Memories from a Different Future: Jump When Ready, Book 2 (3 page)

Jamie checked to see what was behind him. “What’s up?”

Curtis couldn’t have been there. Maybe it was just her
conscience bothering her a little. After all, Simon wasn’t the only one who’d
been misbehaving. Nikki just hoped Martha hadn’t somehow caught wind of it.

“Um, nothing. Just kind of spaced out there for a
moment.”

“So, the movie?” Jamie raised his eyebrows. “What’s your
vote?”

“Yeah, sure,” Nikki said.

“To which?” Henry said. “Comedy or sci-fi?”

“I’m thinking maybe some comedy would be good,” Nikki
said. “Living here is already weirder than sci-fi most of the time.”

Somebody He Used
to Know

Nikki. Nikki. Nikki. The name kept going through Ian’s mind
but he couldn’t imagine why. He reminded himself that the whole thing was
ridiculous. They’d gone to a keg party and caught a buzz. Then, they’d gone
back to the apartment and messed around with some old board game Brent kept
around for sentimental purposes. The planchette, their fingers upon it, the
questions. All of it, just a joke.

But he’d woken from a dream that same night that both
scared the hell out of him and rushed him with a sense of incredible peace at
the same time. Two times falling through the air. One time hitting the ground
as people screamed. A moment of unimaginable blackness. Then falling again,
that time like plunging into a pool feet first. Then, for some even weirder
reason, a mobile spinning above a baby’s crib. As if he was the baby looking up
as a man and woman peered down at him.

Even now, as Ian sat in the library trying to study, he
couldn’t quite put those images—and that name, Nikki—out of his thoughts.

Sup loser?

Something about the phrasing, the familiarity, kept
resonating. The baiting tone, like a vaguely remembered antagonism. Like an old
friend. Or enemy. Or frenemy. Who the hell was Nikki?

Ian closed out of his
Europe in Renaissance
text,
giving up at least for the moment. Thankfully, he’d paid attention and taken
notes during all of Professor Russell’s lectures throughout the semester. He’d
also done well on most of her tests and quizzes. Ian figured he was about as
ready as he’d ever be for the final.

As he walked downstairs, Ian’s flexlet buzzed and he
fished it out of his pocket. He pressed its surface, expanding the screen to
phone size. A text from Lisa said,
Trabant?
Their favorite place for
coffee.
Ian texted back
, Perfect timing. A
Trabant “Mexican
Mocha” sounded great, actually. Not to mention a little more time with Lisa.

Ian opened the door to the world outside as fellow
students also passed through, talking and laughing. Someone said, “Cool, it’s
snowing!”

True enough, snowflakes drifted through the air again.
Nothing had accumulated on the ground yet but it looked like that might happen.
As a kid who grew up in Seattle, Ian knew that serious snowfall had once been
more rare—something that might happen only once or twice a year, maybe not at
all—but typically it snowed pretty hard these days. Usually, in January and
February—sometimes even March and April. Other years, it just rained like it
always had here. They’d once called it “Climate Change” but now it was just the
climate. You just never knew what was coming.

Ian strolled University Way toward 45
^th
alongside other students all buoyant at the prospect of the upcoming break. An
infectious excitement, definitely. He’d also worked hard this semester and
couldn’t wait to just hang out and watch old movies. As if it wasn’t a few
miles away—rather than a few hundred, or thousand—Ian smiled at the thought of
soon spending a few nights at home. There would be the lights on the tree, the
decorations, the gifts. And, of course, tons of homemade food. Independence had
its disadvantages, among them cheap fast food and his own less than stellar
cooking.

As he passed one of a hundred U District telephone poles
smattered with stapled fliers, for some reason one of them caught his eye. The
color, probably. Ian had always liked purple. He slowed to read it.
Psychic
Readings by Julie,
the bottom cut into tear-off tabs with a telephone
number. Next to that one, another offering moving services. Next to that,
another promoting a new club. Ian kept walking.

Then, he slowed his pace again as he considered going
back. Seriously, first Ouija boards and now supposed psychics? Not doing this,
Ian thought. All the same, he found himself walking back toward that same
telephone pole. He took a moment, pretending to read about the new club opening
in January, then quickly tore off one of the tabs on the adjacent flier and
started walking again.

~~~

Lisa sat waiting inside Trabant reading something on her
flexlet, but she looked up and smiled as he entered the café. She’d already
ordered drinks—a chai for herself and a Mexican mocha for him.

Ian joined her at the table and didn’t wait to take a sip
of his mocha. Warm, chocolaty but not too sweet. Perfect after the cold walk
outside.  “Studying?” he said.

“If you call reading a mystery studying,” Lisa said. “How
was the library?”

“Good. I think I’m pretty much ready for the final. I
might study a little more later, just in case.”

Lisa collapsed her flexlet and set it on the table. “I
admire your work ethic. As for me, I’m burnt. I think I may coast from here.”

The fact was, Lisa didn’t have to crack the books as much
as Ian to get good grades. She was smart, for one thing. She also had an
amazing memory.

“Hungry? I’m thinking about ordering one of those pecan
scones,” Lisa said. “I’m sorry. Which one were you studying for, history?”

“Maybe a cookie.” Ian could already feel himself
switching into sugar consumption mode for the holidays. “Yeah, European
Renaissance.”

“Oh, right, Professor Russell. She’s awesome.”

Ian absolutely agreed. In fact, he’d signed up for one of
Professor Russell’s courses on Lisa’s recommendation. She’d had Professor
Russell the previous year. He’d immediately taken to her casual, enthusiastic
approach to teaching. There was just something about her that had made Ian feel
comfortable, almost like he’d known her for a while.

Lisa glanced up at the menu board behind the baristas.
“Yeah, a scone sounds good. Except it’s almost dinnertime. Anyway, I heard
something kind of weird about her the other day.”

“Bad weird?”

“More like sad weird. I guess she was abducted when she
was a teenager.”

“Seriously?”

“I heard two girls talking about it in my Sociology
class. They said it happened where she grew up. Maryland or Virginia, someplace
like that. I forget.”

Ian tried to ignore the gruesome images that entered his
mind. Those kinds of stories seemed like they were always in the news. As if
each day brought someone new out there lurking to snatch a girl and do horrible
things. “Wow, you’d never guess it,” he said. “You’d think something like that
would totally mess you up.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” Lisa said. “And it gets even more
sad and weird.”

Ian wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He really liked
Professor Russell and felt like he was invading her privacy. At the same time,
he couldn’t help being curious. “Why, what else happened?”

Lisa shook her head just slightly, as if not sure what to
think. “Well, one of them said Professor Russell claimed her dead brother had
something to do with rescuing her. That he told the cops how to find her.
Something like that.”

Suddenly, a face appeared in Ian’s imagination. A teenage
boy with brown eyes and dark hair streaked with purple. Totally random. Ian
supposed he was imagining what Professor Russell’s dead brother might have
looked like. He thought about the hair streaked with purple, then the purple
flier on the telephone pole. Okay, sure. Probably just his brain processing
stuff in a strange way since he was beat from studying. But thinking of the
flier made him think of that name again. Nikki. Why did he feel like he knew
someone with—

“Are you okay?”

Ian snapped out of it. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Do you think
it’s true?”

Lisa shrugged. “Who knows. Could be just some weird
gossip. Screw dinner, I’m getting that scone.”           

~~~

That evening, Ian sat alone in his apartment staring at his
history notes. He couldn’t help feel slightly jealous of Brent, who’d finished
his last final earlier and was now out partying with Peter and a few others.
Still, he appreciated the fact that Brent would be crashing at Peter’s place
tonight so he didn’t screw things up for Ian by wandering in at two in the
morning. A good roommate, definitely. Ian felt pretty sure he was wasting his
time at this point by continuing to cram facts into his head. No, he didn’t
have Lisa’s memorization abilities but he felt pretty sure he was about as
prepared as he’d ever be for the exam tomorrow afternoon.

Either way, it didn’t matter since he was having
difficulty concentrating.

Bad enough he’d been obsessing over their little
experiment with the Ouija board. Now, he kept thinking about Professor
Russell’s past. And the face he’d imagined earlier when Lisa told him about
Professor Russell’s dead brother. He’d assumed that random image would
immediately be forgotten. Still, Ian kept remembering that face. Ian had always
been a fairly easygoing person but these last couple of days he’d been
distracted and edgy. Almost like he’d forgotten something important.

Ian shuffled the flash cards on his flexlet screen—all
those historic names, events and dates—and prepared to go through them again.
Lisa and Brent had poked fun at him a few times about the flash cards he made.
Ian had to admit it was a bit high school (which was exactly when he’d started
studying for tests that way) but, whatever, it still worked for him. Just not
tonight.

Ian set down the flexlet and went into the kitchen where
he grabbed the remaining beer from last weekend’s twelve-pack. He stood at the
window, where he looked out over the city neighborhood. He listened as cars and
busses rolled past on the streets below. He imagined hearing the laughter and
frivolities of those lucky enough to have wrapped up their exams today. He drew
his vision in again to see his own reflection in the glass—thin, average
height, sandy hair and a smattering of freckles remaining from when he’d been a
kid. Hard to believe he’d once had bright red hair but Ian’s parents talked
about it still. He’d also seen the photos, of course, so he knew it was true.
His parents said he’d entered the world with a bright red fuzz on his scalp and
that his hair had continued to come in vividly red. They said he’d been almost
two when that color faded. Almost like he’d once been a different person,
although Ian supposed that was true for everyone, when you thought about it.
You liked to think you were that same kid you’d once been but in reality that
kid had been someone else altogether. He’d since been replaced by you, while
you managed to hang onto some of his memories.

Why, though, did he keep thinking there might be other
memories he needed to retrieve? Ian turned from the window and set his beer
down on the counter. There, the small, purple flier tab remained crumpled next
to his keys and wallet. He uncurled the scrap of paper—just a phone number and
the same words from the flier itself,
Psychic Readings by Julie
—and went
to toss it into the trash. At the last moment, he stopped himself. He went back
into the other room and got his flexlet, dialed and left a message.

~~~

Ian tried to talk himself out of going over there. After
all, why was he doing it? All he had to do was call and cancel. The whole thing
was ridiculous, he knew. Thank God he hadn’t mentioned it to Lisa or anyone
else. Just bail and turn around, he kept thinking. Still, he kept driving
across town. Evidently, common sense had gone out the window. Still, no one
would know, so that was good. Also, he’d soon find out she was some total
scammer or something and that would be that. Hopefully, the result would also
be that he’d stop thinking about his new imaginary friends as well. After that,
he’d totally relax during the winter break and start off fresh again next semester.

A few minutes later, she opened her apartment door. “Hi,
I’m Julie,” she said, “How’s it going?”

She offered her hand and Ian noticed the firm, confident
grasp. He’d imagined a cliché, he now realized—a wizened, old lady with
penetrating eyes. Instead, he found himself facing a cheerful looking woman
with long blonde hair, probably somewhere in her late twenties, possibly early
thirties.

He entered the apartment, still expecting a dimly lit
space and maybe a crystal ball prominently displayed on a table, but instead
found a brightly lit room with the blinds open to let in the daylight. A sofa,
love seat and coffee table. An easel stood in one corner showing a painting in
progress—what looked to be a seascape featuring the monolithic rocks of Cannon
Beach, Oregon. Framed photos adorned the walls—faces and places, some color and
others black and white. Nice photos, actually.

“Can I get you anything?” Julie said. “I just made some
jasmine green tea. Doesn’t it smell great?”

Ian wasn’t much of a tea drinker but it was  chilly day
and the tea really did smell good. Still, he said, “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“I’ll get you some tea,” Julie said, as if Ian hadn’t
responded. “It’ll warm you up. Besides, the jasmine will give you a boost. I’m
getting that you might be a little tired.”

Ian figured it didn’t take a psychic to figure that one
out. It was finals week, after all. Then again, he hadn’t told her he was a
student. Although, Ian supposed he might have dark circles under his eyes. One
of the pitfalls of being fair-skinned. Tired showed.

Julie walked toward the kitchen. “Have a seat,” she said
over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

Ian wondered how it could be that she didn’t seem to care
who he might be. How could she know that he hadn’t arrived with some sort of
sick agenda? Then again, he didn’t look all that threatening. He’d heard a
million times before that he had a kind face, whatever that meant. Sometimes,
he’d tried to imagine himself as an angry, dark person but had never been able
to pull it off. He couldn’t see it in himself either, he had to admit. Maybe it
was the freckles.

Julie came back into the room a minute later with two
steaming mugs. She set them on the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa.
Ian settled into the love seat.