Memories from a Different Future: Jump When Ready, Book 2 (4 page)

“Try the tea,” she said.

Ian did as told and didn’t regret it. A nice flavor that
tasted totally natural. He felt the warmth in his stomach almost immediately,
chasing off what was left of the chill. “Do you paint?” he said, although it
seemed a stupid question.

Julie shook her head. “No, that’s my roommate.”

Psychics had roommates?

Julie smiled as if she knew what had just passed through
his mind. “She’s in the graduate program at UW. I’m in the art school too.
Photography.”

Another possibility that hadn’t occurred to him, that a
psychic might be a graduate art student.

“You’re a history major, right?” Julie said.

Ian hesitated, considering whether she might have some
sort of angle. “Yes.”

Julie sipped her tea and nodded. “Okay, here’s what I’m
getting. You like history because time has always fascinated you—how in one way
it seems to take forever but in another way a hundred years is almost like the
blink of an eye. Sometimes you even imagine a place where people experience
time differently than we do.”

Ian sat there stunned. He’d never told anyone that
before. He’d never quite known what to think of it himself. Now, he wasn’t sure
what to say.

“Do you like the tea?” Julie said.

Ian had almost forgotten the mug in his hand. He took
another sip. “It’s really good.”

“I get it at a little shop in Wallingford. A friend of
mine owns it. Anyway, I’m guessing you must have something on your mind. True?”

Ian had already started to trust her instincts. Still, it
was a general question. Everyone had something on their mind. “Your flier kind
of caught my eye,” he said. “I got curious.”

Julie smiled. “Fair enough.”

“So, how does this work? Should I pay you now?”

When Julie had left a message, she’d suggested ten
o’clock although she hadn’t mentioned anything about payment. Ian hadn’t
actually called back again to confirm. He’d figured he’d just end up blowing it
off. But that morning when he’d woken up he’d started thinking about Professor
Russell’s past again. He wondered if any of it had really happened or if the
whole story was just some sort of bizarre rumor. He’d also kept wondering why
it mattered. What did Professor Russell’s past have anything to do with the
him? At the last moment, he’d told himself it wasn’t cool to just not show up
for the appointment he’d made. After all, he’d been the one to call Julie in
the first place.

“Not worried about it,” Julie said. She made eye contact
and shrugged. “That part will work out. Are you okay? Don’t be nervous. This
isn’t that big of a deal. I’ll just tell you what I think might be going on
with you and you can take it from there. How does that sound?”

Ian set his mug down. “Sure, that sounds good.”

“Okay, cool. I’m going to close the blinds so we can hear
better.” She got up, crossed the room and adjusted the blinds.

Ian waited, wondering what light had to do with hearing.

Julie took her seat across from him again. She closed her
eyes and fell quiet, her expression placid, as if Ian wasn’t even sitting there
a few feet away. Seconds passed that way, then minutes.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft. “I’m getting someone
whose name begins with E. Wait, B,” Julie said. “Do you know her? She seems to
know you.”

Ian wasn’t sure what to do with the question. This didn’t
seem to bother  Julie, whose eyes remained closed as if there was no need to
rush things.

“Oh,” Julie said, “she says to tell you it’s Grandma
Beth.”

Ian had, of course, heard about chills running up your
spine but this was the first time he’d felt it happening. Grandma Beth was
actually his grandmother’s sister—on his mother’s side—who’d died three years
ago. Ian had never met her. She’d lived in Arizona but there had always been
cards and gifts over the years. Ian felt guilty for never even bothering to try
connecting with her.

“She says she doesn’t want you to worry,” Julie said.
“She totally understood. You were young and didn’t know her. She doesn’t want
you to feel guilty anymore. Do you understand what she means?”

In that moment, Ian wished they’d never touched that
freaking Ouija board. That he’d completely ignored that brightly colored flyer
he should have continued walking past. Still, it was too late now. He’d opened
this door.

“I think so,” he said.

He watched, waiting for Julie to open her eyes but that
didn’t happen. After a few more moments, she smiled. “She’s gone but I’m
getting something else now. Someone you knew on the other side. I’m getting H.
His name begins with H, I think. Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

When Julie didn’t follow with any more, Ian said, “I
don’t know anyone whose name starts with H.”

Suddenly, Julie laughed “No, that’s fine. You don’t, not
anymore. At least, more than likely you’ve forgotten. I’m getting other names
now. Someone whose name starts with J. Also, N. Do you know anyone whose name
begins with N? Like maybe Nancy? Something like that?”

Despite the fact that Julie’s eyes remained closed, Ian
shook his head. “No, I don’t. Sorry. This is getting weird. I think I better
leave now.”

Julie didn’t seem to hear him. “Wow, all of that came
through really clearly. Almost like you have a group of friends there who still
think about you. Wait, I’m seeing something else. Yes, definitely. I’m getting
an image. Yeah, it’s really—”

Julie took a deep breath and her eyes shot open. She
stared at Ian for a moment before quickly averting her gaze.

Ian didn’t want to ask—something told him not to—but he
asked anyway. “What was it?”

Julie, he noticed, had suddenly gone pale. She tried to
smile but barely pulled it off. “I think it was just something unrelated,” she
said. “That can happen sometimes. I’m sure it’s fine.”

All of this was freaking nuts. Ian wanted to get out of
there. What the hell had he been thinking? “Are we done?” he said.

It took a moment, but then Julie nodded. “Yes, I think
so.”

Ian got up, put his jacket on and walked toward the door.
He didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say much. Soon, he strode down the
hallway. Only when he reached the street did he realize that he hadn’t offered
to pay her.
Whatever, I’ll take care of it later
, he thought. For now,
he had to keep moving. That other part would just have to work out somehow.

Balancing Act

One of the survival skills Emilio had developed was the
ability to actively pay attention in class while looking like he was completely
tuned out. Actually, it wasn’t too hard since all he had to do was imitate
pretty much everyone else in the room. Keep your eyes cast on the floor or
window, never move your pen and only turn the page when Mr. Posten raises his
voice to get everyone’s attention. Sure, there were a few kids—girls mostly—who
got away with keeping their eyes on Mr. Posten as he spoke, who actually
participated in the conversation. That same approach would mean hell to pay for
Emilio.

Only later, when he had some time alone, would he enter
as many notes as he could recall from the blackboard or Mr. Posten’s lecture
that day into the notebook no one else ever saw. As for grades, Emilio worked
hard to keep them low—but not failing low. He caught enough crap from his
homies for getting Cs. He always shrugged it off saying something along the
lines of, “It wasn’t like I tried. Guess I must be smart is all, bro.” At the 
same time, Cs were just enough to keep his mother from freaking on him. Bring
home Ds and Fs, and there would be a different kind of hell to pay.

Emilio kept his eyes glassy and his head cocked at a
bored angle even as he nearly memorized each point Mr. Posten made about the
story and characters of
The Outsiders
. The fact was, Emilio had read the
book twice and enjoyed it both times. Freaking hard to believe it had been
written like sixty years ago. Occasionally, Mr. Posten might call on him and
only then would Emilio say something, usually just enough to indicate that he
hadn’t spaced out entirely. Mr. Posten didn’t call on him often, though.
Sometimes, Emilio wondered if Mr. Posten cut him slack on purpose, that he
understood the whole balancing act.

Apparently, Emilio didn’t appear sufficiently
uninterested. Probably because his eyes remained open. He knew this when he
felt something pelt the back of his head. He looked down to see a crumpled ball
of paper on the floor.

“Mealy’s into it,” he heard Pablo say.

Carlos snickered. “Teacher’s freakin’ pet.”

That was the thing about the South Enders—the gang was
totally pervasive. Emilio didn’t have one class—one moment of his waking life,
for that matter—without one of them breathing down his neck. Thanks to Marcos’
past status with the gang, they breathed hard and loud to be sure he knew he
was being measured at all times.

Emilio did what he had to do, silently apologizing to Mr.
Posten. He turned and flung his book at Pablo, striking him in the face.

“Mother—”

Carlos burst out laughing. “Ooh, he got you
good
,
bro.”

Pablo stared death at Emilio, who still hadn’t turned
away. Emilio wasn’t worried about it. Pablo was a scrawny, little dipshit. It
wasn’t like Emilio wasn’t tough—Marcos had made more than sure his little
brother could hold his own. They’d spent many hours sparring to toughen him up
when he’d just been starting elementary school. Emilio had not provided the
same kind of training for Javier, hoping to somehow break the cycle.

Mr. Posten spun from the blackboard and stared at Carlos,
then Pablo. “Both of you, out.”

Carlos pointed at Emilio. “But he—”

“Out.”

That was the thing about Mr. Posten, he didn’t mess
around. And the guy had some serious guns—word was he’d once broken up a fight
by dislocating two shoulders.

Pablo and Carlos screeched their chairs against the
floor, got up and walked toward the door. Pablo made kissing noises at Emilio
as he passed by.
Yeah, whatever,
Emilio thought. It wasn’t lost on him
that Mr. Posten had pretended not to notice who’d flung the book. But with his
fellow South Enders now out of the room, Emilio could actually pay attention
for a while.

~~~

The bell rang and only then did Emilio retrieve his book
from where it still sat on the floor next to Pablo’s desk. Had Mr. Posten
actually not noticed? Not likely. Still, by the time Emilio got the book into
his backpack he was at the rear of the herd. Mr. Posten’s eyes bored into
Emilio’s as he walked past. Yes, he’d definitely noticed.

Emilio was almost out at the door when Mr. Posten spoke.
“Emilio, hang on a second.”

Okay, the hammer was still coming down. Why he’d waited,
Emilio couldn’t guess. But it now looked like Pablo and Carlos got off easy
getting kicked out. Emilio’s guess was detention for him. And South Enders
might sometime show up for class but they sure as hell didn’t stick around for
detention. Emilio wouldn’t have a choice, which would just sink him further
when he was just barely treading water between one world and the other.

“What?” Emilio wanted to add “Mr. Posten”—after all, his
mother had taught him better—but you never knew who might overhear.

Mr. Posten sat on his desk and waved Emilio closer.
Emilio did as he was told and took a few steps.

Mr. Posten kept his voice low. “You can tell your
friends
I was ripping you a new one for throwing the book. Tell them I’m so stupid that
I didn’t figure it out until later when you picked it up off the floor. Got me
so far?”

Emilio nodded, not sure what to say.

“Good. When was the last time you talked to your guidance
counselor?”

“Why?” The fact was, Emilio had never talked to his
guidance counselor. What would be the point?

“Listen, Emilio. It’s not like we don’t notice how hard
you work not to get better grades.”

Emilio’s self-defense mechanisms kicked in. “What the
hell are you—”

“Knock it off.” Mr. Posten’s voice dropped even lower.
“You’re getting Cs just by phoning the whole deal in. Not just in my class. I
know that. Which tells me you want something better. That you get it but just
keep telling yourself it’s not yours to have. That you have to go down with the
rest of your home boys. You don’t.”

Emilio felt his blood start to boil. “How the hell would
you know?”

Mr. Posten unbuttoned his cuff and rolled a sleeve back,
showing ink Emilio never would have imagined being on Mr. Posten’s arms.
Crudely cut gang tattoos. “You want to know how I the hell I’d know? I grew up
in the CD, that’s how I know. I just smartened my ass up and didn’t go down
with my home boys.”

The second bell rang, signaling that Emilio was already
late for his next class. Not that he was supposed to care. Emilio turned and
started walking toward the door.

“Wait,” Mr. Posten said.

Emilio turned and gave him a surly look, more an
automatic response than anything intended. The truth was, he wanted to know how
Mr. Posten got out. How he’d managed to create a half-way decent future.

Mr. Posten opened his desk drawer and withdrew a hall
pass. He scratched the time and his signature down. “Don’t worry, you’re
covered,” he said. “Think about what I said, okay?”

Emilio just barely met his eyes. “Okay,” he said. Then he
slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked out the door.

Ghost of the
Living

They each had secret places of their own and for Nikki that
place was her garden. Okay, maybe Henry was the only one among them who’d
shared everything—after all, she and Jamie had been to his pond. Technically,
though, that first time she’d found him there had been an invitation even
though Henry hadn’t known at the time. After witnessing Bethany’s abduction,
his traumatized state created a psychic distress call Nikki had picked up on.
No, she couldn’t read people here like she could those in the other realm, but
certain signals still came through. At the same time, Nikki suspected Henry had
created a new place of his own. One day, he’d mentioned something about a
sunrise and seagulls, not even thinking about it. Nikki and Jamie had exchanged
knowing glances. Totally fine, just the way it went. In this realm, just like
the other, everyone needed some privacy every so often. Kind of like Simon’s
library. None of her business.

So, for now she tended to her garden. Okay, sure,
everything remained in full bloom, her roses, zinnias and lilies perfect. Nikki
understood that they were, to a degree, unnaturally perfect, but that didn’t
bother her since there was watering and pruning to be done along with weeds to
be pulled. Somehow, even in the afterlife, weeds kept creeping in and trying to
take over. There was also the bright, blue sky above and the sun warming her
shoulders.

Nikki carried a seedling from her greenhouse toward the
hole she’d dug for it. She knelt in the dirt and widened the hole a little more
with her trowel, then placed the roots against the ground. Did it matter that
this plant would still be healthy if she ignored if for a year or that the dirt
she knelt in had been created from her imagination? Not really. This was
Nikki’s own spot of ground, hers for as long as she chose to keep it.

Nikki rose to her feet to get the watering can from where
she’d left it resting on the stone wall. She jumped back, her heart suddenly
pounding. Curtis stood looking back at her. Nikki watched as his image
flickered in and out of solidity. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d
felt afraid but now her skin tingled. She couldn’t help think—even as she
realized the irony—that it felt like she was seeing a ghost.

“Curtis? How can you be here?”

Curtis took a step toward her. The same long, red hair
and piercing green eyes. But within those eyes, no longer the anger she
remembered. Definitely, not the peace she recalled from the time before he’d
jumped into a new life again either. Instead, a sadness she’d never seen in his
eyes before. Still, he said nothing.

“Curtis, tell me why you’re here. Can I help you? You
can’t possibly be here.”

Nikki stood transfixed, waiting for him to answer.
Instead, the light above crossed through him and he started to fade. Within
moments, he disappeared just like last time, leaving Nikki alone in her garden.

~~~

Nikki strode into the food court, not surprised to find
Henry and Jamie hunched over a table, each facing a plate loaded with food. If
anything remained consistent between this realm and the other, it was that
teenage boys remained perpetually starving. Of course, here they could also
perpetually remain teenage boys. “We need to talk,” she said, approaching their
table and pulling out a seat.

Henry and Jamie nodded and waited but, predictably, Henry
didn’t entirely break his focus on his meatball sub and Jamie kept glancing at
his tacos.

“Um, can it maybe wait a few seconds?” Jamie said.
“Seriously starving.”

Nikki balled up a napkin and tossed it at his face. “You
arrived starving, butthead. You’re the only person I’ve ever heard of who
traveled to the afterlife with a jar of mayonnaise.”

Jamie shrugged. “A life without mayonnaise is not worth
living. Didn’t somebody say that?”

Nikki glared at him. “There’s no way someone would be stupid
enough to say that except you.”

Jamie grinned. “You can quote me on that, if you’d like.”

“Quote me on this.” Nikki reached across the table and
smashed one of his tacos with her fist.

“Murderer!” Jamie said.

Henry slid his plate out of Nikki’s reach and took a
hurried bite of his sub.

“Really?” Nikki said.

“It was getting cold,” Henry mumbled, his mouth full. He
swallowed like a seal gulping down a fish.

Waiting for them to get serious was pointless, so Nikki
just blurted it out. “I saw Curtis.”

Jamie frowned. “You mean Ian?”

“Not Ian. Curtis. Twice. The other day in the kitchen,
then—”

“I totally
knew
something was up,” Jamie said.
“For like just two seconds you weren’t bossy.”

Normally, Nikki would have risen to the challenge but
this time she let it go. “I thought it had to be my imagination. But then I
just saw him again.”

Henry stared at her, his eyes wide. “Where?”

“Just someplace I go.” Nikki waited but neither one of
them pried for more information. Clearly, they felt the same way about keeping
a private place.

“That’s not possible.” As soon as he said it, Jamie
snatched up one of his remaining tacos and took a quick bite.

“Obviously, it is possible,” Nikki said. “Since it just
happened.”

“I guess the question is, how is it possible?” Henry said.

“Exactly.” Nikki hadn’t yet told them about her stunt
with the Ouija board. Actually, she’d never intended to. But now she felt like
she had no choice. It seemed there had to be some sort of connection between
her little bit of meddling and what she’d now experienced twice. “So, the other
night I kind of did something that maybe I shouldn’t have.”

Jamie and Henry both took bites of food, then stared at
her, chewing and waiting for her to continue. Even an impossible visit to this
realm from someone who’d started a new life on Earth couldn’t tear them away
from their chow.

“I kind of looked in on Curtis—I mean, Ian—at what turned
out to be an opportune moment.”

Jamie leaned in across the table, eyes peering into hers.
“Why were you spying on Ian?”

“I wasn’t
spying
on him. I just sort of visited.”
Nikki couldn’t bring herself to tell them the real reason she’d been looking in
on Ian lately. How recently, just a little, she’d found herself thinking about
when she might start over. Checking on Ian had so far proved at least one
thing—some people led happy lives. But that was just part of the issue for her.
Obviously, many people led happy lives. But that also seemed very much related
to who they managed to share those lives with.

Nikki forced herself to keep her eyes on Jamie. “I got
bored. So, you know, I crossed over to see what was going on.”

Jamie regarded her skeptically. After all, before Henry
came along, she hadn’t crossed over in years. “Okay, sure. So, what did you
do?”

Nikki saw no point in beating around the bush. She
sighed. “Ouija board.”

Jamie groaned, then burst out laughing.

“What?” Henry looked back and forth between them. “I
don’t get it.”

Of course, Henry didn’t get it. In the scheme of things,
he was still a newbie on this side. “Well, it’s just sort of…” For once, Nikki
couldn’t think of the right words.

“Totally cheesy,” Jamie said. “Did you really do that?”

Nikki felt her face turn red. Jamie was right, of
course—making contact through a Ouija board was such a cliché. “What can I say?
Ian and some friends just happened to be messing around with a Ouija board. So,
I said hi to Ian.”

“Did you tell him who you were?” Henry asked.

Nikki could see the wheels turning as he considered
things.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But it’s not like Ian knows who I
am.”

“But part of Ian is Curtis. How did he react?”

“Actually, he looked pretty stunned. Okay, I admit it—I
didn’t expect that at all. Anyway, do you think it has something to do with
what’s going on?”

Henry glanced back and forth between them. “It sounds
like we better talk to Martha.”

“I totally knew you were going to say that.” Nikki had
been hoping to avoid it but Henry was right, of course. That was the thing
about Henry—he just had good instincts.

~~~

“How do we know she’s even here?” Henry asked, when Nikki
knocked on Martha’s door.

“She’s always here, if you need her.”

“What if you don’t?”

“Then she’s not here, idiot.” Nikki turned and stared at
him. “You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”

Henry smiled back at her. The dimples killed her every
time. “Yep, but I totally admire your consistency. Just so you know.”

Speaking of consistency, Martha opened the door and
offered a warm smile. She always appeared delighted to see them, which amazed
Nikki since the only time they knocked was when something went wrong.

“Hey, guys. Come on in.” Martha stepped back to let them
pass.

How was it possible that she always seemed prepared for
their visits? It had to be something to do with being in Service, like maybe
there were actually three Marthas or something.

“Everything okay?” How Martha said it without irony was
beyond Nikki. Obviously not, since they’d come to her door.

“Roadkill has an issue,” Henry said.

Nikki shot him a look but couldn’t help crack a smile.
After all, she’d been the one to perpetuate the “River Rat” nickname Curtis had
assigned to Henry. She also had to laugh about her own “Roadkill” nickname
Henry had come up with for her. Okay, insensitive but still funny. It didn’t
exactly bother Nikki anymore how she’d died, although she hadn’t ever
completely gotten past the timing.

“Yes, I kind of got that feeling,” Martha said. “But,
hey, that’s why I’m here for you guys. I was just making some hot chocolate.
Want some?” Suddenly, the aroma of chocolate with a touch of mint wafted from
Martha’s kitchen. “Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll be right back.”

Nikki, Henry and Jamie settled onto Martha’s sofas, which
had recently changed from white leather to plush burgundy. A fire crackled in
Martha’s fireplace while outside her massive windows snow fell steadily.
Obviously, Martha had been in wintry mood before they’d arrived. But had she
actually been here at all? Or, when they knocked on Martha’s door, could they
possibly visit some other realm entirely? Nikki had always wondered.

A moment later, Martha reappeared with a tray and four
mugs, each topped with whipped cream. A nice touch, although Nikki also
suspected Martha’s ritual of making them comfortable in a similar manner each
time was her way of signaling that, whatever it was, it should be taken in
perspective. That they should keep looking forward and try to remain on an even
keel in the meantime.

Martha passed out the mugs. “So, what’s going on?”

“I saw Curtis,” Nikki said. “Not Ian. Curtis. Here.
Twice.” Nikki expected Martha’s typically casual reaction to whatever news
they’d come with. It pretty much always went that way.

Instead, Martha went pale. She looked shocked as she
stared at Nikki. “Oh.”

Nikki had never once known Martha to be at a loss for
words. “How is that possible?”

The color returned to Martha’s face as she recovered.
Still, she took a sip of her hot chocolate before speaking. “Let me ask you
this—did you make contact somehow?”

“Ouija board!” Jamie said.

Nikki glared at him. “Thanks so much. I owe you.”

Jamie shrugged while Henry’s eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Nikki, really?” Martha said.

Nikki’s face burned.

“Regardless, it doesn’t matter,” Martha said. “I’m sorry,
but there’s something I wasn’t sure about sharing with you yet. However, all
things considered, it doesn’t appear I have much of a choice. I’ve never lied
to any of you and I’m not about to start.”

When Nikki had expected a firm reprimand, now she wished
it could be as simple as getting her wrist slapped for crossing a line she
shouldn’t have. Martha’s expression told her there were more weighty concerns
at the moment.

“The fact is,” Martha said, “you’re seeing Curtis because
that’s how you know him in this realm. Ian was Curtis before he became Ian,
after all. So, it stands to reason that you’d see Ian as Curtis here. In a
sense, you’ve been seeing Curtis’s spirit.”

“Hang on, that doesn’t make any sense,” Jamie said. “Why
would we see his spirit here?”

“Or anywhere?” Henry added. “Curtis isn’t well…you know…
he’s alive, as Ian. That just isn’t possible.”

Martha took a moment to make eye contact with each of
them before continuing. “That’s true. At the moment. Honestly, I wasn’t sure,
given how sensitive you all are, if any others among you might have a similar
experience. My guess is that it was just a matter of time but Nikki  just
happened to create a connection. Either way, I wasn’t looking forward to
telling you.”

They stared at Martha, waiting for her to continue.
Obviously, good news wasn’t about to follow.

“The person you know as Ian—the same person you all knew
as Curtis here—is going to Transition soon,” Martha said. “In three days, Earth
time. Nikki, what you’ve been seeing is his spirit preparing for the change.”

Nikki kept her eyes on Martha, even as she fought back
tears. “Please tell me that isn’t going to happen.”

Martha lowered her head and closed her eyes momentarily.
“I’m sorry. I realize it’s both painful and confusing. Time here, as you know,
is a fluid thing. We don’t experience it the same way as those we used to know.
A month for us can be five years for them.”

“Believe me, I know.” Nikki tried not to think about how
quickly she’d watched her own family suffer through unhappy lives, the time
unspooling while she’d remained unable to help them. “But we’re talking about
the future. How can you know?”

Martha nodded. “It all depends on your perspective. So
far, it’s seemed the better choice not to confuse matters for your development
by muddying the water even further. But, the fact is, to a degree the future
has already happened. On another level, it’s always happening, as is the past.
It’s all depends on our relationship to those events and how our timeline
intersects with that of others.”