Tempest. Part 5

"For some reason, I can't go back there. Like the universe shifted two years into the past. I've been bouncing back to 2007 for two days now."

Her eyes were huge. "Why? And how did it work before the universe moved or whatever?"

I kept my eyes on the gra.s.s and plucked out little pieces. "I don't know why. But before, I would only jump an hour or two, sometimes a couple days. Then I would just end up back in the same place, like I never left."

"How do you even know what time is yours?" she asked.

"Basically, I have a home base. And the jumping part is like a boomerang. I'm thrown out somewhere and then I just circle back. When I'm in those other years, like this one, I feel like a shadow of myself. And nothing I do during a jump changes anything in my home base."

"Nothing?"

I shook my head. "Not so far."

She glanced sideways at a man riding by on a bike. "So, if you had a gun and murdered that guy, he would still be alive three years in the future?"

"I think so, but I'm not gonna try."

"Like Groundhog Day," Courtney said, staring over my shoulder.

"Huh?"

"You know, the movie where Bill Murray keeps repeating the same day over and over. He tries to kill himself by dropping a toaster in the bathtub, then wakes up on the same day again."

"I hadn't thought about it like that, but yeah, that's a good comparison."

"Can you go from here to another year, like 1991 or something?"

"No, I have to tag up."

"Tag up?"

"Like when the other team catches a fly ball and you have to tag up before running to the next base. If I tried to go back five years right now, I'd open my eyes and be right back in that diner bathroom in 2007."

She let out a breath and shook her head. "So weird."

"Definitely." My mind sank deeper into a.n.a.lytical mode. Adam's influence. "You know what's really weird?"

"What?" Courtney asked.

"When I jumped out of 2009, it felt different. Like I was light as air. Normally it feels like I'm splitting in two. And every attempt to jump forward in time since I got stuck in 2007 has felt like I'm splitting apart."

"So it was just that one time that it felt different and now your universe shifted." Her forehead wrinkled and I could guess she was playing with theories. Finally, she shook her head and smiled. "It's just so crazy. Do you have some kind of evidence from the future?"

I rolled my eyes. "What, like lottery numbers? Do we really need more money? Besides, you already saw my wallet. Everything in there is from the future."

"Right, I forgot about that." She picked up my wallet that had been tossed into the gra.s.s and started sifting through it again.

I watched every movement she made, studying it, memorizing it. Waiting for her to disappear. "You're taking this really well."

"Maybe I'm just in shock," she said, picking up my license and pulling it close to her face. "Wow, so we're, like, nineteen? How do I look? Please say my b.o.o.bs get a little bigger."

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. Don't tell her. Better yet, don't think about it. She's here now. Focus on that. My hands were shaking, but I kept my face and voice as calm as possible.

She looked up after my long silence. "What is it? I'm fat, aren't I?"

I forced a tight smile and looked away from her face. "You look beautiful and not in the least bit fat."

"You're family, you have to say that."

"Maybe, but it's still true."

"Tell me something about the future, something really cool." Her face was eager, like a gossip columnist digging for dirt.

I knew exactly what she'd want to hear. "I have a girlfriend."

As predicted, her face lit up with interest. "What's her name?"

"Holly," I said, leaning my head back against the tree. It felt like the wind got knocked out of me, saying her name out loud for the first time since I'd left her. But I knew it would distract Courtney from asking about herself. I had to play the part, even if it hurt.

"What does she look like?"

"Blond and gorgeous. Blue eyes."

"Yeah, I could see you with a blond model type. Probably working in Paris, building her career."

I laughed. "She's from Jersey and she's a little too short to model and almost never wears makeup."

Courtney grinned. "I like her already."

"Me, too." I put my arms around her and gave her shoulders a squeeze. She didn't protest this time.

"Jackson?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to tell you a secret." She turned her face so it pressed into my shirt. "I kissed Stewart Collins at Peyton's birthday party last week."

"I knew it! You guys were gone way too long in the kitchen and then he had that stupid grin on his face. I could have punched him."

She giggled. "Exactly why I didn't tell you."

My arms tightened around her. "I miss you so much."

This was something I never would have said in 2004, but in reality it had been four years since I'd talked to my sister. Grief swept over me. I had to get away. This was too hard. Too much. Nothing would change.

I gave her one last squeeze and whispered, "Good-bye, Courtney."

Then I jumped out of 2004, and headed back to my own version of purgatory. September 9, 2007. Again.

CHAPTER TEN.

My eyes flew open and I watched three drops of blood fall into the porcelain sink. A hand reached out and stuck a paper towel right under my nose. The b.l.o.o.d.y nose was yet another piece of evidence that this exact moment in time was my new present. My new home base.

But something was different. I had been alone in the restroom when I left. If I knew Adam's formula, I'd be able to figure out exactly how long I'd been leaning against the wall in this bathroom, looking like a vegetable.

"Here you go, son. You should pinch the nostrils," a deep voice spoke right into my ear.

A tall, dark-skinned bald man stood beside me.

"Thank you," I said, and for a second he looked at me like maybe he recognized me, but everything was jumbling together and he was gone before I could even think twice about it.

My nose only bled for a minute, and after washing my hands I left the restroom.

The waitress set my coffee on the table. The same waitress who had greeted me before I went into the restroom. d.a.m.n. Same place. Same time.

She smiled as I slid into the booth. "Ready to order?"

I pointed to the first item on the left side of the menu, not even caring what it was. "I'll have that."

"Grilled salmon with seasonal vegetables?"

I shrugged and then nodded. Just as she started to turn away, I remembered something.

"Wait! I forgot to ask ... do you have a copy of today's paper?" It was pointless, but I had to check.

"Of course, I'll be right back with that."

I tapped my fingers on the table, waiting for the answer I already knew. She dropped the paper in front of me and I groaned as soon as I read the top. September. 2007.

Always the same. Eighteen times now. It was eight-thirty at night. A couple of minutes had pa.s.sed, but that was all. I'd been in the past for the longest stretch yet.

"Is everything okay?" the waitress asked.

"Sorry, I'm just disappointed the final performance of..."-I glanced down at the headlines-"Annie is canceled. Love that song, 'It's the Hard-Knock Life.'"

The waitress twisted a loose strand of hair around her finger and shifted her weight. "Yeah ... uh ... your dinner should be ready in a few minutes."

I pulled my journal from my bag because Adam's voice rang through my head again. This used to be fun. Like an adventure. But with each failed attempt to save Holly, Adam's words began to take on a much deeper meaning.

"You have to doc.u.ment everything, down to the minute."

"Why?"

"First of all, so you know how old you really are. Second, so you know if you changed anything. And third, in case you forget."

I didn't change anything. Ever. But I still recorded it all, using Adam Silverman's genius format. I laughed out loud the first time he wrote it out, casually, like it was a packing list for summer camp. But the thing is, most of this stuff didn't ever apply to my previous record of a two-day jump. That's why I never took it seriously. Now I did.

TIME-TRAVEL PRIORITY CHECKLIST.

STEP 1: IDENTIFY CURRENT DAY/TIME.

September 9, 2007, 8:30 P.M.

STEP 2: MINUTES Pa.s.sED IN PREVIOUS TIME.

(July 1, 2004).

165 minutes STEP 3: IDENTIFY AGE, IN THIS YEAR, OF SFF.

(self, friends, and family).

Jackson Meyer (the younger me): 17 years old Kevin Meyer: 42 years old Adam Silverman: 16 years old Holly Flynn: 17 years old Courtney Meyer: deceased STEP 4: CREATE COVER OR CURRENT IDENt.i.tY.

(change as needed).

My younger self should be in Spain until December. For now, I will a.s.sume the ident.i.ty of my 17-year-old self since we don't seem to be b.u.mping into each other. Only if needed while interacting with someone I know.

STEP 5: RECALL BASICS.

(current events, technology...).

Widespread panic may occur upon mentioning John and Kate will split up, thus ending the show John & Kate Plus 8. Keep cell phone hidden at all times.

I ran through everything that had happened once more to get my facts straight. After I jumped out of 2009, I landed in September 9, 2007, around six in the morning. Now it was getting close to nine P.M., but all my attempts to go forward added up to nearly three days. Very little time pa.s.ses in home base while I'm in a time jump. But the feeling like I'm dying from the flu or something was completely new. And I only felt s.h.i.tty in this year. Probably because I hated being stuck here. Karma. Or maybe all the time jumps were making me feel like this. Frying my brain or some s.h.i.t like that.

"Jackson Meyer! Is that really you?" a voice rang through my ears, pulling me out of my hazy depression.

I glanced up to see my favorite high school Spanish teacher. "Miss Ramsey, how are you?"

"Great, but I thought you were in Spain for a semester?"

This was the part where I had to remind myself who I was.

CURRENT IDENt.i.tY: seventeen-year-old student who should be spending a semester studying in Spain, but is sitting in a Manhattan restaurant, alone, on a school night.

"I came back early."

She slid into the booth across from me. "I can't believe how much older you look after one summer."

I laughed nervously. "It's all that San Miguel. Puts hair on your chest."

She cracked up and her thick gla.s.ses slid down her nose. "I hope you sampled all the great Spanish wine."