Until We Meet Again(69)

“Stop it. Both of you.” I turn to Lawrence. “Maybe you

should go.”

“I’m not leaving you with this goon. He’s fighting mad.”

Brandon sneers. “Goon? What, are you from the Fifties or

something?”

“I can handle him,” I say pointedly to Lawrence. We have no

other choice.

Lawrence doesn’t respond, but I can tell he’s not happy with

me. Finally, he nods once. “Fine. But I’ll check to make sure

you’re safe very soon.”

“Do that.”

Lawrence starts back to the house. As he passes Brandon, he

bumps Brandon’s shoulder deliberately.

I could kill him.

Brandon’s eyes flash. Lawrence continues walking, and I hold

up my hand, as if I could stop the impending explosion.

“Brandon—”

But he’s after Lawrence like the snap of the whip. I fly

after them.

“Brandon, wait!”

In the thin alley of bushes, Brandon grabs hold of Lawrence’s

shirt and spins him around.

“You want to make this serious, bro?”

Lawrence pushes Brandon’s arms away. “Take your paws

off me.”

“Stop!” I shout.

They both ignore me. Brandon gives Lawrence a fierce shove.

The bushes shake where he lands, causing a bird to flutter into

the sky. I’ve never seen Lawrence look so angry. I grab him

from behind.

“Leave it,” I say. I press my face to his neck and add in a sharp

whisper, “Think about where we are.”

Lawrence gives me a tense glance, but then we both notice

Brandon coming at us, eyes blazing. He throws a punch, and

Lawrence darts out of the way, pushing me to the side to protect

me. Brandon swings again, and this time when Lawrence

dodges, he jumps back.

Too far back. He begins to blur.

Not realizing this, Lawrence retreats further. He blurs

even more.

“I’m not going to fight you,” he says, but his voice is muffled.

Brandon freezes, and terror grips me.

“Lawrence!”

Only now does he realize what’s happening. His eyes widen.

He makes a move toward the beach, but Brandon is blocking

the way. Brandon advances, and Lawrence has no choice but

to back up another step, becoming even more obscured by the

shadows of time.

“What the hell?” Brandon’s voice is soft with confusion

and shock.

I grab Brandon’s arm. “We have to go back to the beach.”

He shoulders out of my grip, not taking his eyes off Lawrence.

Lawrence looks to me. His expression is hard to make out,

but I can tell that he’s as alarmed as I am. What can we do?

What can we possibly say?

Then, out of nowhere, Lawrence turns and runs, vanishing

completely into 1925.

This is bad. This is beyond bad.

I grab Brandon, so that he faces me. He stares at me, waiting

for me to explain what just happened. But no words come.

Brandon steps through the bushes. When he reaches the backyard, he looks around. Looking for Lawrence. But Lawrence isn’t there. Brandon slowly raises a hand to his forehead. Then,

after a moment, he speed walks for the house. I’m paralyzed

with fear. This is exactly what I was afraid would happen. The

worstcase

scenario.

I run after him. “Wait! Brandon!”

He strides ahead without looking back. I run in front of him,

trying to block his path.

“I can explain.”

He shakes his head, backing away from me like I’m a leper.

“Don’t talk to me.”

I follow him through the house and out the front door. As he

gets in his car, I lean through the driver’s side window.

“Brandon, please. It’s not what you think.”

He looks me in the eye for the first time. He’s afraid. I

can see it. I touch his hand, which grips the steering wheel,

whiteknuckled.

“You need to give me a chance to explain,” I say.

Brandon fumbles for his keys. His hand trembles as he turns

it in the ignition.

“I have to go.”

The engine revs to a start.

“Brandon.”

Without another word, he pulls the car into gear and roars

away. I jump back to avoid getting run over.





h


I call Brandon twelve times over the next three hours. I even track down his home number and ask his mom if I can speak to him. She goes to get him and then comes back on the line to awkwardly fumble over some line about Brandon being asleep. At four thirty in the afternoon. Hanging up the phone, I flop back onto my bed, unsure if I want to scream or cry.

A menacing train of what-ifs roars through my brain. What if Brandon tells my mom about Lawrence and she prevents me from seeing him? What if that awful chance meeting sets off the butterfly effect again? But that’s not even the worst of it. What if somehow the bargain we’ve made with fate was contingent on secrecy? I could save Lawrence as long as no one knew we were messing with time. But now Brandon knows. Maybe the deal is off. Maybe I’ll walk back to that beach, and everything will be like it was before. And Lawrence will be on his own to face his death.