I don’t have time for this. I’m not sure what Noah’s deal is, but I need to get moving again if I have a chance at making it in time. Whatever Rose and Noah were doing today that he’s not telling me about, that’s their business. She told me she was done with me, after all.
“Well, I hope you find her,” I say, turning away from him to continue toward the school.
Noah lets out an irritated grunt, but doesn’t push it any further. When I glance back, he’s walking in the opposite direction, toward town.
I try to put Rose out of my head and focus on the task at hand, but my mind churns with each step I take, echoing with a chorus of insistent voices.
Noah: She wasn’t there.
Why would Rose not be home when she said she would be? I’ve only known her for a week, but already I’m sure she’s not the type to blow off plans with someone she cares about. She may have completely written me off, but I know she thinks Noah pisses rainbows.
Stan: I was too late.
Have I already missed the fire? He knew that by the time I got to this point, I’d know we’re the same person. He knew I’d try anyway, even knowing he failed. He wanted me to know he didn’t make it in time. That’s why I’m hurrying now. But is that what I’m supposed to be doing? Or am I making the same wrong choices, all over again?
Rose: There’s meaning in everything.
That’s why I’m still in this armpit of a town, dragging my bruised ribs one agonizing step at a time toward a fire I have no chance of stopping, isn’t it, Rose? Because despite everything, you’ve gotten under my skin with your infuriating insistence that this all has to mean something. Even if all the evidence so far points to the contrary.
Rose: These next twenty-four hours are a big question mark.
Except they’re not. I know what happens. I’ve always known what happens, Rose. Fire, death, sadness. Wandering aimlessly for the next four decades. Rinse, repeat, second verse, same as the first. You’re the one who wouldn’t accept it, but I always have.
Noah: She wasn’t there.
See, not even perfect Rose is reliable all the time. Tonight is your stepmom’s debate, and where are you? Nowhere to be found.
Rose: You can still do things differently.
I can’t, though. I tried for a week to make the very best decisions I could, believe in things I don’t even believe, and still found myself in a well-worn Stan-shaped rut. There’s no getting out of it. I was stupid to ever think there was.
Stan: I was too late.
So what am I even doing right now? Dragging myself toward a burning building to save two people I barely know from a death they can’t avoid? I know I won’t get there in time. Stan told me I won’t. And even if I do, I have no guarantee that saving them will get me back home. That was always your thing, Rose, not mine. And even you bailed on me in the end, and apparently you’ve bailed on Noah, too, so why am I still working off your stupid theory?
Rose: So the question is, what are you going to do now?
Is there anything even left for me to do, Rose? I already tried everything I could think of. I believed in you, and you abandoned me. And then you abandoned Noah, which isn’t like you. Where are you?
Where are you, Rose?
Stan: Did you see the news? About the body. In the river.
Alyssa: Do you think it was someone he knew?
Rose: We need to figure out why you’re here.
I stop in my tracks, my breath hitching in my throat. “Oh shit.”
Not here—1985.
There’s meaning in everything.
Here, on the bridge.
I didn’t just show up in 1985. I showed up in 1985 on the bridge.
With Rose.
There’s meaning in everything.
What are you going to do now?
I spin around, my voice bursting through the stillness of the evening. “Noah, wait!”
Chapter Seventy
ROSE
Lisa tossed her a little wave as she climbed into the passenger side of Charlene’s car. Rose smiled, waving back. She dropped her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes for a moment as she listened to the engine of Charlene’s car rumble awake. When she opened them, the car was shrinking as it wound away from her, back down the Derrins’ long driveway.
Rose turned her own key in the ignition, listening to the Escort reluctantly cough to life. She felt a million pounds lighter after talking to Lisa. It had been hard, and their eyes were both puffy from crying, but she finally felt like she had her sister back. She hoped Lisa felt the same way.
The clock on the dashboard told her it was 5:52. She’d be a couple of minutes late meeting Noah at her house, but they’d still make it to the school well before 6:30.
She wondered what Justin was doing. Had he really given up, or would he still try to save them?
She supposed she’d find out soon enough.
Rose steered the car down the long drive and onto the road back toward town as the engine hiccupped and stuttered. Her dad was right; it did sound like the irregularities were getting a little more frequent. It was a good thing he’d made an appointment with the mechanic.
Her mind turned to the night ahead, running over her plan yet again. After all the scheming and speculating she had done with Justin, it almost felt too simple. She and Noah would meet at her house first. Then they’d drive over to the school to intercept Bill and Veronica, who—if Justin’s story turned out to be true—would be running late for the debate because they’d stopped by Bill’s office.
Justin said the fire started around six thirty. So as long as they got there before then, they could stop the guidance counselor and his wife from going inside and make it back to the debate before the first question was asked. It would be like nothing ever happened.
Unless of course Veronica was at the debate already and Justin’s story was completely wrong. That’s what Noah was sure would happen. They’d go to the school, and no one would be there. Then they’d walk into the debate and Veronica would already be by Diane’s side, and everything would be fine. The school wouldn’t catch fire. No one would die or travel through time. Because Justin wasn’t from the future; he was just crazy.
Part of Rose hoped he was right. That would certainly be the easier path.
But she couldn’t shake her sense that Justin had been telling the truth all along. He was annoying and stubborn and immensely frustrating, but he wasn’t a liar. Something in her was sure of it.
She’d told him that she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. That she didn’t care what happened to him.
She guessed that was kind of true.
But that didn’t mean she’d ever stopped believing him.
The car sputtered again as Rose turned toward the water, with the lights of Wilson Bridge just visible through the trees. A second later, the steering wheel began to shake, followed by the rest of the car.
Rose straightened in her seat, her fingers gripping the steering wheel as her dashboard clock blinked an uneven 6:04, taunting her with just how little time she had left. “Please no, please not now, please, please, please,” she chanted over and over as the car bucked and shook like it was experiencing convulsions.
In response, the car coughed one last time, belching up a black cloud of smoke before it died. Rose kept the accelerator pressed to the floor, leaning forward as though she might be able to make it the rest of the way fueled by sheer willpower. She stayed that way until the Escort rolled to a stop.