Whispers From the Grave (17 page)

“I don’t have a skirt,” I admitted.

“Do not smart-mouth me, miss!” he snapped.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and found the closest exit and left the school, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe it. Girls not allowed to wear pants!

Across the street I ordered a cup of water at a fast-food restaurant and sat on the curb, listening to my stomach grumble and wishing I had money for food.

When the sun was high in the bright blue sky, the school’s big red doors flung open and kids poured out. Lunchtime. A herd of teenagers stampeded toward the restaurant.

I studied the noisy crowd. Giggling girls, shouting boys. If I just looked at the faces, it was no different than watching the swarm of students that populated my high school. But as my eyes traveled over the clothing and hairstyles, I was once again struck by the fact that this was no longer 2070.

The girls in Rita’s school wore short bright-colored skirts with tucked-in blouses, knee socks, and saddle shoes. The boys wore colorful bell-bottom pants. Their shirts were made from slippery-looking fabric with loud designs and sported ridiculously large collars. The kids from my era would laugh if they could see these styles.

It was all perspective, of course. The styles of 2070 would look ludicrous to these kids. But these were the styles I was meant to wear. And these were the kids that should have been my peers.
If I’d
been born when I should have been.

Was it possible to fit in now? Had I stepped back in time to claim my rightful place? Was there any way the Mills family—my family—could grasp the fact that I’d traveled through time to be with them? Would they love and accept me?

Though I’d come here to save Rita, in the back of my mind, I’d longed to be here for
me.
My life in 2070 was nothing more than a lie. It was unnatural. But this was
real.
This was my time.

“It’s not fair Mr. Frink made you leave.”

Startled, I glanced up to see a petite, pretty girl in a red dress smiling at me. She shuffled an armload of books and tossed her head so her long amber hair sailed over her shoulder. “We’re tired of being forced to wear skirts to school,” she said, gesturing to the group of girls beside her.

“It’s not right,” I agreed.

“Yeah,” chimed in a busty girl in pigtails with round brown glasses. “The boys are allowed to be comfortable. Can you imagine if
they
were forced to wear dresses?”

“Why should we have to show off our legs for the boys?” asked a girl with cinnamon skin whose hair was bubbled up into an Afro.

“I think it’s pretty stupid too,” I said.

“My cousin at Foster High School organized a protest,” she added. “Nine senior girls came to school in jeans.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“They were sent home and suspended for three days. But if enough of us get together we could make a change.”

“Right on!” The blond-haired girl said, and pumped her fist in the air. “Women’s Lib is here to stay!”

My vow to remain inconspicuous withered up and blew away on the breeze as I found myself in the middle of a protest.

In the restaurant, a half dozen girls squeezed into the orange vinyl booth beside me, sharing limp, salty french fries and discussing the protest.

“It’s so cool you started this protest,” Pam, the pigtailed girl, told me. I grinned back at her, feeling oddly at ease with these strangers. Teresa, Celia, Lynn, Pam, Laura, Becky. They would have been my friends—
if only I’d been born when I was meant to be!

I was soon caught up in the excitement of the dress code rebellion as we giggled and joked. I felt charged with the energy at that table as we made plans and talked about the awful Mr. Frink.

“You know,” Lynn said, “you sure look like Rita Mills. Are you guys related?”

Without thinking, I nodded. “Yes, she’s my sister.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest thing to tell people I was Rita’s sister, when she herself did not know I existed. But it was the truth, and it just popped out.

My new friends accepted the fact, and I was relieved when they didn’t question me. I sat facing the window and scanned the parking lot, searching for any sign of my sister.

I did not know how I would warn her about Ben— only that I had to do it soon. But I’m ashamed to admit that I momentarily forgot Rita as I listened to the girls discuss “Women’s Lib.” It was fascinating to learn that in 1970, women were usually the secretaries and nurses, while the men were the executives and doctors. In 2070, women’s accomplishments not only equaled men’s, they actually surpassed them somewhat!

“Someday,
women
will run the country,” I volunteered.

“Right on!” Lynn yelled, and I smiled at her enthusiasm. I wished I could tell her that all the presidents in my lifetime had been women.

We’d studied Women’s Liberation in history class, but at the time it had seemed like an ancient topic that had nothing to do with my life. Now, listening to this group of girls who felt so oppressed, I was inspired by the fire in their eyes, their resolve to make things right.

Swept away by the excitement, it caught me completely off guard when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see a familiar girl, her cheeks flushed pink, her hazel eyes blazing.

Rita!

“Why are you telling everyone you’re my sister?” she demanded. Her anger gave way to shock as she stared at me.

“I can explain,” I said. “Let’s go outside.”

I rushed ahead of her—out the double doors, across the paved parking lot—not ready to look her in the eye.

What would I say to her? How could she possibly believe I had traveled from the future?
I
could hardly believe it myself.

“Let’s sit here,” I said and settled on a short brick wall bordering a flower bed where tall red geraniums bobbed their heads in the breeze.

“I don’t want to sit!” Rita cried, her eyes round with astonishment, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “
Who
are you?”

As I stared back at her confused face, I wanted to leap up and throw my arms around her—to hug her close and keep her safe forever. My sister was
alive!
And I was actually there with her. The enormity of that fact sent a crushing wave of emotion through me and I blinked away tears.

The truth was so incredible—so
unbelievable
—I decided to give her just half of it. I said, “Did you know your parents made an embryo for Twin-Star Labs?”

“How did
you
know that?” she asked. “What does that have to do with you?”

“That embryo was put inside a surrogate mother in Idaho,” I said, forcing myself to speak calmly. “I am the result.”

“That’s not possible!” she whispered. “The embryo is still in the freezer at Twin-Star. I’ve seen the container myself.”

I thought fast. “The containers holding the embryos were mismarked,” I said, the lie flying from my lips. “I was implanted inside my mother almost immediately after my conception seventeen years ago.”

Rita gasped, her face slack with shock.

“
Look at me!
”
I cried. “Can’t you see we’re sisters?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “I guess I can.” Her knees seemed to fold involuntarily as she sank down beside me, She could not peel her eyes from my face, an almost mirror image hers.

“My name is Jenna. I came here for a reason. I have something very important to tell you.”

She squeezed my hand, her fingers icy. “I always wanted a sister,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know. I was shocked to find out about you too. I only learned the truth a little while ago. I spent my whole life thinking the woman who raised me was my real mother.”

“Do our parents know you’re here?"

“They think I’m still a frozen embryo. I’m not ready for them to know about me. So much has happened so fast. And the truth is, I came here to see you. Will you please try to be open-minded about what I have to tell you?”

She laughed nervously. “Is it something awful? You look scared.”

“I
am
scared,” I admitted. I took a deep breath. “The thing is, I’m psychic—
very
psychic. I came here because I’m worried about you. I saw something in your future, Rita. Something terrible!”

“What did you see?”

Before I could respond, someone moved up beside her and threw his arms around her shoulders. Her eyes lit with pleasure and she kissed him on the cheek. It was Ben.

19

I worried Ben would remember me from the
night before. But his eyes held no glimmer of recognition—only amazed curiosity. He looked from me to Rita and back again, obviously struck by our resemblance.

“You’re not going to believe this, Ben,” Rita said. “This is my sister.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister. What a trip!”

I regarded him coolly and said, “Yes, it is kind of a vacation.”

Rita smiled. “He means a mind trip. Don’t they use that expression in Iowa?”

“
Idaho,
”
I corrected her. “I’m from Idaho.”

“Far out,” Ben said.

“Well, it’s not
that
far out,” I said. “Just one state away.”

“I think she’s putting us on,” Rita said.

“Right on!” I said, grabbing for one of the new expressions I’d learned. It wasn’t easy getting used to the odd phrases kids in 1970 used. Rita had used some of these expressions in her diary, but they still echoed strangely in my ear. I forced myself to laugh, so they’d believe I
was
just putting them on.

Ben laughed too, his blue eyes sparkling.
So this is what a killer looks like when he’s sober,
I thought bitterly. He seemed taller than last night. Probably because he was standing straighter.

I was sure now Ben didn’t recognize me. He probably didn’t even remember the evening. Was he so drunk he blacked the whole thing out?

Ben sat down and slid his arm around Rita’s waist. Smiling contentedly, she rested her head on his shoulder.

Startled, I realized that when Rita wrote about this day, she and Ben had not yet made up. Obviously things were unfolding much differently than they had in the diary. My presence here had already made an impact.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Ben asked Rita.

“
I
didn’t know,” she replied. “And I can’t possibly concentrate on school today so I’m skipping the rest of my classes. Ben, it’s going to blow your mind when you hear where Jenna came from. It’s a really weird story—”

“It’s a
long
story,” I cut her off. “And Rita and I have lots of catching up to do.” I stood and grabbed her hand, tugging her away from Ben.

His eyes widened in annoyed surprise as I pulled Rita from his arms. Thrown off balance, she fell against me. “Let’s walk home,” I said, still clinging to her hand.

She giggled nervously and held her other hand out to Ben. Her slim white fingers were lost as his big hand folded over hers. “Ben can give us a ride,” she said.

I did not want to let go of her, and neither did he. It was like we were playing an odd game of tug-of-war with Rita as the prize. My eyes met Ben’s. I glared coldly. He stared back with an icy challenge of his own.

“Quit pulling on me, you guys!” Rita laughed, oblivious to the hostile exchange between us.

Ben drove us home in his ’59 Chevy—a rounded, dusty, sputtering vehicle that lurched forward with each stop. As I bounced about in the backseat, watching Rita watching Ben, doubt crept over me. She was cuddled up to him and her eyes shined so adoringly when she gazed at him. How would I keep her away from him? How would I tell my sister the truth about the boy she loved?

“It looks like my parents aren’t home,” Rita announced as Ben pulled into the driveway of Banbury House. I felt both relief and disappointment. I wanted so much to see my real parents. Of course, I could not meet them—not unless I was prepared to tell them the truth. Rita had believed my lie about the embryos getting mixed up. But our parents would surely look into matters.

We got out of the car, and Rita leaned through the window and passionately kissed her boyfriend goodbye.

“Want to walk on the beach?” she asked me as Ben’s car chugged away and disappeared around the corner. “It’s such a gorgeous day, we can hang out there until the sun sets.”

“I thought you were grounded,” I said.

“Not me! Why do you say that?”

“I heard you got pretty drunk last night. I figured you’d be in trouble.”

“I
would
have been! But Mom didn’t catch me. She and Dad went out for Chinese food and ran into some friends. They got home after I did.”

According to Rita’s diary, our mother had found her throwing up in the yard and grounded her. Why had things unfolded so differently this time?

“I can thank Tiny Tim for saving my butt,” Rita said.

“Who?”

“Tiny Tim. He’s my cat. He jumped up on the counter and ate a big chunk out of the tuna casserole Mom made for dinner. That’s why my parents decided to go out to eat.”

So that was it! I’d let the cat out of the attic. Last time around, he must have been shut in the attic, unable to get to the casserole.

Rita gave me a tour of Banbury House. The wood floors that Mom was so proud of did not shine in Rita’s time. Dulled by dust and a big family’s footsteps, they were covered in places by the same type of shaggy carpet Rita had in her room.

In the living room a long vinyl couch, flanked by end tables with voluptuous green lamps, faced a noisy black-and-white television. “My kid brother must have gotten home early because of the parent-teacher conference,” Rita said, turning off the TV. “He always turns the TV on full blast and then runs outside to play.”

Olive-green, vivid oranges, and earthy brown seemed to be the color scheme for 1970 decorating. It was as if Banbury House was dressed for a costume party in funky clothes. If I had traveled back in time
two
centuries, I would probably have found more familiar decor, because Mom had very carefully decorated in authentic Victorian.

The Mills family decorating made more sense. Why try to imitate a thing of the past? People should live in the time and place they were
meant
to. As I watched my smiling sister, I knew I was meant to be
here.