Forget Tomorrow

by Pintip Dunn

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh. I must’ve heard her name somewhere else, then.”

  I furrow my brow. Is it possible my mom is a member and she just never told me?

  No way. We used to tell each other everything. We had to. It had been our family against the world. Three sides of a triangle. My mom would never keep such a big secret from me. Right?

  I stand and scoop another can of water to pour into the tripod. I have no idea what to think anymore.

  I’ve felt so alone ever since I received my future memory. But maybe it’s always been that way. Maybe I just never realized it until now.

  24

  Perfectly diced pieces of carrot and potato swim with chunks of venison in a thick brown broth. I add another dash of oregano to the stew simmering over the fire, and a delicious aroma wafts into the air.

  “That smells amazing.” Angela lines up wooden bowls on the long table. The sun sits like a glowing egg on top of the trees. She assured me the dinner service would start when the sun was “right there” in the sky. But was she pointing at the tops of the trees, or a few inches above it?

  “I think my job as Manual Cook might be in danger,” she says. “One taste of your stew, and the people will kick me outside the holographic screens.”

  I drop my ladle into the cauldron and have to carefully fish it out. “I’m not after your job, I promise. I’m just trying to be helpful.”

  “I’m teasing.” She hands me a clean rag so I can wipe the stew off the ladle. “Besides, I’d be happy to step aside for someone as talented as you. I only volunteered because nobody else did. If you want the position, say the word.”

  My dream job. I should be leaping at the chance to cook. But when I open my mouth, the acceptance slides down my throat. That’s when I realize I still haven’t left my old world behind. My body might be here, but my heart and mind are still with my mom and sister in Eden City.

  Stalling, I ladle up a healthy serving of stew and hand Angela the bowl. “There’s nothing I would like more. But I don’t know if my stay here is…permanent.”

  She sets the bowl next to the others on the table. “Where would you go? Back to Eden City?”

  “Of course not. I would never tempt Fate like that.” I turn the thoughts over in my mind, trying to figure out what I mean. “TechRA’s going to arrest my sister sometime in the next year. I don’t know what, if anything, I can do from afar. But if there’s somewhere I can go to figure out what they’re up to—why they want my sister, why they’re so interested in her psychic abilities—maybe it will give my mom a fighting chance to protect her.”

  “You don’t have far to go,” she says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it. Who established Harmony? The Underground. And who makes up the Underground? A bunch of psychics. I bet whatever information you’re looking for is right here.”

  I put the ladle down. “Angela, you’re brilliant.”

  She flashes me her one-thousand-watt grin. “So they tell me.”

  We fall into an easy rhythm. I ladle, and she wipes the side of the bowls and sets them on the table.

  Over the next hour, I must meet all of Harmony’s fifty inhabitants. There’s a man whose gray beard reaches his waist. A redheaded girl with dreads that reminds me of Sully. A scrawny little kid named Ryder who’s here without his parents. They seem nice enough, especially Ryder, who shoots me a shy smile after giving Angela a big hug. But I feel very much like the new girl. I’m glad I have a pot of stew to hide behind.

  The Russell brothers show up as we’re scraping the bottom of the cauldron. Mikey walks straight to Angela and whispers something to her. His arms slip around her waist, creating a barrier between the two of them and everyone else.

  “What?” Her hand jerks, and stew sloshes over the bowl. “No.”

  He continues whispering, his hand coming up to stroke her hair.

  “No. It can’t be.” Her shoulders shake, and she brings her knuckles to her mouth.

  Mikey looks around, lost. It’s the first time I’ve seen him not in control. “Callie, can you finish up the service? I need to get Angie out of here.”

  I barely have time to nod before he leads her away. My last glimpse of Angela is of the tears streaking down her cheeks.

  I turn to Logan, my stomach flipping up and then down. It’s been hours since I’ve seen him. Hours during which he could’ve rethought the kiss and decided it’s not worth pursuing a relationship. Sure, I’d come to a similar conclusion, but on top of everything else, I’m not sure I can deal with a rejection from Logan right now. I want to be the voice of reason, not him. Maybe that’s selfish; maybe I’m being childish. Guiltily, I scold myself for having these thoughts, but still they remain.

  “What happened?” I ask, struggling to sound normal.

  “No clue. We spent the afternoon fishing, and when we got back to the hut, Mikey found an envelope in the backpack we brought from Eden City.” He rubs the crease on his forehead. “It had something to do with Angela.”

  He steps behind the table, next to me, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. As though it’s a given he’d want to spend time with me.

  My pulse speeds up. Maybe he hasn’t reconsidered anything. Maybe, like me, the hours only made him miss me more. Maybe his mind is telling him one thing, and his body, his heart, his soul are telling him another. I can always wish.

  I serve up the last of the stew. A few more people trickle by and grab bowls, but pretty soon, it’s obvious no one else is coming.

  “Have you eaten?” he asks, his breath tickling my shoulder.

  “I sampled the stew so many times, I’m stuffed.”

  “Come on, then. I want to show you something.”

  He takes a bowl of stew for himself and leads me through the village. We walk a quarter-mile into the woods and slip behind a wall of trees.

  My breath catches. Green tufts of grass poke through the brightly colored leaves littering the ground, and butterflies flit among the purple wildflowers. The trees shield us from the wind and noise. Maybe from the entire outside world.

  “How’d you find this place?” I ask.

  “Mikey showed it to me. He likes to come here when he needs to think.”

  We sit on a log nestled against a tree, and he digs into his stew. We don’t talk as he eats, but this silence feels different than the one we’ve been used to for five years. It’s not filled with unspoken words and hurt feelings. It’s not like the whining of the dentist’s drill a moment before it descends. It’s just…nice.

  Logan scoops up a piece of carrot and picks up the bowl to drink the broth. “This is delicious.”

  Simple words. I’ve heard them dozens of times this evening. But coming from Logan, the compliment makes me giddy. “Thank you.”

  “I feel bad being the only one eating.” He fishes out a hunk of venison and holds it up. “Here, have some.”

  “I don’t want to take your food.”

  He brings the meat to my mouth, as if to feed me. “Go ahead. I’ll enjoy my dinner more if I have company.”

  Hesitantly, I lean forward and take the meat from his hand. As soon as my lips brush his fingers, a spark shoots through me, a lone firework that sizzles every nerve in my body. The flavor of the venison is hearty and rich. I should know; I seasoned it myself. And yet, it’s nothing compared to the taste of Logan’s skin. Soft but firm. Warm. Slightly salty and all-the-way irresistible.

  The sun’s fallen behind the trees, and I sneak a look at Logan in the dimming light. He’s not mine to keep, but Angela said to focus on the day-to-day. That means enjoying the view in front of me, even if it’s temporary.

  “What?” he says, and I realize I’m staring.

  Flushing, I drop my gaze. “Nothing. I, uh, wanted to tell you about this weird…thing… that happened to me. I think it’s some kind of psychic ability, but I’m not sure if it’s my power or Jessa’s.”

  He turns t
o face me, pulling an ankle over his knee. “Go on.”

  “I had this vision. Or maybe it was a dream, I’m not sure. But it felt like a future memory, except I was seeing it through my sister’s eyes.”

  I tell him about sitting on my mother’s lap, feeling sad, and speculate whether this vision has anything to do with TechRA arresting Jessa in the future.

  When I finish, his brows furrow. “I’ve got an idea. It’s a long shot, but if it works, it might give us some answers.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want you to open your mind, like we were taught in the Meditation Core.”

  I frown. “Why? What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not going to do anything. I just want to see what happens.”

  All of a sudden, I feel the stiff breeze cutting through my thin clothes. An experiment. A logical one, since the last vision came from unintentionally opening my mind. But what if I repeat the experience? What if I don’t?

  Only one way to find out.

  Open. What is open? The hole at the top of Mikey’s hut. The carcass of the deer, split open at the ribs. The hollowed-out center of the log we’re sitting on. Open, open, open.

  I look for it, I wait for it—and yes! There it is. That rush of something filling my fingernails and teeth, my eyelashes and toes.

  My memory. Jessa’s memory. Whoever’s memory. OPEN.

  I’m straddling a metal plank inside an open pod. My hands grip the handles on either side of me. I fly into the air and fall back down again. Up in the air, and down again.

  A seesaw. I’m on the playing field during the Outdoor Core, but whose class?

  I have that out-of-body sensation again, but I look through the spokes of the sphere, hoping to see Marisa’s trademark smirk in the pod opposite of me. Instead, I glimpse the precisely cut bangs of January One, Olivia Dresden. Daughter of Chairwoman Dresden and Jessa’s classmate.

  “I’m thinking of a number between one and ten.” Olivia flies into the air. “What is it?”

  Pressing my lips together, I grip the handles and brace my feet against the spokes.

  “Come on,” Olivia whines. “I know you know the answer. You can tell me. I promise I won’t say anything.”

  I shake my head. “Sorry. I don’t know.”

  Up. Down. Up. Down. All of a sudden, I crash to the ground so hard my teeth hurt.

  “Fine.” Olivia’s twin braids bounce on her shoulders as she swings the hatch open and jumps out. “I didn’t want to be your friend anyway.”

  I gasp, and the memory shatters. I’m back in Harmony, sitting next to Logan on a log.

  “I did it!” I say. “I got into another one of my sister’s memories.” Briefly, I describe the scene I saw.

  “I knew it!” he exclaims. “You’re a Receiver, just like me.”

  “A what?”

  “A Receiver.” He stands and begins pacing, his shoes scattering pine needles as if they’re grasshoppers jumping to safety. “It’s what they call my type of ability. I can’t do much other than receive messages. If there’s no Sender around, you would think I was like anybody else.”

  My mind whirls. “So you’re saying the ability is both mine and Jessa’s?”

  “That’s what it looks like. Senders and Receivers typically occur in pairs, like me and Mikey. In your pair, the Sender is your little sister, but she seems to be sending whole memories, instead of words, into your mind.”

  I look at the patches of bare dirt Logan’s left in his wake. “I don’t understand. How could I have missed this?”

  “Jessa’s six. That’s the right age for the primary ability to manifest.” He wrinkles his forehead. “She already has some sort of precognition, right? That’s how she knew the color of the leaves before they fell?”

  I nod. “She’s been able to see a couple of minutes into the future since she could talk.”

  “I’m thinking the precognition is a preliminary ability, like Mikey’s telekinesis. Jessa must have come into her real powers recently. She may not even realize she’s sending you memories.” He walks back to me. “When you received the future memory on your seventeenth birthday, it must have triggered something in your brain. Showed you, in a way, how your powers worked.”

  “That’s when I started being able to manipulate memories.” I tell him how my mind was able to replay my memory like a recording device, even change aspects of the memory itself. With disappointment, I note that I have yet to make the changes permanent. “And then Bellows gave me the fumes, and he said it would enhance any inherent psychic ability I had.”

  “The fumes, in turn, probably triggered something in Jessa. Helped her come into her primary ability.”

  “But how? I sniffed the fumes, not her.”

  “If the two of you are a true Sender-Receiver pair, there’s a deep psychic connection between you. That’s why the pairs manifest most often in siblings, and even more strongly in twins.”

  That’s why meditation has always come so easily to me. It’s like a muscle I’d never flexed, but as soon as I did, it became second nature. That’s how I was able to open my mind by accident. Why I was able to close it successfully against the fumes. It’s all tied up in my abilities as a Receiver.

  I leap to my feet, vibrating with excitement. I haven’t left Jessa behind, after all. Sure, I can’t talk to her, but I can access her memories, and that’s almost as good. I’ll be able to see her anytime I want. Be with her. Watch her grow up.

  Laughter bubbles out of me and I spin around, my arms outstretched. I slip and slide on the pine needles, but I don’t care. A magical mirror. That’s what this is. A mirror into my sister’s life.

  I can’t wait a moment longer. Now that I know she’s here, within reach, I have to see her, if only for a few minutes. Logan will understand.

  I stop spinning and try to slow my galloping heart. I can’t calm my mind if I’m about to burst out of my skin.

  Let’s see. Open. Think open. The inside of Jessa’s toy cradle. Her mouth in an “o” when I gave her the purple stuffed dog. My sister opening a door and welcoming me home. Open, open, open.

  I wait for the rush of sensation, I close my eyes and focus and yes! There it is! The memory. OPEN.

  I’m straddling a metal plank inside an open pod. My hands grip the handles on either side of me. I fly into the air and fall back down again. Up in the air, and down again.

  I frown, falling out of the memory. “I don’t understand. I got the same memory again.”

  “I expected as much,” Logan says. “Remember, this is a passive ability. You don’t get to decide when you receive a new message. If it works anything like mine, Jessa has to send the memory before you can open your mind to it.”

  “But that’s crazy. How would we ever connect?”

  “You don’t have to be doing it at the same time.” He lowers himself onto the log, and I sit down next to him. “Think of it this way. When she sends you a message, it’s stored somewhere, in another dimension maybe, waiting for you to retrieve it. Until she sends a new one, when you open your mind, you’ll retrieve the same one over and over again.”

  He reaches up and catches my earlobe between his fingers. “You have really nice ears. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  The air gets stuck in my chest, until I feel like my lungs might burst, along with my heart. If Logan keeps touching me, I’ll have no organs left. Breathe, Callie. It’s just a touch, a slight sensation I might not even notice in a crowd. But we’re not in a throng. We’re in a magical clearing at the edge of the world. And now that I’ve felt his touch, I never want to be without it again.

  But never is a long time. And no matter what Angela says about focusing on the present, I have to remember today will disappear like sand falling through an hourglass. Before I can grasp more than a few grains, it will be gone.

  Just like Logan will depart, leaving me with nothing but a handful of memories.

  He releases my ear. The sun has ducked behind the tre
es. Dusk falls in purple shadows around us, and invisible insects flit around my arms.

  “What does this mean?” he asks. “Does it help you figure out why TechRA wants Jessa?”

  I shake my head. “Not really. If anything, it opens up more possibilities. They could be studying her precognition or her abilities as a Sender.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out.”

  He puts his arm around me and tucks my head onto his shoulder, nestling it under his chin. Our bodies touch in a line, and it’s like he’s thrown a warm down blanket over us and lit a crackling fire for good measure. We’re in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity or running water. He’s leaving in a few days, and yet I feel safe. He makes me feel safe.

  I snuggle closer to him. I don’t want to think about the future. I’d rather open my mind to see if Jessa’s sent any new memories. It may be a few days too late, but I’m going to make good on my promise to my sister. I’m going to stay with her, all night long.

  25

  It’s the first thing I hear when I get to Angela’s hut—the gut-wrenching moan of a heart being split.

  I don’t think twice. Flinging aside the rawhide door, I rush inside. Darkness surrounds me, and I drop to my knees and crawl toward the noise. By the time I reach Angela, my eyes have adjusted enough to make out her balled-up figure.

  As I’ve done for my sister all of her life, I take Angela into my arms. She turns to me, buries her face in my shoulder, and cries even harder.

  “It’ll be all right,” I murmur into her hair. “There now. Everything will be okay.”

  But will it? Maybe it’s because I can’t see more than a foot in front of me. Maybe it’s because I’m kneeling in a shelter that will never see electricity. Maybe I don’t believe in happily ever after anymore.

  Whatever the reason, my words fall flat in the air, revealed as the platitudes they are.

  “My mother’s dead,” Angela whispers. “She passed away from a vicious strain of the flu. The ceremonial burning is in two days.”