Prompt: For generations, your family has carried an heirloom. It teleports you to the person that needs you most at that moment, and can only be invoked once. Helping that person is your family's rite of passage into adulthood.

"It's time." Dad says, giving me a warm smile, and I feel my heart leap in my chest, burning with excitement. It's always a mystery what assignments will be, and the sheer multitude of possible events that could be mine are staggering,choking out my breath, making me dizzy with fear and anticipation and longing. Somehow I manage a quick grin back and run into the living room, where my family and cousins sit on the mismatched sofas, with bowls of pretzels in their laps and a warm glow in their cheeks.Shauna, my youngest cousin of seven, squeals and gives me a big hug once I enter the room. Everyone else just claps, and my brother Samuel nods his head in my direction approvingly. I love Sam loads,and he's always been the most levelheaded of our family, so much like my dad, and almost nothing like Shauna, who has now taken to dancing about the room. Aunt Lynn has to rein her in and shush her before Dad can begin to speak.

"Welcome! Thank you for coming to witness this very important time in Makayla's life."

This stirs up another round of applause, and Uncle Justin booms, "Of course! Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

It's customary for family members to visit when someone is completing their rite of passage, but hearing everyone clapping and cheering makes me feel even more grateful.

Now Dad heads to the cabinet where the Conch sits, unlocks the door with a tiny golden key from the necklace he always wears, and withdraws it from its perch on the middle shelf.

Instantly everyone is silent, all voices dropped in holy reverence, as we look at the conch shell sitting in Dad's open palm. My fingers tingle and burn with the desire to hold it, to use it, to finally be a part of the family –to help the world! I clench and unclench my fists, shifting from foot to foot with nervous energy. I'm almost as bad as Shauna.

After clearing his throat, my father begins the speech.

"No one really knows who gave the May family the Conch, or how. All my father told to me was it was an heirloom, a family treasure, to be used only when children were of age, a rite of passage, if you will."

A rite of passage. It's finally time. I want to snatch the Conch out of his hands and use it now, but I know I have to wait, just like Samuel did three years ago, when I was still on the couch, watching.

"The Conch possesses a unique and special gift – it can transport the user to the person in the most need of help, going backwards or forwards in time, to events we already know and to events we know nothing of yet."

"I bet you Makayla'll get a good one." Aunt Lynn interrupts, beaming."Mine was a confused college kid taking an AP English test. The boy couldn't remember what an adverb was, bless his heart."

"Samuel's was excellent," Mom adds, unable to contain herself. Samuel's assignment is one they'll be bragging about for hundreds of years, or so long as Mom has breath. "Who do you think left out the penicillin petri dishes?"

Aunt Lynn rolls her eyes like she does every time Mom brags about Sam and flashes me a wink, which I return. She knows Mom is just excited for my turn at the Conch. It may not be the discovery of penicillin, but I'll take it.

"Makayla,you know the rules." Dad says, and I feel a shiver run through me.The job can be dangerous, and Dad has made a sort of guidebook along with Uncle Justin and a few other May family members to help future kids know what to do when it's their turn to get their assignment."Dress in neutral, nonthreatening colors, avoiding brands or anything that may come into question." I've chosen a muted gray t-shirt and jeans with sandals – definitely not my first choice. I get a ridiculous idea about having a Conch dress code and smile.Taking this as a good sign, Dad continues.

"Approach the person you are going to help immediately. The Conch does not have a specified timer, but faster is better. Too long in another time period... Your body isn't acclimated for that."

"She might not get another time period, though." Sam says, and Aunt Lynn pokes him in the ribs.

"We can't all get time travel, Mr. Penicillin. Let Makayla enjoy this!"

Have I mentioned how much I love Aunt Lynn?

"And most of all, we'll be rooting for you. You're going to change the world, baby girl. I just know it."

And he hands me the Conch.

I've never been the greedy sort, but my hands leap out and snatch it up,feeling the smooth alabaster surface, the delicate fabric-like frills of the shell's surface, like draping curtains. I've seen the conch from behind the cabinet doors for so long, and now I finally have it...

A memory comes to me of when I was eight or nine, sneaking into my parents' room at night, searching.

I feel the key around his neck on its delicate chain, the smoothness of the metal, and am about to yank it off when a firm hand closes over my wrist. Yelping, I leap back,but the hand holds firm, and my father's voice speaks from the darkness. I lower my head, expecting harsh words, but when he speaks his tone is soft and forgiving.

"Not yet, Makayla. I know you want to, I know how you feel, but you just have to wait."

And now I no longer have to.

"You remember what you have to say?" Dad asks, and I nod, feeling the words on my lips, rolling them around my mouth, words I've rehearsed a thousand times.

"Take me," I whisper into the Conch's shell, "to where I need to go."

There's a rushing sound, like the noise you hear when you put an ordinary shell to your ear, but it grows and grows until it's louder than anything in the room, crashing over the voices of my father, of my cousins, of the living room, and suddenly I'm not in the living room anymore.

Rooftop.Midnight, or at least very late, and cold. I shiver in my nonthreatening outfit and wish I had thought to bring along a jacket. My receiver must be around here, I have to find them.

Even though it's technically against the Conch laws or whatever, I take a moment to look around enjoying the view from the top of the building I'm on. Only when I look down do I see how far up we are, and man, we are high! The air smells crisp and clear, but also muddied, and loud car horns blaring somehow manage to reach up and trumpet their fanfare of road rage a hundred stories in the air. Even though I've never been, I'd compare it to New York, or some other big city like New York. The sheer size of the place fills me with an odd giddiness I can't shake, not even when a voice cuts through the cool air.

"What are you doing here?"

It's a male voice, and I whirl around to see possibly the strangest-looking man I've ever seen. He's wearing a black outer jacket and stiff black pants with lots of pockets, and his hair is long to his ears and streaked with a pitch-colored tar-like substance that looks like oil.His face is smeared with the oil, too, but it can't hide his fierce,hollow green eyes that sparkle like twin gemstones, and his eyes...They're mesmerizing, like a kaleidoscope of pain, and suddenly it's no wonder why I'm here, because of all the people in the world this man needs help.

Something burns in my not-Conch-holding hand and I feel a flutter of nervousness rise in me. An item. Sometimes,along with Conch-traveling, an item will be added to your assignment,too. Dad said his great-grandfather received a child-sized chisel for Michelangelo when the Conch took him to Tuscany. That might seem more important than penicillin, but somehow Mom still prattles on about Samuel. My item seems small and smooth, rounded like a test tube. Is it a cure? This looks modern-day, thought... Just my luck that I miss out time-traveling. But the excitement of having an item makes me feel like I've just chugged a two-liter soda bottle, and I forget about any jealousy I might have.

"Me?"I reply at last. "Oh, nothing! Well, actually, I am here for something – for a reason, I mean..." I trail off and have to avoid hitting myself. Of all the ways to make a good introduction,that was not the way.

The man seems to grow less tense, and I see that he's not so much of a man as an older teen, maybe eighteen or nineteen, around Sam's age.But his eyes – I shudder to think of Samuel with those eyes, with the horrors that they have seen. "But how did you get here? I could have sworn the roof was clear."

"It was! When you checked, I mean. I bet. It's just, I have this thing,"I show him the Conch, and before he can ask I explain. "I know it just looks like a shell, but it's actually a device that takes me places. Specific places, to the person who needs the most help at one point in time. That would be you, I guess. And if you think I'm lying, think about it – you look like a smart guy. You knew the roof was clear. How else could I have gotten up here?"

I wonder if it's part of the Conch's magic, because no one in their right mind would believe a sixteen-year-old girl who just said she can teleport, but somehow the man gives in, his whole body shrinking in defeat.

"You're right, shell-lady. I need help."

"How?"I ask eagerly, holding the Conch tightly in one hand and my item in the other, watching the kaleidoscope eyes of my receiver, who pulls a gun out from under his jacket and holds it loosely at his side. I stiffen, wondering how I came off threateningly, but he doesn't point the gun at me, just looks down at the ground far below us with dread written across his face.

"I'm about to assassinate the President of the United States." He says dully, "But I didn't bring any bullets. And I'm guessing that's what you're holding in your left hand."