On Through the Never Read online

  Along the way, we’re the brunt of even more taunts from Purists; the closer we get to the terminal, the more hostile they become. Some throw trash at us. A few surge forward, yelling insults and acting like they want to intercept us. Other Purists hold them back. Despite the anger, they don’t want to break the law.

  It’s eerie how much this reminds me of the scene we just left in the past.

  This is not good.

  2

  ALORA

  FEBRUARY 10, 2147

  My new apartment at The Academy for Time Travel and Research isn’t what I expected. It’s not as large as my quarters back at the DTA’s Chicago facilities, and nowhere near as nice. I’d thought that my apartment here would be the same, but at least I don’t have to live there anymore. Anything is better than that place.

  I look around, taking in the almost barren space. The walls are white, and the tiled floor is the color of sand. There’s a tiny living area with a gray couch, a table along the right wall, and a TeleNet screen mounted over it.

  On the far side of the room, there are three doorways that I assume lead to the bedrooms. I glance back at the officer who has been my unofficial guardian/instructor/source-of-all-headaches, Lieutenant Ellen Rivera. “Which one is mine?”

  “The one on the left.” She pauses to read something on her DataLink, then says, “Tara Martinez will be your roommate. She was brought in a few days ago, and the report says she took the one on the right. The central bedroom will remain empty.” Before I can ask why, Rivera continues, “Cadet Martinez is on a time trip at the moment, but you’ll meet her later today.”

  I get a jittery feeling in my stomach. Lieutenant Rivera never said that I would have to share the apartment with anyone. What if my new roommate hates me? What if I hate her? More negative thoughts start to surface, but I take a breath and remind myself once again that the most important thing is that I’ve finally made it out of Chicago. My new roommate could be the spawn of Satan, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now.

  Squaring my shoulders, I cross the short distance to my door and enter what will be my bedroom for the next two or three years. It’s even smaller than the living area. There’s only enough room for a narrow bed and dresser set, and a small black desk with a chair. I don’t care, though, because it’s mine. In this apartment, I’ll never have to deal with Rivera. Tossing my portacase and coat on the desk, I sink onto the bed and let out a sigh—it’s surprisingly comfortable. Plus, living here means having a little more freedom that I did in Chicago. That’s a win.

  On the flight to New Denver, Lieutenant Rivera went on and on about how fortunate I am that the DTA was looking out for my best interests by allowing me to enroll at The Academy for Time Travel and Research now. How I should be grateful that they’ve been tutoring me in private for the last ten months, giving me the chance to adjust to being in civilized society. And how I should be honored that they took such good care of me—never mind that I was only allowed to see my mother twice a month.

  Right. And I’m a princess who was simply swept away by a misguided madman, rather than a girl who was abducted by her psychotic father. And to make it even better, said father abandoned me shortly after kidnapping me, so I grew up not even knowing I was a Talent.

  Just freaking great.

  “So, what do you think? Don’t you just love it?” Lieutenant Rivera asks. She’s now standing in the doorway to my quarters, her navy-and-red uniform a vivid contrast to the stark white room. She raises her eyebrows like she does when she’s sure I’ll just go along with whatever she wants, then smoothes her hands across her hair. I wonder why she even bothers doing that. Her dark brown hair is pulled back in a bun so severe it’s almost giving me a headache.

  “It’s nice. But I thought I was supposed to have my own quarters.”

  “Well, yes, the Academy does reserve a few suites for special requests.” My mouth drops open, but before I can ask what she means by that, she continues. “But in your case, Chancellor Tyson felt it would be better if you had a student mentor. Someone to help make your transition smoother.”

  I wonder if that’s the only reason. I mean, here I am. Surely there are more kids out there like me, kids who have to hide that they are Dual Talents.

  “This really is lovely. You are so lucky to have just one roommate.” Lieutenant Rivera grins and strides into the room, looking around like she’s in the midst of a luxurious suite instead of a glorified closet. “You know, I had to share my quarters with two roommates when I was here. It was just awful!” Her overly made-up face takes on an almost tragic expression, as if the memory is too terrible for her to tolerate.

  I stifle a snort. What’s really lucky is that I won’t have to listen to her anymore. Out of the three private instructors I had in Chicago, Rivera is my least favorite. She’s too perky, and she always talks to me like I’m a toddler. You’re doing great, Alora! I want you to shift one more time for me … you can do it! I mean, who can be like that all the time?

  The truth is, I’m terrified of sharing this apartment with a stranger. Sure, I’ve been by myself for the last ten months and I get lonely, but I’d rather stay this way than have to dodge a million questions from a roommate. Ever since I found out I was finally going to the Academy, I’ve been wondering how I’ll deal with constantly being around people I don’t know. And now I’m being forced to live with one of them. I wonder if she would rather have stayed with her former roommates. I mean, what if they were really good friends and now she has to look after me? I know I would hate having to be put in that position. What if she resents me already?

  A loud chime punctures the silence. Lieutenant Rivera checks her DataLink and says, “I have a call I need to take. I’ll be right back.” Then she steps back into the living area.

  I stand and walk over to the small window next to the bed. Since I’m on the fourth floor of Watson Hall, the residence for female cadets, I have a good view of the area. The Rocky Mountains look majestic in the distance, and a few cadets are standing around the large green space between the buildings, all dressed in black-and-gray uniforms. I glance down at my plain, light-blue jumpsuit. I’m so sick of wearing jumpsuits. Blue, green, and tan—that’s all I was given to wear in Chicago. You would think they would let me wear regular clothing, or at least a cadet uniform, but no. I can’t wait until I can finally wear normal clothes again.

  I just hope I’ll like it here at the Academy. I hope I can find a way to fit in.

  Since I was rescued last year, I’ve only been allowed to be around a few adults. I thought it was weird and unnecessary that the DTA insisted on keeping me isolated in Chicago, but they claimed that my unusual upbringing warranted limiting my exposure to the outside world so I could focus on learning everything that I’d missed while growing up in backwoods Purist country.

  Anyway, the only people in my life for the last ten months have been the adults assigned to teach me about what’s going on in the world, and the ones who helped me develop my ability to bend time and space. They were also the ones who taught me to conceal the fact that I’m a Dual Talent. Apparently, Dual Talents are super rare, which is why they took it upon themselves to teach me in the first place. I’m never supposed to talk to anyone about my abilities, except for professors who already know the truth about me. The DTA says that there are some people who might want to harm me because they fear my abilities. Even other countries that are trying to improve their time-bending organizations might want to capture me and study my powers. So yay—I’m not only a freak, but a freak who could be kidnapped again.

  Lucky, indeed.

  Sometimes I wish I could remember what my life was like before. The DTA said when I was recovered last year, I didn’t know much about the outside world. They said my childhood had been traumatic, since I’d been raised by an abusive woman in a tiny Purist-controlled town in Georgia.

  I can still remember little things. I lived in a large, really old house. I remember drawing, sitting
by a lazy river, and running through a wooded area. And I even remember what the woman looked like. She had curly, light-brown hair and a warm smile that you wouldn’t expect from such a sadistic person. But they erased everything else. They said I’d be better off without those memories. I’d be a blank slate, able to start fresh with a new life.

  So why does that feel so false?

  Lieutenant Rivera sweeps back in my room. “Alora, I know you’d like to settle in, but Chancellor Tyson has asked me to give you a quick tour of the Academy. Then we’re to meet him at his office.”

  I close my eyes. Is she kidding me? I thought she would be going right back to Chicago after she dropped me off. What I really want to do is see if my mom is going to visit me today. Despite the fact that we haven’t been given much opportunity to really get to know each other again, I look forward to her visits. And it’s been two weeks since I last saw her.

  “Oh, my poor girl, I know you’re tired, but this won’t take too long. I promise!” Lieutenant Rivera’s smile takes on a wicked glint, as if she knows how much I don’t want to go with her.

  An hour later, after dragging me all over the campus, Lieutenant Rivera takes me to the Academy’s main building. We use the rear entrance, but I can still hear the Purists who were protesting in front of the building when we arrived earlier today. The lieutenant says a group is always at the school, but they’re restricted to one area. There were some protestors back in Chicago, but I’m surprised at how many more there are here. Lieutenant Rivera told me they consider the Academy evil since they train young people to “tamper with the laws of nature.”

  Once we’re finished with a whirlwind tour of the medical offices, the museum, and the research facilities within the main building, Lieutenant Rivera finally leads me down a long hallway on the first floor, where we check in with a turquoise-blue-haired receptionist.

  Fixing us with a sour stare, the receptionist says, “Chancellor Tyson’s office hours were over at oh-five-hundred hours. That was twenty minutes ago, so he’s been waiting on you for quite a while. You need to see him immediately.”

  I wonder if the chancellor is as irritated with us as the receptionist seems to be.

  The black door behind the receptionist’s desk slides open to reveal a lavish office. It has rich burgundy carpet that cushions my feet, the walls are covered with paintings that I’m sure are worth a fortune, and it features an antique desk and chairs. Artifacts are nestled in clear display cases all around the room.

  A tall man wearing a black uniform with gold stripes down the sleeves stands behind the desk. Gray streaks his black hair, and only a few wrinkles crease his dark skin. He smiles and says, “Welcome to New Denver, Alora. I’m so pleased that you will be attending classes at The Academy for Time Travel and Research.”

  And suddenly I get this weird fluttery feeling in my stomach. I’m standing in front of a man I’ve seen dozens of times over DataNet feeds. He’s the head of the Academy and a very high-ranking official with the DTA. I’ve even seen him on the TeleNet at conferences with the North American Federation’s president. The power that comes with that kind of authority radiates off him like heat from a fire. “Thank you, sir,” I reply, forcing false happiness into my voice. “I’m glad to be here.”

  “Ah, I see that you still have a bit of that accent,” he says, reminding me of where I grew up. The Mind Redeemers can’t erase speech patterns, but I’ve been working hard to make it less noticeable.

  The chancellor walks around his desk and places his hand on my shoulder. I fight the instinct to flinch because he’s making me so nervous. “I hope your accommodations are to your liking. If there is anything you need, don’t be afraid to ask. I want your transition to be as smooth as possible. Do you have any questions?”

  I pause for a second. Sure, he asked if I have any questions, but I don’t want to seem so pushy, not when I’ve only just arrived. “Yes, sir. When will I be able to see my mom?”

  “We haven’t heard from her yet, but I’m sure she will be in contact soon.”

  I let out a small sigh before I can stop myself. “Oh, okay.”

  Chancellor Tyson pats my shoulder again. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she will be in touch sometime today. She does have her duties at work.” He exchanges a glance with Lieutenant Rivera and clasps his hands. “Now, since that’s settled, I thought I’d see firsthand what you’ve learned so far.”

  Alarmed, I glance at Lieutenant Rivera. Her eyes widen slightly, but she keeps that perfectly plastic smile glued on. “And what do you have in mind, sir?” she asks.

  “I have a little test for Miss Mason,” he replies.

  It’s weird hearing him refer to my last name as Mason. The DTA took my horrible memories, but I still know what my identity used to be. In my former life, I went by Walker, my father’s last name. Even though the government allowed the DTA to take physical custody of me, my mom had final say over what name I was going to go by, so now I have her last name.

  But then what he said hits me. He wants to test me. Right here, right now. I wasn’t prepared for that. My heart begins to race. My mind starts racing with memories of all the ridiculous things my tutors had me do back in Chicago: Shift to the kitchen to fetch a drink for them. Shift while cloaked to listen in on conversations. Shift back in time to follow officers around and spy on them. All things that I absolutely hated doing, but that they insisted I needed to know how to do.

  Well, I don’t want to have to do anything like that today. I’m exhausted, and I want to be anywhere but here. I think longingly of my new room, with the lovely view from the window.

  And suddenly I’m there.

  Oh. My. God. I’m not supposed to do that. I’ve been instructed again and again never to shift without prior approval. I break out in a cold sweat. I illegally shifted right in front of the head of the Academy.

  Kill me now.

  I take several deep breaths. Okay, I can do this. I can fix it. All I need to do is shift back to Chancellor Tyson’s office. I squeeze my eyes shut.

  And nothing.

  I look down at the sand-colored floor and remember what my instructors told me. It’s harder for Space Benders to use their gifts when they’re under stress. The trick is to focus on specific details of your intended destination. I close my eyes again and picture Chancellor Tyson’s office. The burgundy carpet and portrait-lined walls.

  And I’m there again. I let out a relieved sigh.

  Harsh voices fill the air. But when the chancellor and Rivera see me appear, they greet me with silence.

  Lieutenant Rivera is the first to speak. “Where did you go?”

  I try to swallow, but my mouth is too dry. “I … I just went to my quarters. I didn’t mean to do it. I swear!”

  I want to hide under a table or something, but I make myself look at Chancellor Tyson. Instead of looking furious, he seems somewhat amused.

  “I must say, you do know how to make a spectacular entrance.”

  That was not what I was expecting, so I offer a tentative smile. “I’m really sorry, sir. I’ve never done that before. I guess I’m overwhelmed. It’s been a long day.”

  Chancellor Tyson glances at Lieutenant Rivera, and she nods. “That is true,” she says. “And Alora has been an exceptional pupil so far. I really think she needs to avoid stress for a few days.”

  Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Maybe I can just go home with my mom for the weekend.”

  That’s the one thing I’ve wanted most since I was first taken to Chicago, but all the officials felt I needed to get a handle on my abilities before spending time outside of their facility. They said I needed to learn what was going on in the world and to get acquainted with modern technology before I’d be safe in an uncontrolled environment—even with my own mother. I thought for a while that she would fight them—that she would force them to let me go home with her at least some of the time—but she never did.

  Chancellor Tyson shakes his head. “I don’t thin
k that would be wise.”

  I’m stunned when Lieutenant Rivera responds, “Respectfully, Doran, I disagree. She’s in a high-risk, transitional period. It might be good to allow her time to bond with her mother before she starts classes. With all she has to do to catch up to the cadets her age, she’s not going to get many breaks.”

  After what seems like an eternity, Chancellor Tyson folds his arms across his chest. “I suppose it won’t hurt to let her go. But perhaps it would be a good idea to have her wear an Inhibitor.”

  Rivera smiles. “That won’t be a problem.”

  Unfortunately, I don’t agree. I had to wear an Inhibitor a lot in the first few months after I was rescued, and while it didn’t hurt me, it made me feel like a criminal.

  Before I can object, the chancellor’s office door opens and the receptionist enters, his face ashen.

  “What is it now?” Chancellor Tyson snaps.

  “I’m sorry, sir. We have a problem.”

  3

  BRIDGER

  FEBRUARY 10, 2147

  Once we’re aboard the hypersonic plane and we’ve turned in our comm-sets and Chronobands, everyone starts talking in frantic tones. Even the four professors are huddled together in the front.

  I look through the already crowded plane for Elijah. It’s easy to spot him—he’s the tallest, and most muscular, black cadet in our group. Elijah and his partner, Tara Martinez, are sitting close to each other, whispering. They’ve saved two spots for Zed and me, and as soon as we sit in the plush green seats, Elijah leans forward and asks, “Did the Purists seem like they wanted to attack you on the way back here?”

  “Yeah. It was almost like we were still at that protest in ’76, minus the hideous clothing,” Zed says. “What do you think happened?”

  Around us, a lot of the cadets are checking the DataNet feed, and several gasp. I activate my DataLink and do a quick scan through the holographic menu that hovers over it. Instantly I see what’s pissed off the Purists. The feds have passed the Responsible Citizen Act—a new law that basically punishes Purists for being “a drain on society.”