Time's Daughter (7 page)

For a moment I felt bad that I was falsely accusing
the drunk of hitting the cameraman. But it would have been far
worse than a graze if I hadn’t gone all supernatural-girl.

He turned and shuffled back to the camera. “Phew,
it’s still fine.”

I didn’t share his relief.

What would the camera show?
Could it somehow
continue recording when everything else was frozen in time? Maybe I
should have done more than turn it off.

The videographer resumed his job without another
word. I collapsed against the wall, folding my arms across my
chest. Then I watched the slumped figure in the car while silently
waiting for the police.

To say I wasn’t frightened would have been a lie.
I’d been terrified since I’d spotted the headlights headed for us
but taking action had taken precedence over my fears. Now that it
was over, I was struggling to control my emotions.

Not only had I saved man’s life and nearly been hit
myself, I’d also learned that the first time wasn’t a fluke.

I could stop time.

It also meant one other thing—my mystery parent was
no mystery.

He was a god.

Not just a god in the sense of him being divinely
handsome—he was literally a Greek deity. Chronos, or his alter ego
Aeon, was likened to Father Time. I had met him in a dream months
earlier but hadn’t believed it to be anything more than that until
now.

I resisted the urge to tug at my hair.
This was
insanity.
There was no way my mom had met up with a Greek god
seventeen years ago. It was impossible because the gods weren’t
tangible. They were matters of faith. Faith couldn’t impregnate a
beautician, unless of course it was to bring forth a prophet. I was
no
prophet.

In my dream, Chronos had said nothing about sins or
leading mankind to a brighter future. He’d gruffly introduced
himself, told me something bad was about to happen in Junction
Hill, that I’d need part of my heritage to stop it and then he’d
disappeared into thin air. It had been such a disjointed visit that
it was no wonder I’d assumed it was a dream.

Flashing lights and a siren heralded the arrival of
the ambulance. The EMTs checked the driver out first because he
looked to be in the worst shape. He’d apparently passed out at the
wheel rather than keeled over dead. The medical team had to force
the guy to sit by the ambulance to keep him from trying to flee the
scene. Several minutes later a police officer arrived.

It was eleven by the time I walked through the
apartment door.

My mother grabbed hold of my arm, yanking me further
into the room and nearly screamed. “
Where
have you
been?”

With the door standing wide open, the cameraman had
a front row seat to her fury.

She was already worried so I left out key details.
“There was an accident on the way home from work. I witnessed it so
I had to stay and give a statement to the police.”

Her hand was over her heart, matching the worry that
had filled her features. “You had me scared half to death.”

“
I’d have called you but I don’t
have a phone,” I said.

Everyone else I knew had a cellular phone. My
bitterness had gone unvoiced for a long time but I hadn’t been able
to stop myself this time. A mobile phone would have come in handy
tonight.

She frowned at me. “You’re okay?”

“
Yeah.”

I was
physically
okay but I’d never be the
same. Now I knew without a doubt that I truly was a freak.

The glance she sent at the door implied she’d
remembered we were being recorded. She let go of my arm with a long
sigh. “I’m glad you’re okay. What happened?”

“
It was just some drunk guy who ran
into a building.” I shrugged. “No one was really hurt but they
could have been.”

“
Damn drunk drivers,” she said in
disgust.

“
He was arrested and I think they
were going to take his license so you won’t have to worry about
that one.” I released a loud yawn. “I’m exhausted. I need some
sleep.”

“
Okay, hon.” She was still frowning
when she stepped forward and kissed my forehead. “Sleep
well.”

I waved limply, cast a last glance at the cameraman
and then disappeared into my bedroom. The front door closed moments
later. She quieted after a five-minute visit to the restroom.

In bed minutes later my eyes refused to close. Each
time they did I saw the frozen scene on Eagle Drive.

It was difficult to decide what was scarier,
averting a fatal accident by using supernatural abilities I hadn’t
been aware I had or if I’d done nothing at all. I was no closer to
an answer when my alarm went off at six.

CHAPTER FIVE

There were
two fruit bars with my name on them on the counter. Well, not
literally. I tore open the foil covering on one and stuffed half in
my mouth only to have the phone ring. With a grumble I chewed
quickly and swallowed without enjoying the bite so I could answer
the grating noise.

“
Hello?”

“
Aeon?” An unfamiliar male voice
spoke through the handset. “This is Mark Green.”

The director of the documentary
. My stomach
flipped sickly. I was glad I hadn’t eaten more of the fruit bar. I
forced myself to answer. “Hi.”

“
Listen, can we get together after
school?”

They’d reviewed the tapes
. Something out of
the ordinary had appeared. They were going to have me locked
up.

“
Okay.”

“
I’ll be in the lunchroom after
eighth period,” he said. “See you then.”

I hung up the phone without saying goodbye and
stared at the plastic phone in my hand. What was I going to say?
How would I explain the freeze in time?

It was a glitch in the film. But wait…the cameras
were all digital now. I’d make-up something about bad memory. Did
they even take memory?

I slumped forward.

My mom stepped in the room. “Who was that?” Her yawn
had garbled the words but I understood her nonetheless.

“
The director,” I said in a hollow
voice.

Whatever grogginess she’d possessed moments ago was
instantly gone. “What did he want?”

“
He wants to meet me after
school.”

Her frame stiffened. Worry quickly strained her
features. “Did he say why?”

Now I was even
more
worried. “No. I’ll find
out later, I guess.”

My mom stared at me silently for five seconds. It
was clear she was concerned about something but I doubted it was
the same thing that plagued me. Money had been the reason she’d
forced me to try out for the documentary in the first place. The
salary they were going to pay me was going toward paying medical
bills. We needed that money.

Her voice was tight when she finally responded.
“Well, good luck.”

“
Thanks.”

I followed her to the door, fruit bars in hand but
stopped in the hallway in front of my videographer. His camera was
lowered to his chest. We each spoke at the same time.

“
Are you…still okay?”

“
Did you…” He chuckled. “Just a
little scrape on my nose but otherwise no worse for
wear.”

I breathed a sigh of relief but stood awkwardly. A
moment later I pushed off the door. “I’m gonna be late,” I said
without stopping.

We returned to our usual videographer and subject
roles. Somehow that was a more comfortable position to be in. I
didn’t try to understand why that was.

The walk through the student parking lot across the
street from Junction Hill High didn’t merit me any dirty looks this
morning. In the hallway in front of chemistry Ashley was still
bitter but had taken to silence rather than insults. We were nearly
back to normal with days to go before the director’s first week was
up. Maybe the six months wouldn’t be as awful as I’d thought.

I expected that the new kid would at least
acknowledge my existence in history as he had done each day for the
past two. But he didn’t so much as look up from his textbook when I
passed. I assumed he was behind on reading.

At lunch Alex didn’t join me at the tree outside.
Once again I decided he was probably busy playing catch-up. But
part of me wondered if these excuses were just my hope it wasn’t
something worse. Someone had probably explained to him that I was
beneath his notice.

What little hope I’d had flitted away when Alex
refused to meet my eye in the photography studio. I was glad I’d
refused his invitation to an after school photo shoot downtown. But
there wasn’t enough “glad” to cover the hurt. I scolded myself for
caring at all.

As soon as Mrs. Lozano was finished with
announcements and reminders, I grabbed my negatives and headed into
the safety of the dark room where the cameraman couldn’t follow. I
slumped against the dividing wall between enlargers until one of
the other students joined me. The work wasn’t enough to keep my
thoughts occupied.

Alex had shown interest in me, hadn’t he
? Had
I read too much into his friendliness? Was it only temporary
camaraderie because we were both in the documentary?
Why
couldn’t I stop thinking about it?

My fingernails dug into my palms as I waited for my
print to develop. In an effort to take control of my wayward mind I
forced myself to come up with silent poems about photography while
making two more prints. My companion in the darkroom left after
she’d finished two of her own. I couldn’t force myself back into
the real world. There were recording devices there.

A strange noise caught my attention moments later. I
glanced toward the front of the room but could only see darkness
near the door. Then the darkness moved forward in the shape of a
man. I scrambled toward the lightless rooms at the back but the
shape pursued me until I could go no further.

“
What are you
?”

I recognized the demanding deep voice as Alex’s.
That knowledge didn’t make me any more comfortable about the fact
that he stood inches away, towering menacingly over me.

“
Wha-aat?” The word came out in two
syllables as my pitch lifted in alarm and confusion.

He grabbed my biceps, shoving me back against the
wall. I made a sound of surprise but was too startled to do
anything else.

“
You aren’t
normal
.
What
are you?”

In the dim red light I could somehow make out his
narrowed eyes with ease and the grim set of his lips. He looked
truly fierce. For once I wished the cameraman had followed me into
the darkroom.

“
I don’t know what you mean,” I
stammered stupidly.

He loosened his fingers and took a step back. “We’ll
find out what you are whether you tell us or not.” The frigid tone
made him just as menacing despite the space now between us.

Though I was frightened I still managed to stammer
out a question. “Us?”

He whirled away with a blurring motion. His dark
shape stalked to the door. The noise I’d heard earlier was
duplicated a second before he disappeared into the round
contraption that served as the door.

I stared after in mute shock.

He was right. I
wasn’t
normal.

Questions crowded my head.

How did he know? And what did he mean by “us”? Had
the director told others about what they’d seen on the videos? Did
everyone on the documentary know I was an even bigger freak than
they first thought?

What was I supposed to do now?

I was torn between fear of another confrontation
with Alex in the classroom and the fear of being alone in the dark
room where he could easily get to me. In the end I returned to the
light and sat quietly at my usual seat.

Alex was nowhere to be seen.

* * * *

The bell’s ringing and a
change of scenery didn’t help. I couldn’t concentrate on drawing.
My still life was nearly ruined before I recognized I’d messed up
more than I’d improved. I made myself stop working on
it.

I thanked Stan for his music CD before heading down
the hallway to my final class of the day. Soon enough I would find
out what the director had seen on the footage but first I had to
get through another class with Alex.

Lingering in the locker room killed enough time that
I was spared the embarrassment of being picked last for the teams.
Thankfully I was assigned to the team opposite the new kid. More
than once I caught him eying me suspiciously but he didn’t come
near and he certainly didn’t greet me.

Whatever friendship we’d had for a few days was
officially over. But why?

The whistle was blown, signifying the end of class.
I stayed behind and helped pick up the mesh shirts. I was the last
off the field. The locker room was empty by the time I walked in.
Though the final bell of the day had already rung I wasn’t in a
hurry to leave.

My assigned cameraman awaited me impatiently at the
door. On my way to the lunchroom he nearly tripped over me twice
because of my unusually slow pace. After readjusting his speed, he
kept his distance. But when we reached the lunchroom for my meeting
with the director he disappeared seemingly into thin air. I felt
alone and extra scared now without him.

Mark Green read today’s newspaper at a table by
himself. He had a large moleskin notebook in front of him that he
opened as I neared. A smile spread across his thin lips. I couldn’t
tell if it was faked or not.

He gestured a tanned hand to the seat across from
him without losing the smile. “Have a seat, Aeon.”

I sat stiffly in front of him but kept my backpack
on so I could leave at a moment’s notice. It wouldn’t take long for
him to tell me I was a freak and I was fired, would it?