A World Without You by Beth Revis

Sofía’s just the opposite. She likes silent places and shadows and watching from the sidelines. She
doesn’t
want me—or anyone, really—to notice her . . . so of course I notice her even more.
    The memory blinks out of my mind in a flash. Seeing her like that, for the first time, reminded my heart of all the reasons why I fell in love with her in the first place. A weird, painful lump rises in my throat, and I swallow it down. I have to control my emotions, or I’ll lose control of the timestream.
    It looks like one more good tug will pull the end of Sofía’s string from 1692. I’m not sure what this is doing to her in the past—does she feel me manipulating time around her in an effort to bring her home? But it’s the only thing I can think to do.
    I reach out and pluck at the red string again, already bracing for the memory that will overtake me.
    Gwen bounces with excitement. “It’s almost time!” she cries, pulling Sofía behind her as she leads us all outside. Dr. Franklin looks almost excited as her. We’re heading to the beach well past lights-out, but he got special permission for us to view a NASA rocket shooting off from somewhere in Virginia but visible all the way up here. Gwen’s not a sciencenerd, but she’s obsessed with firepower, and she begged for the chance to watch the rocket fly by on its way to space.
    The night is beyond freezing. I’m wearing my puffy coat and a hoodie and two shirts under that, and it’s
still
cold.
    Beside me, I notice Sofía shivering, so I pull off my hoodie and offer it to her. This was before we were, you know, a thing or whatever, but she accepts the hoodie and pulls it over her head, the sleeves dangling off her wrists. The whole thing is comically large on her, and she flaps the arms around herself.
    â€œThanks,” she says, still twisting so the sleeves of the hoodie thwack her back.
    And I don’t know what to say because I’m an idiot, so I just sort of stand there and grin.
    â€œT-minus five minutes!” Gwen shouts, glancing at her cell phone. She and Dr. Franklin stand excitedly on the beach. Harold’s chattering to one of his ghosts, and Ryan’s playing on his cell phone, not really caring.
    Sofía and I step back from the group. Not far enough to draw attention, but enough so that we feel like we’re a little bit alone.
    â€œThanks,” she says again.
    â€œNo problem,” I say, zipping up my coat.
    â€œNo, I mean . . . for being nice,” she says. “Not just now, but just . . . in general.”
    She looks up at me, and I’m so flustered that I don’t know what to say or do. As I stare at her, her pupils go transparent. That was the first time I noticed it, but I noticed it every time after. Sofía’s eyes always went invisible before anything else. It wasn’t like her pupils suddenly disappeared and showed herbrains or whatever, it was like they became this sort of laser-focused, pinpointed reflection of the world.
    And because behind her is the ocean and the sky, that’s what fills her eyes.
    I just keep staring, and her eyes sparkle with it all—all the stars, and then all the stars again, reflected in the waves. The transparency spreads into her irises. Moonlight dances on her eyelashes.
    I grab her hand.
    â€œDon’t go,” I say.
    So she blinks, and the stars are gone, and she is back.
    A crackle of lightning bursts behind me, and I turn to see Gwen sparking up, the strands of her hair electrified, little licks of flame sizzling on her skin.
    â€œTone it down a notch,” Ryan complains.
    â€œIt’s almost here!” Gwen shouts, ignoring him.
    Sofía moves closer to me. And while everyone else’s eyes are on the rocket, my lips are on hers.

CHAPTER 8
    When I open my eyes, my whole body is trembling. Living through these memories again is messing with my