Timepiece (Hourglass 2)

“Just so I have all this straight, when you went into the storage room, the skeleton was there. It was missing a leg bone,” Michael confirmed.

I nodded.

Michael continued, “When you landed in the rip, the whole skeleton was there, and when you came out of the rip, you brought the leg bone with you.”

“Yes.” I dropped the leg bone on top of my shoes and shut my closet door. “This makes my head hurt.”

Em had been quiet. Michael leaned over, bumping her shoulder with his. “What are you thinking about? Because I know your brain’s going a thousand miles an hour.”

o;Let’s go,” Dune said, and we followed him across the lawn.

Getting in the building was easy enough, and so was getting into the records room, thanks to the key I’d lifted from my dad. Rather than a dusty storage space, it was a former classroom, a little on the small side. There were at least twenty boxes that held files, along with a model of the planetary system, Pluto included, a couple of defunct microscopes, and a teaching skeleton missing its left leg bone. The skeleton hung from a rolling stand by a silver hook in its head.

The room also had a window, which meant we didn’t have to turn on lights and draw unnecessary attention.

“Nate, keep a lookout, would you?” I took a box off the top of a stack and handed it to Dune, and then I picked up the one below it.

“Why would you make me be the lookout when I can go through those boxes at ten times the speed you two can?” Nate asked.

“Excellent point.” I shoved the box in my hands at him and let go. It landed on the ground with a solid thud and a cloud of dust as it slipped right through his fingers.

“Nate, what are you—”

“Holy hell.” Nate’s voice hit a really high pitch. He was pointing out the window.

A hundred or so young men in caps and gowns sat in the middle of the quad on white folding chairs set up in rows, all staring intently at the stage and podium in front of them. The fallen leaves that had littered the ground two minutes ago were gone, replaced by a lush green summer carpet of bluegrass.

At the podium, a distinguished-looking gentleman reigned over the festivities, wearing a cap and gown.

The banner behind him said congratulations, class of 1948.

“Please tell me you see that,” Nate said. “Do you see that?”

“I do,” Dune said, setting down the box in his hands. “There are no women. Where are the women?”

I paid a little more attention to the scenery. The stone on the side of the buildings lacked a significant amount of moss from what I was used to seeing, and the art building was completely missing. “This was a men’s college until the 1950s.”

“So this is a ripple,” Nate said. “From before then.”

I heard a crash and a yelp behind us.

Nate and I turned to find Dune on the ground, tangled up with the teaching skeleton.

“I realize this is probably plastic and used for teaching purposes,” Dune said, handing Nate a tibia with the foot attached, “but I want it off me.”

Nate proceeded to use the metatarsals to scratch his back, and then he started to giggle.

I interrupted. “Guys. Look around.”

Either my tone or the situation put an end to the giggling.

The storage space was now a classroom. Neat desks lined up in rows, and a blackboard full of equations. The only similarity between this room and the one we’d walked into five minutes ago was the skeleton. Dune was still tangled up in it.

“Where are we?” Nate touched a couple of the desks with his free hand. “Is this a rip? Because I’m still holding this leg bone in my hand. That’s not normal. Right?”

“Shut up,” I hissed. “Someone’s coming.”

The door to the classroom opened slowly. A tiny woman holding a mop stuck her head in and looked around, her gaze landing on the leg bone.