Seventeen year old Laken may want to get revenge on the girls who have bullied her, but she also wants to help them. Honest. Secretly using the time machine in her father's science lab, she sends them one by one into the last century. Poof, problems solved.
Except they're not.
Now the disappearances are being linked to unmarked graves. Parents are lying about their missing kids' whereabouts. The police want to search the lab. And Laken is running out of time to retrieve the last girl she sent to 1994.
did we (two nervous, frantic girls) do with a dead body while a storm brewed
outside, the lights actually flickered, and the minutes ticked closer to the
moment when my car would drive up—with me driving? You would have thought we’d
discussed the subject before. Because in less than five minutes of rational,
scientific debate we settled on burying Megan, time machine style, in the hill
out back. It sounded cold and callous, but really it was the best thing for
made agitated chimpanzee howls when we dragged Megan down the hall, past his
cell. The steps were the worst. Her toes smacked every stair tread with a dull
thump. It was heart-breaking.
hope you’re reading this, Skylar. Or Emily. Or whatever you’re calling yourself
in your new reality. (I’m still going by Laken Mitchell, by the way.)
about leaving you in the past. I’m writing this down—a totally complete
explanation and apology—so you’ll understand. And so when, and if, we meet up
again in some future or past you’ll have already forgiven me.
I’m pretty sure we’ll never be best friends again where I am now. Never finish
high school together. Never have another sleep over where we dye my hair black
and bleach yours blond. Never giggle over you-know-who’s cute butt.
who did what I did—what we did—would eventually lose someone. Kill someone. Accidentally
… or not so accidentally. And sometimes you can see death on someone’s face.
There’s nothing you can do then except move on. Right? Right?
going to leave this diary at the pump house in hopes you’ll find it. That seems
to be the only place that didn’t change. I can only hope that maybe an earlier
version of you or me will find it, read it, and figure out a way to restore
things. After all, I seem to be getting smarter with every time jump. It’s the
hibernation that’s the killer.
I’ll just record everything in this journal the way I remember it. Here goes: