“I meant all of it. I am so sorry. I wish I could take it all back.”
“Well, you can’t,” Lisa said, her voice sharp.
“I know.” She ducked down, trying to get Lisa to look at her, but she still avoided her gaze. “I know that telling me was really hard for you. And scary. And different from anything I’ve ever told you. And I’m really sorry for acting like it wasn’t.”
Lisa’s eyes flickered up. “I trusted you with a really big and vulnerable part of myself. And you made it about you.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I mean, god, Rose, do you have any idea how scared I was to tell anyone? How scared I still am? I feel like I’m drowning. Every minute of every day, I’m worried that someone might find out. I read these . . . these stories . . .” Tears were beginning to trickle down Lisa’s face, dripping from her chin down to the porch below. “People are dying, Rose. Every day. People like me, and they don’t even have anyone, because the people they cared about stopped caring about them the second they found out who they were. And I just keep wondering, is that going to be me? Am I doomed to be alone?”
“You won’t,” Rose said, feeling tears pool in her own eyes. “I promise.”
“You can’t know that.” Lisa sniffed. “I mean, Mom’s campaign—”
“Diane loves you more than her campaign,” Rose said without hesitation. “You know that.”
“She loves me, but if she lost because of me, she’d always resent me for it.”
“That’s not true.”
Lisa shrugged, spreading her hands helplessly. “No way to know for sure, though, right? I mean, I thought you’d be safe, and look how that turned out.”
“Lisa.” Rose grabbed her sister’s hand and looked into her glistening eyes. Tears spilled freely down Rose’s cheeks. “I messed up, and I am so, so sorry about that, and I’m sorry that your memory of that conversation will always include me being awful. All I can say is that I’m going to try my best to do better. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I love you. You’re my sister. You are one of the most important people in the whole world to me. And I swear, I will never, ever let you be alone.”
“Well,” Lisa choked through sobs, “maybe in the bathroom.”
Rose let out a surprised laugh that came out like a bark. “Deal.” She took a deep breath, squeezing Lisa’s hand. “Can we start over? Please? Can you tell me again, and this time I’ll react like your sister and not a monster?”
Lisa nodded. “I’m still kinda mad at you, though,” she said, sniffing. “I forgive you, but I can’t forget what you said. You really hurt me.”
Rose swallowed hard, nodding. She deserved that. “I hope eventually I can make up for that.”
“I hope so, too,” Lisa said, giving her the faintest hint of a smile. She sighed heavily, wiping her eyes. “You have time to come in and talk for a little bit?”
Rose checked her watch—plenty of time until she needed to meet Noah—and smiled. “I do.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
JUSTIN
If it were possible to feel worse about myself than I already do, I’d feel really lousy about stealing from Mrs. Hanley.
I help myself to the cash that she keeps in the cookie jar on the kitchen counter, leaving the coins behind. Just a little under fifty dollars, mostly in ones and fives, although there’s one twenty in there. It’ll likely be days before she notices it’s missing. By then I’ll be long gone.
I try to tell myself that if she knew my situation, she’d give it to me anyway.
It doesn’t make me feel better.
My plan is to go buy a bus ticket to Hawthorne, but I find myself taking a detour on the way to the bus station. My feet carry me to the community center, where the debate will be held tonight. I don’t plan to go in. I just want to see them one last time before I leave.
Bill. Veronica.
Rose.
I don’t see any of their cars yet, but I know they’re all bound to show up here eventually. Rose told me earlier that the plan was for everyone to come here after breakfast to help set up, then return home to prepare for the event. I grab a newspaper and a hot chocolate—because there’s no age limit on deliciousness—from a nearby diner, and settle in on a bench across the street to wait. Every few minutes, I raise my eyes and give the area a quick scan. Once I see them, I promise myself, I’ll go.
I’m working through the Entertainment section, reading an ad for Teen Wolf （“A Howling Success!”） when a shadow falls over me. I look up to see Deputy Kenny Gibson glaring down at me. “What are you doing here?”
What. The hell.
“Um, reading?” I say, holding up the paper.
He sits down beside me, propping a meaty arm across the back of the bench. If CrossFit existed in the ’80s, this guy would be their god. “Interesting reading spot. Great view of the community center. Sure you’re not waiting for someone?”
I shake my head, swallowing.
He narrows his eyes. “Not, perhaps, Rose Yin? Her mom’s debating here tonight.”
“Oh,” I say, my voice sounding hoarse. “Yeah, I think I heard about that.”
He shakes his head, his expression dark. “Listen, kid, I don’t know who you are, but I know you were told to leave that girl alone. So if I were you, I’d go read somewhere else. Got it?”
Not knowing what else to do, I nod, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. All I wanted to do was see them one last time. I wasn’t even going to say anything. And now I can’t even have that much.
He pats my shoulder so hard my teeth rattle, then gets to his feet. “I’ll be around all day. Don’t let me see you here again,” he says before heading into the community center, leaving me alone on the bench.
I want to scream, but instead I crumple the newspaper in my hands, my whole body trembling. Stupid Gibson. Stupid 1985. Stupid me, thinking I can do a single thing to make any of this more tolerable.
I get up from the bench and walk down the sidewalk, toward the bus station.
The ticket to Hawthorne is only a couple of bucks, but even with 1985’s low prices, fifty dollars plus the last of Stan’s Oreo money isn’t going to last me long. I need a plan. I try to think back, remember whether Stan gave me any hints for what I’m supposed to do next, but I come up empty-handed. If he ever told me what he did to support himself in the years after leaving Stone Lake, I wasn’t listening.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I don’t get on the first bus, or the second, telling myself I have plenty of time. I’m not in a rush. I’ve got my whole life to be Stan, and I’m not quite ready to leave Justin behind yet.
To pass the time, I scan the job listings in the newspaper. They’re all for Stone Lake, not Hawthorne, so they won’t do me any good, but I tell myself it’s helpful to know what sorts of opportunities are out there for a Dollar Tree–trained time traveler like me. Despite my lack of a high school diploma—in 1985 or otherwise—or any other credible documentation, it doesn’t seem like it should be too hard to find a minimum-wage job, provided their background checks aren’t very robust.