Fook (26 page)

“What? He didn’t—”

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant. I mean
his dad apparently doesn’t like having him around is all,” Latisha
clarified.

“Oh, well that kind of sucks for him. I feel
bad.”

“Don’t feel bad. Don’t feel anything. Look
what happened the last time you felt anything for him.”

“Well I kind of do anyway.”

“What about Mark? What’s the plan for him?
He obviously has a thing for fat chicks. You gonna bang him?”

Shoving Latisha toward the window, “Mark is
a really nice guy. I’m sure he hasn’t even thought about that.”

“Does he have a dick?”

Shocked by her friend’s blunt humor.

“I’m just saying. He’s thought about
it.”

“It’s not like that. He asked me to prom and
that’s it. I’m not looking for any kind of relationship right now.
I’ve got enough to deal with without throwing that into the
mix.

“I guess you’re right. He is kind of cute
though, you know, for a nerdy guy. He’s probably already drawn you
into one of those little comic thingies he does.”

“I doubt he’s drawing me in anything,” she
defended, starting to turn red.

“The boy bought you and your unborn child a
dress to prom. You’re right, he probably doesn’t have time to draw
‘cause he’s too busy digging the well in his basement. Just say no
if he tells you to put the lotion in the basket. I’m just
saying.”

“Mark’s a nice guy. He’s just shy. I know he
comes across as a bit awkward and weird but he means well.”

“You’re gonna bang him.”

“Whatever,” Katie dismissed her friend’s
obviously obnoxious mood.

“You at least gotta jerk him off.”

“Jesus,” Katie gasped as she looked around
at the surrounding eyes pretending not to stare.

“What?” Latisha shrugged. “The boy did buy
you a dress after all.”

Katie just smiled uncomfortably.

“Ah, ah. You won’t fit here,” Latisha
stopped a new passenger from joining them. “Can’t you see the bitch
is big as a house?”

Again, Katie shoved her friend against the
window.

TWENTY-SIX

Slipping past the slatted guard, a beam of morning
sun pounded at Derek’s eyelids, demanding entry. Though he couldn’t
remember much at all of the previous night, he did recall a lot of
spinning and the unpleasant desire to hurl. That combined with
vague memories of a dream involving a psychotic Jason and something
to do with Bethany and blood and the time machine, he preferred to
keep his eyes shut but sensing that he wasn’t currently lying in
his bed, he slowly parted his lids.

Much like his room, the white, popcorn style
ceiling overhead greeted him to the new day and he began to feel
better.

“There you are.”

“Jesus,” Derek shot up as a headache made
its presence known.

“Whoa, whoa. It’s okay.”

Staring at the girl for a moment, trying to
regain his focus, “Sarah?”

“Yes.”

“What? Where? I...,” Derek struggled to
figure out what was going on just as the details of the previous
night began to return. It wasn’t a dream. It was all real; the
blood, Jason, the machine, Bethany...oh Jesus Bethany, he lowered
his head into his hands.

“I think you took something. You were pretty
messed up.”

“I didn’t take it,” Derek mumbled through
his palms.

“Did someone do this to you?”

Derek just nodded.

“Who?”

“What happened? How could he...? Why?” Derek
mumbled his thoughts as more memories slowly returned. He
remembered something about Jason’s grandmother and his family.
Something about Jason committing suicide or not. It was all still
fuzzy. He did remember a dream about the party and the dildo and
hiding in the closet and waking up to find Sarah dead on the coffee
table. Needing to confirm that she truly was sitting beside him, he
slowly parted his fingers and turned toward her.

“Hi,” Sarah greeted him confused.

“I told you you should have left him
outside,” Reyna uttered an “I told you so” from the kitchen table
before shoveling another spoonful of cheerios into her mouth.

“Who the hell is that?” Derek dropped his
hands from his face to locate the second mystery voice.

“That’s my roommate, Reyna.”

Reyna issued a half hearted wave.

“She wanted to pepper spray and stab you
last night,” Sarah joked.

“Still do,” Reyna replied.

“Don’t mind her. How do you feel?”

“My head’s killing me,” Derek grabbed his
head again.

“That’s just the drugs wearing off. I’d give
you some aspirin but I don’t want to add to whatever concoction you
already have flowing around in there.”

“That’s alright. I’ve had enough drugs for
one night.”

“Junkie,” Reyna muttered before taking
another bite.

“R,” Sarah scolded.

“No, its alright. I know how it looks, but I
didn’t do this.”

“Who did? It wasn’t that guy from the
restaurant yesterday, was it?” Sarah almost laughed at the
ridiculous thought.

Derek just nodded.

“Oh. Why?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,”
Derek almost laughed himself at the insane details of the previous
night as he slowly got to his feet.

“You should sit,” Sarah protested.

“I’m okay. You should be safe now.”

“Safe?”

Derek froze trying to come up with an
explanation.

“I mean...I should be fine now.”

“When you showed up last night you kept
asking if I was safe and if he was here. Did you mean him? Why
would he come here?” Sarah grew concerned as did Reyna, reaching
for the knife which she’d laid on the table beside the bowl.

“No. You’re fine. I was just messed up is
all. That shit did a real number on me. I must have been nearby,
and in my altered state, looking for a familiar face is all.”

“But how did you know where I lived?”

“Google,” Derek nonchalantly replied.

“What’s...Google,” Sarah asked confused.

“It’s a...it’s a...phone book. At the
pay-phone the cover said Google or something. Anyway, everything
should be fine by now so I should get going,” Derek insisted as he
unsteadily made his way toward the door.

“By now?” Sarah continued the questions.

“Will you let him leave already,” Reyna
snapped from the table.

“I really am sorry to disturb you like
this,” Derek apologized as he struggled with the door.”

Reaching in, Sarah unlatched the door and
pulled it open.

“Thanks,” Derek smiled.

“Oh, wait,” Sarah quickly turned, running to
the kitchen to retrieve the lab coat and his wallet. “These are
yours.”

“That’s yours,” Derek insisted, pointed at
the coat. “And that...?” he pointed at the wallet.

“You were holding the coat in one hand and
your wallet in the other when you showed up last night. I hope you
don’t mind that I looked inside. I was looking for a phone number
of someone that I could contact for you. I think you were
robbed.”

Taking the wallet from Sarah’s hand, he
flipped it open to reveal that everything had been removed. They’d
taken all of his cash, his IDs, his credit cards. They’d even
stolen his old library card to the town library back in Cannon.

“You might want to cancel your credit cards
before they use them,” Sarah suggested with a sympathetic grin.

“I’d like to see their face when they try,”
Derek smiled, knowing that, technically, the cards hadn’t even been
issued yet.

Sarah just appeared more confused.

Holding the wallet up, “Thank you. For
everything. Really.”

“You should really sit—”

“—Sarah,” Reyna interjected.

“It’s alright. I appreciate it. Really.”

Sarah just smiled.

“And thank you for not stabbing me,” Derek
peeked around Sarah to see Reyna.

“Don’t forget about the pepper spray,” Sarah
whispered.

“And for not blinding me,” Derek added.

“Don’t mention it,” Reyna nodded.

“Thanks again.”

And with that Derek left, closing the door
behind him.

“Are you crazy?” Reyna whined as Sarah
joined her at the table. “That boy had serial killer written all
over him.”

“No. He seemed nice,” Sarah disagreed,
looking down at the white coat in her hand.

“Nice, huh,” Reyna raised a brow.

“What?” Sarah smiled.

“Well if he comes back, I’m gonna go Freddy
Kruger on his ass.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Descending the short brick stairs to the sidewalk in
front of Sarah’s apartment, Derek paused, looking up and down the
street at the familiar, yet oddly different scenery. Obviously the
drugs had done a real number on his system last night since he
hadn’t really put together where he was. While the street itself
was unfamiliar, the area wasn’t. His dorm was actually only a
couple of blocks to the north or at least it would be in about
eighteen years and while familiar, everything seemed just a little
bit off. While the eighties were still struggling to make a
comeback in 2014, the opposite seemed true in 1991. Now they
appeared to be struggling just to hold on as a darker, more drab
sense of style seemed to be working its way into the closets of the
busy residents making their way up and down the sidewalks.

Testing a theory, “Nirvana rules!” Derek
blurted to a passing twenty something dressed in a ratty old, Mr.
Rogers style sweater.

“Hell yeah,” the kid responded
enthusiastically as he threw his hand into the air for a passing
high five.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all,
Derek considered. Though he’d spent his teen years in the mish-mosh
of styles and trends that was the early two-thousands, he’d always
had a special fondness for the nineties. Probably the result of
growing up in a house where his mother was always playing Pearl
Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, and of course, Nirvana. His young mind
couldn’t help but absorb those depressingly, angst filled musical
poems. Continuing to look around, it was amazing that
anyone
made it out of this decade without blowing their brains out.

Realizing that Sarah and her potentially
homicidal roommate could be watching him from the windows above,
Derek stepped away from the stairs and started down the street. He
didn’t know where he was going. Where could he go? Jason had
stranded him and taken the machine back to the future with him. His
only hope was that Jason might have a change of heart and come back
for him but with the limited twelve hour window already come and
gone, his continued presence in this time was evidence enough that
Jason wasn’t coming back.

Checking for traffic, Derek jogged across
the street and into a small park.

He could rebuild the machine he thought,
quickly realizing how futile that effort would be. It wasn’t the
machine that was special. All that work. All those hundreds of
hours building and testing and problem solving and for what? He’d
basically built a twenty pound spark plug in a briefcase. Without
Jason’s blood, there was no hope of ever returning home. He
couldn’t go home to his parents. Hell, he wasn’t even due to be
born for another six months. If he showed up on his parents’
doorstep claiming to be their stranded son from the future, one of
two things would happen; his pregnant mother would either laugh him
off the front steps or miscarry, bringing a definitive end to his
dismal situation.

Taking a seat on one of the wooden benches,
which lined a long winding jogging path, Derek just leaned back in
defeat and turned his gaze skyward. Not overly religious, though
not without faith either, he figured the only hope he had left was
with the man upstairs, but since his soul was being occupied by an
unborn fetus in this time he wondered if God would even be able to
hear his prayers.

“What are we looking at?”

Startled, Derek returned his gaze earthward
to find Sarah standing in front of him, staring up at the same
patch of cloudless morning sky.

“First you show up at my restaurant and then
my apartment and now I find you sitting on my bench,” she met his
eyes with a smile.

“Are you following me?”

“I should ask the same thing. You mind,” she
motioned to the bench.

Hesitantly, he slid over as she took a seat
beside him.

“What are you doing here?” Derek rephrased
the question.

“I told you, this is my bench.”

Derek just stared at her.

“Okay, yes I’m following you. I didn’t even
bother to get fully dressed for fear you’d get too far away,” she
glanced down at her fuzzy blue pajama pants covered in tiny
bananas.

“Why?”

“Let’s just say that curiosity is sort of a
problem for me. I don’t like leaving things unresolved. I like
closure and right now you’re a big open ended mystery to me.
Yesterday you showed up at the restaurant, delaying me and claiming
that you could get me a new lab coat in time for my next class,
which I missed by the way.”

“Sorry.”

“Then you show up at my door, beat to hell
and completely wasted, asking me if
I’m
alright and if your
obnoxious friend is there before passing out and mumbling in your
sleep not to call the cops,” she continued. “Then, this morning you
wake up and rush out of my apartment but not before implying that I
was somehow in danger but for some reason am now completely safe.
If you ask me, I would be completely insane
not
to be
curious.”

Derek didn’t know how to respond to the
admittedly odd string of events. The truth wouldn’t bring her the
closure she sought. It would only add more questions. Staring into
her awaiting gaze he did the only thing he could think
of...deflect. “Aren’t you worried that I’m some sort of mass
murderer or something?”

“Are you?”

“Well, no but—”

“—Then that’s good enough for me,” she
happily accepted.