CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DAY 1: 2009
Holly dumped a few more Skittles into her hand, tossing them quickly in her mouth. “Well, vending-machine junk food still beats what we’ve been eating lately.”
“Agreed.” I leaned back on the bench, closing my eyes, enjoying every bit of my Snickers bar. After taking the final bite, I turned and grinned at her. “What next? What other 2009 experiences should we have tonight?”
Holly crumpled the candy bag and her face turned serious all of a sudden. “I want to go home, see my mom. I know they’ll tell us we can’t. We don’t even know what my life is supposed to be like in this redesigned 2009, but I don’t care about any of that.”
One look at the desperation and intensity in her eyes and I knew she was dead serious, and there was nothing in the world I wanted more right now than to make Holly happy. I knew we shouldn’t do this either, and I knew Dad and everyone would be worried about our disappearing, but I didn’t really care about any of that either. “Okay.”
Surprise filled her face. “Really? We can go?”
“Yeah, but we should go now because if they don’t want us to do this, they’ll start watching us or say something meaningful enough for us to realize our stupidity and I’m kind of in an ignorance-is-bliss mood, how about you?”
“Totally.”
It took over an hour to get to Holly’s house, and all the sitting around on the train caused me to grow a little anxious and nervous about leaving without telling anyone. It wasn’t like we had working cell phones or anything either.
It was obvious right away from Holly’s face and the missing vehicle that her mom wasn’t home. Still, she found the hidden key and unlocked the door, letting me follow her inside and to her bedroom. I watched as she walked to the closet, lifting the sleeves of several different shirts to her nose and inhaling before throwing a big smile in my direction.
“It’s a little different than Agent Holly’s room but it still feels like me, like my stuff,” she said. She glanced over at me right then, hope filling her expression. “Do you think this is the normal Holly’s room?”
There was a framed picture lying on the nightstand. I held it up for her to see. Her eyes widened, and she said, “Oh my God! Do you think I’m still dating David? I was with him, right?”
I set the picture down and turned slowly to face her. “How do you know about that version of you?”
She busied herself, burying her face in a dresser drawer. “You know how Emily went all crazy and started writing a bunch of stuff down?”
I rolled my eyes. Of course I remembered.
“Well she wrote down Normal Holly’s diary and I swiped some of the pages while you and Adam were looking over your experiments or whatever.”
So that’s why she bolted from the tent that day. “Why do you call her Normal Holly?”
She shrugged. “What do you call her?”
I laughed. “Um, I called her Holly. Then I called her 009 Holly after I’d met 007 Holly and needed a way to distinguish the two when I explained stuff to Adam. Now … well, I don’t know what to call that Holly because I sort of went back to her but it was before the date I left and everything was different. I just don’t know. The diary I’ve seen was from the first Holly that I met. That much I know for sure.”
She stared at me, her mouth hanging open. “Wow, that is so freakin’ weird.”
“Yep.” I lifted up the mattress and yanked the blue velvet diary out. Holly snatched it from my hands before I got a chance to open it.
“Oh look, David and I broke up two days ago!” She flipped back several pages and sank down onto the bed, reading.
I wandered the room, searching for familiar items, opening drawers. My fingers froze on a pair of purple thong panties resting in Holly’s underwear drawer.
“Jackson, you’re such a stud.”
I dropped the panties, slamming the drawer shut, then glanced at Holly, expecting her to reprimand me, but she was still staring at the diary.
“This is the party in Jersey you were talking about at Healy’s ball, the one with the fire and camping and beer kegs. It was Adam’s party. I can’t believe you went to that.” Holly’s eyes were still on the diary in her hands but she patted the spot beside her.
I sat down, leaning in to read the page she was currently engrossed in.
Jackson looks comfortable and at ease chatting with Terri.
Figures.
I’m trying not to listen in on their conversation and what playboy method of flirting a guy like Jackson might use, but Terri’s voice carries so much, I can’t help but overhear.
“Oh my God! I love French poetry. I can’t believe that’s your major,” she squeals. “I totally would have picked that, but Brown isn’t the best school for it and my counselor told my parents I could never have a career with that major.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jackson says, with amusement in his voice. I guess it doesn’t matter if he makes any money in the future. Not like he needs it. “I’m also majoring in English lit, like your friend Holly Flynn is planning on doing.”
“Right,” Terri says, looking in my direction. “I forgot you’re going to NYU.”
“Yep.”
Terri turns away from me and back to Jackson. “I’m dying to get into this lit class at Brown called Why Gatsby Makes the Perfect Husband. Don’t you just love that book?”
“Gatsby would never make the perfect husband,” Jackson says, sipping his beer.
“Oh come on. He’s amazing and mysterious and so … devoted to one woman.”
“The guy’s a nutcase. Mentally unstable and shut down,” Jackson says. “But maybe it’s an improvement for some people.”
I laugh and he glances in my direction. “Holly’s a sucker for Shakespeare.”
Just the way his eyes are zooming into mine gives me goose bumps and I run my hands up and down my arms. Jackson pulls a sweatshirt out from behind him and tosses it at me. “You look cold.”
“Thanks,” I say, and then roll my eyes. “I never said I liked Shakespeare.”
I slide my arms into his shirt and he motions for me to move closer. And I actually do. Maybe because I’m bored or possibly because I’m a little too curious.
“Forget what I said, Terri,” Jackson corrects. “She likes sword fights.”
Terri giggles again and then sighs. “I love Romeo and Juliet … and Hamlet.”
“Hamlet’s awesome,” Jackson tells her. “Death, suicide, incest … what’s not to like.”
I laugh again and Terri glares at me. I’m not trying to be mean, but I totally can’t help it. It takes a halfway smart guy to actually remember what the story’s about, but to know it well enough to make fun of it, now that’s pretty freakin’ cool.
“Actually, I did like one line in the play,” he says. “I know a hawk from a handsaw.”
“That’s a very useful line,” I joke. “Any metaphors? Or theories on the hidden meaning?”
He turns to me and pulls the borrowed sweatshirt over my shoulder. “I turned in a ten-page paper about how that line represented the male preoccupation with size and got an A. But really it was a complete load of crap.”
“That I believe,” I say.
He leans in closer and my voice stops dead in my throat. I don’t know why he’s moving so close and why my heart is racing and why I’m totally frozen. Then he whispers, “Are you going to scream if I tell you there’s a bug in your hair? I’m just asking because it would ruin my chances of hooking up with this chick.”
“In that case, you’ll thank me later,” I say through my teeth. “But please remove the bug.”
He reaches a hand in my hair and pulls something out before tossing it behind us. A shiver runs down my spine and Jackson smiles, and says, “It was just a beetle. No big deal.”
And then it’s like his face changes. He’s staring at me with such an intense look and I can’t look away. Then his free hand moves over my hair again and he tucks it behind my ear. “All clear now.”
“Thanks,” I say, and somehow I just know if he keeps staring at me like this, we’ll keep moving closer, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. And suddenly, I’m fighting this urge to touch his face. There’s a tiny bit of stubble on his chin and I’m dying to run my fingers over it. Instead, I take my free hand and sit on it.
He says something in French and it pulls me from my daze.
“Huh?”
He shakes his head and smiles. “Sorry, I meant to say that in English.” His eyes unlock from mine and dart in Terri’s direction and then back to me. “That was just one other Hamlet quote I can handle without gagging.”
“Which one is that?” Terri asks, although she’s supposedly fluent in French. Guess she forgot.
“I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face and you make yourself another.”
“Yeah, I like that one, too,” I say. “So many ways to interpret it.”
Terri gets up to get another beer and I nudge Jackson in the shoulder. “Seriously, don’t hook up with her … I mean, do whatever you want … but I know her pretty well and she giggles and squeals way too much … Of course if that’s your type?”
Now I’m babbling like an idiot and Jackson grins at me. “It was a joke, Holly.”
I can’t help but love the way he says my name. It just sort of rolls off his tongue like the double R’s I can never pronounce correctly in Spanish. “But you and Terri have so much in common.”
He smirks. “Like French poetry, right?”
“Yep, something I know nothing about.”
“Me either. I just pretend,” he whispers dramatically. “But don’t tell anyone.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he says.
“Why do you have a job … I mean it’s not like you need the money?”
With the blazing fire in front of us, his blue eyes really stand out. More than usual. “Well … I used to be a camper … and me and my sister loved it so I thought it might be fun to do the whole counselor thing.”
“Your sister?” I ask.
He looks at something over my shoulder and then jumps up. “Sorry, I almost forgot. Adam’s got a little … project for me … I’ll talk to you later.”
“Um … okay.”
“Keep the sweatshirt,” he calls over his shoulder. “Happy graduation.”
I lean back and watch him retreat toward Adam, standing near the woods. What the hell are they doing? Maybe “doing a project” is polite, rich-kid code for finding a place to pee outside?
And then I see the shadow of a third person behind them. Someone following him? Or he has a bodyguard? I’ve never asked him what his parents do for a living, but the dude who always picks him up after work has this thing in his ear, like the Secret Service wear.
I wrap Jackson’s sweatshirt tighter around me and press the sleeve up to my face, inhaling the scent. That one little whiff of his cologne must have done things to my head because I got into my tent with David last night and had the most amazing and totally hot dream about another guy. Now I’m trying to figure out how to contact Jana while she’s on a cruise. I need some girl advice in a major way.
Love,
Holly
* * *
We’d reached the end of the second page and Holly looked up at me. “You remember this, right? You weren’t really trying to hook up with that Terri girl, were you? I remember her fairly well and she’s obnoxious.”
I was almost too stunned to answer. We’d somehow landed back in the 2009 I thought I’d erased. My head spun trying to figure out how we got back to this point, and I couldn’t come up with a solid explanation. Although this story wasn’t exactly how I remembered it, but it could have been Holly’s translation.
“No, I wasn’t trying to hook up with her, I thought she was obnoxious, too, but before my life turned crazy, I often entertained myself by having random conversations with annoying or weird people. Especially while in Jersey.”
Holly scooted back and turned her body toward me. “But you were totally trying to steal me away from David, right? Because it really seems like you did a good job of that. I had no idea you were such a flirt.”
That got me to laugh. “Yes, I was a flirtatious coworker but no, I wasn’t trying to steal you from David, though I toyed with the idea for a little while. Until I met him and decided he was a better guy than me.”
She held a hand to her heart and gave a dramatic sigh. “So tragic. But I told you there was potential, the fact that you didn’t steal me away, it’s like a soap opera, isn’t it?” She eyed me curiously. “You’ve been in my bedroom before, haven’t you?”
I laughed again and rubbed my eyes. We’d been awake for probably twenty-four hours. “Yes, I have, but that happened much later than today’s date. July or August, I think.”
Holly snapped the diary shut and jumped up, grabbing random items from her closet and heading toward the bedroom door.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m getting my own clothes, taking a shower with my own shampoo, and then I’m going to climb into my bed and go to sleep.” She shrugged like I should have guessed this myself. “Don’t worry about everyone else. Trust me, Adam knows me well enough to guess where I went. I’m sure they’ll be pissed off, but nobody is going to think we were kidnapped or anything.”
“What about your mom?”
“She’s out of town,” Holly answered from behind the bathroom door now. “It’s in the diary. And I guess this means I’m in the clear with the duplicate-Holly issue. She doesn’t seem to be hanging around anywhere.”
While Holly was in the shower, I picked up her diary and flipped through it quickly. I could tell there were changes from the version Stewart had discovered, the same one Emily had read and begun recording on paper, back at Misfit Island. There were entire entries devoted to updates about Deludere Virus. In mid-May, she wrote an entry about having gotten into NYU and how the housing situation was up in the air. If they didn’t find a cause for how the virus was transmitted, they wouldn’t be able to offer student housing in the fall. And the camp I’d spent practically all of my childhood summers at was no longer busing kids out to the woods. Instead, everyone stayed in the newly secured YMCA building with hired security officers at the doors. But Holly still worked there and so did Adam and I, apparently.
Holly’s mom hadn’t wanted her commuting to New York every day and she had to promise to be home by dark. She even mentioned a few classmates who had been hospitalized and never returned to school.
“Finding anything juicy?”
Holly’s pajama pants and tank top seemed to fit better than any of the Misfit Island clothes she’d been wearing. She looked too happy for me to destroy that by explaining the differences between her life and the other original 009 Holly’s life. I inhaled slowly. “I remember that shampoo.”
The contrast between Holly’s cleanliness and my less-than-clean self gave me an excuse to escape to the bathroom and compose myself mentally. I decided to use her toothbrush without permission. I also found a washcloth and removed the dirt still left on my hands and face after the Eyewall explosion. It took me a while to return to Holly’s room mostly because I couldn’t shake that sad feeling that I kept getting hit with every time I thought of my life before all this. My time with the first Holly I ever met was truly gone. I’d never get it back.
“You look cleaner,” Holly said. She tossed me a T-shirt from her second drawer. “This should fit you.”
I yanked my dirty, long-sleeve shirt over my head and dropped it onto the floor. Before I could put the other shirt on, Holly moved closer, examining the scar on my chest.
“Maybe we should get tattoos,” she said offhandedly, her finger now tracing the scar. “Well, a second one for me, a first for you.” Her eyes lifted to meet mine. “Why don’t you look excited?”
I forced a smile. “I’m excited, totally. Tattoos, diaries, clothes that fit, candy bars, it’s awesome.”
The grin fell from her face. “What’s wrong? We can go back if you’re worried about your dad and everything. Of course you’re worried. I’m sorry, I should have—”
“It’s not that.” My eyes focused on the T-shirt in my hands and not on Holly’s face.
“What is it, then? What 2009 thing do you want to do? Just tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
I glanced around at the room, feeling myself smile a little, for real this time. Then I put Holly’s shirt on and sat down on the bed. “I think this is exactly where I’d like to be. It’s nice here.”
She folded her arms across her chest, staring me down. “You just feel sorry for me because I’m infected. My bucket list is more important than yours, right?”
I laughed and looked her right in the eye. “My bucket list has items that you don’t want to hear me say out loud, trust me.”
“Oh, I get it.” She plopped down beside me. “You had other things on your mind when I mentioned hanging out in my room. Of course you did, you’re Jackson Meyer the flirtatious coworker.”
“Exactly.” I stretched out on the half of her bed next to the wall and let my eyes close, enjoying the idea of sleep.
I felt Holly’s head rest on the pillow beside mine. “Tell me the truth, why are you really upset?”
“I can’t explain it in words, it’s just that feeling you get when you know something good is over and you can’t have it back,” I admitted, despite my desire to keep her happy.
“Me? That’s what you’re upset about? The Holly you met before?” Her voice was calm, not judgmental or defensive, which I took as a good sign.
“It’s not that exactly.” I opened my eyes and turned my body to face hers. “I can tell you’re afraid of me, being close to me like this. And the other Hollys were never afraid, and I hate thinking about the things that happened to change that for you. Mostly one thing.”
She was quiet for a long time, and then finally said, “I’m not afraid of you, Jackson, not even a little bit.”
I reached out and touched her wet hair. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you, you know that, right? I’m not capable of ever doing what Carter did to you.”
“I know that.”
“Then ask me again what I really want to do tonight.” I rested my hand on her cheek, barely brushing her skin with my fingers.
“What do you want to do tonight?” she whispered.
I scooted closer, moving my hand from her cheek to her waist, and then I leaned in. “This is just for this you, okay?”
She gave a tiny nod before her eyes fluttered shut and our lips collided gently. I kissed her probably a thousand times until we both fell asleep, our limbs tangled, our chests pressed together.
* * *
“Jackson?”
Tiny cold hands gripped my arm and shook me gently. I peeled my eyes half-open, squinting in the dark, catching only a flash of red hair. “Courtney?” I looked closer, catching more details.
I shot upright. “Emily!”
She reached out and clapped a hand over my mouth. “Shh!”
Then I felt the empty space beside me. “Shit! Where’s Holly?”
“She’s in the living room watching TV. Actually, I think she’s asleep.”
My vision had started to become clear and I realized that this wasn’t the eight-year-old Emily that Lonnie had taken away from me. “What are you doing here? How old are you now?”
“Twelve … almost thirteen.” She sat beside me on the bed. “I’ve been with Lonnie for a while now. Where we went, it’s just amazing. We have this cabin in the woods. I think it’s what you’d call Upstate New York. The town is really small but I know everyone there. There are no time travelers yet but the technology is far more advanced than 2009. I’ve also been to New York and it’s amazing. It’s the UN capital in 2522—”
“There’s a UN capital in 2522?”
She smiled and nodded, giving me a chance to really study her. The oldest I’d ever seen Emily in the past was eleven and that was the first time I ever met her, though not the first time she’d met me since she already knew me then. Now that she was closer to Courtney’s age, the difference between the two of them had become more apparent. Emily was smaller—shorter and skinnier, less developed. She also had not only my eyes, but my nose. She looked ten or eleven instead of almost thirteen. I vaguely recalled my own growth spurt happening much later than my sister’s and a time, before middle school, when Courtney had gained an inch or two on me in height. Emily clearly possessed more of my genetics than my sister’s despite the matching gender and hair color.
“What are you doing here if 2522 or whatever is so awesome?” I asked.
Her face fell. “I have to show you something.”
“Uh-oh…” I rubbed my temples, already preparing for the worst. “Half-jump or full jump?”
She exhaled heavily. “Half-jump.”
I was sure the cry of pain that escaped my mouth as the splitting-apart sensation ripped through me had to be more than loud enough to wake Holly from the living room. But there was nothing I could do about that because we were headed to another time.
* * *
We landed right in the middle of a busy hospital hallway. NYU Hospital. A man in a white lab coat smacked into us from behind, dropping the clipboards he’d held in his arms.
“How did you two get in here?” he asked, as Emily and I snapped around to fully face him.
“Sorry,” Emily said, tugging my arm. “We were just leaving.”
The man considered stopping us but I think he must have decided picking up his clipboards was more of a priority. I followed behind Emily as she rounded a corner and then stopped in front of room 512. There was a name written on the whiteboard beside the door.
FLYNN, HOLLY M.
PATIENT #35724
INFECTED: DELUDERE
I sucked in a breath, feeling my heart race, my stomach tie in knots. “Holly…”
“I’m so sorry, Jackson,” Emily whispered, her arm brushing against mine as she stood beside me. “I came to find you as soon as I found out.”
“When does this happen? Is there going to be a cure?” Before Emily could answer, my gaze traveled to the tiny window into the room on the other side of the door. An empty bed sat to one side of the room, white sheets and blankets flipped back, and then I saw someone’s feet.
Dangling feet.
“Oh God!” I reached for the door handle, shaking it, not registering the security-code box above the handle. “Help! Somebody help!” I shouted down the hallway, hoping a doctor or nurse would hear.
Emily finally caught on to what I was seeing and her hands flew to her face. “Oh no! Jackson, I didn’t know! I swear I didn’t know!”
Ignoring her, I rammed my shoulder against the door, trying to open it. My heart thudded in my ears. I raced down the hall and grabbed a metal chair sitting near an observation window. Skidding back across the tile floor, I smashed the leg of the chair into the window, shattering the glass. I tossed the chair aside and crawled through.
Holly dangled from what looked like shoestrings. Her blond hair falling all around her, concealing her face. The checkered hospital gown reached almost all the way to her ankles, just ghostly white feet sticking out. A chair lay tipped over on the ground.
I hurdled over the fallen chair and grabbed her legs, lifting her and taking the weight off her neck. The sound of her choked breaths echoed through the room.
Who did this to her? I’ll kill them. Whoever it is, they’re dead.
“Somebody help!” I shouted again. A red emergency button on the wall caught my eye. I lifted my foot, scooting sideways, and kicked it with full force. A bell rang through the room and suddenly a crowd of doctors and nurses rushed in as the door was finally flung open.
“What the hell happened in here?” one of them shouted, taking in the broken glass and exposed window.
I held Holly’s legs tight as the dresser was slid over and a doctor stood on top, releasing Holly’s neck from the confines of the string. She fell into my arms, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, her face a mixture of dark red and blue.
“Put her on the bed.”
I laid her down on the white sheets and stood beside the bed, frozen, as half a dozen people crowded around, jumping into action.
“Who left her with shoelaces?”
“Airways clear. She’s breathing, but irregularly.”
“At least we’re not cleaning up a pool of blood this time.”
“Sedate her again until we can consult her family again. I don’t care how opposed they are to restraints, she’s just going to keep doing this over and over again. One of these times we’ll be too late.”
One of Holly’s arms was flipped over, a needle inserted into it. My eyes traveled the length of her biceps down to her elbow and then I gasped, seeing the streaks of red scabs, scars two to three inches long, covering her forearms. Cuts. Slit wrists.
Slowly, I backed away from the bed. My chest was caving in. I’m dying. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t see this anymore.
“Jackson! Jackson!” I barely registered Emily, still trapped in the doorway, blocked by the crowd of people. “You can’t change this. It’s just a half-jump!”
My feet started to move in her direction, my hand reaching out until I grasped her fingers.