Touching the Surface Read Online Free PDF Page A

knew once everyone was settled, I would have tostep up to the Swing and Delve for my memories. My hands were sweating just thinking about it. I planted my face in my palms, trying to erase the sudden vision of myself in the Swing, everyone judging me. Things would be so much easier if Julia was here.
    I’d never Delved before, but we’d witnessed other Delves during our last two visits to the Obmil. I’d learned a lot from watching other Third Timers dissect their pasts. But obviously I hadn’t learned enough to avoid becoming a Third Timer myself. I should’ve listened to Mel more carefully; she was always dropping little hints about how easily anyone could find themselves being a Third Timer. But I’d never really thought it could happen to me. Now I was standing here with knots in my stomach, worried about being dropped like a rock into my own unenlightened past.
    I felt a small sting as the taste of blood hit my tongue. I’d gnawed too voraciously on my cuticle. I sucked on the fresh wound, then stuffed my bloodied finger in my pocket, pushing the door open with my hip. Turning to face the class, I instantly realized I was the last one to arrive. I scanned the faces but stopped abruptly when I saw Oliver and Trevor glaring at each other with blatant hostility, sparks practically flying between the two.
    Before I could break away from the sight of them, a lowhumming noise filled my ears. Everything was fading. My legs began to go numb. My knees sank to the floor. As Oliver and Trevor disappeared from view, I noticed a tiny pinprick of light and heard the faintest sound of music in my ears. I’d never heard of anyone making a Delve unguided before, but my memories crashed over me before I could stop them.
    •  •  •
    The applause no longer rang in my ears but the memory of it vibrated through my heart, causing me to feel more alive than I ever had before. Onstage I was someone special.
    I opened the windows in the car and the wind whipped my hair around. I was glad I’d taken the extra minutes to remove my stage makeup before I met up with everyone at the cast party. It was the end of the school year and there wouldn’t be many opportunities to get together with friends before we all went our separate directions. It always felt like the summer would be loaded with extra time, but jobs and vacations seemed to fill up all the potential empty spaces.
    Dad had offered to drive over with me, which was sweet, but I kind of wanted a few minutes to myself. I only needed to go a couple miles down the road to hook up with the cast and all my adoring fans. Elliot Turner having fans—who would have thought? I felt lit from within.
    I turned up the song that Mom had left in the car. I’d always been a music mutt, pulling inspiration from whatever was around. “Little Bird” by make a bigger version of what we already are.lo before Annie Lennox was pumping like a heartbeat and I felt as if I was flying. I wasalive, belting it out with Annie. It was just me on the road, except for a silver minivan up ahead. I was singing so loud I wondered if they could hear me.
    “They always said that you knew best,
    But this little bird’s fallen out of that nest now.
    I’ve got a feeling that it might have been blessed,
    So I’ve just got to put these wings to test.”
    “Damn it!” My cell phone was ringing and my bag was on the floor. I hooked the strap with my finger and tugged. It didn’t budge. I swiped the hair out of my face again and gave another tug as I glanced back up at the road. The bag flew up onto my lap, tipping over the morning’s coffee remains.
    “For I am just a troubled soul,
    Who’s weighted . . .
    Weighted to the ground.
    Give me the strength to carry on,
    Till I can lay this burden down.
    Give me the strength to lay this burden down . . .”
    I could still hear the ring of the phone wandering off into the wind as I flipped it open and squeezed it against my ear. I blotted up the coffee. Oh