“I don’t know if I forgive you. But given my uncle’s involvement, I need to see this through. He’s in stable condition, you know. He made it through the worst of his injuries, but they’re keeping him in the hospital for a few more days.” He clicks his tongue, as though coming to a conclusion. “Cristela’s not in town this week. She’s visiting her grandmother for spring break, a couple of hours away. I can take you there tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Should I tell him? I’ve already confided so much. Might as well impart the rest of it. “I appreciate your coming with me. I’ll need backup.”

“Backup?” he asks. “Why would you need backup?”

I take a deep breath. “Because we have to ask Cristela why she poisoned the cupcake.”

Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Cristela Ruiz, student scientist and premier researcher on sending the human consciousness through time, stares at me like I am her wildest dream come to life. In other words: like I’m a traveler from the future.

Perspiration dots her upper lip, and she lists to the right. My hands shoot out automatically. She’s going to faint. My biggest hope for getting to the future is about to collapse right here at my feet.

What’s more, her grandmother is out, which means it’s up to us to save her. Bandit must have the same thought, because he steps forward and winds an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Bandit,” Cristela says, guilt bubbling from every pore. “That cupcake wasn’t meant for you. You were never supposed to get hurt.”

Bandit and I exchange a glance. So I was right. Cristela was on a mission, too.

“You were visited by a voice,” I confirm. “Your future self, perhaps, ten years older?”

She nods. “That’s how I’ll be able to invent time travel later. Other scientists will come close, but something will dissuade them. Doubt. Finances. Competing passions. But not me. I’ll stay the course because I know that one day, I’ll succeed. My older self couldn’t have visited me otherwise.”

I guess I didn’t have to worry about telling her that time travel existed. Instead of altering the future, the advanced knowledge only reaffirms her path.

“Who was the poisoned cupcake meant for?” Bandit asks, gently but firmly. “If not me, then who?”

Cristela shoots me a look that I can’t decipher. “Can we sit down? I feel dizzy.”

“Of course. Is this the kitchen?” He guides her through an open doorway into a sunny room. “Let’s get you a drink.”

He helps her onto a twisted metal chair that looks more fashionable than comfortable and fills a tumbler from a pitcher of filtered water. I perch on a stool amid the shiny steel appliances, trying to ignore the calendar on the refrigerator, with today’s date circled in red.