His lips turned up in a mischievous grin. “How about the peanut butter and jelly sandwich you promised me?”
“Deal.”
He handed me the paper. My hands shook as I unrolled it. October 3, 1996.
“I can’t believe it.” I breathed. “It’s really the day.”
Outside there was the slam of a car door and then the churn of an engine. I went to the window and spied my mom and my younger self backing out of the driveaway. “Okay, let’s go.”
“To get my sandwich?” he asked.
“And to get me some clothes I can wear out in public without attracting attention.”
Fifteen minutes later, I stood garbed in my mother’s mauve mock turtleneck with a button-down jumper that was baggy enough to hold my larger frame and slathered jelly onto the white bread. I set the knife down and pressed the jelly side to the peanut butter side, then laid the sandwich on a plate. Robin reached for it, but I picked up the knife again and cut the sandwich into two triangles. I picked up one half and pushed the plate to Robin. “Have at.”
He picked it up and sniffed a mite dubiously. “You know the bargain still holds even if you poison me, lamb.”
I rolled my eyes and swapped my half for his and took a bite. Chewed and swallowed. “There, you happy? No poison.”
“I was merely teasing. You don’t even have your own clothes.” His nose wrinkled in distaste. “What is that garment you’re wearing anyhow? It looks like grubby overalls and a really ugly dress had a baby.”
“This was the height of middle-aged mom casual elegance in the 90s.” I did a little spin. “I will blend in exactly how I need to. Plus, it has pockets.”
“Here’s hoping that won’t have a comeback.” Robin took a bite of his sandwich.
“So tell me, what’s your plan?”
“Plan” was too generous a word for what I had. “I told me…the echo me…that I would spy on Bill Tucker for her.”
He quirked a brow. “And how, precisely, are you going to do that, faery godmother?”
“Simple, I’m going to pretend to be the new librarian at school. Bill Tucker always had study hall first period and middle-aged women are all but invisible.”
“And if your recon doesn’t satisfy your echo?”
I shrugged and headed to the hallway where I snagged a pair of my old combat boots. They were too narrow, which is why the other me was wearing the wider pair, but a few crushed toes were a small price to pay for fixing my whole adult life.
“How do I look?”
“Like a fashion disaster.” Robin shook his head.
I raised a brow. “This from the guy who took me to lunch while I was dressed in men’s sweats?”
“True enough. You are dressed just as dreadfully as usual. Come, lamb. 1996 awaits.”
No one stopped me or even gave me a second glance as I walked up the steps to Arnold Easton Jr/ Sr. High. A time before school shootings, metal detectors, and lockdown drills. One of the benefits of being a dead ringer for a middle-aged mom. I probably looked as though I was going to a parent-teacher meeting or had PTO business.
Robin had disappeared a few blocks back. Literally. One second, we were strolling arm in arm and the next he’d poofed away. I shrugged it off. He wasn’t critical to my plan and was so handsome that he was sure to attract unwanted attention.
My too-tight boots squeaked a bit on the shiny blue and white blocky vinyl composition tile. It gave me a little pang to think that back in my own time, Dragon would be walking this same hallway. Guilt nibbled at me as I thought of her face the instant before the sands of time had snatched me away. What had she thought happened to me?
It was crazy to think she hadn’t been born yet.
And then there was Clara the cat/puck. Trapped in a two and a half century old bargain with Robin, who had all but admitted that he sold thralls. I’d been thinking about her, too. Even if she had gone bananas on me, I still wanted to help her.
First thing’s first. I needed to keep my eye on the prize. Which was spying on Bill Tucker for my echo-self and convincing her to avoid going for a joyride with him at all costs.
I slipped through the library doors and into the first row of bookshelves before the librarian, Ham, looked up from his office where