled out of the way. But he got me pretty good.” He rubs the side of his face, wincing a bit.

I give him a disapproving look. “I thought you said we just had to ‘ignore them.’”

“Yeah, well.” He kicks his long legs out and crosses his ankles. “Maybe next time I’ll take my own advice.”

We sit there, staring at our shoes, rocking the porch swing with our feet. Heel, toe, heel, toe.

“So,” he says after a while. “Did you talk to your boyfriend?”

I smile to myself. “Yeah, actually. I did.” It feels weird referring to Blue as my boyfriend. Shouldn’t that title be reserved for someone you meet in the present time period? Someone you go on dates with?

“And?” Jensen says.

“And you were right. It was a big misunderstanding.”

“Told ya.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe next time I’ll take your advice.” He bumps his shoulder into mine and we laugh. “So, can you tell all the jerks at school that I have a boyfriend? And that you and I are just friends? Maybe that’ll get the guys off my back and the girls won’t hate me so much.”

“What? They don’t hate you.”

“Yes they do.”

“Why would they hate you?”

“Um, maybe because you and I are friends now?” I swear, he can be so oblivious sometimes.

“We’ve always been friends.”

“OK, well, they hate me now that you’ve made our friendship public.”

“That’s a ridiculous reason to hate someone.”

“Jensen, if you haven’t figured out by now that most girls are shallow, shallow creatures, then there’s no hope for you. They hate other girls for far less than that. Trust me.”

“That’s messed up.”

“Tell me about it.”

We rock the swing. Stare at our shoes. I push my fake glasses up the bridge of my nose.

“So when do I get to meet this guy?” he says.

“Someday. Maybe.”

“You bringing him to prom?”

I snort a laugh. I try to picture Blue and I doing something as mundane as prom. Two time traveling teens renting a limo and wearing corsages. “No. We’re sort of… bigger than prom.”

“Ah. College guy, eh?”

“Something like that.”

The timer goes off. I leap to my feet and head for the door. “I gotta run inside. You want to come in?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

I pull the two baking sheets full of molasses cookies from the oven. They’re rich, golden brown and smell amazing. I set them on the kitchen island and hand Jensen a spatula. We both start easing the cookies off the baking sheets and onto a cooling rack.

Audrey comes in carrying Afton in her arms, wearing a pair of baggy, plaid pajama pants. “I thought I smelled cookies.” Her eyes are heavy, and she has that just-woken-up look. Her stocking cap is askew. One pro of being totally bald? No more bed head.

She freezes when she sees Jensen, and her heavy, tired eyes become big and bright. I can’t help but stifle a laugh. I’ve never invited a friend over to the house, let alone a boy. Let alone Jensen Peters.