Touching the Surface (2 page)

“When did she get here? Is she my age? What does she look like? Does she remember her last life? Has she started Workshop yet?” I would’ve kept going but Mel had a funny expression on her face, like she was sucking on something sour.

“What? What’s going on?” I dug my nails into the palm of my hand, but nothing happened. I glanced down, realizing I no longer had Samantha’s perfectly manicured fingers. I fought the urge to yank at a hangnail with my teeth.

“Going—Julia Going.” Mel stumbled over her words. “That’s her last name. And, well, she isn’t in my Workshop this time.” The corners of Mel’s mouth turned down ever so slightly.

“What do you mean? Why didn’t you take her?” My voice was louder than I expected and it echoed off the rock walls.

“I tried to take her.” Mel folded her arms and then unfolded them. “She didn’t want to be in my Workshop.”

“What?”

“Come sit with me.” Mel patted a sun-warmed spot at the end of the dock. The warm cedar smell lured me closer.

I sat down next to her and she put her finger up and touched it to my lips, stopping the next question that was sitting on the edge of my tongue. “Elliot . . .” She removed her finger and began tapping it on the wood. “She didn’t want to be in the same Workshop as you.”

I was sure I hadn’t heard her correctly. My jaw hurt from grinding my teeth together. I was not going to cry again.

“Before you ask, I want you to know that I don’t know the answer. She wouldn’t tell me why she didn’t want to be with you. You’re going to have to ask her yourself.” She waited, but I was suddenly out of questions.

“Can I be selfish for a moment?” Mel asked, reaching for my hand.

I nodded, unable to say anything.

“I missed you. I love everyone who walks into my life at the Obmil. I’m where I am today because I’m good at connecting with lost souls, but you and I have a special bond, Elliot.” My name already slid off her tongue like it was the only one I’d ever had.

I felt just as strongly about her. I wanted to tell Mel how special she was, not selfish at all, but I felt like a leaf floating
haphazardly downstream. I couldn’t stop thinking about Emma. Wait, she was Julia now. Unfurling my clenched fingers, I wiped them against my pants. I could feel Mel’s gaze as I picked at the cuticle of my thumb.

“Is she a lot older than me or something?” I needed to find a reasonable explanation.

Mel winced. asked in a whisper.msu“She’s nineteen.”

“Oh.”

Mel stood up and dusted off her wildly colorful peasant skirt. “Come on,” she said. The two inches of silver bangles on either wrist jingled. I glanced at her untamed hair, down to her toes painted in a rainbow of colors. Even if Julia was mad at me for some strange reason, how could she not want to be with Mel?

“Let’s go up to the Haven and get you settled in your room.” Mel tilted her head toward the path. “We should get out of here. David’s on his way down to the lake. Looks like he’s meeting someone who’s arriving in a little bit.” She peeked back at me with one eyebrow raised. I didn’t like David and I wasn’t fond of Mel’s eyebrow at that moment either. Not wanting to get cornered on the dock with David, I double-timed it to solid ground with Mel. Now that I was paying attention, I could feel the subtle vibration in the air that gives advance warning of a new arrival. Follow the quivering and you’d have
a pretty good idea where the next dead soul was going to pop up. Even though the vibrations were stronger facing the lake, I turned and watched David make his way toward us.

David also worked at the Obmil, but he was nothing like Mel. He oozed arrogance. I opened my mouth to say something unpleasant about him, but Mel put her finger to her lips. I wasn’t sure if this was because David was striding toward us or because she didn’t want to hear me bad-mouth another “dedicated” soul at the Obmil. Before I could find out, David was standing four inches too close. I could smell his overpowering cologne as his bulk towered over me, blocking out the sun. He leaned over and gave a big mucous-filled sniff.

“Samantha.” His voice boomed. “You’re back so soon.” He plucked at his bushy mustache, then started counting on his fingers.

“It’s Elliot Turner now,” Mel said.

He shrugged and continued like he’d never been interrupted. “Miss Turner, doesn’t that make this your third visit? Time for you to step up. When you’re a Third Timer, you have to truly resolve your issues before you get to move on. Unfortunately, you don’t seem like the type who’s very self-motivated.” I gasped. He cocked his head to the side. “Or maybe, you have a reason for avoiding the truth.”

Everything he said was too loud. His smile was overly
big and bright. Even though he was an overfed, overdressed windbag—more like a caricature of a powerful man than an actual one—I still stepped behind Mel like I was seven instead of seventeen.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. He dismissed me with a wave of his hand and sauntered past us, speaking over his shoulder. “Must be going. I’ve got to hurry and register this new arrival because it’s almost time for Workshop. I don’t want to keep my prize .xpgt"/>

3

reunions

Tendrils of vanilla and beach sand danced around me, confirming who this girl was, but it seemed so unlikely. The last time I’d seen her she’d been tall and raven-haired with warm brown tones. Now her skin was pale, almost translucent. Before she’d had the body of a volleyball player. Now the biggest thing about her was the mop of blond ringlets that corkscrewed in every direction.

I rushed past Mel and threw my arms around Julia. Her head tucked itself under my chin.

“Ouch, Samantha. Think you could ease off on the bone-crushing enthusiasm?”

I loosened my grip and felt her skinny little toothpick arms wrap around my waist. Her lungs inflated as she sucked in my scent. I buried myself in the nest of her hair.

Mel cleared her throat. “Ladies, I’ve got things to do and no time to waste witnessing sappy reunions.” I thought I heard her sniffle and smiled to myself. I knew everything would be all right. “You two catch up. By the way—she’s Elliot now, not Samantha, and don’t forget she won’t be attending Workshop today. Today’s arrivals start tomorrow. You, on the other hand, need to be on your way in just a few minutes. See you later, girls.”

Julia wiggled out of my arms like Houdini. Then she sat down on her bed, pulled up her knees, and wrapped herself up into a tiny ball punctuated by blond fluff. “So you know?” Her voice was a squeak.

I plopped down on the remaining bed and peeked out the window. “I was told you didn’t want to room with me. If that’s what you’re referring to. I also heard that you aren’t in Mel’s Workshop, that you’re in David’s.” I tried, but I couldn’t keep the disgust from leaking into my voice. “Is it true that you picked David to be your guide?” I turned and inspected Julia, who appeared to be getting smaller as I examined her.

“Is it because you didn’t want to be in Workshop with me?” I couldn’t help it, I got teary. “What’s going on, Jules?” I began to pace, unable to sit still any longer.

“Don’t call me that. My name is Julia.” She vaulted off the bed. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“You decide things. You make choices and you never ask me how I feel about them.” She grabbed an indigo hoodie off the end of her bed and put it on. The color brought out her eyes and made them take up all the space on her face. “I don’t want you giving me a nickname.”

I threw up my hands. “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just missed you. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here.”

“I missed you too.” Julia walked over and hooked her arm through mine. It was a familiar gesture, something that she’d done before as Jim and Emma. It stopped the out-of-control feeling that battered me from all sides.

“Jule-ia,” I stopped myself. I could hear her sigh as if she knew it had been too much to ask. It was like I couldn’t be counted on to get the simplest things right. That sigh was another nail being pounded into my coffin of failure. Yet, even though I knew what an utter screwup I was—back here for the third time—it seemed ridiculous to feel bad about wanting to call my best friend by a term of endearment. I just wanted to make her feel special, but my rationalization of the situation wasn’t stopping the sick feeling in my stomach. I hated the sensation of not doing things the right way, or, should I say, the expected way.

“Sorry. I promise I won’t do it again.”

“I know.” She rolled her eyes and smiled—major mixed message. “Listen, Elliot, about the whole David thing.” She flipped her wrist and took a look at her watch. “Oh crap, I’ve gotta go. Listen, we’ll talk later. I do love you, Elliot—I just don’t think I can stand to be in the same room with you for too long.” Before I could react, she’d darted down the stairs, her feet moving over the steps so quietly, it was like she was flying.

•  •  •

I didn’t need a clock to know that it was lunchtime. My stomach growled loudly. I racked my brain to remember when I’d last eaten. Like everything from my previous life, it was a mystery. I headed down the stairs, my shoes tapping a staccato rhythm on the stone beneath my feet. Instantly I was surrounded by the smell of brick oven pizza. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, filling my lungs with the perfect combination of cheese, tomato, and spices. I must’ve loved pizza in my earlier life. It smelled so delicious right now.

I opened my eyes, ready to follow my nose all the way down to the dining room. My mouth watered in anticipation, but I couldn’t resist one last peek up the curved staircase. I was in love with my room—our room. I felt a tap on my shoulder. Julia must have forgotten something important (like the fact that we
were
best friends forever). I turned quickly, ready to
accept her apology—the one that wouldn’t have been necessary if she hadn’t gone all looney to start with. No one was there. I felt a double tap on my other shoulder—the old tap-the-opposite-shoulder trick. She was notorious for that when we were a very young Arty and Jim. I whipped around, ready to make her beg for forgiveness, and almost choked on my own tongue. The guy standing in front of me was . . . was . . . radiant. Guys can be radiant, right? ’Cause this guy was beautiful. But it was more than just the blond waves in his hair and the earnest green eyes. It was like he glowed—from the inside.

“Hi, Elliot.” He appeared to be about my age, but he came off like a little boy waiting in line to sit on Santa’s lap and give his wish list. He bounced lightly up and down on his toes as he watched me intently. He almost vibrated. How the heck did he know my name? I stared at him. Nothing about him was familiar. Despite his youthful exuberance, he seemed weirdly worldly, like Yoda trapped in the body of a sun-kissed teenage heartbreaker. Bizarre. He gave a soft laugh.

“Do or do not . . . there is no try.” He sounded just like the pint-size Jedi Master. My jaw sagged;
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g before open and Radiant Guy raised an eyebrow at me and waited.

I glanced up, wondering if I’d managed to somehow project a cartoon bubble with my Yoda thoughts for him to read. That’s when I saw it: I’d created a recording of the
introductory roll-up that starts the
Star Wars
movie. The familiar theme music was playing softly near my left shoulder, words scrolling over my head—
in a galaxy far, far away. . . .

For exactly ten seconds I was completely weirded out, but then he hunched over and said, “Good relations with the Wookies, I have.” I couldn’t help it, I cracked up, which made him chuckle, leading me to laugh harder than before. I think we would have stayed there forever, entertaining each other, if Mel hadn’t shown up.

“There you are, Oliver.” She pointed a finger at him. “I seem to recall asking you to let Elliot get her bearings before you inundated her with your relentless enthusiasm.” The scowl she flashed was a complete fake.

Oliver grinned. “I tried—couldn’t wait.”

“You’ve been waiting for me?” I asked. My mind was jumping around like water on a hot skillet. I twirled a loose strand of hair around my finger. His name was Oliver. So, I knew that, and the fact that he was a
Star Wars
fan; but that wasn’t really enough to explain why standing next to him made me feel like coming home after a really long vacation. How could someone be utterly familiar and completely unrecognizable at the same time?

“Yes, I’ve been waiting.” He said it with confidence. The magnetic pull between us made me want to reach out and
touch him, lay my head on his shoulder. I was being lured in by the subtle scent of freshly mowed grass and shampoo. I shivered, but managed to curb the odd impulse. I was flooded by the most unexplainable connection with this boy. In all my lifetimes, I’d never experienced anything like this before.

Mel cleared her throat, reminding me she was still there.

“Is he like this with everyone?” I asked.

“He’s lovable.”

“But is he . . .” I was having trouble explaining the deep connection that had sprung up so quickly. I needed confirmation. “I’ve come here over and over again with my best friend and up until”—I swallowed—“this visit, I would have considered us to have a special bond. But this isn’t like that. This feels different. Am I wrong?”