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103
I look between the square of paper and Roxane. “There must be a mistake,” I say.
“I’m certain there isn’t,” she snaps. Then, also like last time, she snatches the paper right out of my hand and makes me repeat what I read.
“You will be Tripping alone,” she tells me, confirming what I already guessed. “You have two hours.”
“That’s an hour less than before!” It comes out like a whine, but I don’t even care. I barely made it back to the portal the last time, and this Trip I can’t rely on Jago to pull me inside.
“You have the right to refuse,” Roxane says. “But if you do, that’s it for your life as a Blue.” Her gaze meets mine. We both know that’s not a choice I’m willing to make.
“How does this work?” I ask. “Going back to the same place and time?”
I mean, of course I studied the concept of past, present, and future all existing at once. Reducing the Yew Ball to a sort of echo of time that repeatedly sounds. But what happens when I run into the drunken lady whose jewels I stole?
Will she still have the diamond swan hair clip—and if so, does that mean the gift I left for Braxton to get to Mason somehow disappears?
Or does my small act of thievery during one visit result in the absence of the thing in the next?
It’s enough to make my head spin.
“The Yew Ball exists as a moment in time that you will revisit,” Roxane says. “I’m sure you’ve already covered that in class.”
Not wanting to antagonize her any more than I have, I just nod.
“That said, you cannot travel back to a time where you already exist, which is also known as crossing your own timeline—”
“Because the duality of existence results in nonexistence!” I gasp, suddenly recalling what my dad once quoted to me when he tried to explain how the universe is in a constant state of flux and change, and how because of that, nothing ever remains the same.
You cannot enter the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.
But why would my dad even think to say such a thing, much less quote Heraclitus to the nine-year-old version of me?
And why is it that ever since I arrived at Gray Wolf, long-dormant memories of my father, along with multiple references to that old Greek philosopher, keep popping up at every turn?
When I look to Roxane, I find her staring at me with great interest. “Because of that, we’ve scheduled you to arrive two hours earlier than last time. And, Natasha, whatever you do, do not miss the ride home. The best-case scenario would be you get stuck in 1745. The worst—” She shoots me a meaningful look, and we both know there’s no need to voice it.
The worst-case scenario would mean I risk nonexistence.
