Timepiece: An Hourglass Novel by Myra McEntire Read Free Book Online Page A

front of the theater. They must have been running a revival of some sort, because all of the posters advertised black-and-white films, with the exception of Gone with the Wind .
    “He loves you. He’s proud to have you as his son. His only son.”
    “Yeah.” He loved me. But he trusted Michael. Everyone did. The last thing I wanted to do was to get into that with Emerson.
    A faint breeze brought the smell of caramel corn and cider. It sent Em’s hair flying, and she tucked it behind her ears. “Also, about Lily—”
    “Oh no.” I shook my head. “You don’t get to yell at me now. Lily already took care of the shaming portion of the day. I won’t bother her again, swear.”
    Em laughed. “I’m not worried about you bothering her. If you do, you’re the one who’ll be in trouble.”
    I got a really strange feeling, and I looked around. We were in a crowd of people, but none of them were little kids in costume. The smells of the festival had disappeared and been replaced by the smell of popcorn.
    “The line for the theater is really long,” I said, mostly under my breath. “What’s so exciting …”
    “Everyone has on hats. Those are 1940s-style coats,” Em said slowly. “Hells bells.”
    We looked up at the giant marquis at the exact same time.
    G ONE WITH THE W IND
M IDDLE T ENNESSEE
P REMIERE T ONIGHT AT 7:45
A DMISSION $1.10
     
    “What do we do?” I asked, overwhelmed by the sheer number of bodies lined up on the sidewalk. Em and I were the only modern people in sight. “Where did our Ivy Springs go? What happened?”
    “Time slipped. Maybe you can help me pick it up?” Em extended her arm to touch a woman wearing red lipstick with hair in big, fat loops on top of her head. “And who decided to call a hairstyle a victory roll, anyway? Dumbest name ev—”
    She froze.
    Dread, the kind that makes your stomach bottom out.
    “What is it?” I asked.
    “They don’t see me.” Em waved her hands in front of the woman’s face, careful not to touch her. When the woman didn’t react, Em ran down the length of the movie line, stopping every few feet to try to catch the attention of one of the patrons.
    I followed, almost knocking her over when she stopped short.
    Em was shaking her head. “Why don’t they see me?”
    “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”
    “Rips. I’ve had conversations with them. They notice me, and I notice them. These rips don’t see me.” She closed her eyes. “The rip at your house yesterday—the soldier I touched didn’t see me coming. The rip the night I went back to save Michael was the same way. I was in a house with a mom and her kids, a small house, but they didn’t see me.”
    “Hey,” I said, concerned with her whirl of fear and anxiety. “It’s okay.”
    “I actually think it’s a huge sign that it’s not okay at all.” Em reached out to touch the closest rip. As the scene dissolved, she sighed in relief. “We need to get out of here. And then Michael and I need to talk to your dad.”

Chapter 9
     
    F

ingertips tapped a staccato rhythm on my bedroom door. I took the ice pack off my ribs and shoved it under my pillow before marking my book with a wayward candy wrapper. I opened the door to my dad.
    “Ava is getting settled.” He reached out to ruffle my hair on his way in. A year ago, I would have ducked. Now I fought the urge to lean into his touch. “I’m glad you asked her to move in. Wish I’d thought of it.”
    “It’s not like she’ll ever come out of her room.” I noticed a beer bottle cap sticking out from under the edge of my dresser. I walked over, kicked the cap underneath it, and leaned against the edge.
    “Maybe not, but we’ll know she’s safe,” Dad said, frowning in the direction of the bottle cap.
    “As safe as anyone can be from Jack.” I twisted the drawstrings hanging from the hood of my sweatshirt. “Did you and Em and Mike come to any conclusions about the way the rips are