Page 13

Dingy floors—clean but worn—pressed against my feet as I walked; the cart I pushed squeaked. Cheese, salad, some dressings… Everything I needed went into the cart, and the people who passed me by gave me lingering but mistrustful stares.

I checked my outfit: jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe it was the streak in my hair? I couldn’t help that. I’d had it since I was born, just a random patch that I grew out and styled up. I rather liked it, but maybe it was too much for the little town? Maybe I could wear a hat?

My shirt wasn’t offensive either, just a “reada betta book” faux fraternity shirt that I got from the literary department fundraiser at school.

Even the dude at the checkout avoided my gaze when I approached, scanning solemnly.

“So, new to the area. Anything fun to do?” I tried to pry, but the guy only shrugged.

“We used to have a bowling alley. Closed down.” His mumble nearly escaped my hearing.

“Well, for all us non time travelers?” He didn’t laugh at my joke.

“There’s parties at the riverfront sometimes. Bunch of drunk teenagers and creeps, mostly. I’m not invited often, so I’m not really likely to know the details.” He shrugged again as he scanned my food and stared at my banana pepper jar with scorn.

“Anything that doesn’t involve alcohol?”

He shook his head. “Maybe if you go to Banksdale. That’s where we go to have fun. They got a mall with a Dippin’ Dots in it. A theater…”

“Ahhh,” I huffed.

“Where are you from?”

“Up north. I came here for work.” I watched my grocery total rise.

“Whatcha do?”

“Librarian.” I said it and gave him a long look as he frowned.

“The high school?”

“Nope. Meadowquest.”

“That in Banksdale or Aston?” He frowned, and I once again explained where I worked as he scrunched his nose.

“I didn’t know there was anything over there. Just an old lot where we used to sneak off to smoke we—cigarettes.” He cleared his throat.

Awkward silence spread as he scanned the last item.

“Thanks. I mean it.” I smiled as my total popped up, and paid with a card swipe and a sigh.

“Have a nice day. Thank you for shopping smarter at S-mart.” His monotone farewell almost depressed me.

I decided that maybe I should go to Banksdale come morning… It was clear that Briarton wasn’t it.

Chapter Seven

Zeke

I probably had a speech I was supposed to read for the boy, welcoming him to the world as a young archivist gifted with magic of the written word.

Lord knew Isa hadn’t told him much of anything. That was for other people. She didn’t do wet-behind-the-ears archivists, seeing as she wasn’t one herself.

Each archivist had the ability to enter the world of a book. That was basic, able to interact with the world, but not change the plot. Beyond that lay a secondary gift, what made an archivist valuable.

Mine was Sumna Scriba, a gift deemed so dangerous that before I had been imprisoned, they merely killed us off. I supposed I had that to be thankful for. My history as an enslaved person had ensured I was obedient enough to let live. I had potential.

Whatever I wrote came true. I could change the course of history. I could write billions into existence.