I'll Stop the World (65)

“She is not my mother.”

She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. For six years, Diane had packed her lunches, kissed her scrapes, attended her parent-teacher conferences. She’d held her hair back when she had the flu and wiped her tears when she had nightmares. No, she wasn’t her mom. But she was the closest thing she had.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to take it back. Not when Diane and her father were about to ruin everything.

Her father looked as though he’d been slapped. Diane swallowed, patting his hand, her head bobbing in a slow, rhythmic nod. “You’re right,” she said eventually, still patting Rose’s dad’s hand as if it were the only way she could make her mouth form words. “I told you I would never try to replace your mother, Rose, and I still mean that. But I do love you like you’re my own, even if that’s not how you think of me.”

“My mom would trust me.”

“Rose!”

Her father was suddenly on his feet, his fingers spread on the table as if to anchor himself in place. Rose glared back, knowing she’d gone too far but refusing to be the one to back down first.

Diane rose slowly, holding up a hand to her husband, keeping control of the conversation. “Perhaps that’s true,” she said in a low voice, her dark eyes locked on Rose’s, unblinking. “But here are the facts. We did not know that this boy existed until this week. So either you just met him, or you’ve known him for a while and have been keeping him secret. Either way, you have shown a serious lack of judgment. Since he’s been in town, you have both lied to the police. Deputy Gibson has not made that information public yet, but he could. And after this morning’s story, we can only guess what the press would do with it. But even if the press were not a concern, your safety is, and the fact remains that we do not know the first thing about this boy. So no, your actions have not engendered a lot of trust.” She spit out the word trust like it was rancid. “You are not to see that boy again. Is that clear?”

Her voice had lost its conciliatory tone and was now as sharp as broken glass. Still, Rose couldn’t help but throw herself against its edges. “You can’t do that. Without me, he won’t have anyone.”

Diane shook her head, pursing her lips. “Baby girl, he’s going to have to sort that out for himself, because you are done with that boy. And if you have an ounce of sense left in that head of yours, you will not say another word right now unless it’s yes, ma’am. You hear me?”

Rose’s fists clenched in her lap, but she nodded, knowing the battle was lost. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl,” Diane said, straightening up and placing a hand on her husband’s back. “C’mon, let’s go put Emmie to bed.”

Jim’s gaze lingered on Rose, but she looked away, quietly seething. He didn’t understand. Neither of them did.

God didn’t send people back in time for no reason. Or even for small reasons. At least, she didn’t think that was how God worked. Which meant that her parents had just thrown a giant wrench into a cosmic plan.

Assuming, of course, it was God. And not just some random freak accident, like Justin thought.

She tried to push the thought away, but it refused to leave, clawing back into her mind like a stubborn cat. Where was God in all this? He flings a boy back decades in time to change the universe and then what? Can’t stop his only ally from getting grounded? What sort of all-powerful, all-knowing Creator was he, if he could be tripped up by a couple of paranoid parents?

Rose sighed, digging her nails into her palms as she searched for a solution. They’d said she couldn’t see Justin, but they hadn’t said anything about who else she could talk to. She could still look into McMillain, and talk to Noah and Mrs. Hanley. Maybe she would go visit Mrs. Hanley with Noah, and Justin would just happen to be there . . .

She never lied to her parents. She wasn’t a kid who sneaked out or made up stories. She always colored within the lines.

But at least two lives depended on her now. So maybe it was time to get a little messy.





WEDNESDAY





Chapter Thirty-Nine


ROSE

As had become her routine, Rose watched the buses pull out of the lot from her table in the school library, her chin propped in her hand as she gazed out the window. In front of her was her calculus textbook, open to the page of problems her teacher had assigned for homework that evening, although the notebook paper in front of her remained blank. Rose sighed, chewing the side of her pencil absently as she stared at the yellow parade carrying her classmates to their homes, then shifted in her seat to bend over her paper.

School ended each day at two forty-five, and it typically took the buses around ten minutes to clear the lot, which left her with another hour to kill before Mr. McMillain wrapped up his shift. Rose had learned better than to try to talk to him before he was finished. When she’d tried, she had managed to squeeze only a collective dozen words from him, and half of them were, “Kid, can’t you see I’m working?”

She worked through a few problems, the sound of graphite scratching onto paper mixing with the low whispers of the study group meeting at a neighboring table and the soft clacking of Mrs. Fein, the school librarian, sorting through book returns at her desk.

Every few minutes, Rose’s eyes would flit to the clock over the library entrance, willing the long hand to complete another slow revolution. The librarian smiled as she caught Rose’s wandering gaze. Rose had always liked Mrs. Fein, but she’d been even warmer toward Rose and Lisa this semester than before. Rose suspected it was due to Diane’s campaign; librarians, she’d found, tended to have one another’s backs.