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41
My gaze wanders the garden. Like a metaphor for Gray Wolf, it’s so easy to be distracted by the glittery bits, you overlook all the shadowy secrets hidden within.
“Eventually,” Braxton says, “you’ll learn to adjust your vision—stop looking back through the filtered lens of nostalgia and appreciate where you currently are.”
“Find a way to adapt.” I return my gaze to his.
“You would’ve learned all this soon enough. But I figured you deserve to know what you’re in for.”
“But why didn’t you just tell me the truth this morning when I asked? What changed?”
He inhales a deep breath. On the exhale he says, “Me. Hopefully I’m still capable of that.”
I don’t know if it’s the trail of wind that whispers around us or just being near this devastatingly beautiful boy, but as the moment stretches, I realize Braxton isn’t the enemy I first thought he was.
He’s merely looking to me for forgiveness, so that he might begin the long work of forgiving himself.
“Just to be clear,” I say, finally having mustered the courage to nail down the one truth I’ve sidestepped until now. “This is an academy for…” I swallow past the lump in my throat, force the words from my tongue. “Time travelers?”
There. It’s out. And there is no going back.
“I know it sounds inconceivable,” he says. “But that’s exactly what we do here. Of course, not everyone takes part. Being young is only part of the equation.”
“Why would age matter?”
“Adolescence is a relatively new social invention. And considering how life used to happen at an accelerated rate—married at fourteen, dead by forty—being young helps you blend in. But Tripping requires much more than that, and only a few have what it takes. That’s what the aptitude tests are for.”
“Tripping?”
“It’s what we call it when we travel through time.”
“I’m not sure I understand. I’m not sure I understand anything you just said.”
“Not to worry,” he says. “You will.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to explain?”
“Just know that everything here—the classes, the fancy clothes, the music, even the wine that’s served with dinner—it’s all designed to help you become accustomed to the way life used to be lived—long before the advent of drinking laws, cell phones, and Taylor Swift.”
“But why? I mean, what would it matter what music I listen to, or whether or not I drink wine with dinner?”
“Because time traveling comes with great risk.” Braxton barely speaks above a whisper. “Which is why it’s imperative to fit in as seamlessly as you can. You need to know how to handle yourself when you dance, drink, mingle, and blend with whatever time and place you find yourself in. Just try to keep that in mind when you’re asked to participate in some of the more archaic protocols around here.”
“Such as…” I lean toward him, but Braxton’s shaking his head.
“I think that’s enough for tonight. I’ve already shared more than I should.”
“Will there be repercussions?” I ask. “For bringing me here to this Moon Garden—maybe from Elodie?” I cringe as I say it, but when he meets my gaze, there’s not a trace of the usual dread that comes with trying to explain a murky relationship status. “And what did she mean when she said that bit about with any luck I’ll be here for a long time? I mean, didn’t you just say I can’t go home?”
Braxton’s face takes on a pained expression. The corners of his eyes pinch, his jaw clenches, his teeth grind. “Don’t listen to her,” he says.
“And…” There’s something left unsaid, and I’m determined to hear it, whatever it is.
“Just try not to get on her bad side.” He shrugs, clearly hoping to be done with it. But when he reaches for that gold signet ring and gives it a quick twist, I know there’s plenty more still left to uncover.
