Impossibility of Tomorrow Read Online Free PDF

I could put some distance between us, but he has to believe I’ve forgiven him. If I am to avenge Noah, if I am to save those whose bodies Cyrus would eventually steal, I have to play this exactly right.
    There are only two cars left in the lot: Noah’s, and an Oakland police cruiser a couple of spaces away. A man sits inside the police car, leafing through a notebook.
    He rolls down the window. “Excuse me,” he calls. His gravelly, world-weary voice is a contrast to his youthful face.He’s got a shaved, tan head and a dimple in the middle of his chin. Mirrored sunglasses hide his eyes. “Do you two go to school here?” His lower jaw works on a piece of gum.
    Cyrus turns to me and raises his eyebrows. “Yes,” he answers the cop.
    The officer rolls up his window and climbs out of the car. He’s holding his notebook open to a page that is, I notice, covered in coffee stains and surprisingly elegant, cursive handwriting. “I’m Officer Spaulding,” he announces, walking closer to us. I can smell the spearmint from his gum. “I’m investigating the murder of a teacher here—Mr. Shaw—did you know him?”
    The hairs on my arms stand on end. Cyrus’s posture straightens, and he fixes his eyes on the cop. “Yes,” he answers. “He was our biology teacher. Are there any developments in the investigation?”
    Officer Spaulding takes off his sunglasses. His eyes are a light green color that I can only describe as feline. “I can’t answer that,” he says, “but there were some irregularities , let’s say.” He smiles, revealing very white, very straight teeth.
    “What kind of irregularities?” Cyrus presses, narrowing his eyes. He must be worried that he made a mistake, left behind some pieces of evidence that won’t add up. Officer Spaulding doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks at me. “How aboutyou? Did you know Mr. Shaw?” He reaches up to his head, as though to push back a mane of hair that’s no longer there, and awkwardly pats the back of his neck.
    “Yes,” I answer quietly. “He was the biology teacher, like Noah said.” It feels absurd to use Noah’s name.
    “And did you ever notice anything strange about his behavior? The way he interacted with female students, for example?” The cop narrows his eyes, studying my face.
    Does this mean that the police found Cyrus’s yearbook? The one with X ’s through the faces of the female students he had ruled out as being me? What other evidence might they have?
    “Absolutely not,” answers Cyrus. “What are you trying to imply?” He sounds angry. He nods his head to me, reminding me to stay in line. “Did Mr. Shaw ever act weird around you?”
    “N-n-no,” I stutter. “Of course not. He was a great teacher. I can’t believe he’s dead.”
    “Sorry, kids. I’ve got to follow up on every lead. It’s my job.” Officer Spaulding tucks his pen behind his ear, where it perches precariously. He smiles again, no longer chewing his gum. I wonder if he swallowed it. “Thanks for your time. Please give me a call if you remember anything—anything at all—about Mr. Shaw. Especially,” he adds, looking at me, “if your girlfriends have anything they want to say.”
    I shiver and take the business card he’s holding out. I wish I could tell him that Mr. Shaw was nothing but a mirage. That the man who “killed” him is standing right in front of his squad car. And that if I succeed, that killer will finally, finally meet his own end at the base of the canyon in Tilden Park.

SEVEN
    “I got you something,” Cyrus says when we reach the trail-head, and holds out his hand. He is smiling shyly, as though we’re any human couple on a date.
    It’s only five in the afternoon, but darkness has fallen quickly, like a curtain on a stage. The first cold needles of starlight shine above us, piercing the faded azure sky. I was on edge the entire drive to the park, the road winding around the Berkeley Hills. Cyrus drove fast, taking the turns with