Memories from a Different Future: Jump When Ready, Book 2

by David Pandolfe

  “I guess we must have lived other lives,” Nikki said. “It’s weird to think about, isn’t it?”

  Naomi surprised her by giggling. “I’m pretty sure I got fat before. Like, really fat.”

  It was hard to imagine, looking at Naomi. She was such a little bird of a girl, short and thin with long blonde hair and big brown eyes. “Like maybe you loved to bake and couldn’t stop eating since all your cakes and cookies were so good?”

  “Exactly!” Naomi said.

  A smile spread across Nikki’s face as she imagined Naomi a plump woman, hair tied back in a bun, stomach and bosom bulging against an apron.

  “Then you might as well keep going for it while you’re here,” Nikki said. “I mean, I guess you could choose to look chubby if you felt like it but otherwise you’re safe.”

  “Yeah, I think for now I’ll just keep the eating part,” Naomi said, making Nikki laugh again. “What about you? What do you imagine?”

  “I don’t know…” Nikki said. “I bet I was like this total old spinster, cat lady.”

  Naomi burst out laughing. “No way! I bet you were a model. And the boys—well, I guess they must have been men—totally adored you.”

  Nikki’s face grew warm. Still, she had to smile. “Not likely. I probably wandered the streets talking to myself and forgot to take baths.”

  “Yeah, right. I bet you had a boyfriend who looked just like Henry. He’s cute, don’t you think?”

  Nikki hesitated. “Do you think so?” She glanced out at those wildflowers again. “I could totally see you two together.”

  “Ew, not for me!” Naomi looked around to be sure, then lowered her voice. “Boys are kind of gross. But maybe for you. You like him, don’t you?”

  Nikki busied her hands by reaching for the tin foil Naomi had left on the counter. She rolled out a sheet to cover the brownies. “Not my type,” she said.

  “Oh, okay. Just a thought. Never mind.”

  Nikki placed the tin foil over the brownies.

  “I think I might have one of those,” Naomi said.

  “Yeah, me too,” Nikki said.

  “I’ll get the milk,” Naomi said.

  10

  Out Of Reach

  The rain had never bothered Emilio growing up but these days it did. Sometimes, it felt like the world just kept closing in and getting darker. At least in the spring and summer, you got to look off into the distance and imagine what might be happening in those other neighborhoods on distant hills. Sure, that usually involved imagining lives way better than his but at least he got to imagine those lives. Right now, there was just the four of them in Diego’s car, the cloud of weed and cigarette smoke swirling around them and the rain obscuring any possible view outside the windshield.

  “So, what’s the plan, bro?” Diego said.

  Emilio had been trying not to think about his plan but it hadn’t exactly gone that way. Instead, he’d thought about pretty much nothing but both last night and all through the day. Now, he had a gun in his backpack, which Diego had just passed off to him.

  Still, Emilio played it cool. It wasn’t like he had a choice. “Keeping it a secret for now.” He offered Diego a grin that he knew would totally piss him off.

  Sure enough, Diego frowned and his eyes went hard. “What’s that about, you don’t trust us?”

  Emilio laughed, not because he found anything funny. Just because it always felt good to mess with Diego. “Of course, I trust you, homes. Who wouldn’t trust you, right?”

  Ramiro and Luce laughed from the back seat but it was nervous laughter. After all, Marcos had once trusted Diego to have his back.

  “Okay, keep your little secret, Mealy. But you sure as shit better not pussy out.”

  “Have I ever?” Emilio said. Which was safe to say since he never had. He’d scrapped with rivals twice his size in the past—not always winning—but always holding his own. Marcos had taught him well. Part of his legacy, which Emilio wouldn’t be passing on to Javier. No way. He’d much rather Javier got his ass kicked a million times than end up in a car on a rainy day smoking weed with a bunch of losers. Himself included.

  “Remember what happened to Martinez,” Luce said from the back.

  True enough, last year Juan Martinez hadn’t come through on his birthday. He’d gotten cold feet at the last moment and tried to run. Emilio could relate but also see how pointless that attempt at escape had been since obviously there was nowhere to go. A year later, he still walked with a limp. That might get better eventually but the scars on his face were staying for life.

  “Plus, you want your little bro to admire you, right?” Diego’s turn to grin. “Javier has a future with us. You need to show him the ropes, homes.”

  Somehow, he knew. Emilio felt sure of it. Diego might not even consciously be aware but he’d been born with predator instincts. Any weakness and he’d sniff it out.

  “Yeah, Javier has a future,” Emilio said. “I’m making sure of that.”

  “Good for you, homes.” Diego took one last hit off the joint, rolled his window down and flicked what was left outside into the rain. He started the car and put it into drive. “Can’t wait to hear about your surprise, birthday boy.”

  ~~~

  That night, Emilio made dinner for Javier and then they watched some shows together. A Friday, just the two of them while their mother pulled another shift feeding people who didn’t even have to think twice about going out to eat. Sometimes, she brought stuff home if her boss was in a good mood. Not bad, about to turn soon probably, but Emilio couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat in an actual restaurant. Ten years ago, maybe. Tonight he’d just made a couple of burgers and Javier didn’t complain. He never did.

  Emilio called it at eleven, telling Javier he had to go to bed.

  “Oh, come on,” Javier said. “It’s still early.”

  Emilio tousled his hair. “Not so early. You need to get some sleep. I’m right behind you.”

  “Why do you get to stay up?”

  Emilio couldn’t help smile. “Because I’m the big bro.”

  “When do I get to be the big bro?”

  Emilio looked at him and squinted. “Do you really want to be looking after someone like yourself?”

  Javier thought for a moment. “Nope. I don’t think so.”

  “Exactly. Now, go brush the teeth.”

  Emilio waited half an hour, watching an old show he didn’t care about, keeping the volume low and listening to be sure Javier was asleep. Finally, he got up, went into the kitchen and took the gun out of his backpack. He sat at the kitchen table, thinking about where he could hide it for a couple of days. Someplace high, way out of Javier’s reach, that was for sure. There was no way he’d be stupid enough to let something like that happen. The way he figured it, Javier was the only one of them that actually mattered now. As for himself—he didn’t have a future. Emilio was grateful that right now he was alone. At least, no one could see him as he let his head drop and the tears came.

  11

  The Whole Thing

  That night, Ian watched a movie with his parents, Margo having begged off saying she felt like spending some time working on her writing. That was a new one for Ian.

  “It’s what she likes to do these day,” his mother explained in a resigned tone, conveying more concern over Margo isolating herself than any possible enthusiasm or belief at the prospect of Margo having developed a new interest.

  Hours later, when the movie ended and his parents called it day, Ian hung out downstairs for a while, at first talking to Lisa on the phone and then after trying to distract himself by reading one of his father’s old books. Still, it was hard to stop wondering why Julie had so clearly tried to pretend she wasn’t home earlier that day. In that brief moment, when he’d caught her at the window and their eyes met, Ian could have sworn he saw fear there—just as he had when she’d been sitting across from him and her eyes suddenly flew open. He knew he shouldn’t give it another thought—
after all, she was probably just weird—but he couldn’t quite manage to put it out of his mind. What had been going on with her? What had she “seen” that frightened her enough that she wouldn’t even come to the door?

  “Screw it,” Ian said softly, deciding he might as well go to bed too. He was almost to his room when he noticed the light under Margo’s door. Not that there was anything particularly unusual about her still being up but it surprised him a little to realize she’d chosen to remain alone all evening and even now late into the night.

  Ian knocked, figuring he should at least poke his head in and say goodnight.

  It took a moment before Margo answered. “What’s up?”

  Ian swung her door open. “Heading to bed,” he said. “Just thought I’d—” He stopped, seeing Margo’s bloodshot eyes, realizing she’d been crying.

  Margo turned away to face her wallscreen, where she’d been killing time scrolling through her feed again. Ian had wasted plenty of hours himself that way when he’d been a bored teenager. He still did, when he had nothing better to do.

  “Did something bad happen?” His gut told him it wasn’t anything online that had made Margo upset, but you could never be sure. People posted all kinds of stuff.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You. You seemed like you might be upset about something.”

  Margo pointed her mouse and scrolled, still not turning to face him. “I’m fine.”

  Ian hesitated, not wanting to pry. “Okay.” He started to leave again, then stopped. He had the strangest feeling they really need to talk, that he had something to tell her even though he didn’t know what it was. “Listen, maybe it’s none of my business. But, well, does life kind of suck right now?”

  Margo didn’t say anything for a moment, then she nodded.

  “Anything in particular, or just sucks in general?”

  Margo finally turned away from the screen. “In general.”

  Ian hadn’t really gone through a whole lot of depression when he’d been her age but he knew plenty of kids who had. Being sixteen wasn’t always the best deal, especially if you were one of the kids on the outside—less than beautiful and popular, not exactly sure where you fit in—which was where it appeared Margo was living these days.

  “I know it’s an ancient cliché,” Ian said. “But it gets better.”

  Margo sighed. “That old line. Right. Wasn’t that about people being gay or something?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Hard to believe anyone cared. Still, it’s true for other stuff. For example, you’re not going to be in high school forever. A couple more years and you’ll be in college, meeting totally new people. You won’t have to worry about what people think or have to try and fit in. Anything that’s bothering you now—or anyone—will be ancient history.”

  Margo nodded again but didn’t say anything.

  “Anyway, just trying to help,” Ian said. “I guess I’ll go to bed.”

  “Okay.”

  He was almost at the door when Margo spoke softly. “I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth it.”

  Ian turned. “If what’s worth it?”

  “You know, the whole thing.”

  Ian didn’t like the sound of that at all but wasn’t sure what to say. So, he waited.

  “Life. It just seems pointless sometimes. Think about it. Do you know anyone who’s even happy?”

  For some reason, it felt cruel to tell her the truth—that he felt happy most of the time. He figured she didn’t need to hear that, at least in this particular moment. “Yeah, sure. I know people who are happy. Look at Mom and Dad. They’re happy.”

  Margo laughed, but with a bitter tone Ian wasn’t used to hearing from her. “What the hell is up with that anyway? All my friends say their parents fight all the time. Mom and Dad probably just hide it from us.”

  Ian shook his head. “They’ve always been happy together. And they totally care about you.” Then, like it came out of nowhere, he knew what it was he had to say even though he couldn’t imagine why. Still, he just felt it. “And you need to be there for them, okay? They’ll need you to be there for them.”

  Margo met his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Again the feeling that he just had to say it even if it didn’t seem to make sense. “Like, if something happened to me. What if you weren’t there for them?”

  Margo frowned but genuine concern showed in her eyes. “Why would anything happen to you?”

  Why had he turned the conversation around to be about himself? Still, maybe it would help if she realized other people depended on her. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I don’t know why I said that. But Mom and Dad are worried about you, I can tell. I’m worried about you. You seem really quiet lately.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Margo said. “I guess I’ve been kind of a dipshit. I’ll try to pull out of my little nosedive and get my act together.”

  Ian smiled. Something told him she’d be okay. Partially, an instinct, but Margo had always been resilient in the past. “Cool. Let’s have a good holiday together, okay?”

  Margo clicked the mouse and killed the wallscreen. “Deal,” she said.

  Just before Ian left her room, Margo said, “Everything’s okay with you, right?”

  “Definitely,” Ian said. “No worries, okay?”

  Still, as he walked toward his bedroom, Ian wondered if he might have just told Margo a lie.

  12

  Floating In The Ocean

  There hadn’t been time to talk again or try to formulate a plan. Even as she thought it, Nikki couldn’t help wonder if a plan would even do them any good. There had just been the one time when they’d actually tried to make something happen on this side. Yes, they’d somehow managed to pull it off and in doing so had actually saved Bethany’s life. At the same time, they’d been shooting in the dark the entire time, struggling to be noticed and not even sure they could be. And it wasn’t like things had changed. On this side, they remained “ghosts,” invisible except for Jamie sometimes for fleeting seconds where he could manage to shock the hell out of someone. And mute, except for Henry, who could make himself heard from time to time. But not always effectively. And not always when he tried. This time, there would be no Curtis to pound on windows or toss things around to get attention. Nikki didn’t say it –she didn’t have to since she suspected Henry and Jamie had to be thinking the same thing—but obviously their odds of success weren’t good. Martha had already said as much. They had almost no time to stop what was going to happen and very limited means.

  Still, they’d crossed over. What choice did they have, even if that meant facing painful choices and possibilities? Like life, Nikki thought. And maybe that was one of the biggest differences between the two realms. On their side, there was no pain, no worry and no need to be concerned about the choices you made. You had as long as you’d like, apparently, to keep hitting the reset switch. You couldn’t fall off a cliff or drown in a river on their side. You could almost experience those things if you wanted to but not really. As soon as you felt fear, the air or water would lift you back to safety again. It made sense to Nikki why some people waited so long to start again. At the same time, it also made sense that sooner or later you had to risk pain and heartache again in order to experience the opposite. Even as she thought it, Nikki imagined Martha smiling. Or was she imagining it? It felt like the ground had just shifted under her feet. A tiny shift maybe, but still a shift toward something that would change eventually because sooner or later things had to change.

  But these were things to reflect more on later. Right now, they stood in Ian’s bedroom while he sat on his bed talking on his flexlet. Nikki had never been in Ian’s room before but she’d been in his house. She didn’t want to admit it to Henry or Jamie but, yes, she’d followed Ian around more than a few times. Watching, listening, hoping things would keep going well for him. But maybe expecting something bad to happen? Nikki didn’t want to think so but who could blame h
er?

  “It feels like years,” Ian said. “You know what I mean?” He listened to whoever was at the other end and then laughed. “Oh, come on. Tell me you don’t miss kissing me.”

  He listened, then laughed again, and said, “Exactly. I miss touching you too. Remember that time when we were at that party and no one was upstairs?”

  “Okay, this is freaking me out,” Nikki said. “Is Curtis really in there somewhere?”

  “The new and improved, warm and fuzzy Curtis,” Jamie said.

  “With a different face,” Henry said.

  “And brain,” Jamie said.

  “I kind of miss the evil Curtis,” Nikki said. “We had more in common.”

  Henry nudged her with his elbow. “Yeah, right. I bet you’re way more like the warm and fuzzy version than you’d ever admit.”

  Nikki shoved him away and narrowed her eyes. “Feel like testing that theory, ratface?”

  Henry kept his distance. Still, he grinned, his eyes alight. “I think I’ll hold off for now.”

  “Good choice.” Nikki kept her gaze on his, not allowing the smile she felt tugging at the corner of her mouth.

  “Ratface, that’s cold,” Jamie said.

  “Whatever, spikehead.”

  Ian sighed, then swung his legs off the bed. “I love you too, baby.”

  “He better not be talking to me,” Nikki said.

  Ian stood and put his flexlet into his pocket. He crossed the room, got a pair of boots out of his closet and knelt to lace them up.

  “I guess this is the part where we better actually do something,” Jamie said.

  “I’m on it,” Nikki said.

  She got closer to Curtis and closed her eyes, waiting for the images and words to come. The fact was, she could never be sure what she might get when reading someone. Images were pretty much guaranteed as were words, typically, since most people took the time to verbalize their thoughts. One thing Nikki had come to realize since discovering she could read the living was that people actually thought everything at least twice. First, the thought originated in its purest form. Nikki wasn’t sure what that form was, exactly, but she supposed it was just energy. While the thought was already complete, people then attached images to it, almost instantly, as well as a feeling of some sort. Happy, angry, frustrated, worried. Then came the words. “Damn, it’s Tuesday. I really don’t feel like going to math…” or “I need to remember to pay back that money I borrowed from…” or “This is going to be such a great day…” All of these things coalesced in less than a second for each thought, one after the other, an endless stream of consciousness. It was so hard to explain when Henry or Jamie or anyone else asked if she got something. Of course, she got something! Each time, it was overwhelming how much she got. The challenge was being able to sift through it in almost no time.