Free Until We Meet Again by Renee Collins Page B

guess. Sometimes I think that’s part of the problem. Too
many choices.”
“I wish I had your problems.”
“Yeah, well, part of me wishes I had yours. I wish someone
would just tell me what I’m good at and what I should be.”
“You’re good at painting,” he offers.
“Am I? You’ve never even seen my stuff.”
“I want to see it. I’m sure you’re excellent.”
“That’s sweet, but for all you know, I royally suck.” I kick at
a pebble in front of me. “Maybe if I knew where I truly had
talent, I’d know what I wanted to do with my life.”
“It’s official then,” Lawrence says. “If we find a way to travel
into each other’s time, we’ll swap places.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
We shake on it. Then Lawrence points to the sandy path
ahead. “Here’s our chance. There’s the trail.” His hand extends
for mine. “Shall we?”
I pause at the foot of the dirt path, then set my hand in his.
“Let’s do this.”
A few steps on the trail, and nothing has changed. Our
eyes meet.
“This is scary,” I whisper.
Lawrence smiles. “Well, you’re still here.”
A few more steps. Still a solid entity.
“Dude,” I say, eyes wide. “It’s working.”
His face bright with excitement, Lawrence breaks into a
run down the path, pulling me along behind him. But before
we’ve gone six feet, a fuzzy shimmer falls over him. His grip
goes soft. We run a little farther, and the effect intensifies.
Lawrence meets my gaze, crestfallen, and then disappears.
Though the first test of his theory failed, Lawrence is determined to test every angle. We even walk out to the tip of the
point, but it doesn’t change the outcome. We make our way
over to the other point too. I don’t think it will be any different,
but I don’t say as much. Maybe because a part of me wants to
keep up our conversation and the long hike along the shore will
do just that.
But as I’d thought, the other trail is no different. After more
than two hours of walking, we end up back on the beach.
Lawrence brings some sandwiches and fruit from his house—or
my house, I guess—and we eat on the sand.
“So, I guess this is it,” Lawrence says, taking a bite of apple. “I
can only see you here on this beach. Nowhere else.”
I nod. “It’s weird. Like some cosmic force is trying to keep us
apart. I guess this is the universe’s way of telling me I’d make a
really awful flapper.”
In spite of my joking around, the strange sadness of the situation pricks at me.
Lawrence rotates his apple in front of him, examining it. “Who
knows? Maybe the universe is trying to bring us together.”
I look at him sidelong. His dark brown eyes meet mine,
unembarrassed by his words. I try to play it cool.
“Saying stuff like that doesn’t do anything to refute my ‘this
is all an elaborate scheme to ask me out’ theory.”
He raises a sly eyebrow. “So far, I’d say my plan is working
pretty well.”
I bump him with my elbow, pressing down a smile.
He grins and takes another bite of his apple. “I do have one
other theory to try out… I don’t know if you’re up for it.”
“If it involves me taking off my clothes, you can forget it.”
He looks both shocked and amused by my words. I guess it’s
a pretty racy joke for a 1920s kid.
“Tell me your theory,” I say, redirecting the conversation.
“Well…what if this all has something to do with the ocean?
The currents. The tides.”
I look out at the water, considering this. “It does have a certain logical symbolism to it. What are you thinking?”
“What if we swim out and see how far we can go?”
“You really like swimming, don’t you?”
“Yes, but it’s not that. I really think there might be something
to this.”
I consider for a moment. I’m not the strongest swimmer. But
something about his theory intrigues me.
“It’s worth a try, I guess.”
“Excellent.” He stands. “Let’s run put on our swim clothes.
Meet you here in five minutes.”
“Aha! So