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

This time they waited and slowly the planchette
drifted—almost on its own, it seemed—toward the word “Yes.”

“Sweet,” Brent said.

Lisa looked at the ceiling and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Who are you thanking?” Peter said.

Lisa shrugged. “Oh, you’re supposed to thank the entity
or spirit.”

“Okay, sure,” Peter said. “That makes total sense. And
you’re asking if
I’m
drunk?”

“I’ll ask a question,” Ian said. “Get ready to be creeped
out.” He stared up at the ceiling. “Is there anyone here with us tonight?”

They waited again, their hands resting on the planchette.
Slowly, it drifted across the board, this time to individual letters one at a
time.

Ian glanced at Lisa. “You doing that?”

Lisa shook her head.

Ian kept his hands on the planchette, waiting. Finally,
it came to rest.

“I have no idea what that just spelled,” Brent said.
“That was like eight letters, I think. S-u-p, something. What the hell?”

A moment later, Lisa burst out laughing. “It’s two words!
Get it?
Sup Loser
?”

“Oh, my God, you’re right,” Brent said. “That’s freaking
hilarious! Okay, my turn.” He looked up at the ceiling this time too. “Spirit,
do you know Ian?”

“Hands on the planchette,” Lisa said.

They waited, this time watching each other to be sure.
Slowly, the planchette moved across the board, coming to rest on the word at
the top. “Yes.”

“Okay, I’m scared,” Peter said. “This is getting creepy.”

“Kind of with you on that,” Brent said. “Just saying.”

The fact was, Ian agreed. At the same time, something was
nagging at him. Even though it made no sense, he wanted to know more. So, he asked.
“Who are you?”

Again, the planchette selected individual letters to
spell a word.

“Okay, what did it spell that time?” Brent said.

“Can you even spell?” Lisa said. “That was definitely a
name.”

“Nikki’s a name?” Peter said.

“Sure, Nikki’s a name,” Lisa said. She turned to Ian.
“Hey, do you know anyone named—” She stopped, seeing his expression. “Wait, do
you?”

Ian shook his head as if to wake himself up. “What? No.”

“Then, what happened?” Lisa said. “You looked like you
just saw a ghost or something.”

Ian reached for his beer and took a long drink. “I don’t
know. It was weird. But for like just a moment I totally felt like I knew
someone with that name. But I definitely don’t.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m totally done,”
Peter said.

“Um, yeah, me too,” Brent said. “I’m going with Adventure
Time Monopoly from now on.”

I Feel You

Emilio accepted the joint from Diego and took a hit he
didn’t need and didn’t want. There’d been a time when smoking weed had seemed
to offer a new clarity, a way of seeing things in a way he hadn’t before. Back
when he’d been thirteen—when he’d first become one of the South Enders—that
imagined clarity had allowed him to envision a future much different from this
one. Suddenly, he’d felt like a man, hanging out with other men when not long
before they would have chased him off while making jokes about little bros
being a pain in the ass. “Mealy, shoo, bro,” Marcos used to say. At least he’d
smiled saying it and there had been kindness behind the smile. There had been
no kindness behind the others’ laughter.

Now, Emilio was the big bro to Javier and Marcos had been
a year in the ground. Emilio exhaled, contributing to the cloud of smoke
drifting up to the ceiling, and considered that maybe the weed still offered
clarity. In fact, maybe it was that perspective he kept hoping to avoid. The
weed enhanced what he knew to be true. He didn’t want this anymore—the
pointless anger, the ridiculous pride in being ignorant, the perpetual
confrontations. The complete lack of any future. The world had expanded
considerably since Emilio was thirteen. He’d seen way past what he’d once
thought to be everything, realizing the territory defended by the South Enders
was a very small place in that larger world. It had both amazed and disgusted
Emilio to learn that the gang had been defending the same territory since the
1990s. Over forty years of the same shit and nothing had changed in all that
time.

The world had also shrunk, in a huge way but just by one
person. Although sometimes Emilio imagined still hearing him. “Hey, Mealy, you
need to get out. Do you hear me, bro?” And Emilio would imagine answering, “I
can’t. How can I?”

“Homes, what’s up?”

Emilio snapped out of it. He passed the joint to Ramiro
and met Diego’s eyes, which were always suspicious, always wary and too curious
for comfort.

“Nothing,” Emilio said. “Do we have a problem?” He smiled
to pad the tough words. Always that needed balancing act, especially with
Diego.

Diego shrugged but stared. “I don’t know. Do we have a
problem, bro?”

“Just chilling,” Emilio said.

Diego studied Emilio for another moment, then said. “I
feel you. So, maybe you’re getting yourself ready? Manning up?”

Emilio narrowed his eyes and nodded. His tough man look,
the one he’d learned from Marcos years ago. Marcos had eventually let on that
he’d learned it from watching old
Dirty Harry
movies on TV late at
night.
Dude, watch the thing he does with his eyes. And his mouth, little
bro. Who’s gonna mess with that mother—

“Mealy, you can handle it no problem. It takes like two
minutes. We got your back, homes.”

Luciano meant the words to be reassuring, Emilio knew. No
big deal, just another rite of passage. Like when he’d been dropped off in
Devil Kingz territory. Sure, just over the line but he’d only been fourteen.
He’d found himself surrounded within minutes but, just by pure luck, by kids
about his own age. He’d scrapped his way out and the South Enders had his back
when he hit the boundary. Then the tables turned. Feet flew in the opposite
direction. Blood hit the road and sidewalk. More than a few cried out, “Mama!”
Scars were born.

“Yeah, Luce,” Emilio said. “I got this.”

Diego laughed. Emilio had come to know that Diego never
laughed when something was actually funny. For Diego, laughter was more of a bark,
a noise made to draw attention.

“Mealy is going to be a man next week,” Diego said.
“Sixteen and you’re in for life. Right, bro?”

Emilio glanced at the others, the four of them together
just a small fraction of the South Enders, looking to survive, to prove
themselves. Not a problem having someplace to go, though. Like today, they
could hang at one of their drab, cold apartments after school because both
parents worked—if there were two parents, which was pretty rare. Emilio now
realized how the world worked, as well as his place in it. Marcos had once
convinced him that it was all okay, that everyone went hungry on some nights,
that having three rooms total was normal. A kindness. But “Shoo, bro,” meant
something different now. Get away. Get out. Although sometimes Emilio imagined
Marcos still saying it, his eyes always kind.

“Nothing to worry about,” Emilio said. “Like I said, I’ve
got this.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Diego said.

Emilio forced himself to look into those eyes again.
“You’ll be the first to know, homes.”

“Better be,” Diego said.

~~~

It hadn’t been like anyone recruited Emilio into the South
Enders. Marcos had taken care of that just by being Marcos. He’d been up and
coming, a future hero, his rep earned through battle both inside the gang and
out. Marcos had been fearless. Never once had he backed down, never once
lost—not if losing meant giving up. Emilio remembered watching him take
beatings from which he kept rising to his feet, coming back for more. Maybe
he’d lose that round eventually but Emilio saw the fear in the eyes of the
winners even as they grinned victorious. They knew their victory would be
short-lived. Marcos was just too tough, too strong. They might have a year, or
a few months, before the rematch. Marcos would just keep getting bigger and
more skilled. Which is exactly what Marcos did. So, it wasn’t like anyone was
going to argue against Emilio joining the gang. If that’s what Marcos wanted,
then that’s how it was going to be.

Diego had been Marcos’ wingman, homies since elementary
school where they’d formed a bond to survive. Diego had never been as tough,
never quite as smart, but always clever and dangerous with an ear to the
ground. Seemingly a good friend to have, one who listened to the chatter and
watched Marcos’ back. Except, Diego had missed some of that chatter. Maybe.
After all, Diego had existed in Marcos’ shadow. Emilio sometimes wondered if
Diego had been ready to emerge from beneath that shadow. Impossible to prove,
but when Marcos fell, suddenly Emilio found himself in a new light of his own.
One where the other homies started to look at him differently. Was he made of
the same stuff as Marcos? What had he ever done to prove himself?

~~~

Emilio opened the door to his apartment knowing he’d find
Javier staring at the screen. Seven years old, alone and waiting for his big
bro to get home and make him some dinner. Emilio’s mother didn’t have a choice.
She worked two jobs, standing behind a fast food register during the day and
waiting tables at night. Still, it was just barely enough to keep the lights on
and Emilio should have been home an hour ago.

All the same, Javier’s face lit up. No judgment. “Hey,
Emilio! How’s it going?”

Emilio peeled off his jacket, thought about tossing it
onto the sofa, then hung it on a peg by the door. Mama’s rules. Even Marcos had
obeyed those rules.

“Doing okay, little bro,” Emilio said. “What’s up,
watching Time Bender?” Emilio glanced at the old screen, not even part of the
wall. A portable relic with no feed, just the drive and same media files he
grew up on—the free library downloads Marcos had once watched too.

“Yeah,” Javier said. “Did you see this one?”

Emilio pretended to watch a few seconds of an episode
he’d seen at least twenty times. “Maybe,” he said. “Yeah, I think maybe I did.
Are you hungry?”

That definitely caught Javier’s attention. “Mama said
there’s still some chicken! Can you make it?”

“Yeah, little bro,” Emilio said. “Then we do your
homework, okay?”

Javier sighed. “Really? Do we have to?”

“Yes, we have to. It’s important. So you get super smart.
Feel me?”

Javier nodded, eyes full of trust. “Feel you. I’m
hungry.”

“Yeah, I know, little dude. I’m on it.”

~~~

Later that night, Emilio got Javier ready for bed and then
sat next to him, stretching his own legs out on the mattress. “Head on the
pillow and I’ll read,” he said.

Javier slid down next to him and settled in.

Emilio read to him from one of the old
Wimpy  Kid
books that had once been his and once belonged to Marcos. A total fantasy, he
knew, but sometimes he imagined Marcos smiling. Saying things like,
I loved
that story, bro! When I was little. When I was still alive! Do you feel me?

Emilio knew it was totally his imagination but he still
answered silently.
I feel you.

When Javier fell asleep, Emilio went out to the kitchen.
Later, he’d sleep in the bed next to Javier’s. His bed had once belonged to
Marcos. Javier’s bed had once belonged to Emilio. Javier had once slept in bed
next to his mother and a father who’d been gone long enough that Javier had
forgotten he’d ever been around.

Now that he was finally alone, Emilio did his homework.
The South Enders would laugh their asses off if they knew but he never handed
it in when they could see. He never handed it in on time either, just in case.
Still, he completed it when it was assigned. That mattered to him, even if he
was the only one who knew.

No, it’s good, bro. Do that. Do it for yourself. Do it
for Javier. Do it for Mama
.
I’m proud of you, Mealy
. Those were the
words he imagined Marcos saying. But sometimes Emilio didn’t feel like he
imagined those words. Sometimes, he felt like Marcos stood right next to him
even though that was impossible.

~~~

Emilio went to bed that night thinking about what had to
happen. Basically, it amounted to the same thing as taking another hit off that
joint that kept going around even though he didn’t want it any more. This shit
never stopped and never would. Emilio had been looking at all the angles for a
while now and so far he’d come up with nothing. Maybe after, he could walk away.
Once he stared back at the rest of the South Enders with eyes even slightly
close to being as steely as Marcos’ eyes had once been. Not likely, but maybe.

As he lay in the dark, Emilio told himself that all it
took was a gun and a few minutes. It meant nothing, just a joke, basically. An
initiation they all went through. As he started to drift off, Emilio thought
about all those lucky kids who’d grown up with so much more and never once
stopped to imagine that people like him existed. To them, he and Javier might
as well be as invisible as Marcos. So, that’s where he would go, he decided. He
might as well visit the nice side of town on his birthday. Besides, if he had
to go through with this whole deal he might as well try to get something out of
it for himself.

Doors Opening

Nikki took the ramp, tucked the board, slapped down, caught
her balance and raced toward the next curve of the skate park bowl. She didn’t
look back to see how far behind Henry and Jamie might be. She didn’t have to.
She’d gained enough of a lead that this deal was basically done. They didn’t
have a chance now.

“Oh, come on,” she heard Jamie say, now approaching the
ramp she’d just left behind. “You have to be freaking
kidding
me!”

A smile spread across Nikki’s face, her right foot
pumping against concrete, her left balancing the board as she continued to
build momentum.

“I’ve got this!” Henry said. “Get out of my way!”

“Yeah, whatever!” Jamie said. “How about you get out of
mine?”

Nikki couldn’t help laugh as she heard them struggling to
catch up. Sure, they’d been to this skate park a thousand times and she’d just
finally been invited to join them. Naturally, they’d been confident that she’d
be looking to them to show her the ropes. And she had for the first hour or so,
but it wasn’t long before she had most of it down. After all, she’d spent half
of her last life honing her strength and agility as a dancer. Had they really
thought their time spent casually gliding around on wheels could compare? Sure,
they had the basic skills down and some nifty tricks. But where was the
discipline, the commitment? Yeah, exactly. Pretty much what she’d figured the
whole time. After all, how much did Henry and Jamie take seriously?

Ironically, the competition had been their idea. Typical
for boys, of course, and they’d definitely assumed one of them would be first
to complete six laps. Seeing as she was about ten yards out now from the finish
line, Nikki suspected this show was over. She
knew
it was over when she
heard them collide, wipe out and start swearing at each other. Oh, well. Live
and learn, right? Or, die and learn. Same thing, weirdly.

The fact was, Nikki had only been curious about seeing
the place they kept disappearing to all the time. Henry and Jamie had created
it together, so the invitation had been needed, but originally she hadn’t been
sure she’d even get on a board. Now, she smirked as she spun and turned to look
back. She watched as Henry and Jamie picked themselves up.

“Beginners luck,” Jamie said, preening his mohawk back
into place.

“I was seriously gaining,” Henry said. “Another few
seconds and I would have—”

“Still lost,” Nikki said.

Henry pretended to consider, then shrugged. “True, but
not by as much.”

Henry’s eyes met Nikki’s and she forced herself to
maintain a neutral expression. She did allow the corner of her mouth to rise
just a little, enough that she knew Henry would smile. Sure enough, he smiled.
Henry was Henry, after all. Some things in afterlife remained the same and
Nikki appreciated that consistency.

Nikki was long past questioning so many aspects of this
realm she’d come to think of as home. After all, people on Earth just accepted
that the sun would rise and that night would fall. That was the natural order
of things. Obviously, time moved way differently here—to the point where time
itself barely mattered. Sure, it used to disorient her but that had mostly been
during the years when she’d kept crossing over. Back when she’d watched her
parents, and then her sister, slip away. After that, she hadn’t looked back.
She’d only been torturing herself and it hadn’t benefitted anyone. It hadn’t
been until Henry arrived to join them that she’d found the courage to make that
leap again. And it had paid off, no doubt about it. They’d rescued Henry’s
sister. They’d saved—or at least, prolonged—a life. Still, that had been almost
twenty years ago, Earth time. Where Nikki lived, maybe a few months. At least,
that’s what it felt like.

“What next?” Henry dusted himself off. “Maybe the woods?
Or how about the pond? You know, someplace relaxing.”

Nikki missed the pond. They hadn’t gone there much since
saving Bethany. Henry went there sometimes, she knew. Well, she didn’t know for
sure. But he went somewhere, just slipped totally off the radar. She shouldn’t
care. After all, why would she? Nikki asked that of herself too frequently
lately. It scared her, this change, this caring, in a place where she’d long
thought it couldn’t happen. Maybe shouldn’t happen? What kind of doors might
that caring open? Big doors, she suspected. Doors that couldn’t be crossed
through again. At least, not at the time of her choosing.

“I was thinking about maybe laying on the beach for a
while,” Jamie said. “Not that I’m tired or any—”

“White water rafting.” Nikki looked Henry in the eye. Not
nice, she knew. Mean, even, considering that he’d drowned last time around. Was
she trying to push him away?

“Okay, sure,” Henry said. “Show me.”

It wasn’t lost on Nikki that Henry said, “Show me” rather
than “us.”

“No issues, River Rat?”

Henry stared at her, eyes smiling. Sure, keep testing me,
his eyes said. Keep trying. I’m in, no matter what. Nikki looked away. “Jamie?”

“Nice,” Jamie said. “New one. Let’s do it.”

They picked up their boards and walked toward their
bikes. Something they’d agreed upon, at least for now, was that it just felt
right walking or riding their bikes together. Technically, they could be
driving cars now—or flying jets, for that matter—but none of them had gotten
their driver’s license in their last life. For now, they remained teenagers
continually poised on adulthood. Still, Nikki wondered how long it might remain
that way. She kept trying to resist thinking about it but couldn’t quite manage
doing so lately.
Kids
grew up. They graduated from high school, they left home and went to college.
They fell in love, fell out of love, then fell in love again. They got married,
then—

“So, the white water place,” Jamie said, pedaling along
beside her. “Was it somewhere you knew? You never mentioned it.”

Nikki swerved her bike just enough at Jamie that he
almost went off the path. “That’s because I grew up in southern California. Not
a whole lot of white water going on there.”

“So, you just thought of it?” Henry said, from her other
side.

“Yep. I’m thinking we should have a race.”

“We’re screwed,” Jamie said.

~~~

Simon and Naomi stared at the three of them as they entered
the kitchen, soaked and dripping water onto the floor. The addition of the
kitchen to Halfway House had been a recent mutual decision, partly because it
gave them someplace else to hang out but mostly because Naomi had become
interested in learning how to bake. She wasn’t likely to develop her new skill
if their only option remained the food court, where whatever they wanted appeared
at will.
As
it happened, the aroma of baking cookies wafted through the relatively small
space they’d decided upon.

“What the hell, mates?” Simon said.           

Jamie gestured at Nikki. “Her idea.”

Simon thought for a moment. “Get caught in a squall?” He
took another look at Jamie’s Mohawk, which now resembled a dead bird laying on
his skull. “Maybe a hurricane?”

“Rapids,” Henry said. “We went tubing.”

Naomi wore baking mitts, ready at the oven door. “That’s
super dangerous.”

A silent moment followed since no one wanted to hurt her
feelings. Then Naomi giggled. “Scary, I mean.”

“Definitely,” Henry said. “If I could have died, I would
have at least three times.”

Nikki laughed. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, it kind of was,” Jamie said, still trying to straighten
his spikes.

“What have you two been up to?” Nikki said, wondering how
long it would be before Naomi’s cookies were ready. They smelled fantastic.
Naomi was a natural at baking—almost as if she could somehow infuse a child’s
expectations into the flavors she created. Could she?

“Not much,” Simon said, “Just hanging out.”

Nikki thought she caught a reluctant tone, as if he might
be leaving something out.

“Simon’s in trouble,” Naomi said softly.

“I’m not in
trouble
,” Simon said. “I just had a
little talk with Martha, is all.”

Nikki could guess where this was going—Simon had been
doing a little wing-stretching again. Not that she blamed him. They’d all been
through the same steps.

“Sweet. What did you do this time?” Jamie peered into the
oven. Apparently, he felt the same way about Naomi’s baking.

“Nothing much, really. Just sort of popped up on a few
computers for the fun of it.” Simon shrugged and turned to Naomi. “How many
more minutes on those?”

Henry wandered over to the oven too, where he stood hovering.
“Okay, sure. Nothing you haven’t done before.”

“Right, exactly,” Simon said.

Nikki knew Simon well enough to suspect something more
must have happened. “How many computers?”

Simon didn’t meet her gaze. “Hard to say, exactly.”

“Simon, just tell them,” Naomi said. “Jeez, don’t be so
evaded. No, that’s not it. What’s that word—”

“Evasive,” Nikki said. She returned her attention to
Simon. “Why is it hard to say, exactly?”

“Look, I’m not particularly familiar with that YouTube
thing but I guess the numbers keep changing as more people look at it.”

“You got on freaking
YouTube
?” Henry looked both
horrified and gleeful.

Simon turned to face the guys. Of course, Nikki thought,
since they found nothing more amusing than their own immaturity. “Yep. Not on
purpose, of course. I’m not a grand-standing kind of bloke, after all.”

“Of course not,” Nikki said. “Total wallflower.”

Simon pretended not to hear her and grinned at the guys.
“See, the thing is I may have overdid it a little to see how people would react.
Who knew people could film their computer screens and show them on the
internet?”

“Pretty much everyone,” Henry said.

“I didn’t,” Naomi said, finally opening the oven door.

“See, there you go. Thank you, Naomi,” Simon said. “By
the way, those biscuits look super!”

“Cookies,” Henry said.

“Biscuits. Cookies. Same thing,” Simon said.

“Well, ‘biscuits’ also means those salty, little…” Henry
sighed. “Never mind.”

“Can’t imagine why Martha might object,” Nikki said.

“How’s that any different from Naomi manifesting a bunch
of sparrows?” Simon followed Naomi over to the counter where she set the hot
tray down on a towel.

“You can manifest birds now?” Jamie said.

Naomi shrugged and slipped off her baking mitts. “Just
little birds so far. I can’t quite get the hang of anything bigger.”

“Hey, that’s really cool, Naomi.” Henry said. “Martha
didn’t mind?”

Naomi picked up a spatula and started placing cookies
onto cooling racks. “Not really. She just suggested that maybe I don’t overdo
it.”

“How’s that any different from YouTube?” Simon reached
for a cookie and Naomi batted his hand away.

Nikki and Jamie both said, “Shut up, Simon,” at the same
time.

Henry laughed. Nikki suspected one of these days he’d
have the same knee-jerk response to Simon’s continued idiocy. Which she well
knew was a total act—Simon just liked to play stupid to get your goat.

Simon waited for Nikki to say something since she was
almost always the one to lay things out for him—something of a tradition by
now. Nikki supposed he enjoyed the attention. “Well, it’s kind of like this,
Simon. Someone sees some sparrows flying by and they think, ‘How pretty. Nice
little birdies.’ On the other hand, someone sees a freaky, greased-back English
teenager staring back at them through their computer monitor and they think,
‘What the hell is that!’ Provided they don’t have a heart attack, of course.”

Finally, Naomi started setting the cookies onto a plate.
Jamie had already retrieved milk from the refrigerator (Nikki prayed he hadn’t
been drinking directly from the bottle recently).

“Nobody had a heart attack,” Simon said. “Jeez, give me
some credit. Most people just said they thought it was some sort of attack
thingy. What do they call that again?”

“Hacking?” Henry suggested.

“Yes, precisely!” Simon said.

“How do you know what people were saying?” Henry said.

Simon shrugged again. “It kind of made the news. Like on
TV and stuff.”

Nikki, Henry and Jamie stared at him, stunned.

“Anyone want a cookie?” Naomi said.

~~~

After devouring Naomi’s cookies, Simon wandered off saying
something about maybe going to the library. Since he’d never invited anyone
there, Nikki had never seen Simon’s library. She wasn’t sure if it might even
mean he was planning to visit an actual library somewhere in Northampton where
he’d gown up (or, at least, almost grown up) since in the past he’d mentioned
one there that he’d liked to frequent during his last life. If so, Nikki hoped
he’d stay out of people’s phones and computers for a while and just look at
books. Not that she cared all that much about what Simon did but Nikki couldn’t
help feel sorry for Martha having to put up with their antics.

Naomi didn’t linger either. After they helped her clean
up, she hung her apron on a hook by the back door and said she was going to
take a nap. Naomi had always been an early riser.

“Anyone in the mood for a movie?” Jamie said.

“Sounds good to me,” Henry said. “I’m kind of in a Jim
Carrey mood.”

“That could work,” Jamie said. “Although, I was maybe
thinking about some sci-fi.”

Henry put the milk back into the refrigerator. “Sure. I’m
okay with that too.”

“I guess that leaves the deciding vote with Nikki,” Jamie
said. “What are you into, Nikki?”

Nikki folded a dishtowel and hung it on the oven handle.
She turned to Jamie and her breath caught in her throat. She stared past him at
the person who couldn’t possibly be there. Curtis stood in the kitchen doorway,
silently staring back at her. A moment later, he disappeared.