achieve even greater things.’
‘Or not. It feels so unethical to be helping you ensure he doesn’t achieve the one thing he was known for.’
‘Well, remind yourself that you’re helping save the lives of billions of people. I bet, if he knew, Connor would be willing to sacrifice a little celebrity for that.’
When the food was gone, I lay back down and shut my eyes against the sun, wondering what sort of magic it would take to keep Ryan here in my time. I tensed as I felt his fingers in my hair.
‘I love your hair,’ he said, taking a strand and bringing it up to his face. ‘It smells like apples. Whenever I see apples, I think of you.’
‘With you it’s lemons,’ I said, squinting up through the sun at him. ‘Lemons and metal.’
Ryan crinkled his nose. ‘Metal?’
I shrugged. ‘I like the smell. No one else smells anything like you.’
He smiled and lay back on the blanket next to me. I could feel the warmth of his skin radiating across the small divide between us.
‘Tell me about your life in the twenty-second century,’ I said. ‘I bet it’s loads different to life here. What is it like? How did you grow up?’
‘We had two homes. One in New Hampshire on Earth and one in Zion on Eden.’
‘What is Zion like? Is it a big city?’
In my head I pictured cities I’d seen in futuristic films: large polluted cities with hover cars and neon signs everywhere.
‘Not really. Zion is in a valley. It’s almost completely enclosed by mountains, so it can’t grow very big. The only way in or out of the city is by river. The city itself is built from pink stone, but the surrounding mountains are covered in green jungle so it’s pink and green.’
I remembered the photograph in Connor’s book.
‘I was conceived on Earth, but my parents moved to Zion just before I was born. I spent most of my childhood there. Then Dad decided we needed to be on Earth, to monitor the political mood. So just after I turned twelve, we moved back.’
‘Did you have a best friend?’
‘I hope I still do. His name is Peg. We were in school together.’
‘A boy called Peg? Peg’s a girl’s name. Peggy. Short for Margaret.’
‘How is Peggy short for Margaret?’
I shrugged. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Peg’s a boy’s name,’ he said. ‘Short for Pegasus.’
‘Pegasus!’ I couldn’t help but giggle.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t tell you my real name then.’
I rolled on to my side so I could look at him. ‘Ryan’s not your real name?’
He tilted his head in a half-nod, half-shake. ‘Yes and no. My full name is Orion, after the constellation.’
‘Orion,’ I said, staring at him. ‘I like it.’
‘No one calls me Orion, except my mother when she’s cross with me. It’s usually Ry. In the second half of the twenty-first century, naming children after stars and constellations is very popular.’
‘Orion and Pegasus,’ I said smiling. ‘What about Cassie?’
‘Cassiopeia.’
I sat up and reached for my glass of water. ‘And Ben?’
He laughed. ‘Short for Benjamin. Not everyone is named after a constellation or a star.’
Ryan sat up. He reached out a hand and touched my cheekbone, his warm fingers running slowly down the side of my face. My skin burned beneath his touch.
‘But you’re unique,’ he said. ‘You’re not named after a star or a constellation. You have a planet named after you.’
He looked into my eyes. His brown eyes were dark; I could see my reflection in his pupils. His hand cupped my chin. I held my breath.
‘Orion,’ I said. It felt strange calling him by his real name.
I could feel his warm breath on my face. Then, abruptly, he turned away. Something dawned on me. ‘Is there a girl back in the twenty-second century?’
He shook his head. ‘There’s no girl.’
‘So . . .’
‘I’m not going to make this harder than it already is.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I’m not going to kiss you. How much harder will it be for me to leave tomorrow night if . . .’
‘I understand,’ I said softly. And I did understand, but it was still hard not to feel rejected. Surely if he really liked me – if he wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss him – he would kiss me anyway and to hell with the consequences. In fact, I knew that if I was the one who had to leave, I wouldn’t be able to do it. I couldn’t leave him behind. And the only thing stopping me from begging him to kiss me and then begging him to stay, was knowing that he would say no.
‘You know, when I signed up for this mission,’ he said quietly, ‘I thought it would be the biggest thrill-ride. I thought I could be a hero, save the planet, meet some cool people and then go home. I thought it would be easy. I never expected to develop feelings for the people I met. It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t want to go back.’
‘Is there no way?’
‘You know the answer to that.’
I remembered, miserably, what he had said about clean-up agents ensuring that the laws of time travel were followed.
Ryan jumped quickly to his feet and took out a small silver box from the pocket of his jeans.
‘It’s time for your gift,’ he said.
I took the box from him and lifted off the lid, wondering what on earth he would give me. Lying on a bed of white cotton was a key.
‘Um, thanks?’ I said, confused.
‘It’s the key to my car,’ he said. ‘Or perhaps I should say, your car.’
‘Oh my God!’ I yelled. ‘Thank you!’
He shrugged. ‘I can’t take it with me.’
‘I’m not seventeen for three months.’
‘Let’s be honest, it hasn’t stopped me!’
‘Are you suggesting . . .’
‘Look, you’ve often said how isolated you are out here at Penpol Cove. One of the first times I spoke to you, you were walking home alone on a dark and windy night. I figure, if I teach you to drive now, you can get a bit of practice in here, and then by the time of your birthday, you’ll be ready to get your licence.’
I tried not to run like an excited little girl as we headed over towards Ryan’s silver car. I unlocked the door and slid into the driver’s seat. Ryan sat in the passenger seat.
‘Let’s belt up,’ he said. ‘This could be a bumpy ride.’
‘I don’t want to hear any crap about female drivers,’ I said.
Ryan laughed and showed me how to check the gear-stick was in neutral before turning the ignition. The car purred into life.
He rested his hand on my left knee. ‘This is your clutch foot,’ he explained.
If he kept his hand on my knee, there was no way I would be able to focus on learning to drive.
‘The only thing you do with it is dip and release the clutch pedal. Your other foot controls the gas and brake.’
He held my left hand and placed it on the gearstick. ‘I want you to press down on the clutch and I’ll help you find first gear.’
I pushed down on the clutch, the way he’d described, and he moved my hand into first gear.
‘Gently release,’ he told me, ‘and step down lightly on the gas.’
