October 3, 2004

"I'll try the swordfish."

"Caesar salad for me," I said. We turned to my mom, who was still deciding. She looked up and laughed to find all of us watching her.

"I'll have the surf and turf."

Phil was taking us out to dinner for Renee's birthday. It was at the restaurant where they had their first date. We even made her wear a blindfold the entire way there.

I returned to Jacksonville in the early hours of September 28. Two weeks had gone by in the past. But back at home, only a few hours passed in my absence. If it hadn't been for Elizabeth's dress, I would have thought it was all an extended dream.

With the dress hidden safely in my closet, I went down the hall to my mother's room. She was fast asleep. I crawled into bed and slept next to her that night. The relief to be home again crashed over me like a wave.

I thought about the Masens all the time. My absence would have been noticed immediately. And poor Edward. He was only a little boy. I should never have confided in him. I could only imagine how screwed up he was going to be now.

The three of us chatted until the food arrived. They carried on the conversation for several minutes; I was absorbed in my own thoughts. It felt funny to have a secret between us. They didn't know anything about my latest trip, and it was so convoluted that I didn't want to try.

"I have some exciting news for you guys."

"What is it, honey?"

"Well, remember my friend Bill from graduate school? The one from Tallahassee? He's from Arizona originally. Anyway, he called last night to tell me there's a new elementary school opening in Phoenix. I faxed him our information this morning."

"What does that mean?"

"He called me an hour ago," he grinned. "They want us to move there and work in the new school."

I gaped. "So . . . we're moving again?"

Renee took my hand. Despite her initial surprise, I knew her well enough to see she was already warming to the idea. It would certainly solve a lot of problems.

"What do you think, Bella? It means a new school for you, and I know that isn't your favorite thing—"

"When can we leave?"

They laughed. It would be about two weeks. The school they were at now needed enough notice to hire two other teachers. There was still a new house to consider, in addition to the moving expenses.

I watched my mom blow out the birthday candles. While the waitress cut the cake, I thought about this move. The transition obviously made Renee and Phil happy; new facilities were always a plus. Now that they were engaged, they could afford to buy a house big enough for all of us. Maybe even big enough to expand the family.

I wondered if this would make me happy. I was excited, for sure. This meant leaving the draconian prison I went to now. A fresh start. This meant more warm weather. An easier commute to California to see Charlie.

Everyone wins.

And yet I was still doubtful. We had been on the move for most of my life. Even when we paused, time travel prevented me from really settling down. For once, I wanted to be in one place to put down roots.

I wanted a home.

Phil dropped me off after dinner; the two of them were going out for drinks with friends. I watched them pull away and felt very much like a roommate. Roommate, not a daughter.

Back in my room, I wondered if I should start packing now or later. I didn't own very much; it would take five minutes either way. Sighing, I went downstairs to the phone.

The dispatcher put me through to his direct extension. "Chief Swan."

"Hey, Dad."

"Bell! I haven't heard from you in a long time, did you break your arm?"

"Break my arm?" I repeated. "No?"

"You just haven't called . . . nevermind, bad joke," he chuckled. "How are you?"

I curled the cord around my finger. "Same old. Still . . . leaving home. All the time."

Charlie and I rarely opened up to each other, but time travel was a special case. "I worry about you every day, Bella. Are you still training?"

"Yes," I said truthfully. "Phil helps me out with it."

"How is he? And your mom?"

"They're good. We're moving to Phoenix. There's a new elementary school opening up."

Any other dad might have been annoyed that he wasn't told about this move, but not mine. Renee moved us around so much that he probably expected it. "Good for them. And for you, too."

"Yeah, it is." I paused for a moment. "I think it's a good idea. I'm closer to California, too. Easier to get to you in the summer."

"That's great, Bell. I'm happy you called."

Summer seemed so far off. Maybe I could visit him over spring break. There was a certain serenity about Charlie that I couldn't find in Renee. "Me too. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"All right. Bye."

Other than a brief jump to 1989, the next two weeks were uneventful. I ran every afternoon, helped my mother pack up the house, and went to school smiling. There wasn't much I'd miss about Jacksonville, and even with my doubts, moving seemed like a good opportunity.

Finally, the day came for us to board the plane to our new home. Before we left, I managed to snag a postcard in the airport. Another city for my collection. I had nearly a dozen of them.

When we stepped out from the shade of the airport into the sun, I decided Phoenix and I could be friends. As a rule, I always preferred a hot climate over a cold one. If I time traveled during the night, especially winter nights, I didn't want to worry about exposure.

October 21, 2004

"Well, that's the last of it."

Renee flattened the final box into the recycle bin and stood with her hands on her hips. The house was more or less unpacked, but it would take a few more weeks to feel livable. She believed that a house didn't feel comfortable until it was properly furnished and decorated.

I went out to our backyard to enjoy the sunshine. A letter from my new school sat in my lap. Renee and I were going there tomorrow to meet with the principal.

I would officially start school on Monday.

The next morning, I found myself side-by-side with Renee in the principal's office. Her gray brows furrowed as she read what I assumed to be my attendance record. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. My mom cleared her throat.

"Bella is an excellent student," she offered. Renee was ever the optimist. No matter what we told this woman, the paper in her hands contradicted it. Worse, my condition wasn't known or recognized and therefore couldn't be claimed as an excuse.

Perhaps I should have gone to church with Renee after all. Praying seemed like my last card to play.

"Of course," she said politely. "We have plenty of suitable options for Bella."

I suspected that "suitable options" translated into something like "remedial education." But I wanted this move to go as smoothly as possible, so I said nothing. The principal shook our hands and smiled. The meeting was over.

"That wasn't so bad," Renee said when we piled into the car.

"She seemed nice."

"New school, new record," she added. I nodded. I knew she was hoping as much as I was that her words would come true.

It should have been a relief to have the weekend. Renee gave me some spending money and sent me away from the house. I went into the city to explore, buying school supplies as I went. By the end of the afternoon, I was reasonably confident about the layout of Phoenix and the surrounding area.

But as Monday dawned, the nerves started to mount. I was so wound up that I went digging for my anti-anxiety medication, something I rarely did. Exercise was always my go-to solution, but today it wasn't enough. I lay awake on Sunday night, counting down the minutes. The first day of school was always the hardest. If I could get through the first day, the rest would be smooth sailing.

I closed my eyes. I needed to rest. Medication and exercise were good, but nothing replaced sleep.

When I rolled over, restless, it became apparent I was no longer in my bed. The clutter of my room, the alarm clock on the nightstand, and my favorite quilt were gone. Even my pajamas had been replaced. Now I wore a soft, white nightgown.

In contrast to comfort of the bed, my head ached. There was an ugly lump forming behind my right ear.

Did I pass out? Renee must have taken me to the hospital!

But this hospital was unlike any I had ever been in. The beeping machines and fluorescent lights were absent. Instead, the room was illuminated by a single, burning lamp. A gauzy curtain divided the beds. To my left, I heard a woman whispering in her sleep.

I threw back the covers. Reluctantly, I concluded that I time traveled. A month ago, this would have been no cause for alarm. But due to my recent trip to Chicago, something told me I wasn't at my end of the century anymore.

I stood at the door, deliberating. My nightgown was too impractical for travel. The pajamas I was wearing when I arrived here were no better. I didn't know when or where I was. Before I could decide, the door opened from the outside. A nurse with a white dress and cap stood in my way.

"What are you doing up, young lady?"

"I-I was just—" I stammered.

"Get back into bed, now! The doctor will be with you shortly."

The tone of her voice sent me scurrying from the doorway. The metal bars of the bedframe were cool against my back. She lit the lamp on the table adjacent to my bed and shooed me under the covers. After mummifying me in the sheets, she swept from the room.

Great. I was more or less a prisoner in the hospital ward of an unknown city in an unknown time. If I didn't keep my mouth shut, I was going to stay here. In the psych ward, for sure.

A feeling of helplessness bloomed in my chest.

"How are you feeling, miss?"

I turned my head. If all doctors looked like him, I wouldn't mind spending time in the hospital. He was a pale man, and in the dim lighting, his hair looked white. But as he approached the bed, I realized it was blonde.

There were dark circles under his eyes. I imagined the night shift to be very demanding.

"Um . . . I'm fine."

He picked up my chart and frowned. "They should have included your name here. What is it?"

"Marie," I blurted out. "Marie . . . Dwyer."

"Well, Miss Dwyer, you've had quite an ordeal," he said, watching me as he wrote. "Do you remember what happened?"

"No."

It was not a lie. I guessed it had something to do with the big bump on my head.

"Old Mrs. Taylor and her daughter found you on the side of the road. You took a fall; I stitched you up a few hours ago."

I looked down at my right arm. There was a gash. I estimated it to be three inches long. I was no stranger to stitches and broken bones, but I didn't remember this one at all.

That frightened me.

The doctor was still watching me. "Unless someone made you fall."

My cheeks went red. "It was my mistake."

He wasn't convinced. "If I might ask, why were you out this late at night, Miss Dwyer? The orderlies told me you weren't carrying any money or identification. You didn't even have a coat."

I didn't want him to give another reason to keep me in the hospital, but I was dying to know. "What is the date, Doctor . . .?"

"Cullen," he finished. "And it's December 15, 1925. We're in Rochester, New York."

Some panic must have shown in my face, because he took a chair and sat next to the bed. "Are you running from someone, Miss Dwyer?"

"No," I said quickly. "I mean . . . I can't remember. Really. Please, I'm very tired."

He frowned again; I could tell he was suspicious. It was clear I wasn't being truthful. If only he knew why I was really lying.

"Very well. I'll be back to check on you in the morning."

Then I was alone again. If Chicago was an isolated event, what brought me to New York? Seventeen years went by between my trips. Why here, why now?

These places held no connection to my life. But there had to be a link between them, a common thread that wove them both together.

I didn't have to worry about Doctor Cullen seeing me in the morning. When I opened my eyes, my alarm was blaring at top volume.

I sat up in amazement. I was back in my new room in Phoenix. Everything was just as I left it.

Had it all been a dream? I was about to write it off as a very realistic nightmare when I looked down.

Instead of my pajamas, I wore the nightgown they had given to me in the hospital. The stitches on my arm were fresh.

That hadn't been a dream. I went back to the distant past—again.

I listened to Renee and Phil moving around the house. I hurried to get ready, but I was deeply confused. Twice I had jumped to times that were not of my own history. It made me uneasy.

It didn't help that I was already nervous for school. Renee and Phil wished me well before they left; the elementary school started earlier in the day. When I was ready, I walked four blocks to the bus stop.

The bus was full of students. I dug into my bag for Jane Eyre, found my place, and began to read. I always brought a book with me for times like this. People usually left me undisturbed. When we arrived at the bus stop, I waited until the other students vacated before I hopped off.

This school was twice as big as the one in Jacksonville. Strangely, some of my nerves ebbed away on the spot. With a school this large, I would vanish into the woodwork.

I liked that.

I was an old hat at this routine. When I entered the main office, the receptionist handed me my schedule, locker combination, and a map. She turned away at the end and I was dismissed.

From past experience, I knew carrying a map was suicide. I memorized my homeroom number first, then studied the rest while the morning announcements were being read over the loudspeaker.

Finding my classes were the hard part; the lessons themselves were easy. While the school in Jacksonville demanded excellence, this one allowed mediocrity. The teachers didn't ask me to introduce myself; they had schedules and a lesson plan that required them to move fast. The feeling of an institution was everywhere. Security guards roamed the hallways and students shuffled to classes that didn't ask very much of them.

Lunch was chaotic. The cafeteria spread far in every direction to seat hundreds. I managed to find a table to myself and cracked my book open. Despite the din around me, I found solace in the past.

No one bothered me, and I was grateful. I was used to being alone. Most of the friendships I made dissolved fast; time travel prevented me from visiting or returning phone calls.

The final bell rang, and I sighed with relief. It had gone better than I expected.

I decided to go for a run to race off my pent-up energy. After dropping my things in the living room, I dashed up the stairs to find my running shoes.

The dry heat affected me more than I thought. Only five minutes into my run, I started to feel dizzy. I decided to turn back. On the walk to the house, I remembered the hospital. Dr. Cullen mentioned a fall. My stitches were still new.

I sighed. Time travel injuries were the worst. The bump on my head was easily mended. The gash on my arm, however, was a different story. I'd have to be careful for the next two weeks while my stitches healed.

I called Charlie later to talk about my first day. Phil was making dinner in the kitchen, while my mom was choosing paint swatches in the living room.

He sounded bewildered. "I don't understand. You're happy that no one talked to you?"

"Well, no," I admitted. Though my solitude was of my own making, being alone and feeling lonely weren't the same thing.

"Don't you want to make friends?"

I chewed my lip. "Yes, but whenever I try, it doesn't work out. I time travel and I fall out of touch . . . then we move and I don't talk to them again."

"But you're living in Phoenix now," he pointed out. "Renee and Phil are getting married. They just bought a house. If anything, this will be your last move before college."

I peered around the corner into the kitchen. Renee had left the living room; now she was leaning against the counter, watching Phil as he cooked. Her paint swatches lay forgotten on the table. He whispered something in her ear; she laughed. I turned back to the phone.

"I'm not a good friend."

"Maybe you need a good friend to help you be a good friend."

"Maybe you do."

He chuckled. "I have friends, Bell. You don't. Come on, try to talk to someone. Anyone. Introduce yourself and make conversation."

"Who are you?"

"Bella, I'm serious."

"I know," I sighed. "I'll try."

I promised to call him again when I made a friend. I didn't know how to tell him that it wouldn't happen.

"Have you guys set a date yet?" I asked when we sat down to eat. "For the wedding, I mean. I'm thinking if I concentrate on that day, I wouldn't go anywhere."

Renee and Phil looked at each other and then at me. Then my mom spoke up. "Well, we were thinking about June. I want to go to Mexico and have the ceremony on the beach."

I laughed softly. "I'll have to get a passport."

"I'm all for Mexico," Phil announced. "I'll need SPF 50 for the beach, though."

My mom giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. I looked down at my plate and felt something inside me shift. I wondered if they acted like this while I traveled.

I knew they worried when I wasn't here. My traveling was stressful for me, but I could only imagine what my mom felt when I didn't answer her calls. But . . . was she happy, too? Relieved to spend alone time with her fiance without me around?

Don't think like that, I scolded myself. Being absent because of time travel and being absent because of a social life were two different things.

For the second time today, I felt lonely. Charlie was right; if I wanted friends, I'd have to go out and interact with people my own age. Still, the secret of my condition would always be there. There was a wide chasm between me and my potential friends, and time travel was the cause of it.

That night, I imagined life with Charlie instead of Renee. My dad was the chief of police in Forks. I wouldn't be spending any more time with him than I did with my mother. The town was smaller than Phoenix; if time travel happened at the wrong moment, it couldn't be explained away. Small towns go back many years, and things like that would never be forgotten.

But if I was with Charlie, Renee would get her honeymoon phase with her husband. The burden of carrying my secret would no longer be on her shoulders.

I shook my head. That was a can of worms I wanted to keep closed. No need to make myself feel worse than I already did.

I had a goal. Tomorrow, I would be friendly. Nice. Normal. Normal teenagers had friends. And somewhere, in the student body of thousands, there had to be one waiting for me.

A|N: As always, thank you very much for your reviews and comments! I always enjoy hearing what you thought of the chapter. See you next week!