Turnabout
Page 23
I barely held back a snort. “I don’t recommend it.”
Mr. Walters glanced at the closed kitchen door. “Some time when we can talk more freely, we’ll have to compare notes on our experiences in Makoro.”
“All right.” I got to my feet. “I’d better get going.”
He walked me to the door. “Will I see you in school?”
“Not until next semester.” I offered my hand. “So long.”
We shook hands, and then he opened the door for me.
I started walking home. I passed a middle-aged woman who was letting a pug lift his leg on a light pole while a mixed-breed terrier on another leash looked bored. The terrier came over to sniff my pant leg, but the woman never even looked at me. It felt great.
I lengthened my stride. Summer school would be a pain, but I could do it. I could catch up, graduate with Ryan, and get into a decent college if one would give me a scholarship. Whatever I became in life would be up to me.
I was halfway home when a red Prius pulled up next to me and the driver’s window rolled down. A pretty girl with silvery blonde hair smiled at me. “Need a ride, Jason?”
It took me a second to recognize her without the blue hair. “Monica?”
She laughed. “Hop in.”
I walked around to the passenger side and got in. Monica waited until I had fastened my seat belt to pull back onto the roadway. I stared at her, fascinated by how different she looked with her hair blonde instead of blue. She had been attractive before, but now she was really cute. “You changed your hair color.”
She grinned. “I did it as a birthday present for my grandfather.”
Probably the old man’s favorite present.
She shot me a glance, and I realized I was staring.
“It’s still me,” she said. “Not a big deal.”
“I like it.”
She made a face. “I’m trying to decide if I care. You stood me up for homecoming.”
I’d forgotten about that. “I’m sorry. I was in a coma.”
She shot me another glance. “That was the best you could do? A coma?” She shook her head. “Days of Our Lives called. They want their plot back.”
I knew better than to defend a lame story, so I just grinned.
Her eyes slid to my torso and then went back to the road. “I never heard of anyone coming out of a coma buffer than when they went into it.”
I hadn’t thought about that. She really was pretty smart. And she noticed things—she noticed me. “That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.”
“Probably just as well.” Her hands gripped the wheel a little tighter. “Do you think you can make it to prom without disappearing again?”
Her question surprised the heck out of me. “I’m not going anywhere if I can help it.” I cleared my throat. “Are you asking me to prom?”
A slightly sour smile tugged at her mouth. “I know it’s months away, but I don’t want to take a chance on having to go to another dance with Doug.”
“Doug?”
“Douglas Slater.”
My jaw nearly dropped. “You went to homecoming with Doofie Slater?”
She nodded. “I had just started tutoring him in Spanish, and he asked me a week after you disappeared. I told him if he could ask me in Spanish, I’d go with him. Just my luck he’d been practicing.”
I had to laugh. In fact, I howled.
“It’s not that funny,” Monica said.
“No, it’s not.” I felt kind of bad for laughing so hard. “I didn’t know Doofie had such good taste in women.”
This time the smile was pure delight. “So are we on for prom or not?”
“We’re on,” I said, “if I can afford the tickets by then.”
She nodded. “Where do you want to go now? Home?”
I leaned back in the seat. Where did I want to go? Not home—at least, not right away. “I’m not picky. Why don’t you just drive somewhere where we can talk.”
She drove to the Bethesda Swim Club and pulled the Prius into a secluded corner of the deserted parking lot. When she put the ignition on accessory and turned on the CD player, Dave Matthews came on; I figured it could have been worse; she could have liked bubblegum pop or something.
We talked for a while about her life in Costa Rica and what it had been like to move to Maryland, and then the changer put on the next CD, and Wynton Marsalis’ “Green Chimneys” started to play.
A sudden rush of elation washed over me. Finally, I’d found someone else who shared my passion. “You like jazz, too?”
An odd look crossed her face, and then she shook her head. “Not really. It’s Grandpa’s CD. I gave him a ride the other day.”
I realized she had been tempted to lie but had told the truth. “Oh.”
She got a really earnest expression on her face. “Grandpa loves jazz. He says listening to jazz is like watching an artist paint a picture—you never know how it will come out.”
I hadn’t ever thought about it that way, but it wasn’t a bad description of the way jazz made me feel. Still, it was mortifying that it was her grandfather who shared my taste in music.
“I don’t dislike jazz,” she went on. “It’s just not my thing.”
That was probably about as good as I was going to get in a girl my age. Suddenly I noticed the time on the dash said 9:05. “Can I borrow your phone? Mine burned up in the crash.”
She said sure, and handed me the phone.
Mom answered on the first ring. “Jason?” I could hear a sharp edge of panic in her voice.
“I’m fine, Mom.” I glanced at Monica. “I met a friend, and we went for a ride. I’ll be home soon.”
Her voice quavered, but she said okay, so I hung up and gave Monica her phone back.
“How’s your mom doing?” she asked.
I noticed she had let the Marsalis CD keep playing. That was a good sign. “She’s okay now that I’m back.”
She nodded, but she didn’t say anything. The moon was up, and the moonlight shone on Monica’s hair and on the gold chain around her neck. It occurred to me I was alone in a car with a girl I liked, and so I leaned over and kissed her.
She kissed me back. We made out for a while—not easy in bucket seats, but I didn’t want to suggest moving to the back when we hadn’t even been on a real date yet.
Right after I got to second base, Monica sighed and turned the ignition on. “We’d better get back before your mom freaks again.”
“Okay.” And it was okay. In fact, it was more than okay, it was great.
And then Monica drove me home. It all felt wonderfully normal.
Mom looked relieved when I walked through the door. She hugged me like I’d been gone for a week instead of a few hours. Then Lorrie came into my room to give me a hug and a kiss before she went to bed. Even Sancho came and rubbed against my ankles while I brushed my teeth.
When I was ready for bed I put on a Dave Brubeck CD, because I was in a Brubeck mood. I lay down, alone but content, and spared a thought for Marjani, whom I had left waiting by the maglev tracks, and for Esi, who had been kind to me and had suffered for it, for Nuri who had helped me escape, and for Hobart and Teleza and all the others I had met in Makoro. Their lives would all go on without me.
I had liked some of them more than others, of course, but I knew that spending the rest of my life without seeing any of them again was going to be much easier to do than if I hadn’t been able to come home.
Still, it was spooky to know there were two versions—or maybe more—of the world. It wasn’t like I had merely traveled to a foreign country. When I left Makoro, I had disconnected from it. No postcards from Egume would ever land in our mailbox. I couldn’t e-mail Nuri to ask how she was doing. I couldn’t call Marjani to see if she got away safely, or text Teleza to find out if she and her sisters had found another guy to marry. In a way the past few months were like a dream or a delusion, especially because I couldn’t tell anyone about that time who didn’t already know
about it, not even Monica.
Would I ever want to go back to Makoro? The suits might well figure out how to go to there and back without having to stand in front of a speeding train. If they did, though, they’d have to find another traveler. It might sound really cool to be able to go from one place to another in the blink of any eye, but I prefer to stay in my own world. And if I wanted to travel anywhere, I’d buy a damn ticket.
THE END
Table Contents
Chapter One 1
Chapter Two 5
Chapter Three 11
Chapter Four 23
Chapter Five 33
Chapter Six 43
Chapter Seven 53
Chapter Eight 65
Chapter Nine 81
Chapter Ten 93
Chapter Eleven 105
Chapter Twelve 117
Chapter Thirteen 129
Chapter Fourteen 141
Chapter Fifteen 149
Chapter Sixteen 157
Chapter Seventeen 167
Chapter Eighteen 173
Chapter Nineteen 183
Acknowledgements 193
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Acknowledgements
Acknowledgements
Thanks, as always, to the members of the Writers’ Group from Hell for their critiques. Thanks also to my copy editor Risa Stewart. I appreciate her efforts very much!
And thanks to you, dear reader, for finishing the book!
I do have more books, you know, if you’re still looking for something to read.
Carmen Webster Buxton
Table of Contents
Chapter One 1
Chapter Two 5
Chapter Three 11
Chapter Four 23
Chapter Five 33
Chapter Six 43
Chapter Seven 53
Chapter Eight 65
Chapter Nine 81
Chapter Ten 93
Chapter Eleven 105
Chapter Twelve 117
Chapter Thirteen 129
Chapter Fourteen 141
Chapter Fifteen 149
Chapter Sixteen 157
Chapter Seventeen 167
Chapter Eighteen 173
Chapter Nineteen 183
Acknowledgements 193
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Acknowledgements