Tempest

by Julie Cross

  “I just want to take the semester off, if that’s all right.”

  “We’ll talk about this later. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

  “Where are you?” Somewhere supersecret?

  “Houston,” he said. “Business trip.”

  “Fine. See you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone and handed it back to the chick invading my privacy. “Thank you. You can go now.”

  She stood up and snatched her purse from the arm of the chair. “Nice chatting with you, junior.”

  I made a quick decision to try and wiggle some information out of the only source I had. “You know, my dad told me what you really do, that you’re not his secretary. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Actually, I think it’s pretty cool that you’re so … involved.”

  She laughed really hard. “Well, you got that right. If you want to know about corruption and secrets in a major corporation, ask the person who answers the phones. They know everything.”

  “Even detailed information about foreign policy. I was impressed with that.” I took a couple steps closer and lifted one eyebrow.

  “We’re very international, but I think you already know that.” She pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to me. “Call me anytime if you change your mind about going back to Europe. Or … if you want to discuss those foreign policies a little more.”

  I just stared at her in disbelief. Is she flirting with me? I didn’t know anyone who could switch gears that fast. Not an honest person, anyway.

  I flopped onto the couch again the second she left. Sleep should have come right away. God knows I needed it, but the whole my-dad’s-a-secret-agent thing was really creeping me out, and bumping into Courtney and getting arrested had distracted me from looking for clues.

  I half expected those men with guns to jump out from behind a door. I tossed and turned for hours, feeling the guilt, the heaviness of everything I had left behind in 2009 pressing down on me. Could I really just start over? Maybe that was the answer. Seeing or talking to Holly, in this year. Just to know she was okay. It was possible the 2009 nightmare would stop haunting me if I knew she was safe. Here. Now. Maybe I could change things that way.

  I reached behind me and picked up the phone from the end table. She might have the same cell phone number in this year that she had in 2009. It was five minutes to six on a Monday morning. Holly would probably be up. My heart pounded as I dialed her number from memory.

  After three rings, I heard the crackling sound of papers being crumpled and then music blaring, followed by the one voice I needed to hear most at this moment.

  “Hello?”

  I couldn’t speak or move.

  “Hello?” she said again.

  “Oh … um, sorry … wrong number,” I managed to spit out.

  I heard her laugh a little. “Okay, no problem.”

  I let out the biggest breath of relief, but I knew the second I hung up the phone that it wouldn’t be enough. I had to see her. As I stumbled toward my room, feeling more tired than I ever had in my life, I started to devise a plan to worm my way not only into Holly’s life, but also into Adam’s.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I slept a few hours and then pulled out my journal to write some of the developments down. If I was able to get into younger Adam’s circle, he’d need all these pages of notes. I knew him well enough to know that.

  MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2007

  Today is my first official day of assuming the role of my seventeen-year-old self. Damn, this sucks! I have a few goals formed already, even in this early hour. (1) Avoid a repeat of any form of high school. (2) Find out what Adam and Holly are doing in this year. I really need to see them. Both of them. Even if they don’t know me.

  Someone banged on my bedroom door, hard. It must have been my dad and he was probably still pissed off about last night.

  “You have no consideration for the fact that I’ve been living in a different time zone since last May,” I said as I stuffed the journal under my pillow.

  “It’s almost noon, you’ve slept enough. I made you something to eat,” he shouted through the door.

  I took my time showering and got dressed slowly, developing a story as to why a nearly straight-A student would suddenly want to drop out senior year.

  Dad was waiting for me at the kitchen table with coffee and eggs, wearing his usual suit and tie, his dark hair neatly combed.

  Part of me wanted to tell him everything, but I mostly just wanted to tell him that I’d seen Courtney, talked to her. He missed her as much as I did. Maybe more. Not that we ever talked about it. But I gave myself official orders. Don’t trust anything he says.

  “Jackson,” he said with a stiff nod.

  “Dad.”

  “I want to talk about you dropping out. I understand you have your reasons for coming back from Spain, but at least consider returning to Loyola.”

  “No, thanks.” Not biting that bullet again. “So, are you heading to work?”

  He opened the newspaper all the way, concealing his face. “Yes.”

  I poured a glass of orange juice and took a long drink. “What was going on in Houston?”

  Killing people with your bare hands?

  “Nothing interesting, just some meetings with politicians. Cutting off the FDA before they start dumping new regulations on us. All things a high school dropout could never do.”

  I groaned and stuffed a forkful of eggs in my mouth. “I’m not interested in going back to a school with a bunch of stuck-up kids.”

  He folded the paper and looked at me. “Huh … Europe has diversified you. Can’t say I object to that … but your education shouldn’t suffer. It’s just one more year and then you can go to college wherever you want.”

  One more year. What the hell did that really mean for someone like me?

  “I’ll get back to you,” I grumbled.

  He left me alone in the kitchen and took off for work. Several questions ran through my head, like … did he yank off his suit and turn into a spy the second he walked out the door? But if he really did work for the CIA, there was no way I could follow him without getting caught.

  My dad never seemed like the government-worker type, but he had been closed off the past few years. I thought that was because of Courtney. Mostly I thought he wished it was me who had died instead.

  Can’t say I blame him, especially now that I was acting the part of pain-in-the-ass-delinquent-seventeen-year-old, too spoiled to finish high school.

  The doorbell rang and I forced myself off the chair and trudged over to open it. Henry was standing on the other side holding out a large brown envelope. “Delivery for you.”

  I took the envelope from his hands. “Thanks. Did you check it for explosives?”

  His eyes widened. “Oh … I didn’t know…”

  “I’m kidding, Henry.” I patted him on the shoulder before closing the door and plopping back into my chair. I dumped out the contents of the envelope and found a new cell phone, passport, license, credit cards, a couple hundred dollars in cash, and a note.

  Junior,

  Hope this helps you get around a little better today. I know how helpless you privileged kids can be. In fact, I even programmed my number into your phone. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. Your father’s orders.

  —Miss Stewart

  P.S. I already have the entire international security staff at JFK on the lookout for Pierre the French exchange student, so don’t even think about pulling that shit again.

  I forced a full meal down my throat, hoping my energy level would return to normal. I needed to get dirt on Holly and Adam in this year. Preferably without time-jumping, because it was only moving me backward. I did know one guy who might be able to help, but it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience.

  * * *

  I walked through the empty hall of an NYU dorm and knocked on the very last door. Music filled the hallway as a plump guy with greasy hair and food stuck in his teeth opened the door, grabbed the front of
my shirt, and yanked me inside. “Don’t say a word!”

  “Um … okay.” I glanced around the small single room. It was covered in take-out containers, dirty laundry, and somewhere in there was a bed. I think.

  He tightened the frayed tie of his blue bathrobe. “How did you hear about me?”

  “A friend from your sociology class.”

  Dirty Leon (the only name I knew he had) was a senior at NYU when I was a freshman. The guy who could get answers. Apparently, he was able to get them while sitting on his ass, eating deli sandwiches and entire jars of pickles.

  He lifted an eyebrow but nodded. “Good. You’re one of us now.”

  God, I hope not.

  “So … tell me how this works…?”

  Dirty Leon had to toss a few pairs of underwear onto the floor before sitting down in front of his computer. “Well, basically, this is a business deal. Confidentiality is a must, but I’ve never had a problem with a customer ratting me out.”

  “Because you’re so charming?”

  “I get some pretty risky requests for information. Some of it could send a lot of people to jail. Now tell me what you need.”

  “Just to find someone. I have basic information, address and school—”

  He nodded. “A girl, and you need a little more insight into her life. That’s elementary work, unless she’s a government employee or underwent a recent sex change operation.”

  “No to both of those.”

  I gave him the information and waited a few minutes, leaning against the door because I wasn’t about to sit anywhere in the room and take the chance of physical contact with Leon’s tighty-whities.

  “She has a job, according to the IRS,” he said, still staring at the computer screen.

  Okay, now, that was impressive. “Where does she work?”

  “Someplace called Aero Twisters in Newark.”

  “Is that like a smoothie shop?”

  He typed away for a few seconds and a picture of Holly popped up on the screen. “Recreational and preschool gymnastics instructor. Looks like you might be too old to join one of her classes.”

  The future Holly had mentioned to me she had taught gymnastics, but I never knew where.

  I scanned the screen and then my face broke into a grin. “They’re hiring.”

  “For a cleaning and maintenance position. Think you can handle that?”

  Probably not. “Maybe, if I thought it would impress her.”

  Leon stared at the wall above my head. “Depends on what angle you’re going for. Hardworking guy willing to get his hands dirty … that’s got winner written all over it.”

  “Yeah, it does.” If I could pull it off.

  He turned to face the computer again. “According to an email from the owner of the gym, he had a plumbing issue this morning that made him, quote, ‘want to tear his hair out.’ Sounds like you should jump on this right away.”

  “Thank you. Any chance you can whip up a fake résumé?” I asked.

  He grinned, revealing green bits of pickle stuck in his teeth. “I’ll make you look like the best cleaning and maintenance guy in the entire state of New Jersey. For an extra fifty bucks.”

  “Great. You can email it to me.” I paid Leon his money, jotted down my email address, and then left before the bacteria crawling on the walls of the room got anywhere near me.

  This would be a good start, and then I could figure out the best way to approach Adam. Even though he told me to find him if anything like this ever happened, it seemed completely nuts to walk up to him and say, “Hey, I’m from the future!”

  Getting this job would put me one step closer to forming a plan. If I could manage to get hired.

  * * *

  “You’re the first applicant in two weeks who actually has experience in maintenance,” Mike Steinman said to me from across his desk.

  “That’s good news for me.”

  I had just spent thirty minutes making up more lies than I could keep track of and, fortunately, he was eating them up. I didn’t see any other way to get into Holly’s circle. We didn’t go to school together. Our paths would never cross enough for me to gain her trust—some guy who lives in Manhattan keeps “accidently” bumping into her in Jersey. It was either this or enroll in her school. I’d leave that for plan B. And I was going to avoid plan B at all costs because it involved high school. And yeah, I’d never been to a big public school, like Holly’s, but basic “High School 101” rules applied everywhere. It wasn’t easy to get into someone’s social circle without common ground.

  “All right, the job’s twenty hours a week. You lock up every night. We have nearly a thousand kids running through here each week, so nothing is consistent—gotta be ready for those surprises.”

  “I’m not easily shocked.” Not anymore.

  “Great, can you start today?”

  It took me a second to respond. “Seriously? I’m hired?”

  He stood and walked toward his office door. “Yes, I’m that desperate. We just had a light go out above the uneven bars and the list keeps getting longer.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Steinman. You have no idea how much I need this job,” I admitted.

  He opened the door. “Sounds like we both win. And everyone around here calls me Mike.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Come on, I’ll show you the staff locker room and the maintenance closet.”

  My pulse was already speeding up. She was here, somewhere. But she wasn’t my Holly. Not yet anyway.

  I followed Mike across the carpeted gymnastics floor and in between the balance beams. My legs were shaking and I barely listened as he opened an empty locker and listed off instructions and cleaning schedules.

  Eventually, he slapped me on the back. “I’ve never had a maintenance guy, always have to contract jobs out to different companies. Or try to fix stuff myself. It’s a pain in the ass.”

  I swallowed hard and croaked out a thank-you. Hopefully, I wouldn’t get myself killed changing a lightbulb.

  “The place gets really crowded between four and seven, so you’ll need to make sure you’re out of the way of classes while you’re working.” Mike tossed me a black polo shirt. The words AERO TWISTERS, INC. were embroidered across the front.

  I pulled it over my T-shirt and followed Mike out of the locker room, toward the lobby and the half-wall separating the parent viewing area from the gymnastics gym. He pointed to a dark-haired girl and a short guy leaning against the half-wall. “This is Jana and Toby. They’re both on the team here. They teach classes when it fits in with their practice schedule.”

  “Hi,” they said together.

  I had met the future Jana in 2009 several times, and I vaguely remembered meeting Toby.

  “Hey, Holly, come here,” Mike shouted.

  Her long blond ponytail stuck out from underneath a table. “Yeah, Mike?”

  She crawled out, holding up the pen she must have dropped, and stood in front of us, next to the other two. My breath caught in my throat and then my legs went wobbly. She was so close. So real. How long had it really been since I had last seen her? Five days. It seemed like months.

  “Jackson is our new cleaning and maintenance guy,” Mike said.

  “I can’t believe you wrangled someone into fixing this place,” Holly joked.

  Her light laughter rang through my ears and I had the sudden urge to throw her over my shoulder and run out of there. Make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. I took in a breath and tried to concentrate despite the ache I was feeling inside. She didn’t know me. I knew she wouldn’t, but it still felt like a hard kick right in the gut.

  I shook my head, then forced a smile and a nod hello before walking in the other direction. Besides watching the older version of Holly getting shot, this was the most freaked out I had ever been in my entire life.

  And I still had a lightbulb to change—another scary thought.

  * * *

  The ladder shook as I reached my hand toward the gia
nt light hanging near the set of uneven bars. I managed to replace the bulb without electrocuting myself and was heading down the ladder when I caught a glimpse of Holly handing out stickers to her class as the girls were leaving.

  I climbed slowly down the final step. Heights had never been my thing.

  A loose strand of blond hair fell over her eyes and I watched it, willing myself not to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. To see if it felt the same. If she was actually real.

  Every muscle in my body ached to touch her, drag her out the door and tell her everything. Maybe she’d believe me, but she still wouldn’t know me.

  Don’t be a dumb-ass, Jackson. She’d never believe me and would most likely run scared. Who wouldn’t? Other than Courtney … and Adam. I pulled myself together and started folding the ladder together.

  Just as Holly was finishing, Toby approached.

  “Hey, Hol, was that your last class?” he asked.

  I kept my eyes on the white wall I had just returned to scrubbing with a dirty rag.

  “Yeah,” she answered.

  “You want to go get something to eat, maybe a burger?” he asked.

  I laughed under my breath and shook my head.

  “I can’t. I’ve got—”

  He chuckled and tugged on her ponytail. “Never mind.”

  “Seriously, Toby. I’ve got two AP classes this semester—”

  Toby put a hand up to stop her and then looked in my direction. “It’s Jackson, right?”

  I stood and walked closer to them. “Yeah.”

  Toby leaned back against the wall, his eyes fixed on Holly. “Jackson, what does it mean if a girl turns you down five times in two weeks?”

  I dug deep to find my buried voice. I didn’t need them thinking I was incapable of competent speech. “Maybe she doesn’t eat meat.”

  Holly cracked a smile.

  “She eats fake meat,” Jana said, walking up behind me. “Do you go to Washington?”

  “No.”

  The three of them waited expectantly. I went through a quick mental checklist of who I was. This time.

  “I don’t go to school.”

  “You’re homeschooled?” Toby asked.

  “No, I dropped out … you know … got my GED.”