The dark place, p.20
The Dark Place, page 20
I examined the room, looking for any minute differences, but everything looked as it had before. I nodded, lying as quickly as I could. “Yeah, just wanted to see if I could borrow the car for a little while?”
She furrowed her brow, almost like she was about to say something, but she didn’t. “One hour. That’s it.”
I exhaled, grabbing her keys. “Thanks, Grandmommy.”
I turned, my braids flopping on my shoulders as Grandmommy called out to me. “And, Hylee! Please don’t forget to give your parents a call. They’ve been asking about you.”
My heart almost stopped. Parents. That means two. Daddy was alive. “Okay. I won’t,” I said, and I needed to figure out what else had changed. I pulled my shoes on quickly, tying them, and then ran upstairs to grab my phone. I needed to get to Eilam. Tell him what happened.
My hands shook as I turned the engine off and got out of the car. I rang the doorbell, shifting from side to side as I waited.
Behind the door was Audrey. Her black hair pulled out of her face. “Hi,” she said, smiling, and then she snapped around. “Julius, no! Don’t touch that!”
My shoulders relaxed at Julius giggling in the background, and I remembered that I’d promised him we’d play Smash.
Audrey turned back to look at me, apologizing, and before she could speak again, I said, “Is Eilam home?”
“Sorry, honey. He stayed over at a friend’s house last night. I can tell him you stopped by. What’s your name?”
My bottom lip trembled, and my knees grew weak. She didn’t know me. “Oh—um…” My shoulders dropped. “W-will you tell him that Hylee stopped by?”
“Of course,” she said, and she smiled again before she closed the door and wished me a good day.
The tears didn’t wait as I rushed back to the car. I opened my phone, searching for his name, but nothing. Searched for him in my friend list on social media, nothing.
And I pressed my palms into my eyes as the tears continued to roll down. I knew he was forever gone. We were simply caught up in this time thing, and I didn’t know if I’d ever get him back, if I’d ever get us back.
There was no reversing the damage I’d done.
Because I needed to know, I went back in time.
Dates I scribbled on my arm in black ink. Dates I couldn’t forget.
Here’s what I discovered:
The day before my seventeenth birthday, I time traveled. To where? I’ll never know. But it still happened in front of Lucia. She was in so much disbelief, she went looking for my parents, and moments later, they found me on the front porch, just as confused as I was.
In January, I was sent to live with Grandmommy because just like before, my parents were afraid for me, and they didn’t know what to do.
On the first day of school, I met Sarah. She still welcomed me with open arms and smothered me with her wit and fancy clothes.
I’d never made it to Kesha’s party. Why? Because Lucia and I got in a fight while we were getting ready, and she left without me. Her cousins picked her up, and I had to assume—because I still didn’t know—I had to assume that it was the last time I’d see her for a long time.
And without that party, there was no Eilam.
Six months passed. I thought about Bubba a lot, and because of that, there were a lot of tears between sketches. It seemed my drawings had always been more honest than I’d ever been, and the more I drew, the more I wanted to turn that honesty into action. But I found that my family had healed differently in this timeline now that they had definitive closure. It was still horrible and painful, but at least Bubba’s disappearance wasn’t a wound festering inside all of us, eating us alive from the inside out. In this new timeline, he died the night of the break-in, and while healing through that pain was horrible, we had one another.
In the spirit of my newfound honesty, I told Sarah everything I knew about time travel. I swear, it was like a weight had lifted. She was more excited than she was afraid. She had so many questions—most importantly, could we use my ability to travel the world instead of through time? She was serious about going to New York.
I wore a stupid grin. I didn’t know, but I wanted to try.
I finished junior year, and I spent the summer with my parents. They moved again; I helped them pack, and I sat them down to explain what was happening to me. I just needed to be honest. It wasn’t something they fully understood, and while I wanted to tell them about Atticus, it wasn’t my secret to tell.
But I did tell them that there were more people in the world like me. That I wasn’t the only one. That this was genetically passed down to me.
I practiced yoga during the summer, trying my best to understand what it was like to be one with my own body, to understand the importance of breath. I thought of Eilam a lot, hearing his voice inside me say Breathe as I held a pose.
It wasn’t perfect, and there were still days where I time traveled without meaning to, but those days came less and less often, and in August I moved back in with Grandmommy to start my senior year of high school at Lee’s Summit West.
On September 16, Asia invited me to go to Kesha’s party, an annual event.
Okay—pleaded. She pleaded, and I gave in.
I swallowed the lump in my throat as we approached the door. The same note was taped to it: PARTY IN BASEMENT.
I descended the staircase. The basement was still painted light blue, and little twinkling lights dangled from corner to corner. Boys held up the walls and the couch, and a few girls danced in the center of the room.
Asia whipped around to look at me, popping her gum. “Want a drink?”
I nodded, following her through the crowd and to the drinks table. A Red Bull was all I could manage for tonight, and Asia handed me her keys after that, stating that I’d be her and Imani’s designated driver.
After a while, the room began to fill with people. More bodies on the dance floor, the temperature rising. Asia and Imani joined the crowd, and I faded to the back, finding my own wall to hold up.
Then it happened. Eilam happened.
I spotted him in the center of the crowd. He was speaking to someone, but he stopped when he saw me.
We locked eyes, exchanging a look, and it was almost as if time slowed as he forced his way through the people.
I felt that same feeling again, but this time, I knew him. I knew him and I remembered it all. His crooked smile in the moonlight. The way he hugged me, lacing his arms around me. Our last kiss, the smell of coffee on his breath.
Then he was a foot away, looking at me with a knowing smile. “Hi,” he said.
I’d missed his voice.
Right then, I wanted to ask him everything. Wanted to know if he’d found the note I’d left him, and if he remembered me like I remembered him.
“Hi,” I said, hopeful. My smile grew as the lights glistened in his eyes, and I felt my cheeks warm. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to miss any more moments with him.
He stood beside me, and for a second, I watched him watching the crowd. “Have you read Twelfth Night by Shakespeare?” he asked.
And I remembered my English class had gone over it last year, but most of it was a blur. Really only one thing had stuck that day. “Once,” I said.
He dug his hand into his back pocket, looked at me, and slid a piece of paper into my palm. “Have we met?” he said, and I opened the note. Reading it reminded me of what his grandfather had said once, how destiny was a powerful thing.
Journeys end in lovers meeting.
There are so many people I have to thank. First, I’d like to thank my husband. Thanks for loving me, supporting my art, and always venturing to the dark place with me to help me find my way out.
I’d also like to thank my family; without them, I don’t know who I’d be. Big thanks to my friends who’ve supported me. I appreciate you. To the Lit Squad for cheering me on every step of the way and being so gracious and full of humor and hope.
As always, a world of thanks to my amazing literary agent, Katelyn Detweiler. Your enthusiasm and love for my stories are unmatched, and I appreciate you tremendously. You’re the best advocate, the best business partner, and overall, just a sincerely amazing human. You’re also a very talented writer. To anyone reading this, please buy her books.
Thanks to everyone else at Jill Grinberg Literary Management who have championed me. I feel so lucky to have all of you.
All of the thanks and praise to Christine Collins, an amazing editor and delightful human. I couldn’t have done any of this without you. I appreciate you.
To the wonderful team at Hyperion, thank you for helping bring The Dark Place to the world.
Infinite thanks and gratitude to the managing editorial and copyediting team: Sara Liebling, Guy Cunningham, Sharon Krinsky, Monique Peterson, and Jody Corbett. Thanks to marketing: Matt Schweitzer, Holly Nagel, Danielle DiMartino, and Dina Sherman. Thanks to publicity: Ann Day and Crystal McCoy. Thanks to the design team for making this book so pretty to look at and easy to read: Joann Hill, Marci Senders, and Zareen Johnson. Thanks to Elena Masci for a truly beautiful and terrifying cover. Thanks to production: Marybeth Tregarthen and Anne Peters. Lastly, a big thanks to the sales team: Monique Diman, Jess Brigman, Michael Freeman, Vicki Korlishin, Mili Nguyen, and Kim Knueppel.
And of course, special thanks to the readers, librarians, book sellers, and anyone who has helped get my words to the readers who need them. I couldn’t do this without you.
BRITNEY S. LEWIS was born and raised in Kansas City, Kansas, where she fell in love with storytelling and the idea that magic moved and breathed in our world. After getting her bachelor of arts and science degree, she worked in the field of marketing and communications for a few years before accepting a position as an editor for greeting cards, where her job is to make sure to get the best words on paper. When she isn’t daydreaming about new stories, Britney can be found binge-watching TV shows with her husband and pup or practicing West Coast Swing in one of her local dance studios.
Britney S. Lewis, The Dark Place
