Outview (8 page)

14

Thursday, September 18

Third period was English with weaselly Mr.
James, who held the distinction of being the least favorite teacher of my
entire school career. What are the odds that Dustin sat in the same chair and also
had him during third period, two years earlier? Most of the time Mr. James called
me Dustin, but he said it almost like “Dis-gus-tin.” He would call on me only
when he was sure I couldn’t answer, like that day. “Dustin, in the
Adventures
of Huckleberry Finn,
Huck uses several aliases. Will you please tell me one
of them?”

There had been no time to read this when Kyle
expected me to consume Thich Nhat Hanh, Amber had four books she said must be
read, and then there was the book from Sam. “It’s Nathan, Mr. James, and I--”

He cut me off, “Incorrect Mr. Ryder, Huck
Finn did not use Nathan as an alias. Who can tell Dustin the right answer?” And
I thought I was crazy.

Luckily fourth-period history was my
favorite subject with the best teacher, Mr. Anderson. He had a way of making
history cool and exciting, not like some boring stuff that already happened. He
showed us how events, even thousands of years ago, not only affected us today but
were similar to current events. “The same things keep happening again and
again,” he’d always say. “It takes humans a very long time to learn.” He was my
youngest teacher--I’m sure he wasn’t thirty yet. Sometimes I’d miss lunch
because he and I would get into a long conversation about the Vikings or the
American Revolutionary War. Kyle told me I was Mr. A’s favorite student.

I was leaving the cafeteria to head for
fifth-period French class when Mrs. Little stopped me in the hall. “Nathan,
there’s some testing I’d like you to come in for next week.”

“Is it required?”

“What does that mean?”

“Is it voluntary or mandatory?”

“It’s something I think could give us some
insight . . . something that would benefit you.”

“No, thanks.”

“What does that mean?” For a high school
guidance counselor, she sure had a hard time understanding high school kids.

I gave her my best incredulous look. “I’m
not interested in your test.”

“You don’t understand. This isn’t anything
that would affect your grades. I’m simply recommending--”

“I’m going to be late for French.” I moved
away, enjoying her exasperated look.

After school, I again searched
unsuccessfully for Lee Duncan online. It was time to see if anything in my
dad’s stuff might help. A dream the night before showed an image of his desk.
It whispered something just before a huge red wrecking ball completely demolished.
It had to be a message, I thought. There must be something in there that can
help me.

A few years before, Mom had cleared out a
lot of his things but pretty much ignored the study, a small room off their
bedroom still stacked with books and papers. His desk was more like a dresser
but the slanted top folded down. I searched for a while, finding nothing of
interest until a thought popped into my head to look behind the small drawers
that held paper clips and rubber bands. There seemed to be too much space
between them and the back of the desk. My fingers touched a tiny metal circle
in the wood that I couldn’t see from the front. I pushed it and a false panel
swung open. It was a small cavity, maybe big enough for a paperback book.

Pulling out my discovery, four small pieces
of gray stationery written in my dad’s handwriting. Three were in some sort of
foreign language. The fourth was a list of names I didn’t recognize except for
Lee Duncan. I was ecstatic, like Sherlock Holmes. There was also a very small gold
box with jade inlaid circle and diamond patterns, about the size of a matchbox
car but light and obviously hollow, but no latch or any way to open it. The
final item was an intricately carved piece of tube-shaped dark wood maybe three
inches long. Knowing Dad had hidden these items, it was as if we were
unraveling the mystery together.

I carefully closed the secret space,
neatened his desk and took the treasures with me. Even after rummaging through
the rest of the room, the garage, closets, nothing else surfaced. It was impossible
to get the box open without destroying it so I decided to wait and see if Kyle
had any ideas about what the objects were or how to decipher the papers.

Kyle called as I was finishing the search.

“Good timing, I said. “ Wait until you see
what--”

“I’m in your driveway,” he interrupted
obviously agitated. “We need to talk right now.” I ran down. He was backing
onto the street before I’d even closed the car door.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’ll show you in a minute.”

“Can’t you just tell me now?”

“No. I need to show you.” A minute later we
were pulling into a parking space next to one of the bridges leading into
Lithia Park. Once in the trees, Kyle stopped walking and put his hands on my
shoulders. “This is getting scary, Nate.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Some old Spanish woman came up to me and
said she had a message for you.”

“What woman? When?”

“About twenty minutes ago. I don’t know who
she is. I was about to get into my car in front of my house, and this old woman
walks up all friendly and says, ‘Hello Kyle, my name is Amparo. You don’t know
me, but I have a message for you from someone who wants to help you and Nate.’ She
looked, you know, friendly enough, and it’s broad daylight. With all this crazy
stuff going down, it didn’t seem so weird even though I knew it was.”

“What did she say?”

“That we’re in danger, serious danger.”

“Hold on. Tell me
exactl
y what she
said.”

“Her name was Amparo. She was delivering a
message from a guy who knew your father and Lee Duncan for like twenty years;
they’d been very close. He needed to warn us about the serious danger we’re in
and wanted to explain some extremely important things to you, including the
truth about your dad’s death.”

“All right, I’m sorry, but doesn’t this
sound creepy?”

“Of course it does, but so does everything
lately. She said to meet the guy in Brookings on Sunday at Tea Leaf Beach at
the first low tide, and he’d be waiting for you.”

“Meet him? How do we know this Brookings
guy isn’t the one who wants to hurt us? How did they find us? How do we know we
can believe them?”

“She said you would ask those questions,
and I’m supposed to tell you that the person who sent her can tell you why
Brett shot Wesley.”

“Jesus!” I choked. I hadn’t told anyone
about that Outview. I leaned against a tree wrestling with fear and amazement.

“Who are Brett and Wesley?” Kyle demanded.

“Do you remember last July when you found
me on the ground in my backyard?

“Of course.”

“Well, it wasn’t the post that knocked me
out. I’d had an Outview, and in that lifetime I was Wesley and a guy named
Brett shot me.”

“You mean you actually physically feel what
happens to you in a past life?”

“Yeah, it’s not as severe, but it’s still real.”

“Incredible.” His eyes deepened and at the
same time were distant.

“Sometimes I think crazy might be a better
alternative.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t rule that out yet.” He
sat on the ground and fumbled with his pack of cigarettes. “What do you think?”

“No one on the planet knew about Brett and
Wesley. I mean how could he possibly even know those names?”

“This Amparo was really old, like a sweet
great-grandmother, not the type to send us into a trap.”

“But it could be trap,” I said.

“Why? Who would want to?”

“The same people who killed Duncan and my
dad.”

“If someone wanted you dead, why couldn’t
they just do it here. Why Brookings?”

“I know, right. And if he knew about Wesley
and Brett, then something wild is going on. I want to know I’m not crazy and if
my dad was murdered. I have to meet him. It’s riskier not to.”

“Yeah, but then what? We have to come home
sometime. We have school on Monday.”

“Kyle, don’t you think school is the least
of our worries?”

“Maybe yours, but I need a perfect GPA to
get into MIT.”

“MIT doesn’t admit dead students.”

“Don’t get carried away!”

“Kyle, listen, all the dead Montgomery
Ryders, Lee Duncan confiding in Dad and dying the next day, now this old lady
shows up to set a clandestine rendezvous with some mysterious mind reader . . .
and
I found two strange objects and hidden papers concealed behind a
secret
panel in my Dad’s desk, one of them with Lee Duncan’s name. I mean, it’s
like we’ve fallen into a Hitchcock movie.”

“I know. Add all that to New Age Mayes’
theories of your past lives, you and Dustin seeing and hearing whatever it is
you do, and I think it’s more like the
Twilight Zone
.”

“Welcome to my world! You can check out any
time you like, but you can never leave.”

“Huh?”

“It’s from an old Eagles song . . . Never
mind, I always forget you and modern music aren’t acquainted. But I could use
your other considerable mental talents to help me figure out the stuff from my
dad’s desk. It’s all codes and symbols, pretty weird.”

“Of course it is,” he forced a laugh.
“We’ll look at them on the trip.”

“You think we should be scared?”

“I didn’t before Amparo showed up. Oh, she
also warned that anything we say on our phones can be heard and our online
activity is being monitored. She said not to travel with our cell phones or
computers.”

“It sure as hell sounds like we should be
scared!”

15

Later that night, I was home packing a
backpack, including the objects and papers from Dad’s desk. A bad feeling that
I might not return came over me. It was probably a combination of the Amparo
woman showing up and the concept of my dad and his friend being killed by some
mysterious person powerful enough to make their deaths appear accidental. I
looked around at my favorite photos, books on great photographers, and fiddled
with a few of my old matchbox cars that lined my bookshelves. The sense of doom
worsened, so I meditated.

A sudden knock at the front door jolted me,
and I carefully peered out the window. Amber’s turquoise bug was parked next to
my dad’s old Toyota silver 4x4 pickup truck. Mom had saved it for Dustin, who
had driven it for one day before his suicide run to Shasta. I used to think she
was keeping it for when he got out, but now it seemed more likely she was
saving it for me, if she ever let me get my license. But I was determined to
see Dustin drive it again.

“I’m glad you stopped by. Can we go for a
drive?”

“Sure.” She smiled. Amber was wearing a
purple tank top and white shorts, thin leather sandals. She must know how
distracting her looks were.

I told her about the message from the guy
in Brookings. We forgot about a drive and just sat there talking. She listened
to the whole story, the concern on her face clear. “Oh, Nate,” she finally said,
casually putting her hand on my thigh. “It’s exciting and scary at the same
time!”

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“But maybe after seeing Dustin and the
Brookings guy, the mysteries will unravel.”

“Or get deeper.”

“Think positive.”

“I’ll try, but just in case, I want you to
know the meeting is at the first low tide on Sunday at Tea Leaf Beach in
Brookings. You’re the only one I’m telling.” I fidgeted with the beads hanging
from her rearview mirror.

“I’ve never heard of Tea Leaf, and I’ve
been going to Brookings forever.”

“Well, if someone’s trying to set a trap,
why wouldn’t he just grab me here. I’m not hiding. And he knew about that Outview.”

“I know; that’s so amazing.”

“Frightening is more like it, that
someone’s been inside my head.”

“Maybe he wasn’t in your head. Maybe he’s
from that lifetime.”

“Great, maybe Brett’s come back to finish
me off. Not only is there danger in this lifetime, but people are traveling
through time to kill me.”

“I doubt it. I just know it’s someone
trying to help you. I can’t wait to find out. Do you want to stay at our beach
house?”

“Could we?”

“Yeah, no one’s there.” She told me where the
key was hidden.

“I wish you could come.”

“Me, too, but my mother gets back tomorrow
for a long weekend of ‘quality time.’ It’s a joke; my mother’s only close to
her make-up mirror. But my sister will be home, too.”

“I had another Outview today.” I waited
until her eyes found mine. “You were in it.”