A World Without You by Beth Revis Read Free Book Online

courses and studying for the SATs while selecting extracurriculars that will look good on applications. But I have no idea what to do
after
all this work pays off. I don’t have a major picked out, much less a college. I only hope that everything I’m doing means I get to get out of here. I don’t care where. I just want to
go
.
    â€œI don’t know,” I say.
    Mom bites her lip, her face falling like she has to tell me my puppy died or something. “But sweetie, you’re going to have to decide soon.”
    â€œI don’t
know
,” I say, much harsher than I intended. “I have time.”
    â€œWell, if you need to talk it out, or help with applications or anything, you know you can ask me or your father.”
    â€œOkay,” I say noncommittally.
    Mom strokes my hair. “I really am so proud of you,” she says. “You’re so self-reliant. I never have to worry about you.” There’s a slight emphasis on the last word.
    When we enter Quincy Market, Mom comes up with the perfect idea for lunch: We each have to eat at least three different things from three different places. I kick it off with a pizza bagel, and she grabs Starbucks, which I say is lame since weboth know she was going to get Starbucks anyway. I get a scone from a bakeshop, and she picks up some fudge at the coffee place next to it. For the main course, I call dibs on the mac-and-cheese stand, ordering a large bowl of gooey goodness.
    â€œOh, come
on
,” she says as I dig my spoon into the bowl. “I’m going to order some too.”
    â€œYou said three different things,” I say, “from three different places.” I lick my spoon.
    Mom sticks her tongue out, but she’s grinning as she leads me over to a pushcart and orders some roasted nuts.
    â€œNot as good as mac and cheese,” I say mockingly.
    Mom scowls at me, but she laughs as she pulls me toward the ice cream shop.
    â€œNo more, I’m stuffed!” I say in false protest.
    â€œYou need to learn how to play the game,” Mom says. “Order light so there’s room for dessert.”
    I try not to get anything, but Mom orders me a cookies-and-cream cone anyway. I really am full, but it’s kind of nice to know she remembers my favorite flavor.
    â€œThat’s gross, by the way,” I tell her as she licks a blueberry-flavored scoop of ice cream.
    â€œI will never understand how a child of mine could not like berries.”
    â€œI like strawberries.”
    â€œThey don’t count.”
    After a while, we finally head home. The backseat of the car is loaded with bags—Mom went a little crazy at the candle store—and we’re both full of ice cream and happiness. I start telling her all the things I always mean to tell her but somehow never do, like how I’m worried I won’t be friends with Jennyand Rosemarie after high school because Rosemarie wants to stay here and I want to travel and Jenny is probably going to get a marine biology degree and move to California.
    It’s not like Mom gives me any life-changing advice on the ride home or anything. She mostly just listens. I may be the self-reliant kid in the family, but it’s nice to pretend for at least one car ride that I don’t have to be.
    It’s not until we’re almost home that I realize: This is what life would be like all the time without Bo. I grow silent and stare out the window as Mom turns onto our street, my thoughts lingering on what the cost of such a life would be.

CHAPTER 7
    I spend most of the weekend camped out in my room, examining the timestream for a way to save Sofía. To travel, I have to select moments along a string of time and pull myself into that time. To reach Sofía, I need to wrap my finger around the end of her red string—but that thread disappears into the vortex that covers Pear Island in 1692. I can see part of her string, but not the end, not where she