by Holly Hook
And I recall the falling, which I figured was just a nightmare...
Frank shoots a glance at Isabel and back to me again. “We're not going to tell you where you're from,” he says. “It'll make things worse for you. Hold still, Julia. Isabel and I need to focus to finish sending you back.”
The frigid night air closes in tighter as Frank and Isabel stare at me. "So it's bad?" I ask, trying to mask the growing fear monster inside of me. I spin in a circle as the waltz grows louder inside my mind. Or is it even inside my mind? It sounds like it's playing right here in the office. But I'm miles away from the gym.
My feet tap against a wooden floor, not the office carpet. Stars peek in through the ceiling, brighter against a black backdrop. There’s screaming somewhere. The noise drowns out the happy waltz and the ground vibrates as the office grows darker.
Ohmigod these two freaks are right.
I'm slipping somewhere else.
The cold, the frigid, biting cold--
Another spike of panic bolts through me.
I’m going to that place where I was falling to my death.
I scream. The sound joins the other world, adding just one more to the invisible chorus. I'm going to die there and I'll never see Nancy or Monica again.
"Julia!" Frank grabs my shoulders, and I pray his touch will melt this horrible scene away. It doesn't. Frank looks angry, his golden eyes narrow as he studies me. How could I ever have been attracted to him? I've never seen anything less human. "There's no use in that. You won't remember this, anyway."
The wave of footfalls die and the waltz grows louder, so much that it's definitely real. The violins tug at every cell in my body now, pulling me into another time and place, and--
There's a fire alarm handle on the wall, right behind Frank.
I lunge forward out of his grip and before he can react, I'm yanking it down as hard as I can. The walls around me turn transparent and leave night in their place.
A loud buzzing fills my ears. The office snaps back into place as the music vanishes. I cling onto that buzzing. Embrace it. Grasp like it's a rope, pulling me to safety. The air around me warms and it's never felt so good.
"You've severed the tie!" Frank glances over my shoulder.
I whirl around. Isabel rushes me, eyes unreadable. Her green dress swishes around her. I leap out of the way and brace myself until I realize she's going for Frank instead.
She grips his sleeve, tugging him towards the middle of the office. I back towards the door, but Isabel's gaze is locked with mine, sad and relieved at the same time. It's almost like she wants me to get away.
“Go,” Isabel orders. “You don’t have much longer before you go back, anyway.”
She and Frank turn away, heading for one of the back offices. They're huddled together, a couple.
I dart out the door, unable to stomach any more.
The fire alarm keeps buzzing, loud in my ears. I race down the hall, holding up my skirt to keep from tripping.
Rogue.
The word plays itself again and again inside me. I can still feel the pressure of Frank's hand on my back from the dance, but instead of a warm tingle, it's turned into the chill of death itself.
Chapter Three
The gym is chaos.
People turn around everywhere, pushing against each other. The alarm cuts over the music. It's playing another Top 40 hit now, something about last Friday night. A teacher from the Art wing that I don't know the name of raises her voice over it all and waves everyone towards the door.
Good. I have to get out. I don't even care that I've done something that could get me in big trouble, or that Isabel will probably tell the authorities.
The note wasn't a prank. I really am in danger.
And I think Frank's right that I'm in the wrong time. It makes so much sense.
But how? And why can't I remember anything of my real life?
Those thoughts chase me as I run. I search the gym behind me as I rush to meet up with Monica. It's emptying, leaving nothing but streamers drooping off the walls and the fake candles flickering on the table, one of which has burned out. The buzzing of the fire alarm follows us out into the gym lobby.
“Are you okay? What's going on?” she asks, facing me. She's got a hold of Trey's arm, hanging onto him like she's going to drown if she lets go. I've never seen her like that. It's a Monica that looks vulnerable, not the one that I practically clung to on my first days here.
I don't know what to tell her.
I rub my face, leaving a dark smear on my palm as I pull it away. The makeup she put on must be a mess now. Monica studies me when we enter the lobby and approach the doors someone else holds open. She only lets go of Trey's arm when the doors close behind us and stifle the buzzing. Her head turns as she searches the area for Frank. When she doesn't see him, her face falls.
I shake my head at her. I can't speak. Not so much because of Frank's betrayal, but because of the rest. The tears spill out as my vision turns into a blurry, abstract painting. I can't stop them or rub them away completely. I should be more in control of this. I never break down. I’m the one who stands up against the Snob Squad. I’m the one who needs to handle this.
"Julia." She's a blur of brown and yellow on the backdrop of a badly painted trophy case. "What's wrong?"
"I'll tell you in a minute," I manage with a hiccup, turning away. I rejoin the evacuating crowd.
I should have trusted my nerves, the warning that something was wrong.
Rogue.
The stream of people sweeps me away with it. I burst through the double doors and out into the parking lot. I'm a gray pebble floating down a river of gems.
You're in the wrong time.
It's no wonder I could never find an Ithaca High School in this state. It doesn't exist. It's a lie that someone made up to make me think I belonged here, a lie to fool even Nancy.
But who? If Frank's right, then someone had to have put me here.
I search the passing colors and fabrics again for Isabel and Frank, but they've vanished. It's as if they're gone from the face of the world. Even Wendy and Heather have squeezed themselves into the corner of the doorway, waiting for them.
"Julia?" Monica asks. She separates from Trey, rushing for me as I rest my hand on someone's car. She's not freaking out anymore now that we're away from the alarm. I can see her analyzing, trying to figure out what happened in the time Frank and I were absent from the dance.
“I don’t want to discuss it.” I can't discuss it.
Monica balks at my words. “Come on. What did he do?” She's gritting her teeth now, ready to strike out at Frank. I can't miss the way she studies my dress, checking for tears. The anger hardening her features. She's just as upset as I am. She must think that Frank--
I hold up my hands. I've got to calm her, which is no easy feat as I'm nowhere near calm myself. “It wasn't anything sexual. It wasn't...that.”
Monica relaxes a bit, but there's no sign she believes me. “Okay. I didn't mean to go off on you. It's just...never mind.” She turns away and sighs.
I have to change the subject, to give myself time to think of what to tell her. I can't say that I'm really from the past. No one other than those time police will believe me. "How are we going to get home?" I stare at the overcast sky above us. It's so different from the place Frank and Isabel nearly sent me. Though crickets chirp and the first sirens from the Trenton fire department sound through the air, the screaming still echoes through my mind. It'll chase me into my dreams tonight, grabbing at me like sharp branches in a dark forest.
"Trey's friend has a car. We'll bum a ride off him." She steps closer and leans against the hood. Monica faces me and studies my dress again. I don’t care at the moment. Everything's turned gray on me, like its fabric which has turned dull and lifeless in the night. “Please,” she says. “Just tell me what Frank did. I know it's hard to get it out.”
I have to say something. This is torturing her. Ever sin
ce I arrived here in Trenton, she's been the one watching out for me.
"Isabel," I say, hoping the one word communicates enough for now. It hurts to say any more.
Monica whirls around, ready to solve my problems. Wendy and Heather are doing the same, calling Isabel’s name and staring back into the entrance of the still-buzzing school. "Look," she says to me, all ready to solve my problems. "When I see the two of them on Monday, they're going to regret it. I'm not sure how yet, but believe me, sister, we'll find a way."
Monica wraps me in a hug with the rustling of fabric.
Sister.
She's the closest thing to one I'll ever have.
I hug back, peering into the darkness beyond the edge of the parking lot as the first of the fire trucks pulls into the drive, casting emergency lights across everything.
Red flickers towards the trees and a dark figure materializes out the darkness…with golden eyes so bright they're a pair of pinpoints.
But before I can react and pull out of Monica's hug, the light of the fire truck passes, and the creature disappears back into the forest.
* * * * *
April 4
"Morning, Nancy,” I say, blinking the sleep from my eyes on Monday morning.
"You mean, good morning." she corrects. Nancy wraps her oven mitts around the handles of the crock pot. She sets it down in the middle of the counter, where there's an almost imperceptible mark from its constant stay there.
I yawn without covering my mouth, which earns me a mock disapproving stare. “Okay. You caught me.”
“Do you know what’s coming soon?” she asks.
“No. What?”
“Your one year anniversary with us.” Nancy smiles at me, creasing her cheeks. “We should do something to mark the occasion. Maybe we can all go out to a nice dinner.”
“That'll work. How about Grondin's?” It's the only place Nancy and I can agree on. She won't eat anywhere where you don't have to put a cloth napkin on your lap. I always feel stifled at those fancy places, so out of place. But Grondin's, at least, you don't have to dress up to go to. I can tolerate going there if it's Nancy and Monica with me. Nancy always helps me not screw things up. It was her who saved me embarrassment and showed me what to do with those cloth napkins the first time we went there. I'd been about to blow my nose with it at the time like it was a hankie or something. Nancy and I still laugh about that.
“That sounds good,” she says, opening the lid to peer inside the crock pot. The aroma of a roast comes out with the steam. “You have a wonderful day at school.”
“I will,” I say with a pang in my stomach.
I don't leave right away. I watch Nancy set the pot back down and head to the den. She opens the door and heads in. I catch a glimpse of bookshelves, a grandfather clock, all of her model ships, and the TV where the three of us watched so many films together on the weekends. I haven't realized until now just how much Monica and Nancy helped me adjust by doing that, and how much I'm going to miss them if Frank and Isabel find me again.
I'm not going to let that happen. I've got to find out where I came from and what I need to do to avoid going back there.
* * * * *
Monica wants to make Isabel pay. That hardness returns to her face when walk through the school doors and head to the Center and weave around people rushing to their classes.
“I'm going to go look for Isabel.” She searches the wide hallway, glaring behind her every few seconds.
“You don't have to,” I say. “I'm over Frank. If I'd known he was one of them--”
“You sit here,” she demands as we come under the skylight that marks the Center, the middle of the school. She points to the bench next to the poster of the cheerleading team. “It's not right what they did to you. You've had enough crap in your life. You don't deserve to be treated like a piece of trash over and over again.”
“I don't even remember sixteen years of the crap.” I'm not afraid to say that in front of her, but I am afraid of Monica going up against Isabel and Frank. They won't want to send her anywhere, will they? She's at home in this time, unlike me. But they could use her to get to me. Hurt her, even. I don't know. The two of them have been studying me long enough to know we're always around each other.
“That's not the point.” She's angry now, fists balled like there's rage inside of her, ready to explode. “You don't exist for someone else's sick enjoyment. You—”
“Monica.” I know what I need to say. The crowd around us clears. It's getting close to the bell. I have to stop her, to keep her safe in more ways than one.
Her expression softens and she hikes her backpack more onto her shoulder, like she wants to leave.
“You used to live with your dad before Nancy took you in, right?” Even though we've spent a year under the same roof, Monica's never talked about her life prior to two years ago. Nancy only mentioned the fact once over our first dinner together.
Monica pales a shade. Her gaze darts back and forth. “You know, you're right,” she says. “Maybe going after Isabel isn't worth it. We could be late getting to class if we do that right now.”
The halls go quieter. Voices echo up and down the halls, bouncing around the Center. Mrs. Ballard lingers in the office doorway, ready to hand out detentions to the late people.
“I understand if you don't want to discuss it,” I say, lowering my voice. I know the trapped feeling all too well. “Just know that you can any time. I'll listen. You know my secret, after all.”
Monica nods. She relaxes. I know what it means. Thank you.
Two figures rush past us, heading for the math wing. Heather and Wendy. They run, purses swinging, without giving us a glance. There's no Isabel.
That's odd. The three of them always stick together. It's all a part of the balance of power at Trenton High: the Snob Squad on top of the social pyramid, followed by the East Side. On the next level is just about everyone else. And after that are the people who have to bring in free lunch tickets. I think Monica and I are somewhere between everyone else and lunch tickets.
Money sucks.
* * * * *
The bell rings to start the last class of the day, Independent Study.
The day's been a waste. A lunch trip to the library didn't help me find out what that song was that was playing at the dance, the one that almost made me slip away. There are so many songs from the early nineteen hundreds to go through online and without Monica's help I didn't get very far. The song must be from that time, just like the coin in my pocket. I'll look for it in my next class if I have time. If I don't find it then, I'll head down to the band room and see if there's a music teacher I can ask about it. I've got to find out its identity. It'll help me figure out what exactly Frank and Isabel want to send me back to.
My stomach growls from skipping lunch. I take a long time at my locker, rubbing my temples from the headache that's starting. Independent Study is the class where Frank and I met. Where he asked me to the dance. Where we sit next to each other. Where Monica doesn't go.
If he’s still there, I’m going to skip. I don’t care how much trouble I get into.
But when I enter the room, there’s a new guy in his seat. Frank’s still nowhere.
The bell rings behind me as I ease myself into the room. I have never been so happy to see this guy, even though all I can see of him is the messy brown hair and the back of his head. Nothing special. But he's not Frank and that's all that matters. At least one thing is going right today.
"Hi," I say as I sit and pull the keyboard towards me. One last check of the door confirms that Frank is a no-show. "You're new?"
He turns away from his screen. "Hello…um, hi. I'm Simon."
I stop typing my password mid-stroke.
It's him.
The boy who fell with me in my memory.
Chapter Four
I lose my breath like I'm rocketing up through the upper layers of the atmosphere and crossing the line into space. My head swims with the s
hock of it all.
Simon's eyebrows rise as he studies me. His eyes are as brown as fresh earth. As deep as the night we plummeted through together.
Julia! he screams in my head. For a second, we're falling again.
"We have--" He coughs, like something’s choking him. His eyes water. “Sorry. I can’t speak.”
The door to the computer lab is still halfway open. I can run and make my escape before the room starts to disappear and that other place reaches for me with those icy fingers. Maybe it's already begun. This boy's sitting next to me. That's sign enough. He's Frank and Isabel's next move. Like the music at the dance, he's another link to pull me to my death.
I rise from my chair.
Bolt for the exit.
Simon's chair squeaks and his voice follows me. "Wait. What--"
"Miss McCready. Cutting class already?"
I stop, staring up at the hulking frame of my Independent Study teacher, Mr. Iris. He gives me his most relaxed smile and plants his hands on the frame of the door. While I've never hated Mr. Iris or his lame jokes before, things are changing in a matter of seconds. I can almost feel the prickle of Simon's gaze between my shoulder blades as if there's a big target painted there. Frank and Isabel are going to barge in any second and finish this.
"I don't feel well.” That's honest, too. Am I getting cold? Slipping away? I can't tell where my chills are coming from. I hold my hand to my mouth. "I'm going to throw up."
Mr. Iris zips to the side at my threat and lets me pass.
I run, my feet slapping the floor of the hallway. The lockers echo the sound back at me as the stragglers rush to class. I'm alone in the hall. I have to escape to where Simon can’t. I'll think about the rest later.