PREVIOUSLY: Frank, Laurie and Tim ended up in the future of “Timeline Three”. A timeline where Mindy never travelled back. But then Carrie got herself to destroy “Timeline Three”…

PART 93b: TIMELINE FOUR REDUX

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” he said, his holographic face looking very frustrated.

Luci tossed her key fob on the side table and shut her front door. “How was the visit? Is Laurie okay?”

“Laurie’s fine. Luci, I’ve pulled my tow truck over to the side of the road.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But I feel like maybe it’s bleedthrough?”

She peered at his expression. He seemed sincere. “Can’t be. There’s no major operations planned in the area that would attract attention.”

“Luci, I’ve pulled over to the side of the road, and for no particular reason, I’m remembering that time I worked on a Chevy in… I think it was senior auto shop class.”

“Phil, I swear, we’re not up to anything.” Luci chewed her lower lip. “Want to meet though? At the small cafe on the outskirts of town?”

“Okay, good. See you there in an hour.” Luci hung up the phone, reaching back for her key fob, as well as the medical device she used to identify people in the database after swabbing them for DNA.

She stared at it. Why on earth had she picked that up?

“Luci, what in the hell are you idiots doing?”

Luci sat back on her couch, staring blankly at the angry holographic face of Julie LaMille. She was beginning to feel overwhelmed. “You too?”

“What do you mean me too?”

Luci shook her head. “Bleedthrough.”

“I know,” Julie snapped. “For some reason, I’ve been expecting you to call me for the last half hour. What operation are you people–”

“No operation. Julie, you don’t understand,” Luci insisted. “This is crazy, for some reason we’re experiencing bleedthrough on a massive scale, the likes of which we’ve never seen before. I’ve got techs talking about a car that isn’t there, an operative who says Mindylenopia contacted us out of the blue looking for help with her suicide mission, and plus I made way too much toast for breakfast this morning. NONE of which is connected to ANYTHING!”

Julie frowned. “Back up to the suicide mission thing.”

Luci sighed. “That’s just Mindy fulfilling her destiny. She’ll go back in time today, then get banished by Carrie. It never changed anything, remember? In the end, Glen still managed to snare Carrie, spiriting her out of town.”

There was the sound of Julie drumming her fingers on a desk. “So are your people helping Mindylenopia go back?”

“No. We explored the possibilities weeks ago, and couldn’t find a new lynchpin. Don’t spread it around, but the whole mission was deemed a predestined lost cause.” She grimaced. “We were WAY too cunning in our youth.”

“Is there a rogue faction within your ranks plotting something then?”

“Julie…"

“Look, I’m serious. The phone call I was expecting? I feel like you wanted me to get you things.”

“‘Things’? What ‘things’?”

“Oh, well, let’s see. It was either party favours for Carrie’s birthday, or ‘things’ that could help Mindylenopia get access to the stationary generator.”

“Ha ha.” Luci shook her head. “Look, according to our intelligence, Carrie made a call yesterday demanding a DECREASE of security at the generator this evening. So Mindylenopia doesn’t need us anyway, it should be no problem for her to… to… wait. WAIT.” She seized the edge of the couch. “Julie, why would Carrie do that?”

Julie rolled her eyes. “You’re asking me? I presume it was to make sure Mindylenopia succeeds in taking the trip, predestiny and all.”

“No, no, there’s no need to make SURE she succeeds, we KNOW she succeeds,” Luci protested. “She’s in our past. That’s not a change Carrie has to make. So why are we feeling the effects of bleedthrough here? The only way it makes sense is if… oh no. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but could Mindylenopia have once FAILED to make it back? Are we now overwriting a timeline where she FAILED?”

“Luci, that would mean Carrie wanted someone to mess with her past. Worse, the implication is that, to fix things, we have to stop Mindylenopia from going on her trip.”

“I know.” If she’d felt overwhelmed before, now she felt positively adrift. “So… I guess we better keep our options open. Julie, if you wouldn’t mind, please get us your ‘things’? Meanwhile, I’m going to organize an emergency strike force to take on the generator station… having them ready might mean we can stop Mindylenopia. If we have to. Hell, we might even manage a foothold, given the lower security - though I’m hoping it’s not a trap we’re falling for here either.”

Carrie glared at her reflection. She didn’t enjoying seeing the lines on her face, the hints of grey in her hair, or even the bright yellow gown that she had chosen for her birthday celebration. But her displeasure went deeper than that. “At least it’s almost over."

“What is, my love?”

Carrie didn’t bother to turn to face the woman who had spoken, continuing to glare at her reflection. “This damn headache. Which a future me in a horrible sweater indirectly inflicted, for absolutely no good reason. I’ve spent the better part of a day looking into things, and the only conclusion I can draw from my latest experience is that I hate myself. A lot.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? A mass–"

“No,” Carrie snorted. “It doesn’t matter. Liz won’t be back, not in this timeline. Also, tomorrow, I want you to give me the name of that forum where they were talking about visions. I want it shut down.”

“Y-Yes, my love… I meant no disrespect…"

“Fine, good.” Carrie finally turned to regard the woman sitting on the edge of her bed, the one dressed in the elaborate purple gown. And Chartreuse’s eyes were cast down towards the floor. As it should be.

“It’s time I got out there,” Carrie decided. “Moreover, if you perform well tonight as my pretty Canadian eye candy, I’ll allow you to give me a special birthday gift after everybody has left.” She grinned. “Would you like that?”

Her companion swallowed. “My love, I d-don’t want to go out there…"

Carrie tensed. “What?”

“Because if I do… I feel that… that I might be hurt…"

“You want to defy me, on my fiftieth birthday?”

Chartreuse shrank back, curling into a ball. “My love…"

“Well, you can stay in here then! With your pretty dress and your stupid visions!”

Raising a palm and twisting it in against her pounding head, Carrie stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Lee? What’s wrong?”

He turned to look over his shoulder at Julie. “The bleedthrough, I guess?” he admitted. “I’m starting to feel dumb about sending Luci out to Carrie’s property. Yet I still feel like someone’s supposed to be stationed there, and reporting in.”

“Right.” Julie ran her fingers back through her hair. “Well, if there’s something to find, Luci can find it.”

Lee chuckled. “Kind words you have for the same woman who, just last month, you referred to as a–"

“We reached an understanding earlier today,” Julie interrupted. She furrowed her brow. “For some reason, it felt right.”

Lee raised his hands in the air. “Hey, I’m happy for you both.” He looked back at his monitors. “What I’m not happy about is the fact that I’m running out of time to pull the trigger on our forces at the generator. Do we storm in, or not? We still have NO intelligence on whether we can allow Mindylenopia go back in time.”

“We should let her go.”

Lee turned to the side monitor to look at Megan. Then he mentally checked himself - Megan wasn’t his redundancy for tonight’s mission. Theresa was. One of the oldest members of the resistance. “But Theresa, how can you be sure?” he protested.

She smiled quietly back at him. He was reminded of the knowing looks she’d had before, way back when she had been a simple waitress in their hometown cafe. “You’ll simply have to trust me,” Theresa said.

One moment, Carrie was reaching for an hors d’oeuvre. The next moment, she was on the ground, screaming. Her past - it was completely breaking apart. Carrie dropped her mental shields into place, and tried to pinpoint how things could possibly be going so very, very wrong.

She had never thought her temporal pain could be any worse than an ice pick to the skull - and yet now, on top of that, it was like her head was simultaneously in a vice, making the misery so much worse, even through the shielding. Making things hard to track.

The issue, it seemed, was that hadn’t left town with Glinephanis? Except she damn well HAD left! But no, she hadn’t. For some reason, it now looked like she had still been in town for Christmas during her senior year of high school. Then… wait, where the hell had her past self ended up? And how had Young Carrie become so… so BROKEN?

Carrie’s eyes widened, as she deciphered the key moment. In a time period when she should have been three years old.

Pushing herself back to her feet, and ignoring the concerned mutterings of all the people around her, Carrie tore open a rip in the fabric of space-time, and stepped through it. Into the lounge of a Miami airport.

Elder Carrie glared at him for a moment, then shook her head, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “Oh, it wasn’t your fault,” she assured Glinephanis. “You did your best. I know who’s really to blame - it’s these stupid Mundanes and that damnable Mindylenopia! They’re all dooming my childhood.” She peered at him. “Perhaps you can still be a bright spot in my younger self’s life though? Will you come with me now? Some of my memories could remain valid, not be inserted by force.”

Glinephanis nodded slowly. “I’m with you to the end. But Carrie, there are more time travellers here in Miami. Mindylenopia and a number of your old classmates. We all came in a time car. They might still try something.”

She growled. Cleaning up her history was going to be a real pain, huh? She hoped she wouldn’t need to mess with too many memories. “Fine, I will deal with them as soon as I get my younger self here restrained back in my present. Grab hold, we’re leaving.”

She grabbed her teenaged self by the collar. Apparently, that Carrie had dressed herself up in a blue business suit, almost like she was pretending to be their mama. Good grief, how had she EVER been so STUPID? Glinephanis took her by the arm, and she pulled them back towards the rip… with her younger self still trying to break free of the freezing. Apparently, this was going to be a long trip home.

The lounge door burst open. “Carrie!” Laurie shrieked.

“Carrie, fight it,” Tim called out. “Whatever is going on, fight!”

Frank charged in between the two of them.

“Frank, don’t get close!” Mindylenopia shouted, grabbing onto him by the waist, slowing him down. Not that it mattered.

“Carrie, FUTURE Carrie, it doesn’t have to be this way!” Frank shouted, looking right at her for a change, rather than at her broken teenaged variant. “You don’t have to do this, not to yourself…"

Carrie did her very best to ignore them all, busy concentrating on getting a foothold on the time streams, without losing her mental hold on the Younger Carrie. It was surprisingly difficult. It occurred to her that maybe that’s why the old “Liz” version she had encountered in the generator hadn’t tried this genre of persuasion? Preferring to snare herself in the “Mindylenopia Catch-22 scenario” instead? Which had, she now realized, somehow precipitated this entire situation.

Well, she would soon set everything right. Young Carrie was weak, and no match for her.

Pulling Glinephanis and her younger self forwards into the time streams, Carrie soon realized that the time trip, which should have taken seconds, would instead drag on for close to a minute. Because Young Carrie continued to wriggle against her hold, at one point whimpering out, “Chartreuse?”.

Carrie decided that her best plan would be to arrive in the future at the stationary temporal generator outside Ottawa. There were dampening fields in the displacement room which she could activate, ones which might help her to control her younger self long enough for a memory implantation, or removal, or whatever else she’d be forced to do to get history back on track.

As such, they emerged from the time streams in the main control room of the Ottawa generator facility.

Where a teenaged Frank Dijora immediately shot her with a prototype for a temporal gun.

NEXT: Realignment.

ASIDE: If it all makes sense, please vote for T&T at Top WebFiction. If it doesn’t make sense, drop a comment before the vote for T&T. Three weeks left.

WARNING! MASSIVE REVELATIONS INCOMING. YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO READ PRIOR PARTS THE SAME WAY AFTER THIS. ARE YOU CAUGHT UP?

PREVIOUSLY: Did Carrie go back in time to find her mother? Is Mindy somehow pulling strings in the present?

PART 81b: DO YOU MINDY?

Luci frowned, but apparently couldn’t think of an immediate defence for her position. After a troubled glance in Frank’s direction, she resumed her pacing.

“Let’s all back up,” Lee suggested. “Consider ways our rich witch’s note COULD have been written by our version of the track tease. For example, maybe it was dropped off after destroying the chip, but before she went after her mom? Thinking it was possible for us to make another chip or something.”

Julie shook her head. “Doubtful. Carrie’s started using new stationery in the last couple months. My note was on plain paper. Why the difference?”

“Also, Carrie was pretty adamant about not invoking more time travel,” Chartreuse added. “Problem is, I’m not sure I, like, buy Luci’s theory either. After all, the mystery note’s basically led to all of us, you know, being here and theorizing about time travel. Which is, like, exactly what ‘Future Carrie’ would want to avoid, yeah?”

“We weren’t always working together,” Clarke pointed out.

Julie winced. “Yeah, look, about that… Clarke, I…"

He flashed her a tired smile. “We’ll talk later.”

“Know what? We’re putting a lot of faith in handwriting here,” Corry decided. “And handwriting can be forged. Moreover, Julie, the note never referred to you by name, did it?”

“No,” she admitted. “You think it was a setup by someone else? But who outside of our group would know enough to be able to pull it off?”

“But that… actually fits,” Frank realized. “Mindy did have a couple hours in our time. She could have devised backup plans, gone to Carrie’s house, planted notes…"

“Mindy DID go to Carrie’s,” Clarke recalled, leaning forwards. “The day after the banishment, when I was with Carrie? She mentioned a letter by Mindy that had been left with her father.”

Luci leaned forwards against the back of the couch. “So Julie’s been working for MINDY all this time? Why? Surely if Mindy had enough knowledge to build a time machine, she’d have hired a reputable scientist rather than work to dupe a bunch of teen… she’d hire a…"

She snapped her gaze over to Tim at the same time as he turned to look at her. “L-Luci, the person in L-Linquist’s notes. Who might have been a relative, or associate…"

“No way. No WAY!”

“It would explain why that associate came up with the idea for the %gun of temporal freezing%.”

“Okay! Context for those of us out of the loop, please?” Lee requested, waving his hand.

As Luci seemed too stunned to speak, Tim turned to address them. “Linquist’s work on time travel. F-From once sensing the problem in Luci’s DNA to creating the t-temporal gun we found in the safe. What if all of his recent work was due to Mindy?”

“Linquist used to be a more reputable scientist,” Frank agreed. “Even won a local award once. When did that change?”

“When Mindy arrived,” Julie concluded, smacking the back of the chair. “After her banishment. She’s been working with him this whole time.”

“That can’t be,” Chartreuse gasped. Laurie reached out to again grasp her friend by the hand.

“But if that’s true,” Luci finally vocalized. “Mindy’s temporal banishment was, what, back fifteen years MAX?”

“That girl was Carrie’s first ever banishing attempt, right?” Corry remarked. “Maybe she didn’t do that great of a job.”

“Unless Mindy moved away and then came back into town,” Clarke countered.

“Well hey, why not look for evidence?” Lee suggested. “I’m working some hours in the library this afternoon. Now that you know what to look for, why not come with me and see if there’s something tying that Mindy to this Linquist? Maybe we can even figure out where they are now.”

“Wait, that plan, um, it doesn’t seem to help us get a time machine to pursue Carrie,” Laurie pointed out, waving one hand in the air as she continued to hold Chartreuse with the other. “Since even if present Mindy is tracked down, it still leaves us at the mercy of her, um, mental powers, right?”

“Lee’s immune, and I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve,” Julie said.

“No, Laurie right,” Frank sighed. “Without Mindy’s help, we have no time machine, and we need one. So Mindy can demand stuff, and we’ll have no choice. Worse, I don’t think she’ll have wanted a time machine so that we could all save Carrie.”

“Threaten Mindy with that gun maybe?” Corry suggested.

“Not if she h-helped to invent the thing,” Tim reminded. “Wouldn’t she know h-how to defend against it?”

Clarke sighed. “How about using Glen?”

Chartreuse jerked out of her thoughts. “Clarke, seriously? HIM?!”

“Maybe Mindy’s been warning us away from him because he’s the one guy who can take her down,” Clarke said, shrugging.

“Maybe we, you know, WANT her to take him down.”

“The devil we know, or the devil we don’t,” Julie muttered. “It’s like choosing Corry instead of Megan all over again. But in that respect, Clarke’s right - at least with Glen, we know what we’re getting.”

“Megan was merely misunderstood!” Chartreuse said.

“Maybe Glen is misunderstood too!” Clarke insisted.

Luci came around the couch to step between them. “Here’s the thing though. If Glen’s goal is to get Carrie back, and our goal is the same… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe Clarke’s right. Maybe we should at least ask Glen if he wants to help retrieve Carrie?”

Everyone in the room exchanged uncomfortable looks.

Glen stared back at Clarke and Lee, an expression of disbelief on his face. “You’re serious, aren’t you.”

“Hey, I’m inclined to ask that question of their group quite a bit lately,” Lee put in, before Clarke had a chance to respond. “But instead I roll with it. Turns out anything that doesn’t make sense either eventually does, or doesn’t matter.”

“Ha!” the redhead scoffed, turning away from the two other boys. He leaned against the window frame of his hotel room, staring outside, trying to find the flaw in their reasoning. It wasn’t coming to him. “So you expect me to believe that Mindylenopia has been in town for years? That she somehow remembered enough to be behind Julie’s time machine? And that getting the machine away from Mindy is our only chance to help Carrie?”

“Right, though Mindy doesn’t have it yet,” Clarke noted. “We only know that she told Julie it could be rebuilt with her help. So we can’t simply take Mindy out pre-emptively. Unless you can make us a time machine as well…"

“I’m not a technical guy,” Glen grunted. “I only know the theory. Mindylenopia was a full-on tech, that’s why it was a big deal when she supposedly joined the idiot Mundanes in the resistance.” He shook his head. “She shouldn’t have been capable of introducing such technology into the past though. Not to mention the issues with causality… unless she figured it was less of a deal to tell all of you, since you knew already?”

He began to tap his fingers on the windowsill. Mindylenopia. Was it true? How much might she remember? Was this a game changer? Did he want to work with Carrie’s so-called friends?

Clarke cleared his throat, as if he was going to speak again. Out of the corner of his eye, Glen saw Lee signal him to stay silent. Yeah, of course they would have sent along the guy who couldn’t be influenced. They didn’t trust him - nor did they have any reason to. So was this a trap, or were things just that serious? Glen grimaced, continuing to tap his fingers for another minute or two, before turning around again.

“When did Carrie travel to?”

“We’re not sure,” Clarke answered.

“But you must suspect. Hence wanting the machine.”

When Clarke hesitated, Lee spoke up instead. “That information isn’t on the table here, dude. If you agree to help, and to never again pull any sort of stunt like you did with that chip, then maybe. BIG maybe.”

Glen narrowed his eyes. “And how do I know Julie didn’t create two chips? Or maybe once you have the time machine, your whole plan is to return to yesterday and take Carrie away for yourselves!"

Clarke’s jaw dropped, a sign that either those weren’t, in fact, possibilities, or that the guy was a better actor than Glen gave him credit for. The latter seemed unlikely, as the blonde only pulled himself together when Lee’s hand fell on his shoulder. Then again, maybe the others simply hadn’t told Clarke the true plan.

“High guy. We’re getting nowhere. We should go."

“I guess,” Clarke said. “Unless… Glen, is there’s anything that might convince you that Mindy’s the real enemy here?”

Glen rubbed his chin. “Proof might. Yes, proof of actual scheming by Mindylenopia over the last ten years.”

Clarke nodded. “Okay, well, Tim and Luci are looking back over their notes, and Frank is already at the library, which is where we’re headed. So by tomorrow, we should–"

“Nope, by 5pm today.”

“What? Glen, that’s less than six hours away! And there’s so much data we’ll have to sift through!”

“Well, I can hardly give you the time to come up with a grand song and dance number for me, can I?”

Lee shook his head. “Paranoid much, red barren? You could use your mental gifts to see if anyone is trying to trick you.”

Glen shrugged. “Maybe your plan would be to try and figure out how I use that power, in order to turn it against me. No, I think if you’re really serious, you’ll put the effort into making my deadline. Oh, and I choose our meeting site, which won’t be the LaMille mansion, so don’t even bother.”

“Okay,” Clarke sighed. “Okay, fine. We’ll have something for you. And then you’ll see, Glen. You’ll see that we’re on the same side here!”

Julie had a sip of her tea as she sat in the kitchen, peering at her laptop. She, like Corry, had opted to do some searching online, rather than get in the way at the library records room. Besides, with Chartreuse and Laurie down in Linquist’s lab doing… whatever Chartreuse had insisted on doing, it had made sense for her to stay at home with them anyway. Unfortunately, the internet wasn’t providing much aside from a couple of references to Linquist’s jargon filled papers.

Julie glanced towards the pantry, which held the access down towards the hidden room. It was already past 4pm. What was going on down there? Chartreuse had said something about mapping timelines, and Laurie was popping up every so often to ask Julie about a specific date, plus there had been that one time for sandwiches… should she disturb them?

Julie shrugged. One of the library group was due to phone her soon, giving them the location where Glen wanted to meet. If the mystic and her friend hadn’t materialized by then, then she’d go down and see what was happening for herself.

The doorbell rang as she finished her tea. Jeeves would have already left to pick up Corry by car, what with that turned ankle, so Julie closed her laptop and rose to answer the front door herself. Maybe Clarke had come back to share some information in person?

Except it wasn’t any of the library people - when Julie opened the door, she found Tim standing with a rather more unexpected visitor. “Theresa?” the brunette questioned Tim’s companion. “What’s going on? We don’t usually see you out of the cafe."

The waitress half smiled. She wasn’t even wearing her cafe outfit, instead she wore a red blouse and dark pants. “Yes, well, I was talking to Tim here and realized that the time had come to explain certain things.”

Julie frowned. “What things? What do you…" She stopped. Noticing Tim’s worried expression, she looked a bit more closely at Theresa. And at her red hair.

“You know what things,” Theresa said. “In fact, you came damn close to figuring me out once before. Don’t worry, I won’t mentally guide you away this time.”

It hit with such force that Julie felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She grabbed for the doorframe. “No. It can’t be. You mean you… you’re…"

“Yes, Julie.” The seemingly twenty-something cafe waitress stretched her arms out to the sides. “I was once known as Mindylenopia."

NEXT: Remaking History

ASIDE: Anyone seen my microphone? I seem to have dropped it. Feel free to speculate on the repercussions of this part in the comments. Oh, and vote for T&T, maybe even encourage friends to read?

PREVIOUSLY: Julie is secretly rebuilding the time machine. She hoped Tim would pick up a microchip, to keep it away from Glen.

PART 77a: DOUBLE BLIND

Tim looked up to see Theresa, the redheaded waitress for the cafe, next to his booth. “You c-could say that,” he said glumly.

He saw Theresa glance quickly around the area; there weren’t very many customers at the moment, which apparently convinced her to slide quickly into the seat across from him. “Seems like I’ve got a second. Want to talk about it with someone impartial? Some of your friends, Clarke in particular, have found that such conversations help.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Tim’s lips. “Better I don’t. It’s not possible to s-stay impartial on THIS subject. I know from experience.”

Theresa chuckled. “Sounds like you’re trying to assimilate something big all at once. Maybe you can break it down into more manageable portions?”

Tim fiddled absently with the straw in his milkshake for a moment, before glancing at his watch. It had been less than an hour since he’d left Julie’s; just over three hours remained before he would be making the pickup for her. As agreed.

‘Clarke wants me to help Julie,’ he thought to himself once again. ‘He’s always saying how pleased he is that I’m still able to look out for Julie on his behalf. I only hope I’m not playing into her delusions. Or setting myself up for some retaliatory action by Glen.’

The thought brought to mind an additional problem. Clarke would be expecting a call from him soon… as would Chartreuse. He couldn’t tell them the truth, not yet, not tonight. Julie had suggested deflecting, claiming to be tired, and leaving any discussions for tomorrow. But saying that was a half truth at best, and the more he thought about it, the more picking up this package all by himself made Tim uneasy.

What if Julie really had come unhinged, and had concocted this crazy plot in order to get rid of him, thereby preventing him from getting her the help she needed? Or what if she was telling the truth, except Glen knew exactly what was going on, came after him, and then completely altered his memory of events?

“H-Have you ever suddenly found yourself not knowing who to trust?” Tim finally asked of the redhead.

Theresa cocked her head to the side. “Actually…. yeah. Big time.”

Tim focused his gaze on her. “When? What did you do?”

Ten minutes later, Tim headed out of the cafe, a plan forming in his mind.

He was at the train station with only two minutes to spare before the train pulled in. Their small station wasn’t a major hub, it was a stop by request only. Fortunately, Julie’s description of the man with the package had been accurate, and Tim had him pegged almost immediately after he poked his head out of the train.

The guy gave him a skeptical look as he approached. “M-M-Mr. Piquaud?” Tim asked. He cleared his throat to try and remove the stutter. What was it Luci had told him on occasion which helped with that? Confidence. It made his talking more like singing. “I’m here for the item.”

“Okay, good. I was told a blonde named Tim might be the one to hand off to. Got some ID to prove that’s you?”

Tim fished quickly in his wallet for his health card. Piquaud glanced at it, nodded, then pulled a small square box from his jacket pocket. He handed it to Tim, then turned around to presumably resume his seat on the train. Tim swallowed. “That’s… it?”

“I’m not being paid to stick around,” Piquaud retorted. “You’ve got the electronics, bring ‘em to LaMille. Oh, tell her next time she makes a request of the company, none of this cloak and dagger routine, okay? Extra pay or not, it’s just stupid. Why would anyone even WANT to intercept a normal FedEx shipment of a single microchip?”

Tim puzzled over how he could answer that, but it seemed like he wouldn’t have to - the man had already boarded. Either way, it didn’t really matter… so far everything was happening just as Julie had said it would. It remained to see whether her concerns were legitimate.

As the train pulled out, Tim slipped the box into his jacket pocket and headed back for the front of the station. Which was where he spotted a familiar person waiting for him.

“Clarke!” Tim called out, hurrying to meet up with his friend.

The taller boy smiled back at Tim. “Hey there… you know, your phone call was kind of cryptic. Are you going to tell me yet what it is Julie has you doing?”

Tim paused as he got within arms reach of Clarke, glancing around for anyone who might be observing them. “N-Not yet,” he said after a moment. “Just thought it might be best to have you around as we head back to the mansion.”

Clarke nodded. “Alright. Though I can’t think Julie will be pleased to see me.”

“She might be once I tell her you helped me,” Tim assured. He glanced around the area once more, which prompted Clarke to do the same.

“Expecting someone else?” Clarke wondered. “Or just having a paranoia attack?”

“M-Maybe a bit of both,” Tim admitted. “Sorry. Let’s just go.”

“Sure,” Clarke said with a shrug. “Though if you’re real creeped out, I could carry the package for you.”

Tim froze in his tracks. “Package?”

Clarke nodded. “Yeah, the… hey, Tim, you okay?” He reached out for the other boy’s shoulder, but Tim sidestepped him.

“I never mentioned any package on the phone.” The parcel wasn’t that large either, so Clarke shouldn’t have noticed it in his pocket.

Tim’s friend frowned. “Stands to reason you have one though, right? I mean, why else would you be here?”

“Might have been to talk with someone. Or to send something off on the train. Or to look something up. Why do you think I have a package?”

“You… you just have to have one… or else… why would I know about it?”

The two blondes stared at each other quietly for a moment. Then the side of Clarke’s mouth twitched, and he extended his hand. “Give me the chip, Tim. Destroying it is the only way we can help Julie."

“That’s what Glen wants you to think,” Tim said, regarding Clarke’s outstretched palm with more than a bit of apprehension.

“Is it? Why would he lie about that?"

“Because he doesn’t really care about what Julie wants. Only stopping what she’s doing,” Tim shot back. He exhaled in relief as he saw the other person running towards them. “Now please, Clarke… if you really trust me, don’t do this. Let me get to Julie’s safely.” He tried to move around the taller boy, but Clarke blocked him.

“I… I can’t let you go,” Clarke said, a pained look crossing his face as he curled and uncurled his fingers. “Not until…” It was like he was undergoing some sort of massive inner conflict. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand why…"

“I do,” Tim whispered. He turned. “Stall Clarke,” he requested of the new arrival.

“Huh?” Chartreuse said, trying to catch her breath. “Look, sorry I’m, like, a bit late, but…”

“Keep Clarke here,” Tim reiterated, moving so that the pink haired girl was between Clarke and himself before heading away as quickly as he could. “Please, Chartreuse - I’ll explain later!”

“Eh? Uhm, ‘k,” Chartreuse said, blinking. As Clarke attempted to pursue, she threw himself onto his arm, preventing him from leaving. “So, wait, hey, do you know anything about, like, the big Julie-Glen feud??”

“I…” Clarke shook his head. As stood there in confusion, Tim hurried out of sight.

Trust yourself. That’s what Theresa had said. Put trust in your family and your friends, yes, but above all, you needed to have trust in yourself in order to accomplish something.

As Tim continued on towards the LaMille mansion, he reflected again upon those words, and how his faith in Clarke had been counterbalanced by giving the same information to Chartreuse. Allowing him to keep his promise of a call to both of them… albeit, leaving him with only himself to trust once more. He would have preferred bringing one of them along, as backup.

Oh well. He looked again at the small package before replacing it inside his pocket. It would take a while for him to walk the rest of the way to the LaMille mansion, but Julie had been wary of trusting a taxi, or even having Jeeves drive him. And, conspiracy crazy or not, it was starting to look as if at least some of her concerns had been valid. Tim took a deep breath. For a moment, he thought he saw someone following him, but when he turned around there was no one there.

For the next several blocks, Tim half expected to be accosted at any moment, but the few people he saw strolling around seemed more intent on enjoying the evening than taking notice of him. At least, that was the case until he reached the closest bridge leading over the ravine that cut through town.

“Tim!” Luci said in surprise. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

Tim smiled, feeling relieved at the familiar company. “I c-could ask the same of you,” he pointed out.

Luci glanced to the left and right, then took a couple steps closer to him. “Honestly?” she muttered. “I got this weirdo call from Chartreuse less than ten minutes ago, saying something about you walking to Julie’s from the train station.” She shrugged. “I was nearby, thought I’d see if she was being serious. Guess so - is this related to what we all talked about the other day?”

“Y-Yeah… kinda…” Tim admitted. He was starting to feel conflicted. There was really no reason to doubt Luci’s story, but if Glen WAS trying to come after him, the two best people to use would be Clarke… and Luci. The ones he talked with on a near daily basis. Could Glen have done something to not merely Clarke, but both of them?

‘Julie’s paranoia is rubbing off,’ he chided himself. ‘Careful, or you’ll turn into a recluse like her.’

“Okay,” Luci was saying, dropping into step next to him. “I’ll bite. Did Julie lock Glen up in a trunk and ship him out on the train?”

Tim shook his head. “Actually, it’s about this chip,” he said, pulling the parcel from his pocket again. “We have to make sure it–”

He never got any further.

As soon as Luci’s eyes alighted on the parcel, her hand flashed out, tore it from Tim’s grip, and she threw it off the bridge.

NEXT: Timeline Five?

ASIDE: Got a 2016 toonie in my change this past weekend. Just a bit too late!

PREVIOUSLY: Julie told Clarke’s sister that she had a way to not cut herself off completely. Chartreuse struggled with how to admit her feelings to Carrie.

PART 75b: MORE QUESTIONING

Tim shook his head. “All discussions with L-Luci about L-Linquist’s l-language have been in my room. M-Might as well keep the weirdness confined to that part of the house.”

Clarke frowned. “What’s Julie doing that’s weird?”

“Nothing. S-Sorry, that’s not what I m-meant…” Tim pushed open the door to his room then gestured at his desk chair, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. Clarke closed the door after them before sitting. “It’s just, everything’s kinda connected,” Tim finished. “And I don’t want m-my parents walking in at a bad time.”

“Right. Okay.” Clarke rubbed his neck. It felt like they should ease into the conversation. “So, how are your studies?”

Tim smiled. “Fine. Also, Julie appreciated your birthday card.”

Or Tim could cut to the chase for him. “She… said that?”

“Not at first,” Tim admitted. “I’m still trying to understand her m-mannerisms. Her exact words were, ‘At least he didn’t send a gift too’, but she seemed flustered. The way L-Luci gets sometimes when explaining to me about a l-linguistic time travel thing that once included Frank.”

“Ah. And her parents, did they…"

“They d-didn’t do anything. They d-didn’t even come back to town this year. Jeeves got Julie a cake, that seemed to be enough.”

“Right,” Clarke said, feeling relieved. He’d hated the idea of not being there for Julie while her parents were around. A thought occurred. “How much has she told you anyway? About her family?”

Clarke nodded. “Except she won’t tell me directly.”

He licked his lips. “I think she knows that, unlike me, you’d end up pressing her for m-more details. Or m-maybe that she’d hate herself m-more for not giving them.”

“Right. Well, what about you, are you okay with this arrangement?”

Tim uncrossed then recrossed his legs. “I was getting pulled back in anyway, through L-Luci. This is a g-good way for both you and Julie to be happy without j-jeopardizing whatever Julie’s doing. Plus I get a better idea of what’s really going on with all my f-friends.”

“That’s not exactly an answer.”

“Hm. Right.” The shorter blonde ran a hand back through his curls. “I’m okay with this,” he decided. “I mean, it’s one m-more thing on top of Corry’s band, but we’re high school seniors now. I gotta get better at r-responsibility and c-conversations and the like.”

Clarke nodded. “You will let me know if it gets uncomfortable though, yes?”

Tim smiled again. “For sure.”

After a bit more talk about Julie’s state of mind, discussion shifted to Linquist’s language, Corry’s band, and finally the courses they were taking that year. Clarke was struck by just how much Tim was becoming a part of their circle of “temporal friends”, while - like Lee - still managing to stick to the fringes of the action. He wondered how sustainable that situation was.

“What can I get you?”

Chartreuse looked up at the redheaded waitress. “A whiskey?”

Theresa lifted an eyebrow. “Unless you’ve had a few extra birthdays, I think you’ll need to try again.”

Chartreuse smiled weakly. “Right. Then, like, a water. Actually, two waters.” Just as well - she had no idea what she’d be like while drunk.

“You got it.” Theresa smiled. “And hey, whatever you’re working up the courage for? I’m sure you’ve got that too.”

As the cafe waitress moved off, the pink haired mystic turned her attention towards the cafe window beside the booth. The cold November wind was blowing leaves and scattered newspaper pages down the street outside. The pages reminded Chartreuse that midterm report cards would be out soon. Which in turn reminded her that, one year ago, Carrie had been in the hospital. Heck, about a month ago Carrie had been back in the hospital! So what if it happened again, and Chartreuse STILL hadn’t said anything? No. She wasn’t going to back off today. She couldn’t.

“Hey, Chartreuse,” Carrie said, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on the peg by the booth before sliding in to sit across from her.

“Carrie,” Chartreuse acknowledged, watching her through the reflection in the glass of the window. She closed her eyes, counted to three, then turned to face her friend while simultaneously reaching out to grasp both Carrie’s hands.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta, like, say this now. See, you are, you know, so VERY important to me. Like, more than friends important. And, you know, it’s important for me that you know that, even if I can never, like, show you those important feelings in public.” Chartreuse swallowed. “Or maybe even in private. But I couldn’t keep holding it in, you know? So I hope you knowing about my feelings doesn’t, you know, destroy our friendship forever?”

Carrie raised her eyebrows and blinked her blue eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes. Seemingly on the verge of making a quip, with the corner of her mouth turned up, she then thought better of it, and instead said, “Actually, Chartreuse, I suspected you felt that way.”

Having not anticipated that particular response, Chartreuse wasn’t sure where to go with the conversation. She released Carrie’s hands from her grip. “You… but… h-how long?”

Carrie reached up and started to do that cute thing where she looped strands of her hair around her fingers and started tugging. “From when Clarke’s sister was in town. I got to thinking more about how you’d been reacting to me then, and as such I started paying more attention to how you were looking at me presently. To be honest, when I clued in as to your true feelings, I was squicked out. Initially.” She paused.

“Initially?” Chartreuse squeaked out, her insides feeling like they were being compressed in a vice.

Carrie sighed. “When did it start for you? Like, all summer, were you undressing me with your eyes while I was obliviously–"

“NO!” Chartreuse gasped. “It was, like, the dance, at the end of September. When we were, you know, doing that reading on Corry, and I worried I’d almost lost you. That’s when I really felt connected, when I really felt… felt us…"

Carrie let out a breath. “Okay. Okay, good, that makes me feel better about things. I think.” She yanked hard on her hair, hard enough to start grimacing. “Thing is, we BOTH know I date guys. So if that’s my preference, you know what that HAS to mean for us as a couple, right?”

Chartreuse reached into her pocket, squeezing the meditation crystal she’d placed there. Seeking a measure of tranquility in the inevitable end. “Carrie, I can’t say it. You have to, you know, say it to me.”

“Chartreuse…" Carrie’s eyes flickered all around the room, checking for anyone listening, or perhaps seeking a distraction, before finally bringing her gaze back to Chartreuse’s face. The blonde bit down on her lip. “Chartreuse, I… I… damn it, the fact is, I don’t know. I actually don’t.” She winced. “Ohh, no, please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That crazy hopeful look, don’t do that.”

“What look am I SUPPOSED to, like, get?!”

“Not that one.” Her already low voice became a whisper. “Chartreuse, seriously, I don’t think I like girls, not the way you do.”

Chartreuse slumped in her seat. “Carrie, you’re killing me here.”

“I don’t like girls - but honestly, with you I don’t know! So maybe you’re… different?”

“Carrie, I’m still a girl!”

“But you… go both ways.”

“That doesn’t, like, make me not a girl! Look!” Chartreuse straightened, stretching her arms out. “Girl parts. Same as you.”

“I… I know.” Was Carrie’s gaze lingering a bit on her body? Or was that wishful thinking? “Okay, let me lay it all out here,” Carrie sighed, looking out the window.

“Like I said, at first I was squicked out by the thought of the two of us. Particularly given how you’d been training me. But then I realized, the first guy I decided to really commit to, Glen? He turned out to be a trainer too! Worse, he’s mostly seeing me as Future Carrie, making him the latest in a LONG chain of guys who never did it for me emotionally. And with that realization, coupled with your apparent interest, came a questioning of my entire gender choices. Leading to me no longer being squicked, but more, uh, curious.”

She returned her gaze to Chartreuse, her cheeks colouring in a way that made Chartreuse want to hug her. “But DON’T get excited, because following that I, uh, looked up a couple stories. On the internet. And reading them didn’t turn me on. I just couldn’t picture myself doing, um, those things. In that way. So I’m pretty sure I’m straight. Except the girls in those stories weren’t like you, heck, NO ONE is like you, so… so we’re back to damn it, I don’t know. You know?”

“Not really,” Chartreuse admitted, wishing for all the world that she did. “I never, like, went through a questioning phase. My parents talked to me, I read some books, and it all kind of, you know, snapped into place.”

“Lucky you,” Carrie sighed.

“Could you two keep it down here, please? You’re bothering the other patrons.”

Chartreuse jerked her gaze over to Theresa, who was now setting a couple of water glasses on their table. She tried to keep from looking too troubled herself, figuring Carrie’s horrified, wide-eyed stare said it all.

As soon as the water glasses were down, Theresa raised both hands. “Wow, sorry! That was a joke. I don’t know what you said, you two girls have been as quiet as church mice. Quieter, even. CSIS is worried you’re planning some form of espionage. I’ll assume you need another few minutes before you order, okay?”

As Theresa moved off, Carrie let her bright red face drop down until her forehead was touching the table. Chartreuse reached over to give her friend a pat on the shoulder. “Carrie, would you like to, I don’t know, sleep with some of my crystals tonight? To, you know, relax your mind?”

The noise Carrie let out was either a laugh or a sob, it was hard to tell. Then she raised her head, and it was even harder to read her expression. “Sleep with your CRYSTALS? Oh, Chartreuse.”

“Carrie… um, look, that wasn’t, like, a euphemism…"

“I know. Oh, I know.” She reached out to grasp Chartreuse by the arm, and now her smile was genuine. “Please, keep being the random, confusing ray of sunshine in my tortured, temporal existence. Just know that, as far as any relationship goes…" Her voice trailed off.

“You’re still, you know, figuring things out?”

Carrie slowly nodded, then pulled her hand back. “I am. I will say something though. Something that’s going to break all the rules I set in place, including us not talking about powers any more. So promise not to tell Glen about this?”

Chartreuse nodded. “Of course!”

Her hair looped around her fingers again. “Okay. Here it is. I… last month, I… oh hell. I wiped an entire timeline out of existence. To save a single person.”

Carrie’s face had become neutral, but something about her eyes seemed to be asking ‘could you love a person capable of that?’. “Carrie…" Before Chartreuse could complete the thought, she was struck by a realization. “Was the person Frank?”

“Ow!” Carrie untangled her hand from her hair. “How did you know?”

“This, like, impression I had last month. When the two of us were checking on you in the hospital. In retrospect I thought I had, you know, misread his upcoming breakup with Luci, but if your condition back then was, like, linked to this wiped out timeline thing…"

“It was. And if you were that close to working it out? Maybe it explains why Glen seems to know something now too…" Carrie shook her head, then made a decision. “Chartreuse, I can’t handle this alone. After we order? No more secrets.” She smiled sadly. “I’m going to lay a timeline theory on you that will blow your mind.”

NEXT: Bad Signs. Care to cast the weekly T&T vote? At least one person found us there this month.

ASIDE: This was the first new part (separate from the original T&T writing) to be written since Part 48, and the “LoN” guest post, which started off Book 3; more Chartreuse was necessary here. New commentary coming this Sunday.

Previously: Clarke is talking to his sister Mary about visiting people on Sunday. Carrie asserted to Clarke that she’d only work now with Glen - who has a mental power of suggestion.

PART 3.18b: MAKING THE ROUNDS 2

An innocent enough topic. Clarke had wondered, given how he and Julie had brought Lee up to speed on the time machine last night, whether Lee had been trying to verify any of their story. The dark haired teen stood up then, turning and coming face to face with Clarke.

“Whoa, high guy, sneaking up on us?” Lee said, lifting an eyebrow. “It’s just one accidental occurrence after another today, isn’t it?”

“I… guess so?” was all Clarke could think to answer.

“Well, unless you need me for my library skills too, I need to be on my way,” Lee continued. “Say hi to Julie for me!”

Lee made as if to continue past Clarke, but he stumbled, reaching out for the taller boy’s shoulder to regain his balance. As he did so, he muttered near Clarke’s ear, “Red Barren there doesn’t know I helped bring him to Julie’s. Please don’t let on.”

“Oh… right. Of course,” Clarke said. Lee simply flashed him a smile and a thumbs up before heading out of the cafe.

“He’s an interesting character,” Glen remarked, pulling Clarke’s attention back to him. “Not part of your little ‘group’, is he?” The redhead gestured at the recently vacated seat across from him. Clarke hesitated, then joined Glen himself.

“According to Carrie, there is no group,” he evaded.

“Ah! She’s spoken with you then? Good, good. You DO realize her decision was inevitable, yes?” Glen said apologetically. “She’s the one with the destiny, after all. The rest of you… yourself, Julie, Frank, Luci, Tim, Chartreuse… am I missing anyone?”

“And how would you know what role we might play?” Clarke replied, trying not to sound irritated.

Glen made a vague gesture in the air. “Didn’t Carrie say? I’m from the future, like Mindy was. I don’t mind telling you that, and I’m sure Julie’s figured it out by now - in fact I’ll have to make sure I don’t underestimate her, the way I did last night.”

“So you know the future, yet Julie was able to surprise you,” Clarke replied, shifting back to his manner of not quite asking a question.

“Mmmmm,” was Glen’s only reply as his fingers began drumming on the tabletop. “Fair point," he admitted. “The thing you have to understand about time is that, even though it resists universal change, individuals still have the free will to screw things up locally. I mean, let’s say Julie is slated to die in a month. Doesn’t mean I CAN’T save her then; time could compensate. But it wouldn’t be easy to accomplish. If we extend the analogy towards trying to prevent the outbreak of the temporal war and all the deaths that stemmed from that? It becomes downright impossible.”

Clarke clenched his jaw. “Glen, you speak of deaths as if you were talking about the weather.”

Glen paused. “You’re right, I’m sorry - that must seem incredibly callous. Forgive me, I’ve been a little… distracted these last couple days.”

“Worried about Mindy?”

“Carrie, actually,” the redhead countered. “More and more I’m discovering how she’s… different from the Carrie I expected. For instance, she actually fears the power that she has, rather than embraces it. I’m not sure how to change her attitude. Any ideas?”

“Can’t your powers change attitudes?” Clarke cut back before he could stop himself.

Glen ran a hand back through his hair. “Another point to you. But it’s not like I wander around using my mental abilities indiscriminately. Embracing one’s powers doesn’t mean abusing one’s powers.” He frowned. “As I suppose I did last night, so if an apology helps there, fine, you have it.”

Clarke nodded. “All right, I’m sorry too, for getting judgmental. But you know, cutting Carrie off from her friends isn’t going to help your cause.”

“I’m not trying to cut her off from her friends, merely your inexperienced time meddling!” Glen countered, slapping his palm on the table. “That’s the real danger here! Of course, the fact that Carrie apparently came close to banishing Frank from this time period last night probably isn’t helping her mood. I just… damn it, I just wish she was more like her future self!”

The tall blonde sat for a moment, gauging Glen’s sincerity. “You need to stop seeing her as Carrie, the girl destined to control time, and start seeing her as Carrie, the normal, everyday high school student,” he suggested at last. “Because right now, more than anything else, that’s how she wants to be seen.”

“Ridiculous! Others like Mindy may come, she can’t put her head in the sand and ignore that fact!”

Clarke didn’t reply. Throwing up his hands, Glen turned in his seat to regard the cafe itself. “Where’s my food, anyway?” he grumbled. “It’s been almost twenty minutes.”

As if on cue, Theresa came into view, dodging around a man in an overcoat. She set a cup of hot chocolate down in front of Clarke. “Here you go,” the waitress said to him with a smile. “I know you didn’t order it, but another customer changed their mind, and you seem to need it. It’s on me.”

“Oh, uh… thanks,” Clarke replied, blinking at the redhead in surprise.

She lifted an eyebrow back at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m still a perfectly normal waitress.” Theresa glanced at Glen. “As for you, I’m sure your club sandwich will be out shortly. Remember, patience is a virtue.”

She moved off again, leaving Glen to fume quietly in his seat. “How is it that I always get such lousy service in this place?” the redhead grumped, glancing from Clarke to the mug in front of him. “I mean, what do I have to do?!”

Clarke shrugged. “Dunno,” he answered, taking a quick sip. “Maybe you should tip more.”

Glen frowned. “Tip?”

“Oh, loverly. I’m getting the impression that this Glen is not a people person,” Mary remarked.

Clarke rolled over to lie on his front. “Not really,” her brother agreed. “I mean, he’s friendly enough, but he’s not above playing tricks in order to achieve his goals. And he sees this big picture, rather than the individuals involved in it.”

“Sounds a bit like how Julie used to be.”

Clarke fell silent for a moment. “Glen feels more dangerous,” he said at last. “But then again… maybe you’re right. Maybe Glen needs a friend like me to help him fit in a little better.”

“Well, I’d love to be right, but you’re still being cagey about these conversations,” Mary replied. “I mean, there’s a lot of reasons why Glen might have thought this ‘burden’ Carrie has is a good thing… including psychological problems on his part. Can’t you give me more detailed information?”

“It’s… complicated,” Clarke sighed. He couldn’t very well relay the parts of his conversations that were about time travel. “Besides, aren’t you just listening to me as a sister?”

“True enough. So, you were saying that you were on your way to Tim’s place?”

“Yeah,” Clarke affirmed. “And when I got there, I discovered Luci was with him.”

“C-Clarke! You’re here!” Tim said, looking up from a desk of notes and beaming at the tall boy as Clarke walked into the bedroom.

“Hi,” Clarke said, nodding at his friend. “I didn’t realize you already had company.”

“Well, after last night I decided we’d best figure out what the heck we shot Carrie with,” Luci noted. “And Tim’s the main translation man for Linquist’s notes.” The young girl gestured from the edge of the bed, where she sat with Linquist’s temporal gun, back towards the curly haired boy.

Clarke looked from Tim to Luci and back. “How much do you know about what’s going on then, Tim?”

Tim opened his mouth to reply, but again it was Luci who spoke first.  “I told Tim all the highlights,” she stated. “Time machine, Carrie’s funky powers, his memory loss from before the hospital… seemed only fair that he know at this point.”

Clarke frowned slightly. “I see. And… Tim, you’re okay with this?”

“Oh, sure, he’s managing fine,” Luci continued blithely. “Actually, we figure all this additional background info should help with the translating.”

“Luci, I asked Tim!” Clarke said sharply, turning again to look at her. She jerked her gaze up from the gun towards him, and inwardly he cursed himself for taking that tone. He didn’t seem to be having the best of luck with people today…

“It’s all right,” Tim said quickly, standing up and moving to place a hand on Clarke’s arm. “I am f-fine, her information really will help with the translating, and it doesn’t look like I’ll be any more involved than that.” He paused. “And knowing about this t-time group also explains why I hardly see you lately.”

Clarke flinched slightly, turning to look the shorter boy in the eyes. Had he not been hanging around Tim as much? He supposed that he HAD been paying more attention to Julie ever since the time machine factor had reappeared last month… and of course he’d wanted to speak with Carrie and Frank on occasion… but he had come by Tim’s house just last Monday. Or, no, had it been the previous Monday? For that matter, when was the last time he’d made a drugstore run for Tim’s medications?

“I… I’m sorry, Tim,” Clarke said as he realized the truth of the situation. “I never made a conscious decision to avoid you.”

“ANYway,” Luci cut back in pointedly, “you’re just in time. We’ve managed to recharge the gun, and were about to take a test shot. The thing’s non-lethal, by the way, that’s what Tim realized yesterday, hence shooting Carrie with everything we had. This time, we’re sure the safety’s engaged and the gun’s set back to level one, so we shouldn’t experience such massive kickback. Observe.”

She picked up the gun again and, bracing herself back against the wall behind the bed, took aim at a pillow sitting across the room on Tim’s dresser.

Clarke frowned. “Is it safe to be firing that thing off indoors?”

Tim nodded. “Oh, sure. Well, we’re p-pretty sure,” he amended. “I mean, near as I can figure, it’s now configured to be the equivalent of a sci fi phaser on low stun.”

“But if you’re not a hundred percent certain, perhaps we should–” Clarke never got a chance to complete his sentence. Luci had already pulled the trigger, and even before the sequence of lights on the gun was done flashing, a pulse of energy shot out of the barrel. The pillow on the dresser exploded in a cloud of feathers - and the glass in the mirror behind it shattered into a hundred pieces, all of them spiralling out into Tim’s bedroom.

-Next Episode: Shattered

-What do you think… Is Glen like Julie or not? Is Luci evading issues, like Frank was? Do you want to comment, or click the voting link?

3.02: NEW ARRIVAL

Carrie Waterson tuned out the glorified roll call, choosing instead to look around the room. She noted that everybody who knew of the existence of the time machine remained in her homeroom, which was kind of nice. Though none of them had made any time trips since last year. Well, as long as Carrie ignored whatever the hell had happened - would be happening? - back on her birthday.

When the first present day minted coins had started to appear in late June, allowing for a round trip return to their present, Carrie had shut down the idea of time travel. She’d been keeping the machine under her bed since last December, wanting to be able to escape with it, if anyone came after her. Like, someone from the future, wanting to tap into her lurking demonic temporal powers.

The very thought of those powers caused Carrie to shudder involuntarily. This despite her mounting familiarity, due to the sessions she’d ended up doing with Chartreuse over the summer.

Mrs. Haye finally reached ‘W’, so Carrie gave her name, remarking on her athletic skills. She started to zone out again, only to have a knock at the classroom door pull her back. “Oh yes!” Mrs. Haye said. “And I would like you all to welcome Glen Oaks. He is a new student from out of town who will be joining our homeroom.” She gestured for the boy with the short red hair to enter. He did, smiling amiably at everyone in the room, though Carrie fancied his gaze rested a little longer on her.

“Glen, there are still a few desks free, so if you’ll take a seat I can pass around the course syllabus,” Mrs. Haye said.

Glen nodded, then headed straight for the empty desk next to Carrie. He turned and smiled at her again as he sat. She offered him a quick smile back, even as something about him struck her as being a bit unsettling. Why? What was it? She resisted the temptation to stare, lest he get the wrong idea.

‘I’m overreacting. Can’t blame him for taking an interest in me, after all. Merely shows I’ve still got it,’ Carrie mused to herself. Mrs. Haye began to talk about senior level English.

“You know Luci, it’s not too late for you to switch into Physics,” Frank Dijora remarked, as he joined both Carrie and Luci at the lunch table. “That would give us an afternoon class together.”

“Hey, I like Drama,” Luci Primrose protested. “Besides, you could always switch out of Business and into Biology with me.”

“Touche,” Frank observed. “I guess we’ll have to live with mornings.”

“If you ask me, the both of you could stand to have some time apart at school,” Carrie Waterson interjected, resting her chin on her hand. “After all, didn’t Frank’s marks slip last year, after you two started going out?”

“They did not!” Frank objected. “That is… I should have studied a little harder for June exams, I misjudged the difficulty level.”

“Uh huh, suuuure. And what were you two doing instead of studying? I bet I can guess…”

“Carrie!” Luci hissed, glancing to see if they were being overheard.

“You were inventing some new thingamajig, right? What did you think I was going to say?” Carrie finished innocently.

“Carrie, enough,” Frank sighed.

“All right, all right,” the blonde laughed, raising her hands in surrender. “Apologies. But you’ve been dating since, what, last December? It’s not like your relationship is some big secret here.”

“That’s still no reason to turn it into a newspaper headline,” Luci grumbled.

Frank leaned in a little closer to the young girl. “Carrie can’t help it, she’s jealous I picked you over her,” he whispered. At that, Luci smothered a laugh.

Carrie reached out to flick her fingers at the back of Frank’s head. “My hearing is still excellent, you know. So let’s not pretend that I ever asked for our friendship to turn into anything more, okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Frank remarked, still grinning.

“Anyway, I’m happy for the two of you,” Carrie finished, reaching out to pick up the apple from her cafeteria tray. “Plus, I could still get any guy I wanted. Were I to actually try.” She took a bite.

“Like that new guy in our English class, for example,” Luci noted. “Glen. He seemed to be taking an interest in you.”

Carrie nearly choked before managing to swallow. “So that wasn’t my imagination?”

“He tried to hide it, but I noticed,” Luci remarked.

Carrie frowned. “You would, you see everything. He’s in my history class too… I’m not quite sure what to make of him."

“Well, here’s your chance to find out,” Frank said. “He’s coming this way.”

Carrie turned as Glen approached. The redhead waved in greeting. “Hello! Is this seat taken?” he inquired, indicating the one next to Luci and opposite Carrie. When Carrie shook her head no, he sat down.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Glen continued. “Still trying to find my way around. You’re all in my homeroom, right?”

“Right,” Frank confirmed. “I’m Frank, that’s Luci and that’s Carrie.”

Glen smiled. “Of course. Actually, I’m a little surprised to find Carrie here with the two of you."

Luci arced an eyebrow. “Oh? Why?”

“Because - forgive me for being blunt - Carrie, you strike me as being more a athletic type. Less intellectually inclined.”

“Are you saying I’m a dumb blonde?!” Carrie said, narrowing her eyes.

“And I’m not athletic?” Luci chimed in, equally annoyed.

“Oh, no, I don’t mean that!” Glen corrected. “Just that Carrie’s athletic talents appeared superior, compared to Luci’s. Was that incorrect?”

“Well, no,” the blonde admitted guardedly. “But that doesn’t mean I can only hang around with jocks, does it?”

“Certainly not. I’m sorry, I’m getting off on the wrong foot here, aren’t I,” Glen sighed. “I fear my higher reasoning has left me, it does that on occasion when I am confronted with such overwhelming feminine beauty.”

“Oh brother,” Luci mumbled under her breath.

“I’m not excluding you from that remark, Luci," Glen assured. “For while you seem to have skipped a grade or two, and present as more cute than beautiful, you also strike me as a most captivating young woman. You are bound to make someone very happy some day.”

Luci opened her mouth to respond, only to look over towards Frank, seeming flustered. “Ahem,” Frank offered. “Not to be rude myself here, Glen, but is it your intention to hit on every girl in the cafeteria?”

“No, merely the most beautiful and intellectually stimulating ones,” Glen assured him with a grin. “Which is why I chose to sit with Carrie, who I now realize is the best of both worlds. But if I am intruding on your group, you have only to say the word, and I will go.”

“You’re not intruding,” Carrie said quickly, before Frank could speak up. “But when we know so little about you, can you blame us for being skeptical as to your motives?”

“Understood,” Glen said. “I shall more formally introduce myself. My name is Glen Oaks, I’m seventeen, and I’m here now because my parents are planning on taking up residence in the area. I enjoy skating, acting and I am an excellent long distance runner.”

“You run?" Carrie asked.

“Indeed. Perhaps we should have a race sometime.”

“Perhaps,” Carrie agreed, her curiosity spiking again. “You say you like acting too, are you taking Drama?”

“Last period,” Glen confirmed. “Right after Art.”

Carrie blinked. “We have identical schedules then."

“Is that so? Well, what a happy coincidence. I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot of each other this term.”

“Yes, it does seem that way,” Carrie agreed, not quite sure how she felt about that.

She still wasn’t sure at the end of the lunch period forty five minutes later. Glen had managed to sidestep a lot of the questions asked of him, while learning more about the rest of them in the process. It reminded Carrie a lot of the way Julie LaMille and Corry Veniti interacted with people.

Which gave her an idea.

“Corry! Hey, Corry!”

The redhead turned towards Carrie, arcing an eyebrow. “Something I can do for you, Waterson?” he asked.

“Actually, yes,” Carrie said, as she reached his locker. “I’d like information on the new student in our homeroom, Glen Oaks.”

“Okay then. He’s a new student in our homeroom,” Corry said. “Oh, and he also has red hair. You really should pay better attention.”

“Corry, come on. You know what I mean.”

Corry crossed his arms. “Sure I do. Just like YOU know I’m not inclined to help out all of Julie’s old associates, simply because she’s no longer the active force around the school.”

“Hah! I’m a little more than THAT to you,” Carrie countered. “Not to mention how you’ve spent months helping out Julie herself!"

“Julie actually NEEDS the help,” Corry said pointedly. “Heck, it’s partly my fault she does, after I turned so many against her.” His gaze turned wistful. “There’s a part of me that misses the rivalry too… but that’s neither here nor there.”

He lowered his voice. “You know how I feel about you, Waterson. That doesn’t change simply because of what you may or may not become in the future. So why should I do anything for you? For that matter, what help can I possibly be to someone who has the power within her to destroy the world?”

Carrie winced. “Corry, please. I’m trying to put that behind me. Moreover, I haven’t asked you for any special treatment since those events – and all I want here is a bit of information! Is that so hard?”

Corry paused, sizing her up. “I’ll think about it,” he yielded. “After all, I was going to look into Glen myself. Come back in a few days, and I’ll decide then whether what I have will cost you."

Carrie nodded, deciding that was probably the best she was going to get from the male Veniti twin. She proceeded down the hall towards her own locker.

That evening found Carrie Waterson knocking on the door of the Vermilion residence. She and Chartreuse had decided to continue their temporal sessions despite the end of the summer. After all, despite how much Carrie wanted to simply banish the strange forces raging inside her, she knew they weren’t going anywhere. And keeping those powers in check was the only way to avoid another incident like the one last November, which had nearly cost the lives of… well, everyone on the planet.

Actually, Chartreuse had accepted Carrie’s explanation of those events with remarkable poise, despite the later memory wipe. Maybe the pink haired mystic would have put the pieces together herself, given enough time? Carrie sighed. It was more likely she wanted to rationalize getting Chartreuse involved, after that conversation with herself last March.

Carrie reached up to knock again, but before she could, a young girl with short blue hair opened the door. Carrie offered up a tentative smile. “Hello Azure, is your sister here?” she inquired.

Azure peered at Carrie, then turned and shouted, “Chartreuse, your girlfriend is here to see you!” She stepped back, allowing Carrie to enter the house. “Go easy on her tonight, okay? She was all dizzy the morning after you two bunnies had your session last week.”

Carrie frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, like I don’t know what you two do in my sister’s bedroom for hours at a time. I’m fourteen, I read about these things.”

“Azure, I know it’s a strain for you, but pull your head out of the gutter when you’re, you know, talking with my friends, okay?” Chartreuse sighed, coming down the stairs. “Sorry Carrie, I was just in the washroom.”

“She’s all pretty for you now,” Azure noted. “Be sure to compliment her new perfume.”

“Azure…”

“I’m going, I’m going,” the blue haired girl said. “Just don’t be too loud, I have homework to complete. On the first day! Seriously, what’s the deal with high school anyway?!”

Chartreuse sighed and shook her head as her sister went upstairs. “Really sorry about that,” she said, closing the front door. “Honestly, just when I think she can’t get any more annoying, her hormones explode all over the place.”

“Sounds messy,” Carrie remarked.

“I’m hoping it’s just a phase,” Chartreuse said. “Anyway, my sister’s not the reason you, like, came here. Let’s get upstairs. I have everything we’ll need laid out on my bed.” She paused. “Which, come to think, is not at all as dirty as it sounds.”

Carrie seated herself across from Chartreuse. “Okay,” the pink haired girl said, passing a cleansing crystal around Carrie’s head. “Remember what we’ve been talking about. Relax, and let the sensations, like, come to you.”

“They already have,” Carrie murmured, as all of time coalesced around her. The best description Carrie could give for the phenomenon was that it was like she was standing in the middle of a swiftly flowing river, being gradually pulled along by the current as the seconds ticked by. The separate drops of water, they represented the millions of people and other objects moving through time. By looking upstream, Carrie could see the events of the past. By looking downstream, Carrie could see different branching paths of the future. The metaphor wasn’t perfect, but it was serviceable.

Carrie now knew that she had the ability within her to travel this time stream under her own power, not to mention affect it in other ways, but usually she was more than content to simply let the current pull her along.

“Oh,” came Chartreuse’s voice, reminding Carrie of where she really was. “You know, it never ceases to amaze me how easily you do that lately.”

“Yeah, I find it quite unsettling myself,” Carrie murmured. “What now, Chartreuse?”

“Well, as I recall, we were working on finding individuals who aren’t in physical proximity to you. Want to, like, try for anything in the past or the future yet?”

“No, let’s stick with the present for now. I’m going to see if I can locate Frank again. It’s easier to pick up former time travellers, they feel a little out of synch with the rest of the world.”

“All right,” Chartreuse agreed. She reached out to take Carrie’s hands. “Visualize him then. Imagine that he’s standing right in front of you. Then, once you have that image, see where it takes you.”

Carrie nodded, taking in a deep breath, concentrating on Frank and on where he might be in the torrent of water rushing around her. “He’s… he’s with Luci,” Carrie realized as a picture of the girl swam up before her eyes. “That will make it easier. They’re not at his house though… or her’s… it’s… the cafe. They’re at the central cafe.”

The scene practically leapt out of the water at her then, and it was like she was standing in the cafe herself - except her body had no substance. A spirit body, as Chartreuse called it. Able to see things, but invisible to them, and incapable of interaction.

“Carrie, what’s happening?” Chartreuse’s voice inquired, sounding like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

“I’m now here too,” Carrie replied, forcing down a feeling of panic. “In the cafe. There’s a lot of people around. It’s so much more chaotic than any of my previous experiences!”

“Stay calm,” Chartreuse said. “Just centre in on Frank and Luci, you’re not there for anyone else.”

“Right… right, okay,” Carrie said, taking in a few deep breaths. “They’re in a corner booth together. They’re… aw, they’re sharing a basket of fries. That’s so sweet.” She paused. “Luci would kill me if she knew I was eavesdropping like this.”

“You’re not really eavesdropping, it’s a public place.”

“I guess. But they can’t see me. And last week when I centred on Frank, he was inventing stuff in his basement.”

“Look, Carrie, if you’re this concerned about spying on them, just don’t, like, centre in on them in future.”

“Well how the heck am I supposed to know when they’re together?” Carrie grumbled. “But whatever. Now that I’m here, do you have any recommendations?”

“How about this – pick out someone else there that you could, you know, shift your attention to instead,” Chartreuse proposed. “You don’t have to take it in all at once, just scan the room.”

“Okay,” Carrie called back, turning her spirit form to do a slow pan.  “It’s mostly kids from school. Looks like Theresa’s the one waiting tables, like usual. Oh, wait a minute…” She hesitated.

“What?” Chartreuse asked.

“It’s him,” Carrie said at last. “Glen Oaks, that new boy in our homeroom. It… it’s weird, it feels like he’s looking directly at me. He can’t see me, can he?”

“I doubt it, my mom’s the only one I know of who can see spirit forms,” Chartreuse replied. “Maybe he’s looking at something behind you.”

“There’s a wall behind me. I don’t think that… OH!!!” Carrie shrieked. “NO, NO, GET ME OUT, GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!”

All at once, Chartreuse was kneeling in front of her, shaking her shoulders. She was back in the bedroom. “Carrie! Carrie, calm down, it’s all right!!” the pink haired girl was saying. “You’re all right, you’re safe now, you understand?” Carrie nodded wordlessly, struggling to regain her breath. “Thank goodness,” Chartreuse breathed. “What, like, happened?”

Carrie felt a shiver run down her spine. “I… I saw… oh god, I was in the cafe, and suddenly I saw… fire. The place has caught on fire, Chartreuse!”

• More next week! Consider voting for Time & Tied at WebFictionGuide. We made it to 3 votes last week, and visibility is my only hope.
• Feel free to speculate on this "New Arrival", or anything else, in the comments!

PART 23: ROCK BOTTOM

“It’s Chartreuse. Chartreuse Vermilion.”

“Yes, I am aware of who you are. Am I to understand that you are claiming responsibility for what was discovered?” The principal waved off the office staff member who was now standing uncertainly at the door. She nodded and left, closing the door again behind her.

“That’s correct, sir,” Chartreuse said. “Though in fact, I don’t own the drugs either. So, well, okay, like, you might want to take a seat, this is sort of complex what I’m about to say.”

Mr. Hunt slowly sank back down into his chair. “I had a feeling.” He gestured at the seat next to Carrie.

Chartreuse moved to sit down as she spoke. “See, I actually found the bag in question this morning on my way to school. I thought ‘whoa! I’d better, you know, turn these in somewhere’ so I put them in my bookbag."

“In your bookbag.”

“Yes, sir, just temporarily. I figured I’d better get them out of the area lest the dealer, like, double back and retrieve them.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Hunt said dryly. “And where was it that you found this bag?”

[caption id=“attachment_548” align=“alignright” width=“300”] Chartreuse lifted an eyebrow…[/caption]

Carrie simply blinked at Chartreuse in confusion. Chartreuse lifted an eyebrow, jerking her head in the direction of the principal.

“Oh,” Carrie said at last, turning her gaze back to Mr. Hunt. “Well… sir, you of course remember how I said I had never seen that bag before? I’d forgotten that Chartreuse had given me a package to put in my locker. It contained something she said she’d found in the ravine earlier, that must have been the bag.”

“Right, I found it in the ravine,” Chartreuse confirmed. “I took a walk through the ravine before school. Part of a thigh building exercise.”

Carrie fired a glare back towards Chartreuse, who shrugged. Mr. Hunt folded his arms across his chest. “And why is it you never got around to reporting this until now?”

“Ah. Good question,” Chartreuse agreed. “In fact, I was… going to be late for class. Because of, you know, being in the ravine. I didn’t even have time to get to my locker. Which is why I, like, tossed my stuff into Carrie’s locker.”

“We both forget after that,” Carrie remarked.

“Totally,” Chartreuse affirmed.

The principal looked back and forth between the two girls. “Ms. Vermilion,” he finally stated, “I believe you missed my introductory remarks to the effect of telling the truth.” Chartreuse looked down at the floor, abashed.

“However, I can recall no troubling incidents with you of late. Thus I must ask, how DID you know why Ms. Waterson was called down? And why the outburst on her behalf?”

“I can’t explain, sir,” Chartreuse murmured. “It all, like, relates to a personal matter.”

Mr. Hunt remained quiet for a time. “Perhaps I should simply suspend the both of you while we let the authorities figure this out,” he remarked. Neither girl replied. There was more to this than met the eye - but then, he’d known that after seeing the Waterson girl’s initial reaction.

The real question was, would a suspension get them any closer to the truth? The principal steepled his fingers and turned his chair away to face the window.

“Two weeks detention for each of you,” he concluded. “Effective immediately, so you will both now report to the detention room. Don’t make me regret this decision. If, during these two weeks, I hear of any negative reports concerning either of you, there WILL be suspensions involved. Please use the opportunity to resolve your ‘personal matters’ - in the guidance office if necessary.”

In the reflection of the window glass, he saw Carrie’s look of surprise. “Understood, sir,” she said.

“Thank you, sir,” Chartreuse chimed in, looking relieved.

“Now then, one of you please tell Ms. LaMille to come in on your way out,” Mr. Hunt added, turning back towards them and opening his desk drawer.

The two girls departed his office.

Upon seeing Julie outside, Carrie immediately averted her gaze and walked out of the area. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chartreuse jerk her thumb at the principal’s door and remark, “You’re, like, up next.” The pink haired girl then hurried to catch up.

“Carrie,” Chartreuse whispered as they walked out the main office doors. “What was that about?”

Carrie spun. “Yes, what WAS that about?”

“I asked first.”

“Why did you jump in to my rescue?” Carrie said, ignoring Chartreuse’s comment. “I never asked you to do that.”

“I know. But when I found out, I just couldn’t, like, sit back and do nothing. Besides, we ended up an okay team, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, great. What exactly were you expecting from me in return?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope. It’s not always about you - see, there’s these powerful forces at work,” Chartreuse explained. “Meaning you should probably, you know, just take it easy for a few weeks, as the principal indicated. It might do you some good actually, your aura looks to be unbalancing.”

“My…” Carrie pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh God, I’ve sunk so low I’m getting advice from the school psychic,” she realized.

“So, what was the deal there?” Chartreuse pressed. “Corry?”

“Who else?” Carrie said bitterly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m obviously at the point in my life where I need to go and crawl into a small hole and die. Give my regards to anyone who actually cares.”

“Aw, Carrie, you’re not skipping our detention, are you?” Chartreuse countered. “After Hunt was kind enough to give us that out?”

Carrie nearly said yes. Except… doing so might have repercussions for Chartreuse. Which seemed needlessly cruel. ‘So what?’ argued a small voice in her head. So - Chartreuse deserved better.

Carrie fell back against the nearest wall, rolling her eyes heavenwards as she realized which voice in her head was becoming the most dominant. “Yeah, I’m going. I can always kill myself later."

“Touchy, touchy,” Lee mumbled to himself as he ambled down the hall, hands in his pockets. It wasn’t like he’d purposely set out to trip Corry with his music stand. Hey, if the guy couldn’t look down and see what was lying right out in front of him, that was hardly Lee’s problem.

Oh well. As usual, Lee had some time to kill after school, before his job at the public library. He supposed he might as well hang out at the coffee shop again. However, he’d better check his image first.

Pulling a comb out of his worn sports jacket, Lee headed for the men’s washroom. Entering and proceeding to the basin-like object that passed for a sink, he was briefly taken aback by the sight of a bag of wet clothing sitting inside.

“Odd place to do laundry,” Lee noted with a frown. He peered into the bag and fished out a sports bra. “Totally odd,” he concluded.

“I think it’s cause for concern,” Frank insisted.

Clarke shrugged. “I’m concerned in my own way.”

Frank ran a hand back through his hair. “Well… yes, all right. But come on, don’t you know ANYTHING about why Carrie and Julie were called to the office? Like, maybe Corry has lashed out at the two of them, a revenge tactic after the dance incident,” he said, thinking aloud. “Which means when I was calling Carrie this week about, ah, studying, she was ignoring me in order to keep me out of Corry’s line of fire. What do you think?”

Clarke leaned back against his locker, frowning. “I think it’s possible that Corry’s not involved.”

Frank shot a look at Clarke. “Okay, not helping. Don’t you care about what’s happened to Julie?"

Clarke glared back at him. “More than you realize. But why are you concerned? I don’t remember you being so interested in Julie or Carrie until a few weeks ago.”

“It’s, um, personal.” Frank stopped to gather his thoughts. “Look, I happen to know that Carrie’s been under some strain lately. So I suppose I’d rather she not get in more trouble on top of that. Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to sound judgemental. Things have all been a bit confusing for me lately.”

The tall blonde’s expression became a wry smile. “You’re telling me.”

Frank adjusted his glasses. “Okay, Clarke, let me level with you. I have no quarrel with you, or Julie, but I’ve been kind of pulled into this situation… meaning, I just might be forced into taking firmer action. Last resort sort of thing of course, but, uh, well, look, can’t you get Julie to stop whatever’s going on before I’m forced to do something?” he pleaded.

Clarke’s frown returned. “Thing is, Julie is as much a victim here as everyone else.”

“I know she got called to the office like Carrie, but…”

“Not like that,” Clarke interrupted. “It’s… something I can’t really explain. Even to myself sometimes."

Frank blinked. “You’re not making sense.”

“Yo, guys,” Lee said as he approached. “You want things that don’t make sense? How ‘bout some of Carrie’s gym clothes and her home ec recipe cards drowning in the men’s washroom.” He tossed the wet bag at Frank, who caught it automatically. “Here, math whiz. You know her better then me, right? Give the stuff back to her, ‘k?”

“Whoa, what?” Frank protested. “Carrie and me, we’re not studying this week. We’re not even speaking.”

Lee turned away with a vague gesture. “Cool, that’ll give you something to speak about then. Sorry, can’t stay, places to be.”

Frank opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but he was unable to find words before Lee had turned the next corner. He looked over at Clarke, who was now watching him with an eyebrow raised. He then looked down into the bag he was holding. There was a bra sitting on top of the pile. He felt himself turning red.

Upon exiting detention an hour later, Carrie was surprised to find a damp bag of her possessions tied anonymously around the lock of her locker.

It didn’t make SENSE, Chartreuse reflected as she stared up at the ceiling of her room. Something about the drug affair felt WRONG.

The thought had been bothering her right through her detention, right through her trip home, right through supper, right up until now. If only she could put her finger on what the problem was!

It related to Julie, Chartreuse knew that much. After all, while Carrie had been in trouble, Julie apparently hadn’t been… or at least they’d been seen separately. What was the connection? Why had Julie been called to the office? Carrie hadn’t seemed to know, having just wanted to get away from the brunette.

Folding her arms, Chartreuse sat up on her bed and looked over towards her dresser. Perhaps the trouble was that she was asking herself the wrong questions. After all, the discovery of that drug bag had been the central event.

Okay - who knew it had been in Carrie’s locker? The principal, the teacher who’d searched the locker, presumably Corry, Tim, herself… and Julie. Yes, Julie HAD to have known - in her vision, Chartreuse had seen Julie taking something from the locker AFTER Corry had done his fiddling. Boy, that was cold, leaving the bag of pills there when Julie could have helped Carrie out.

Yet, in that case, what had Julie taken out of the locker? Chartreuse had thought it to be whatever Corry had put in, but Julie hadn’t removed the drugs. So it had to be something else. Right?

Yet that meant that something else had to have been inside the locker too. Something that Corry would have seen, whether he realized it or not. Was there any way to find out the identity of that something? Of course there was.

Chartreuse sprang for a phone extension, only to discover that their land line was already in use. “Azure, get off the phone,” Chartreuse demanded.

“I don’t hafta, I’m asking questions about homework,” her younger sister replied.

“Azure!”

“Sorry Ben, you need to excuse my sister,” Azure said. “She had detention today, it’s unsettled her karma and made her all cranky. Hang up now Chartreuse, or I’ll tell mom!”

Sighing helplessly, Chartreuse hung up and went to grab her jacket. Her family didn’t own cell phones, as their use tended to interfere with the abilities that they had. So she’d need to drop by in person… seeing as she had to know now, one way or the other. Otherwise her sacrifice on Carrie’s behalf could amount to nothing.

“Nothing. A whole lot of nothing.”

“What’s that?” Theresa asked, leaning on the counter of the coffee shop.

Carrie lifted her head to look blearily at the red haired waitress. “Why do you care?” she shot back.

Theresa smiled disarmingly. “Part of my job is to help out the customers. There’s not too many people around right now and you look like you could use someone to talk to.”

“Well, I don’t need anyone. Never have. So take a hike,” Carrie said indignantly. Theresa nodded slowly and turned away.

Carrie gripped her glass tighter. “Wait,” she amended. “I… I’m sorry, that was rude. Maybe I do need someone. Because I don’t have anyone. Not anymore.” Her gaze dropped back down into her lemonade. “In fact I have nothing left.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

Theresa leaned back onto the counter. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”

“It’s not,” Carrie said hollowly. “I don’t have my mom. I don’t have Julie. Without Julie, I don’t have friends. Not really. She’s the only one I ever…” Carrie reopened her eyes and banged her fist down on the café counter, hard enough to make dishes rattle. “How could I let this happen? Why the hell didn’t I see this coming? I should have been listening more to my instincts on Sunday. Why was I so blind?”

“Sometimes truths can be painful to see,” Theresa remarked.

“Yeah, well, I wish I could go back a few days and beat some sense into my head,” Carrie asserted.

“You think you’d be better off then?”

“Hell yes,” Carrie affirmed. But even as she said it, she found herself considering the possibility.

If she WERE to time travel back a few days, if she were to stop herself from calling Julie on Sunday for instance, would her situation now be any better? Or would Julie simply have found an even more devilish way of getting to her? Would Carrie have even BELIEVED her present day self? Probably not.

Carrie might be better off traveling back further and kicking the time machine into a really deep hole before discovering it. Except now, that would wipe out numerous events. Including any reason for her to travel back and do it in the first place! One of those damn paradoxes Frank loved to talk about.

Frank. The guy who would probably benefit the most from having the time machine removed from their past. She’d really done a number on him, hadn’t she. Two years worth of a number! God, what might he have been able to accomplish without her messing up his past for her own selfish ends? She couldn’t even begin to imagine.

Ironically enough, Carrie abruptly recalled a time before Julie’s party, when she’d thought a time machine would solve everything. Instead, it had merely caused all sorts of new problems. There really was no quick fix for anything, was there. Especially not for the thing she most wanted to fix…

Carrie flexed her fingers, then took a long draught of lemonade. Theresa was still there. “You know what?” Carrie decided at last. “Life simply sucks.”

The red haired waitress smiled. “I dare say that’s the most common problem I see around here. And while the cause is often different, talking about it usually does help people. So, anything else on your mind?”

Carrie shook her head slowly. “Nothing you’d understand. Heck, I’ve said too much already,” she sighed, pressing her forehead into the palm of her hand.

Theresa leaned in closer. “If it’s not something you can tell me, is there someone else…?”

Carrie let out a quick burst of laughter. “No way! I’ve scared everyone else off. I have nothing left, nobody, nothing…” Her voice trailed away. The more she said it, the more she realized how true it was.

Theresa pursed her lips. “That sort of statement is rarely accurate,” the waitress countered. “Don’t do anything drastic, all right? Take some time to put things into perspective. It’s probably not as bad as you think it is.”

With that, the waitress moved off to another section of the coffee shop where a customer was waving. Carrie was left sitting and staring into her drink, contemplating Theresa’s words.

Okay, so she obviously couldn’t talk to Julie - but there was only one other person who knew her the way Julie did. About her past, her present, her triggers and idiosyncrasies - and that one guy, the individual who had been subjected to more “Carrie” than anyone else in the whole high school? He was better off without her. She squeezed her eyes shut again.

She wasn’t sure how much more time passed before she heard someone addressing her. “What?” she inquired, opening her eyes and looking up.

“I said hey, track tease, have you talked to the math whiz yet?” Lee repeated.

“To Frank? Why the hell would I talk to Frank??” she snapped back, her thoughts spilling out unbidden from between her lips. “I mean, sure, he’s the only other one who knows about what’s been going on of late. And yes, so he’s someone who knows a good deal about me now. Trouble is, I’m so short sighted that our connection has become completely screwed up. To the point where I really doubt that there’s any chance of ever restoring whatever small link we might have had, assuming there was even anything there to begin with!”

Lee rubbed the back of his head. “Wow, okay, if you say so. I only ask because I found a bunch of your clothes and stuff. Gave it to him to give to you. Guess you haven’t got it from him yet?”

Carrie felt her cheeks warming and quickly turned away. “Oh. No, I…” She was reminded of the bag tied to her locker. “Actually maybe. But I haven’t seen Frank since class,” she mumbled.

“Lee?” Theresa said, approaching. “You were right, you did leave your drafting assignment here. It fell behind one of the booths.”

“Cool,” Lee remarked, taking the papers from her. He saluted. “Thanks, speedy service sweetheart.” He turned back to Carrie. “And hey, track tease, a final word of advice?”

“Why is everybody a psychologist today?” Carrie muttered under her breath.

[caption id=“attachment_549” align=“alignright” width=“217”] “Just wanted to say…"[/caption]

“Just wanted to say, an aluminum foil hat’ll help you block out those alien mind control rays.”

Carrie couldn’t help herself. “What does THAT mean?” she demanded.

Lee shrugged. “I figure something’s messing with your mind. Otherwise you wouldn’t have such a warped opinion of how people like the math whiz view friendship. Anyway, see ya in class tomorrow.” Carrie found she could only gape as Lee waved and headed back out of the shop.

“Interesting character, that one,” Theresa remarked idly.

Carrie nodded slowly as her fingers snared a lock of her hair. She yanked it. Hard. “Theresa, what defines a friend?”

The waitress turned back and cocked her head to the side. “That’s an unusual question. I suppose answers will vary. Why do you ask?”

Carrie bit her lip. “I’m not sure,” she murmured. Had Julie ever truly been her friend? Conversely, over the last few weeks, had she actually been becoming friends with Frank? No… now she was grasping at straws. She hadn’t been friendly to him at all.

But still. The time with Frank - it hadn’t been like the rest of her social life, that was for sure. And who else was there now, if not Frank? I mean really, who else? “What time is it?”

“Coming up on 9:30,” Theresa said.

Carrie pulled her fingers free from her hair. “There’s still time before my curfew then,” she said softly. She turned to the waitress. “I’ll settle up my bill now.”

PART 15: WITH KALEIDOSCOPE EYES

Stretching to help shake off the lingering sensations of sleep, the young asian girl threw back her covers and retrieved her page-a-day Mensa calendar. Tearing off the next sheet, she scanned over the new puzzle, reflected on it briefly, then picked up a pencil and scribbled in an answer. After which she looked at the date itself.

“Saturday. The end of September,” Luci murmured aloud. She smiled. “Means I should be able to talk with Frank about the time machine today,” she concluded.

“Jewels, I’m starting to worry about you. Seriously.”

“I’m not crazy,” the brunette snapped. She paused to glance around the library foyer, to see if she had attracted the attention of anyone standing nearby, before lowering her voice. “Frank Dijora must have a time machine,” she insisted. “It fits the facts. But I can deal with this, as long as I kick things up another notch.”

“It’s not your conclusion, but the obsession which is worrying me,” Clarke clarified. “Is whatever Frank and Carrie are doing really so important?”

“But why, Jewels? What goal is this important to you?”

Julie set her jaw. “Come on, Phil,” she said, starting to walk away. “We need to figure out what we’re up against.”

Clarke followed after her. “Okay, okay,” he said, recognizing the signs that he’d pushed her as far as he could. For now. “Though how do we do that in the library?"

“Either Frank or Carrie – or both – will travel into the distant past in our near future, as evidenced by the fact that we found an ancient version of Carrie’s hairband,” Julie explained. She reached the stairs and started to descend. “Therefore, their activities may have been recorded in said past. If we can find irregularities in old newspaper headlines, their actions back then could provide a clue as to their future motives here.”

Clarke frowned. “What makes you think they’ve got motives in mind?"

“What makes you think they don’t? At the least, Carrie’s being evasive, implying their goals somehow clash with mine. I must obtain further information, or I cannot accurately predict what they’ll do next."

“And you’re sure they’re working together?”

[caption id=“attachment_390” align=“alignright” width=“167”] She paused…[/caption]

“In some capacity, obviously,” Julie said. She paused, waiting until a library patron had walked past them. “The real question is whether Carrie’s a willing participant or an ignorant pawn - perhaps Frank’s time machine comes equipped with a mind control device. Regardless, I cannot presently trust her. Fortunately, with my transmitter now in place," she concluded, fishing the small receiver device out of her pocket, “I’ll at least know where Carrie is at all times.”

“She’s here in the library,” Clarke said.

Julie looked closer at her receiver. “No, she seems to be at Frank’s house. I’ll have to ask about that later.”

“No, she’s here in the library,” Clarke insisted, placing a hand on Julie’s shoulder to halt her advance. “Pretty sure that’s her up there in the records area.”

Julie shifted her gaze to the room ahead of them. “You’re right!” she gasped. She grabbed Clarke’s hand, pulling them back into a row of nearby bookshelves before they were seen. “And was that Frank in there with her? How could they beat me here? And what’s Carrie’s hairband doing back at Frank’s house?!”

“There could be two of her again,” Clarke offered.

“Good point,” Julie acknowledged. “Perhaps I should call Frank’s place to–” She stopped speaking as the signal from the transmitter vanished off her screen. It was now totally blank, as she had previously deactivated the sixty year old device they’d obtained last Thursday.

“Hm. Low battery?”

“No,” Julie said, shaking the receiver. “Damn it, the thing’s brand new, how can it be… of course.” Julie smacked her palm against her forehead. “How stupid can I be? If Frank really has a time machine, he has access to the future. He must have learned about the tracking device.”

She let out a quiet curse. “No wonder they seem to be two steps ahead of me. They’re probably in the library now to destroy certain records before anybody can find them.”

“Jewels… stay calm…”

“Perhaps it’s even Frank’s future self who invented the time machine,” Julie reasoned, ignoring Clarke’s plea. “Leaving it back here in our present for himself. But, in changing his past, he may not yet realize how much he’s revealed to me. If I’m careful, I can still recover from this.”

“Jewels…”

Julie snapped her gaze over to Clarke. “Phil, do me a favour? Stay here and let me know what Carrie and Frank do? I have to go back home and adjust my timelines.”

“But don’t you think you’re working too hard already?” Clarke protested.

His words fell on deaf ears, as Julie had already spun on her heel and was heading back towards the stairs. He watched her retreating form with sadness in his eyes.

Luci drummed her fingers absently on the tabletop. Would Frank be in the library already? In order to avoid running into him there, how long should she stay at the cafe?

“Everything all right?” asked Theresa, interrupting the young teenager’s thoughts.

Luci blinked up at the waitress and smiled faintly. “Yes, the sandwiches are fine, thanks.”

Theresa nodded. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you then.”

Luci started to nod, but instead asked, “Don’t you get tired of talking to people, day in and day out?”

Theresa laughed lightly. “No, not really,” she admitted. “This job is an interesting study into human nature. For instance, many people have similar problems, yet I find each individual is unique in their own way.”

Luci tilted her head to the side. “Unique how?”

“It depends. For you, the first thing that leapt out at me is your eyes,” Theresa admitted. “They show such… intensity. And intelligence. Plus it’s like they’re both green and blue at same time. Quite a remarkable effect, really.”

“I’ve been told that’s genetic,” Luci acknowledged. “Though with me being adopted, I don’t know for sure.”

Theresa nodded. “A first for me, anyway. Of course, maybe I’ll eventually become jaded and cynical… but when I stop seeing customers as individuals, it might be time to move on to another line of work.” She smiled. “Speaking of which, I’d better get back to it. Let me know when you’re ready for the bill.”

This time Luci nodded, and Theresa moved off. The waitress was an observer, Luci reflected - a trait the young girl could readily identify with.

“You know Frank, I’ve been thinking,” Carrie remarked as she plunked down another large book full of old news accounts. “Why can’t we go into the future to figure out what the outcome of all your time experiments will be? After all, we’re looking for records of what happened in 1955 to help Beth. We should be able to apply that same principle to ourselves.”

“The time machine only travels into the past,” Frank reminded her, without even looking up from his own book.

He wondered idly what it was Carrie had against silence. At least she wasn’t grumbling about the 1950s outfit any more, as they’d dropped by her house for a change of clothes before coming to the library.

“Correction, it travels to whatever time period you have coins for,” Carrie rebuffed. “We should be able to travel as far forward as December 31st of this year.”

Frank did look up at that. “True,” he conceded. “But, okay, say I go a month into the future to do as you say. That means there is now no need for me to do any testing. It invokes a time paradox, whereby I’ll have the results without ever doing the experiments.”

Carrie shrugged. “Having the results doesn’t mean you can’t perform the experiments. In fact, we’d be prepared for the outcomes, and at the same time, we could put the information we’ll have got to better use.”

Naturally, her tone implied that ‘better use’ meant dealing with her missing mother.

“Carrie, knowing beforehand might mean we do something which nullifies an experiment, or results in there being a completely different set of results,” Frank protested. “We can’t trust data for tests we haven’t seen.”

“Sure we can, your future’s unchangeable, right?”

“Data obtained that way could still be faulty.”

“You have no sense of adventure,” Carrie argued.

“You have no sense of responsibility,” Frank fired back.

“You have no sense of fun!”

“You have no sense of paradox!”

“You… shut up!” Carrie said, giving Frank’s shoulder a shove. He fell off his library stool. “You have no sense of balance,” she declared triumphantly.

Frank closed his eyes and counted to five. “Is there some reason you always have to get your way?” he asked.

“I don’t always have to get my… um…”

Frank reopened his eyes and looked back up at her. She was frowning, her lips drawn in. Could it be she was actually reflecting on her actions? He stood back up, deciding to press the advantage.

“Look, Carrie, this time travel stuff is more complicated than you’re making it out to be,” Frank said. “Take the apple for instance.”

“What apple?” she grumbled back.

“Last Sunday, you caused an apple to appear and disappear at my house. You dropped it off early in the day, then picked it up later in the day, only to travel back and drop it off. I honestly haven’t been able to figure out where it came from. I tried duplicating the experiment this past week, and well… I couldn’t. So, can you identify where the apple originated?”

Carrie’s forehead creased. “What are you going on about? I’d been thinking about having an apple, and you had one. If it wasn’t yours… well, I don’t know. It must have come from somewhere.”

“It didn’t,” Frank insisted. “That’s my whole point. It originated and vanished with you. A temporal paradox. In a similar vein, your information passing with respect to your trip to the day of the fire alarm bears scrutiny. How did you learn of my theories? Because of your future self. But how did your future self know? Because they heard it when they were your past self. So where did the information truly originate?”

“Frank, stop, you’re going to give me a headache.”

He leaned against the table in the library’s records room. “I’m trying to show you how complicated time travel can be. Honestly, you need to consider your actions more carefully. It’s almost like you have some… some personal affinity for these causal loops.”

Carrie pressed a hand to her temples. “Fine, good for me then,” she sighed. Her gaze fell back down to the book before her. “Though, hey, wait a minute… can we apply one of these paradox loops to our research here? I mean, we don’t need to look up all this stuff on 1955 when I mostly remember what I’ll already say! Right?”

Frank’s eyebrow twitched. “Carrie, you missed my point. We want to AVOID these situations, not create more of them. Besides, I’M the one who has to convince Beth of the situation. And unless I see proof with my own eyes, I’m not going to be convinced, let alone be able to convince her.”

“But since I remember most of what you said to her, I could write out… hey, wait, here’s a paradox for you,” Carrie said, brightening. “What if we were to decide NOT to go back to 1955. Never becoming our future selves. What would THAT do?”

A pained expression crossed Frank’s face. Getting Carrie to think about time paradox might not have been so smart after all.

“I don’t even want to start thinking about that,” he concluded. “We are going back, Carrie, and we are learning this stuff through research. Keep checking the newspapers. Please?”

“Oh, fine,” Carrie sighed. “Though I wish the library would digitize this stuff already. At the very least, next time around I should make sure to mention to my past self where I found the references to Peabody’s trial. I mean, honestly, shouldn’t two angels being involved have drawn a little extra attention?”

Frank winced. “Actually,” he began tentatively. “Now that you’ve brought that up, I, er, have been a little worried about us being portrayed in that manner too.”

“Uh-oh,” said Carrie suspiciously. “Is this going to turn into a quasi-religious debate? Because I’m not sure I want to go there…”

Luci entered the library a little later that day and made her way downstairs towards the section where old records were kept. At long last, things seemed to be coming together nicely, both in her own mind, as well as in what was going on around her. She hoped the trend would continue.

“Yo, short stuff,” came a voice interrupting her thoughts. “What brings you by the book nook?”

Luci turned to see a classmate from school, the one who always had somewhat unruly hair. He was stacking books nearby. “Hello Lee,” she responded. “Actually, I was wondering whether Frank was around.”

Lee scratched his head. “He was here earlier on in my shift. Him and the track tease. They may’ve left by now though. If I spot the math whiz again, should I mention you’re on the prowl for him?”

“No, I’d rather you didn’t.”

[caption id=“attachment_468” align=“alignright” width=“300”] ”…think I rounded too much on the circle questions."[/caption]

“Okee-dokee, no problemo,” Lee affirmed with a grin. “Hey, speaking of math, how’d you do on that last test? Only pulled off a 73 myself, think I rounded too much on the circle questions.”

“81,” Luci countered. Which had been the mark she’d been aiming for, by making those few mistakes. Not that she was about to admit that to anyone.

“Whoa, good show! Spend much time studying?”

“Enough,” she answered. “Look, Lee, I’d rather not talk now.”

“Oh, okay,” Lee said. “I’ve gotta get back to shelving these self-help books anyway… hey, maybe I can make up a big sign for ‘em that reads ‘Help Yourself!’. What do you think?”

Luci smiled. “Whatever makes you happy, Lee.”

“Nah, more like whatever makes the librarians happy,” Lee mused, shrugging at Luci before turning away.

The young girl merely shook her head slightly before continuing towards the rear of the library. Hoping that the record books Frank had been using had not yet been re-shelved.

“Carrie and Frank were in the library for at least three hours,” Clarke reported. “Based on what they left out on the table, they were researching this area in the mid to late 1950s.”

“The ’50s?” Julie said in surprise. “That far back? What could possibly be of interest to them from that time period?”

Clarke shrugged. “No way to know. The town itself was barely a town back then. I think it originally sprung up from being a convenient place for a railway station or something."

“Huh. Well, maybe Frank was looking for a good time period to leave my transmitter; he didn’t count on my still being able to find it. Anything else to report?” Julie pressed. Clarke shook his head. “Then you could have told me this over the phone," Julie concluded. “Why come here? Are you about to get on my case again about how I’m pushing myself too hard?”

“Apparently I don’t have to," Clarke indicated. “Honestly, would it be so bad to declare a break for the rest of the afternoon? We could go to the cafe and share a hot chocolate.”

“I can’t afford any downtime now,” Julie said brusquely. Perhaps seeing his expression, her voice softened. “Though… maybe once the worst of this is over, I’ll take you up on the offer.”

“And when is the worst of this over?”

“Less than two months, by my modified schedule.”

Clarke sighed. He considered pressing the point that Julie should relax, but he knew Julie, knew her moods, and knew that continuing this argument would only serve to push her away. Moreover, this might be a good opportunity to press another point.

“All right,” Clarke relented. “But if you’re about to go to work on some big plans taking up the entire month of October… can’t you at least tell me why?”

“Because,” Julie simply replied. Clarke stood quietly, waiting for more. Julie opened her mouth again, perhaps to give another typically evasive retort, but then her lips closed. She turned away.

“Phil,” she continued at last, “Have you ever had anyone tell you that you were worthless? Insignificant? Someone who could never amount to anything in this world?”

“No,” Clarke responded, quite taken aback.

“Good. Count yourself lucky,” Julie stated sharply. With that, she strode out of the sitting room, not even looking back as she concluded, “Jeeves can show you out.”

The brunette quickly retreated back down to her ‘play room’, collapsing into the lone chair she kept there. She was annoyed with herself. Why had she said that to Phil? Was she weakening under his constant barrage of questioning?

Julie shook her head. No - she hadn’t revealed anything, and now he would get off her back for a while. Which was what she wanted. Right?

Julie shivered. For one alarming moment, she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. Her gaze turned to the wall that had the map of the school on it.

“Damn them. Damn them all,” she whispered. “I’ll have my way, I will…” Her gaze shifted to the lower drawer of one of her filing cabinets. “You’ll see. Both of you, you’ll see, damn you,” she finished. Her hands balled into fists.

Less than a minute later, Julie sat up. Quickly wiping her cheeks dry, she began shuffling back through some of the papers that had been holding her attention less than an hour ago.

Luci walked up the driveway of Frank’s house feeling equal measures of confidence and anxiety. The anxiety annoyed her; Frank’s house wasn’t currently being watched, Frank was (probably) home, and Carrie was (probably) not around. There was no logical reason to be nervous.

Unless you factored in how this was liable to be more than a random study session… with someone two years her senior. Shaking her head in annoyance at her own inner turmoil, Luci rang the doorbell.

Frank’s father answered the door. Luci elected to wait by the doorway as he went to call upstairs for his son. When Frank appeared, he looked a little tired - no surprise - and maybe even a little worried. Though his expression cleared when he saw her.

“Luci,” Frank said in greeting. “Er, what brings you by here? Were we supposed to talk math?”

“No Frank,” Luci said. She checked to make sure neither of his parents were within hearing range before continuing. “I’m here to discuss the time machine with you.”

PART 11: PHIL DOUBT

It seemed like her plans were taking a more severe turn in their Grade 11 school year. His first hint of the shifting tides had been after learning more precisely how Julie had planned on getting Frank into trouble during chemistry class, nearly a week ago now.

Ever since that plan had failed, Julie had been obsessing over both Carrie’s connections with Frank, and Carrie’s whereabouts in general. Even going so far as to monitor Frank’s house last weekend. Clarke wasn’t entirely sure why this was happening, or what role he might find himself in as circumstances played themselves out, but he suspected not a lot of good would come of it in the long run.

“Want to talk about it?”

Clarke looked up at Theresa. The redheaded waitress had a habit of acting as a sounding board for the cafe’s customers when business was slow. And while he had spoken with the twenty-something woman on occasion, it had been about family, or school issues. “Not today, thanks.”

Theresa nodded, leaving the receipt at his table. “No rush, whenever you’re ready.” She moved off.

Clarke was left fingering the piece of paper. Luci’s words from outside Frank’s house last Sunday came to mind then: ‘Julie’s just using you. You should never feel obligated to do things for her.’

Clarke smiled and shook his head. Luci could be pretty blunt. She reminded Clarke a little of his older sister that way. Of course, Luci was a lot younger - even younger than him, being the youngest person in Grade 11 by a factor of two years. Still, there were some parallels… enough for Clarke to begin wondering whether Mary would have a similar reaction to his current “relationship” with Julie.

After all, he’d never gone into detail about him and Julie during his sister’s occasional trips back home. Mary had her own life now, off in third year University. She didn’t even know Julie, or any of the people in town. She had already graduated high school by the time their family moved here, a little over two years ago. Just in time to get Clarke into the local public high school before classes started.

Actually, Clarke realized, this was verging on the longest amount of time he’d ever spent in one place; it was nice that dad had finally found stable work.

[caption id=“attachment_431” align=“alignright” width=“206”] Clarke finished off his hot chocolate…[/caption]

Clarke finished off his hot chocolate. He decided Mary might not approve of how things were, but she would understand. There was something about Julie. Some part of her Clarke couldn’t turn his back on. Julie needed someone who could look beyond her actions, at who she really was. Someone who could keep her from going too far off the deep end.

Carrie Waterson, despite being Julie’s best friend, couldn’t do that. Not given the blonde girl’s more superficial way of looking at people.

Granted, Clarke knew he knew he was no deep thinker either, but he felt like the only one wondering as to Julie’s inner motivations. Something she remained very tight-lipped about - along with her past. But this too, Clarke understood… one’s childhood might not be filled with the happiest of moments.

“Where are you going?”

“Goin' out.”

Mary paused before crouching down next to him. And despite the four year difference in their ages, the two blond siblings had always enough of a rapport that he didn’t try to simply push past her. “You’re carrying a lot of stuff with you,” she pointed out. “Planning on being gone for a long time?”

Phil Clarke looked away, unable to meet his sister’s gaze. “Don’t know.”

Mary moved to where she could look him in the eye again. “Well, the moving vans are coming tomorrow. You’ll be back in time for the big trip, right?”

Phil simply shrugged and shifted his gaze to the ground.

Mary let out a gentle sigh. “Phil, running away is not the answer,” she said definitively.

“Who says I’m runnin' away?” he fired back defensively, at last turning back towards Mary’s face.

“I do. Because you’re acting very similarly to the way I did when I was your age,” his sister replied matter-of-factly.

After a moment, Phil looked down at the floor, scuffing his shoes. “Well… well, I don’t wanna leave! I was just startin' to make friends. Just gettin' used to livin' here. I don’t wanna move again! It’s not fair.”

“No,” Mary admitted, rising back to her full height and adjusting the straps of her dress. “No, it’s not fair. But you’ll still be able to write letters. And just think of the new town we’re going to! There will be all new sights, you’ll make new friends…”

“You sound like Mom,” Phil interjected bitterly.

Mary blinked in surprise before making a rather annoyed face. “Oh, hell. I do, don’t I. And that claptrap never worked on me either.”

She pursed her lips. “All right, here’s the honest truth then. Phil, life sucks. With no one hiring Dad on a permanent basis, he has to keep moving around to wherever he can get work. But - and this is important, so listen up - through all of the changes, you’ve got a family who loves you. We all care about you very much and would be very sad if we lost you. So you have to be strong. You can be strong, right?”

“Dunno,” Phil said sullenly, still looking at the floor.

Mary reached out to tilt her brother’s chin back up. “I think you can be. And Mom, Dad, me - we’re all going to be around to help each other through this.” She smiled. “Besides, if you run off, who am I going to have around to torment?”

Phil hmphed. “‘S your problem,” he retorted, albeit in a more mollified tone.

“True. How about this, if you put your things away and help me pack up the rest of the boxes, I won’t bug you all next week, okay?”

Phil paused to consider that. “Two weeks,” he insisted.

Mary laughed. “You drive a hard bargain. All right, two weeks. But no running off anymore, okay?”

“‘K,” Phil agreed.

“Now, hurry up and get your things back to where they’re supposed to be before mom finds out,” Mary said, aiming a kick in his direction. Phil hurried back up to his bedroom.

“Oh, Philip? You had a phone call.”

Clarke paused in the process of hanging his jacket up in the closet. Maybe he shouldn’t have spent quite so much time at the cafe. “Who from?”

“Julie,” his mother answered, emerging from the kitchen. “She said she had something to show you, if you were available.”

If she’d only called the house, she probably didn’t think it was important. All the more reason he should know. Clarke quickly shrugged his jacket back on. “Gotcha. I’ll be at her place.”

“You shouldn’t be at her beck and call," Mrs. Clarke protested. “That’s not how a relationship works.”

“Mom, we’re not dating. And I’m going of my own free will,” Clarke insisted. “Nothing wrong with helping people out, is there?”

His mother held up her hands. “No, no, I was just saying, that’s all. But remember, it’s Thursday, a school night. And dinner will be in about an hour, around when your father gets home. Will you be back by then?”

“I’ll call if not,” Clarke assured.

“Please do,” his mother said with a smile. “Sometimes I worry."

Clarke turned and headed back out of the house, reflecting briefly on what his mother had said. He wasn’t really at anyone’s beck and call, was he? I mean, it’s not like he jumped whenever someone snapped their fingers. He made sure to still take care of himself.

It was simply that doing something nice for someone beat out the alternatives. He knew that from experience too.

“Phil?” The voice was accompanied by a gentle knock at the door. “Are you busy?”

“Yes,” Phil shouted back. “Go away.”

“Too bad, I’m coming in.” The door opened gradually, then Mary’s head peered around the corner. She was immediately pinged between the eyes by a nerf ball.

“You spoiled my shot,” Phil accused.

Mary spared a brief glance in the direction of the basketball hoop set up on the back of Phil’s bedroom door. More than a couple inches away from her. “Oh, I think you knew exactly where that shot was headed,” she accused. “Why are you still playing with that thing anyway?”

“It’s something to do,” Phil stated, throwing himself back on his bed. “You barge in here for a reason?”

“Yes. Mom said you got into trouble at your middle school today.”

Phil turned so that he was facing away from the door. “So what if I did?”

He heard Mary lean against the doorframe. “We’ve been living in the area for less than a month now and this is the third time that’s happened. It’s not like you, Phil. You’re usually a pretty outgoing person. When we get to a new place, you tend to make new friends pretty easily. But recently you’ve been spending a lot of time alone. What’s wrong?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“It matters.”

The two words were spoken so suddenly and with such intensity that Phil felt momentarily taken aback. As he turned to face his sister again he wondered again where she had obtained her authoritative attitude from; certainly a quality their parents didn’t have in abundance.

After a pause, Phil finally shrugged, grabbing a pillow to hold onto. “Ah, this school I’ve ended up in has this ‘alliance’ is all,” he grumbled, sitting up. “A group of kids who don’t like me and keep causing me problems.”

“Really,” Mary replied slowly.

Phil nodded. “Can’t go to teachers or anyone cuz then the kids’ll just try to give it to me worse,” Phil explained. “And other kids are starting to shun me cuz they don’t want to get on the bad side of the alliance. I can’t even seem to get on the GOOD side of these alliance guys cuz they won’t tell me what their problem is with me. This is just a real screwed up school, Mary. I hope dad moves again soon.”

“You know, you’re probably not helping your own case,” his sister pointed out. “This habit you’ve picked up of telling everyone to call you by your last name isn’t the best way to form lasting friendships.”

Phil shrugged. “We always leave towns before any ‘lasting friendships’ form anyway,” he groused. “Besides, it’s more than that here. If you ask me, everyone at this school is just a jerk.”

“Stop that,” Mary demanded, striding into the room and leaning against Phil’s bed.

[caption id=“attachment_432” align=“alignright” width=“227”] “Stop that,” Mary demanded.[/caption]

“Stop what?” Phil asked, blinking up at her in surprise.

“Putting people down,” Mary stated. “The Phil I grew up with didn’t do that. He was someone who always managed to discover a little good in everything and everybody, and while he didn’t have the chance to make many lifelong friends, he never made enemies. In fact, the way he could consistently leave a favourable impression on people was a very enviable quality. So I don’t want to see that Phil get replaced by someone who constantly whines and bitches about how terrible things are. News flash, bro… you keep that up and it’s going to turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy!”

“You don’t understand,” Phil objected. “These alliance guys won’t accept me! There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Never say never,” Mary countered. She pushed herself back up. “Come on now, I’m sure there’s something we can come up with if we put our heads together. For example, one person in this alliance is probably the ringleader. Any idea who?”

“Nope,” said Phil sullenly. “What, should I find out who it is and beat ‘em up sometime?”

“No,” Mary replied. “Because that’s not your style. But I’ll tell you one thing you could try doing with this person.”

“Grocery shopping?”

“No,” Clarke refuted. “Passing by on my way to Julie’s.”

“Ah. I see,” Frank replied uncertainly.

Clarke had bumped into his classmate while passing in front of one of the local minimarkets, prompting Frank’s inquiry. “Er, speaking of Julie,” Frank continued, “I’ve noticed that she’s been looking quite preoccupied with something this past week.”

“She’s not acting so different now from how she usually does,” Clarke countered.

“Yeeeeees, perhaps,” Frank admitted hesitantly, confirming for Clarke that Frank was among the people who never thought too much about Julie until things got personal.

“Except, well… Clarke, you probably know Julie better than anyone else,” Frank continued. “So it occurred to me the other day that, should I run into you, I should take the opportunity to inquire about her. Okay, no, I mean about whether there’s anything in particular that is going on right now with her. In the form of, say, unexpected interests. That is, things interesting her more than normal, which could be anything in general, or even more specifically something that could somehow relate to a person, such as someone who is, er, say, me.”

Clarke stared at Frank for a long moment. Despite being a school genius, the guy wasn’t so good at casual inquiries. Clarke got the gist of what he was saying though.

“Whatever Julie’s activities are, they’re not for me to say right now,” Clarke insisted. Deflection was usually his best bet. Julie couldn’t get upset with him that way.

“Ah. Yes, well… maybe I wasn’t being very clear there,” Frank apologized. “Basically, I meant that there’s no reason for Julie to concern herself with me. Okay?”

“If you say so,” Clarke remarked impassively. In fact, he really didn’t see the need for any concern when it came to Frank himself. It was more his ties with Carrie that Julie was obsessing over.

“Right,” Frank said a bit uncomfortably. “Well then. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Probably,” Clarke concluded. Frank moved off in the direction of his place, while Clarke continued on to Julie’s.

At this point, Clarke hoped that whatever Julie was planning, whether it related to Frank or not, it wouldn’t cloud her judgment too much. It was never good when Julie - or anyone, for that matter - stopped listening to reason.

“Word has it you’ve been asking for a little one-on-one chat.”

Phil turned. Lance was standing there now, an unpleasant expression on his face. He had to be the one. Phil nervously cleared his throat. “Maybe I have,” he admitted.

“‘Maybe I have’,” Lance mimicked mockingly. “Don’t play dumb with me, Clarke. You told Harry you wanted to talk to the guy behind our little alliance, so here I am. Now, surely you don’t have any complaints with how I’m running things, do you?”

Phil cleared his throat again. “Actually, I… I just wanted to ask… would you like me to give you some basketball pointers?” he said, all in a rush.

Lance blinked. “Huh?” he replied, caught off guard.

“Basketball. Both of us are on the team and you’re a really great player,” Phil continued, slowly gaining confidence. “But sometimes you telegraph when you’re going to–”

“Are you trying to be FUNNY?” Lance cut in, reaching out to shove Phil by the shoulders.

Phil stumbled. “F-Funny?” he repeated in confusion.

Lance shoved again and Phil went down onto the pavement. “I’m not laughing!” Lance said.

Phil blinked up at his aggressor. “I only wanted to see if there was some agreement we could reach… some way we could help each other out,” he stated, forcing down any urge to retaliate. As Mary had advised him, physical violence would solve nothing here. It wasn’t his area of strength.

“Yeah? You’ve helped enough already,” Lance fired back. He bent down next to Phil’s prone form, jabbing out a finger. “Now listen up, wise guy. Everyone at this school knows that I was the star of the basketball team until you showed up. Waltzing in here, signing up for the team tryouts on the last day, constantly upstaging me in practice… just who the hell do you think you are?”

Phil blinked up quietly at Lance. “Someone who wants to be your friend?”

Lance stared in amazement. “Are you freakin’ nuts?”

“No, listen,” Phil pressed on. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of understanding. I meant what I said about giving you basketball tips. To keep you from telegraphing your shots. I bet we could even become an unbeatable pair if we tried. Plus, should my dad move again, as he probably will, I’m gone and you end up better off from the deal because of the stuff you’ve learned. I mean, if you’d prefer, I could try to help you in science… but it’s not my strongest subject.”

Lance stood, sizing Phil up. “You truly believe everything you’re saying, don’t you,” he marvelled at last.

“Yes,” Phil answered simply.

There was another brief pause. “Saying that took guts, Clarke,” Lance conceded. “I like guts. Perhaps you even make a bit of sense.” Lance rubbed his chin. “Okay. I’m not about to get buddy-buddy with you, but how about this. You seriously help me out on the court and STOP showing me up… and maybe I’ll see about cutting you a bit more slack around here.”

“Sounds good,” Phil agreed with a smile. “I never meant to show you up anyway.” He scrambled to his feet again, then offered his hand to Lance. Lance eyed it warily, before finally reaching out to grasp it and shake. He then shook his head.

“Again, no saying we’re friends,” Lance cautioned. “In fact, let me offer up some words of free advice. Pay more attention. Be careful who you cross in the future. Not everyone with the power to pull strings around you is likely to be as… forgiving as me.”

“Gotcha,” Phil assured, admittedly a bit confused as to what Lance was getting at.

‘After all, using Mary’s advice, I can’t go wrong!’ Phil thought to himself. ‘I just need to be myself and work at helping people out. If I do that, who in the future could possibly create trouble for me?’

“Miss LaMille requests you join her downstairs,” Jeeves stated archly. “She is currently in her… ‘play room’.”

Clarke nodded to the LaMille family butler and left the waiting area to go and find Julie. The mansion she lived in was actually not quite as large as it appeared from outside; some of the size was illusionary owing to its location and the comparison made with nearby houses. It had originally been designed and built by an eccentric inventor who’d lived in the town some years ago, though he’d disappeared shortly after the LaMilles had bought the property.

Of course, the place was still large enough to get turned around in if you weren’t careful, or you didn’t know your route. Fortunately, Clarke was quite familiar with the route to Julie’s favourite room by now.

“Ah, Phil,” Julie said as Clarke joined her.

The brunette shut the drawer of the filing cabinet next to her. One of three in the room. She walked past the maps of both the school and the town which she had pinned up on the wall, then leaned onto the table housing numerous little trinkets and electronic gadgets, firing a grin in Clarke’s direction.

“Glad you could make it after all,” she said. “You’ll never guess what I’ve managed to get my hands on to help me deal with Carrie!”