In a strange twist of fate, her father had confessed to the crime she had been framed for—a crime she might be destined to commit nineteen years from now. She was going to find a way to change that destiny. And get him back. Because she was in control now.
She was scared, alone, and strangely, also hopeful.
*
After making the list, Adeline wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. Her mother didn’t have a class that day. She had no job, but she did need a new place to stay.
A half-hour spent on Craigslist turned up several good prospects. A few calls narrowed it down to a one-bedroom apartment sublet. It was located right off Sand Hill Road, close enough to walk to campus.
Adeline’s best guess was that the guy on the other end of the line had partied too hard and flunked out of school and now needed cash.
When she met him at the apartment, his bloodshot eyes lent credence to her suspicion.
“Look,” he said, holding his hands out, “I’m totally violating my lease here, so keep it on the down-low, okay?”
Adeline wanted to say, “No worries—I’m a time traveler from nineteen years in the future. I won’t tell a soul.”
Instead, she simply said, “Sure.”
“If anyone asks, just tell them…” His red, watery eyes drifted to the ceiling. He wasn’t a good liar. “Tell them… you’re my cousin. From out of town. House-sitting.”
“Totally.”
“Hey, just so I know, what happened to your place?”
Adeline stared at the floor. “I’m getting out of a bad relationship.”
It turned out she was a good liar. Or becoming one. She was becoming Daniele Danneros.
*
She spent the afternoon buying things for the apartment. The guy’s bedroom featured a mattress and box spring—on the floor, of course—and a lamp box that served as a side table （the lamp sat on top of the box）。
The living room wasn’t much better: just a futon and two beanbags. At least the guy had cleaned up the place. Sort of.
When she finished buying the essentials for the apartment, Adeline splurged and bought a bike. Every dollar she spent was one less she had to invest, but the bike would cut down on her travel time around town （and save cab fares）。
*
That night, she sat in the bedroom, scowling at the Netflix website. The user interface was atrocious. The selection was even worse. The vast majority of titles were only available via the mail. Who would want to wait for DVDs to come in the mail? And how could they even make a profit mailing stuff to your house—especially if you had to mail it back? It didn’t make any sense.
She wondered how they had ever made it.
She biked to Blockbuster and rented the first season of a TV show that was a staff pick. It was called 24, and Adeline figured if they had the guts to name the show just one number, it had to be pretty good. And it was. In fact, it was about a guy racing against the clock to save his life and the country. Adeline definitely identified with that. She kept popping the DVDs into her laptop until it was late into the night. It was 8 a.m. for Jack Bauer, but it was bedtime for her.
*
Adeline arrived at the lecture hall early the next morning and waited at the front. When her mother arrived, she looked sick and haggard.
“What’s wrong?” Adeline asked.
“Morning sickness.” Her mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if waiting for a wave of nausea to pass. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Don’t be.” Adeline reached out and put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. The feeling was indescribable. A moment she had imagined a million times since her mother had passed away.
Her mother seemed to read Adeline’s reaction. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Adeline said. She took her mother’s bag. “Here, I’ll get you set up for class.”
Her mother exhaled, took a seat on the stool, and focused on her breathing. Adeline opened the laptop, plugged in the VGA cord, and began placing the handouts on the desks.
When she returned to the front of the room, she reached into the bag and brought out the last remaining item: a Hershey’s chocolate bar.
Her mother held her hands out. “And I’m craving sweets. Busted. You know what that means?”
Adeline didn’t. Her mother smiled again. She seemed to be feeling better.
“It’s probably a girl. It’s an old wives’ tale: morning sickness and sweets means that you’re having a daughter.”
Her mother smiled then, gaze unfocused, as if thinking. Adeline wondered if she was imagining seeing her daughter go to prom. Or moving into her first college dorm. Or walking down the aisle on her wedding day.