The Time of the Clockmaker Read Online Free Page B

four episodes of the show and at some point the characters all drove one another crazy. The kids argued, the siblings argued, the parents argued . . . But in the end, none of it mattered. They always made up. They had this bond to one another that nothing could break. And so long as they had this bond, they had something—they always had a person to return to. I was envious of that.
    Miss Hatfield stood up, straightening her shirt. “Have a glass of milk. I could heat it up for you. It’ll make you sleep better.”
    â€œSure.” I knew this was as tender as Miss Hatfield could get. But somehow, knowing this, it was enough.

THREE
    I OPENED MY eyes, but I couldn’t see a thing. All that was around me was light and color, shapeless and disfigured. I blinked, trying to refocus. When I rubbed my eyes, I felt wetness on my cheeks. It was as if I had cried in my sleep again.
    Looking up, I could make out the thin outline of the curtains on the window above my bed. Through my tears the picture became clearer and I soon saw the individual rays of light coming through my curtains and scattering upon the opposite wall.
    I sat up, pushing the covers off my legs abruptly. I almost knocked over the small jewelry box I kept at my bedside as I walked heavy-lidded into the bathroom.
    I turned the shower on and just stood there for a moment, listening to the water pelt the glass. If I couldn’t be in the one place and time I wanted to be, at least I could enjoy a hot, modern shower.
    I carefully slid into the shower, feeling the warm sprayagainst my skin. It was so relaxing that it almost made me forget all my problems. That would have been nice, but all too soon I knew I had to get out, and I turned off the water.
    As the steam in the bathroom dissipated, so did the makeshift fantasy I had created for myself in which I was normal. I wasn’t normal, and that was a fact I couldn’t run away from, no matter how hard I tried.
    I rubbed at my face with the bath towel. If only I could scrub everything away and start over. I dropped the towel and stood over the sink, peering into the tiny mirror. Standing as close as I was, my face filled the entire frame and I didn’t quite recognize myself. My breath fogged up the mirror and my fingers drew lines, dragging over its surface. They felt along the cold glass and traveled down to its ledge, where they froze.
    My fingers pushed up against something familiar. At once I knew what it was. I knew the shape and feel like I knew no other thing. But I couldn’t believe it was here, and I looked down to be certain.
    My eyes saw the same thing my fingers had felt. It was my ring—the one with the blue stone flanked by two small diamonds set into the center of a silver band. But I could’ve sworn I had put it away last night. In fact, I was certain that I had stored it safely in my jewelry box.
    Wrapping myself in a towel, I ran over to my bedside table and opened my jewelry box. Everything looked to be the way I had left it. All my other jewelry was there and nothing else was missing.
    I walked back to the bathroom sink and examined the ring. It just seemed to have been taken out of my jewelry box andmoved. That was it. Nothing else had changed.
    I frowned but put the ring on anyway. I knew I should tell Miss Hatfield about the strange occurrence, but then she’d ask me where I had gotten the ring from. And I couldn’t tell her that Henley had given it to me.
    I moved over to my closet and was pulling out the first shirt and jeans I could find when I heard my phone buzzing on top of my dresser.
    Miss Hatfield had insisted that we get cell phones in this time to further blend in with everyone. “It’s the twenty-first-century mode of communication,” she had said. “Everyone has one on their person at all times, so we must as well.”
    I picked up my phone, thinking it must be Miss Hatfield. I frowned when I saw that I had