The Exchange: The Exchange, #1

By M.F. Lorson

She's fighting the present. He's fleeing the past. Can love survive across the ages?

 

Pendleton, 2030. Ari never backs down from doing the right thing. And when her defiance almost costs her father's job, her punishment is to host an exchange student from the early Twentieth Century. But the cute farm boy she gets stuck with unexpectedly steals her heart… and unleashes a flood of trouble.

 

James hates life in 1903 and wants to live in the future. Yet instead of finding the secret to staying in 2030, he unearths a catastrophe set to consume his home. Can he save his family from mortal peril without giving up the girl he loves?

 

Driven by her feelings, Ari puts everything on the line for James. But changing the course of history comes at a cost.

 

Will two teens in love rewrite the future or send it to its doom?

 

The Exchange is the first book in the unique Exchange time-travel YA romance series. If you like star-crossed couples, vivid historical settings, and unnerving futures, then you'll adore M.F. Lorson's captivating tale.

 

Buy The Exchange to pit passion against the clock today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.F. Lorson
• Release date: Sep 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393064091

Book preview

The Exchange

The Exchange

M. F. Lorson

Copyright © 2018 by M. F. Lorson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover design and formatting by Kayla Tirrell

Contents

Prologue

James: Heppner, June 12, 1903

1. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

Micheal: Pendleton, 2030

2. James: Heppner 1903

Ari: Pendleton, 2030

James: Pendleton, 2030

3. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

James: Pendleton, 2030

4. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

James: Pendleton, 2030

Ari: Pendleton, 2030

5. Michael: Pendleton, 2030

James: Pendleton, 2030

6. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

7. James: Pendleton, 2030

Ari: Pendleton, 2030

8. Michael: Pendleton, 2030

9. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

10. Ari: Pendleton 2030

11. James: Pendleton, 2030

12. James: Pendleton, 2030

13. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

James, Pendleton, 2030

14. Michael: Pendleton, 2030

James, Pendleton, 2030

15. Ari: Heppner, 2030

16. James: Pendleton, 2030

17. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

18. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

19. Michael: Pendleton, 2030

20. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

21. James: Pendleton, 2030

Ari: Pendleton, 2030

22. James: Heppner, 1903

23. Ari: Pendleton, 2030

James: Heppner 1903

Epilogue

Thanks for reading!

The Travelers

About the Author

Stage Kiss

Prologue

Chapter One

Keep Reading!

Also by M. F. Lorson

Varsity Girlfriends

Mountain Creek Drive

Sway

Prologue

Ari: Pendleton, 2030

There were five dedicated benches at the Institute. Each was purchased in honor of an exchange. The bench where Ari sat was emblazoned with the words In Memory of Mary Adams. If you didn’t know about the exchange program, you might assume the benches commemorated people who had died. That would only be half true. Nearly everyone with a bench was dead, but in most cases, the bench came long after their death and had very little to do with who they had been or how they had lived.

Mary, however, was not dead. She was a special case. She was memorable because her leap in time only spanned 20 years. Instead of being floored by progress as those from earlier eras usually were, Mary was devastated by climate change and what she referred to as the new millennium's dependence on frivolous forms of technology.

She was a staff favorite. Not that it did her much good. Staff favorites got a bench with a tiny plaque, the only proof that they ever existed outside of their time. The interesting thing about Mary was that unlike her predecessors she was alive and well today. Of course, no one was allowed to know her whereabouts and it was certain that she had no recollection of her time as an exchange. Still, the idea that Mary was out there nibbled away at Ari.

Ari didn’t particularly like the benches. To her, they were sad little tributes to people who had no idea they existed. But Mary’s bench was directly under Professor Limmerick’s office, exactly where Ari needed to be if she wanted to hear the conversation between the professor and her father.

Thanks to the Institute’s notoriously unstable heating and cooling system, the windows were wedged open. They’d been that way since August, which had served Ari well. An hour had passed since she had taken her seat on Mary Adams’s bench. Just as she began to worry that her father and the professor had opted to meet elsewhere, she heard the faint creak of the office door swinging open.

I’m not going to offer you something to drink this time Marvin. Quite frankly we’ve had this conversation before.

It was the professor. Ari could tell from the lack of inflection in his voice. He was a snore in every way possible; still, she was dying to see inside. If she stood up, she could see in the window, but there was a good chance she would then be seen and the last thing her father needed was for Ari to get caught eavesdropping. She wasn’t even supposed to be there today.

I apologize, sir, and you can be assured that I am handling this. Ari stifled a laugh. It had been a long time since her father had handled anything. They hardly spoke; he certainly didn’t attempt to handle her by disciplining her.

Had you been handling things we wouldn’t be having this discussion. If your daughter continues to be a problem, I’ll have no choice but to remove you from the program. There was a long silence. Ari could picture her father’s reaction with little effort. He was a consistent man, warm smiles, genuine courtesy, and honest, for the most part, but when he was nervous he jiggled the keys in his trouser pocket. She could hear them now. A steady tinkle, inaudible unless you knew what to listen for.

I am handling it, reiterated Marvin.

This is the second cycle she’s disrupted, said the professor. His lack of inflection made it hard to tell how upset he really was and it took all of Ari’s willpower to not stand up to peek in the window to see his face.

I understand your concern, but you must consider that it has been a difficult couple of years. Given time, she will adapt.

Ari couldn’t sit anymore. She wanted to see her father’s face when he talked about her. She was careful to be quiet as she rose to a standing position, keeping low enough to be discreet, while high enough to see inside the tiny office.

Professor Limmerick stood now, with fingers laced behind his back. His discomfort might have been overlooked by strangers, but Ari knew the professor well and he had trouble with personal subject matter.

It is regrettable what happened to your wife, the professor stated. The matter-of-fact tone of his voice was disturbingly and predictably unpassionate. It is regrettable but it does not excuse your daughter’s actions nor can we overlook the fact that, in both instances, your security clearance enabled the situation. The jingling was constant now. A non-stop barrage of metal colliding with cheesy trinkets from road trips Ari could hardly remember.

The rest of their conversation was a series of blah blahs, etc., etc., all of which she had heard before. Listening to her father grovel was not her favorite thing to do. Instead, she left the bench and their conversation behind, and made her way to his truck. Like most of her father’s possessions, it was a tribute to the past. A 1956 Chevy pickup, the kind that was meant to live on a farm, not on a half-acre lot two miles from Wal-Mart. It only got AM/FM radio and broke down about as frequently as it ran smoothly. She got in and waited for her father to finish his bootlicking, pushing down her guilt at putting him in this situation. Again.

Her father and Professor Limmerick were taking longer than usual and it had been a long day. Before she knew it, Ari was snoozing in the front seat, the heels of her black leather ankle boots resting gently on the dashboard. It was the hitch in the driver’s side door that woke her up.

The Chevy had been used and abused for far too long, and the door stuck so bad that Ari had to plant one foot against the side of the truck to yank it open. Her father could do it on arm strength alone, but he had years of practice on her. They’d have gotten it fixed except no one fixed that sort of thing anymore. Vehicles like theirs were a dying breed, replaced instead by small, fancy, foreign things. Pretty soon, it was going to be hard to find gas stations. That’s what her father said anyway, but Ari knew better. It would be a long time before anyone could convince the already drowning-in-debt farming community to replace their gas-guzzling tractors with electric anything. As long as there were farmers in town, their Chevy would get what it needed.

With a slam, her father closed the front door. He looked over at Ari with what was meant to be contempt, but looked the opposite. Her father was awful at contempt. Professor Limmerick had been right when he said that he needed to get a handle on his daughter. When it came to disciplining Ari, Marvin was as about as effective as a new parent with a two-year-old. She pretty much did and said as she pleased, eyelash batting and all. But he did try. And trying was what he was doing now.

I don’t like this, said Marvin, taking in Ari’s leather boots and spaghetti strap sundress.

What? she asked, as her father turned the keys in the ignition and pulled out of the

Institute parking lot.

What you’re wearing.

Ari rolled her eyes. Not liking what I’m wearing is Parenting 101.

The other girls at your school don’t dress that way.

Ari giggled. I’d love to know how you know this.

I see girls around town, he argued. At the grocery store, Baskin Robbins, the library…I see plenty of girls your age,

You are right on the edge of sounding creepy, laughed Ari, as the two turned the corner and headed past the wheatfields toward home.

Marvin sighed. I’m trying to parent you.

I know, she sighed back. But that sort of thing goes over better when practiced regularly.

Ari planted a quick peck on her father's cheek as he parked the truck outside their two-story farmhouse. It was sweet that he tried but she’d been parenting herself for so long it was nearly impossible to take this type of conversation seriously. Ari was ready to hop out and disappear into her bedroom. The mounds of homework she’d put off all week awaited her and father-daughter chats were best when kept short. Marvin, however, had other plans.

Just a sec, hon. We need to talk about something. Ari got the feeling that it was Professor Limmerick who wanted to do the talking. She and Marvin were fond of few words, overcompensating with shared meals (usually frozen) and frequent father-daughter movie nights. She couldn’t remember the last time they needed to talk about anything. What you did at the Institute almost cost me my job.

Sounds like you need a new job, said Ari, hopefully.

Marvin reached down to jingle the keys in his pocket. With the truck still running, his hand just flailed there, uncertain how to proceed.

I love my job, Ari. I wish you would understand that.

Ari did understand it. And she instantly felt awful for suggesting he change something he loved just because it would make things easier for her, but it was also what she wanted. She wanted him to have a regular job, stop talking about exchanges, stop talking about time travel. Stop dreaming that if he worked for the Institute long enough they would let him travel back to May 17, 2024. Stop dreaming that he could change the past and fix the future. He knew better than anyone else that the Institute didn’t work that way.

I’m sorry for interfering, conceded Ari, reluctantly.

You can’t do it anymore, said Marvin, the frustration in his voice sharp and clear.

I know, she mumbled. I get it.

Marvin pulled the keys out of the ignition and looked his daughter in the eyes. And…I can’t not punish you anymore, either.

Ari looked up, alarmed. Punishment wasn’t something they did in their home. Sure, she’d been grounded a time or two as a kid, but she wasn’t 10 anymore. She couldn’t remember the last time she did anything that had resulted in a consequence.

Professor Limmerick has suggested you volunteer as a transition guide. See the program up close and learn what it's all about, give back to it, that sort of thing.

Give back to it! cried Ari, her anger rising. Give back to something I loathe? To a program I think is complete garbage? She took a deep breath, trying to calm down enough to get the words out, the words she’d held back saying for so long. A program that is ethically wrong in every way? She turned to face him, eyes blazing. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m doing that!

It’s not optional, said Marvin, shoving open the driver’s side door. It was either you agree to volunteer or I agree to resign.

Ari was furious. Of all the times for her father to decide to be a parent he had chosen this? This was his way of handling things? If she were a smoker this would be like quitting cold turkey, no warning, no nicotine-infused gum, just hey you, guy who’s been lighting up for the last decade—you’re cut off! It wasn’t realistic. Couldn’t he see that?

This isn’t fair, she scowled, her nostrils flaring with frustration.

I’m sorry, tried Marvin, reaching out to brush a wayward curl from Ari’s eyes. If there was another way…

She recoiled in anger. There is always another way, cried Ari, jumping out of the truck. If you had the guts to stand up to your boss. Or if for just one second you put your family before your job... but she didn’t continue. Ari knew her father well enough to know that it didn’t matter what she said or did. The Institute and Professor Limmerick would always come before her.

She slammed the truck door and stomped across the gravel toward the house, leaving her father standing on the driver’s side, hurt and frustration written all over his face. There would be no frozen dinner and father-daughter movie tonight.

James: Heppner, June 12, 1903

If it were up to James, every day would be spent at school and after that the library. When they were both closed, he’d be face first in a book, recording, in his neatest penmanship, everything he could on the inside scraps of feed sacks. He was nothing like his friend Les, wasting his time and money drinking and gambling at McAttee and Swaggarts, tipping his hat to giggling girls and hoping they were that kind of girl. James would study every moment if he could.

But you didn’t do that in Heppner in ’03, not if you were the son of sheep farmers, anyway. James was lucky to be passing; every time something needed doing on the farm he missed a day. All those days added up and, though he hated to acknowledge it, he was far behind his classmates in math.

The rich kids would go off to universities, some of the farm kids, too, but not without good grades. Not if you spent half the year scooping up horse poop and fixing aging equipment. Every day of spring seemed to put James a little further behind and, with what had all the makings of a drought looming on the horizon, summer was unlikely to grant him the opportunity to catch up. Next year would be his final year in school. Maybe he’d do well, but it didn’t look good.

Les was going to graduate whether he cared to or not. He had opportunities, but it didn’t matter, he was happy in Heppner. He thought James ought to be, too.

When they first announced the exchange program at school, Les had laughed. Who would want to go to the future just to be a guinea pig, then come back home with nothing to show for it? Not even memories. How about a little cash? he had asked. How about a little compensation?

The men from the Institute were not amused. They didn’t waste their time recruiting Les, though arguably he might have been a more interesting study. It was to be a fair selection they promised. Anyone interested was free to submit an application, which included a 500-word essay on Why I want to help the future remember the past.

When James wrote the essay, he hoped to be selected. He hoped for three months free of Heppner, free of the farm. But when they announced his selection, he began to think bigger than a vacation. It