Page 31 of Time for You
“You did? How?” Daphne looked at the oven, but there wasn’t any smoke coming out of it, at least.
Henry sent her an annoyed look that was rapidly becoming familiar. “The instructions are on the packaging. Quite ingenious, that wrapping is. What sort of paper is it made from that it’s so transparent?”
“It’s plastic.”
“What Regina is made of?”
Daphne stared at him blankly, while Ellie cracked up. “You made it all the way up toMean Girls? Dang, you watched alot.”
“I confess I have some questions about, ah, let’s say, contemporary femininity. But I understand that Cher and Tai’s movie is considered old now?”
“Yeah, it’s more of a classic.Mean Girls, too,” Daphne said. “What else did you have him watch, El?”
“Mostly stuff he might recognize the plot in. SoClueless, Ten Things I Hate About You—”
“Absolutely delightful interpretation of Shakespeare, that one,” Henry interrupted. “My friend George loves Shakespeare, which I never really understood until seeing Patrick and Kat argue on-screen. ButCluelesswas brilliant. Peerless. My sister Anne would adore it, along with the lack of petticoats. Maggie too, for that matter.”
“What wasMean Girlsfor, then? That’s not an adaptation of a novel.”
“That was for feminism, baby,” Ellie said.
Henry nodded. “I did not realizewhorewas considered offensive here. I shall try to remember that.”
“To be fair, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t at least a little pejorative in your time,” Daphne said, but she lost her battle with a smile as he grinned back at her.
“As if,” he repeated.
“We’re going to have to work on your use of that. How long has the pizza been in?” Ellie asked.
Henry looked at the clock above the stove. “Ten minutes.”
The thought of getting to eat as soon as she got home from work, without having to do anything or even order it, made her go all melty inside, even if it was just yet another frozen pizza. “I’ll make a salad,” she offered, suddenly feeling more energized than she had all day.
Having a third roommate from the nineteenth century was weird, to say the least. For one thing, he didn’t pay rent—although to be fair, hewas sleeping in Helen’s apartment—and while he did try to make them food when they were at work, his efforts were pretty hit or miss.
Nearly a week after his arrival, Daphne found herself with a day off while Ellie had to work a whole shift, plus stay on-call for the next twelve hours. Brittany was out training for her marathon, Michelle had something to do at her uncle’s place, and Vibol was—somewhere. Daphne wasn’t sure where, but he wasn’t home. Usually, there was at least one more person around to hang out with Henry, which helped keep him from under Daphne’s skin. But that day, after she grabbed her finally fixed bike from the shop, she was out of excuses and reasons to avoid him.
They were in the Central Library, tucked into a table set back near the Occult Nonfiction section, desperately trying to findsomethingthat might give them a clue how to get him home.
Which meant Daphne was spending her day off reading a bunch of vaguely scientific-sounding nonsense about the “metaphysical energy of specific rock formations.”
Granted, the man sitting across from herhadtime-traveled from almost 150 years ago, so perhaps she should be less skeptical of the supernatural. But they had also been reading for two straight hours without any real luck, aside from a footnote Henry found that claimed specific moon phases could “influence the flow of time, as with the tides.”
The man himself sighed and slammed the book he was reading (Astrology and You: The Basics) shut. “This is horseshit,” he snapped.
Daphne blinked. She hadn’t ever seen him quite this angry before—he’d been haughty, and irritating, and irritated, but never furious. Frustrated, perhaps, but never angry. “I can’t—fuck this, I need to get out of here,” he growled, and shoved back from the desk. He stalked to the front, and Daphne hurried to follow him. Henry had stopped being quite so freaked out by cars, but she still didn’t think he could handle a city street unaccompanied.
“Henry,” she hissed, sending an apologetic wave to the librarian at the reference desk as she followed him outside. “Where are you going?”
“I don’tfuckingknow,” he spat, and she reeled back.
“Okay, good luck then. Hope you know how to get home,” she said coolly.
“Wait, Miss—Dr. Griffin,” he said, and grabbed her wrist. Not hard, but enough to stop her from returning to the library. “Please. Forgive me.”
Daphne looked from his hand on her arm to his face, taking in the sudden desperation. As always, she was a sucker for a wounded bird. “What happened?”
He took a deep breath. “I was reading about moon phases and constellations, and I just—I have a family. A family whoneedsme, no matter what you might think of my treatment of them. I have friends, and a business, and a life, and I don’t—I might not—”
