Burgen groans. “I hope for better things in your future, Luke. I don’t think people will always react to you that way.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“And now you’d like to go back and see your grandfather,” he adds.
“Yeah.”
“You brought the dice?”
I remove them from my pocket. “Right here.”
“Then let’s go to the park.”
We cross the street and head to the circle of trees.
“What memory-smell are you using this time?” he asks.
“Gasoline. I’m pumping gas at my parent’s gas station. Nearly two years ago.”
We reach the park.
“You can do it,” he says. “Take care of your health.”
“I’ll be fine. It’ll be me as healthy as I was then.” My ribs won’t be sore and I won’t be weakened by chemotherapy.
“See you when you get back.”
I spin and say the words I remember from that Saturday morning. I inhale the memory of gasoline pouring out of the hose. “I’m not sure we accept credit cards from England. I’m not sure we accept credit cards from England….”
The ground rumbles beneath my shoes. When I open my eyes, Burgen is gone and I’m standing beneath a sign that reads ERIC FAMILY GAS STOP, attempting to place the pump handle back into its cradle.
Something’s wrong, though.
Fumes overwhelm me. I’m having a serious overreaction to the smell.
Gasoline vapors pour into my nostrils and seem to soak into my brain. It’s so strong I can taste it. My hand shakes on the nozzle. My vision spins. My muscles weaken.
The metal nozzle slips out of my hand to the cement, and I drop with it onto the hard curb.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Lad? Are you all right?” The British tourist hopping out of the rented Cadillac is a blur to me. He reaches down with a beefy arm and helps me to a sitting position.
I try to orient myself.
His plaid cap swims before my eyes. The stench of unleaded fuel permeates my nose. Bile rises up my throat. I suppress the nausea. Why is this time traveling affecting me so much?
I pull myself to my feet and the muscles in my right side jab as though someone punched me. Why? My ribs were fine two years ago when I was fourteen.
“Easy, lad.”
I wobble. The burly man puts a hand on my shoulder to stabilize me.
“Thanks, I’m okay.”
“You sure? That was quite the bloody fall.”
Yeah, I know. My tailbone hurts from how I landed. However, my vision’s clearing. The hammering on my ribs is subsiding. I step away from the curb and, feeling stronger, return the fallen hose to the pump. A blob on the ground stinks of sour car grease and I fight another urge to vomit.
“What happened?” says the stranger.
Ugh, he smells like heavy peppermint oil.
“Momentary dizziness. I’ll be fine.” In a glance, I realize I
am
in my fourteen-year-old body because I’m at equal height to this guy, and he’s not that tall. My sneakers are the battered blue ones that I had in size nine, not my current size twelve.
He steps away in his cloud of mint and scoops his British credit card from the ground. It must’ve fallen in the commotion, after I told him I wasn’t sure whether we’d accept it.
“Could you take this inside, sport, and inquire if you’ll honor it? If not, I shall have to give you a traveler’s check.”
“Sure,” I mumble, taking the plastic from him. I remember this part. It’s vivid in my mind because I was holding a British credit card in my hand when I went inside the gas station and said goodbye to my mom just before she left for the weekend to see Grandpa.
I cross the full-serve aisle of the gas station, pass the self-serve pumps and the car wash that’s being built. Workers in hardhats bang at something inside the glass walls. I head into the convenience store.
It’s a Saturday morning in August in the GTA – Greater Toronto Area – and already sweltering. I push my thick hair across my sweaty forehead. Man, I had a lot of hair. As I open the door, I catch my reflection in the glass. Not only am I a lot shorter in this time period, my shoulders aren’t as wide. I’m a little on the full side, not fat, but looking like a young teenager. I’ve got round cheeks. Weird. Have I always looked like a chipmunk?
There’s no one inside the store except the senior cashier, Mr. Benjamin. On my way to speak to him, I pass a row of kitchen supplies. Vinegar hits my nostrils. It doesn’t make me gag, though, so I must be adjusting to the time period.
“Mr. Benjamin,” I say to the tall bearded man behind the cash register, “you might want to check those vinegar bottles. One of them’s leaking.”
“How do you know?”
“It smell’s very strong over there. Do we accept this type of credit card?” I slap it on the counter, a swirl of orange and yellow plastic. I’m standing at the candy bar rack and a wave of sickly sweet chocolate assaults me. Whoa. I step back.
“Yes, that card’s okay. Want me to do it?” Mr. Benjamin peers out the window at the English guy who gave it to me.
“Would you please? I need to speak to my mom.”
“She’s in the back room with your dad. You, ah, might want to wait up here…Umm, how about taking over the cash register while I run the card?”
He’s acting strange.
“Okay.”
He takes the handheld credit card device, slides out with his permanent limp, and when he’s gone, I understand why he was protecting me. My parents’ raised voices filter through the back wall. They’re arguing.
“But if we sell…move to Parry Sound,” my father says, “we’ll never get…money out of…car wash. Your father should be…to sell and move in with us.”
“He’s too stubborn,” replies my mom, along with something garbled I don’t catch. “…wants to die there.”
Oh God, Grandpa.
My mom bursts through the back door. It startles me and I jerk back into a pile of car fresheners. I swim in a wall of aromas – pine, lemon, and vanilla – trying to recapture my composure.
My mom’s face is flushed with tears. “Luke, you sure you’re going to be okay, staying overnight with Vlad?”
“I-I was thinking Mom, I hope it’s not too late to go with you.”
She runs a hand along her throat. “I thought you didn’t–”
“I changed my mind. I’d like to see Grandpa.”
Her eyes flutter. “What brought on this change of heart?”
“I was thinking that you’re right. He’s my grandfather. And it might be…might be the last time.”
She glances over my casual clothes. “Well you’ve only got about thirty minutes till we leave. I’m heading home now to switch vehicles and pick up your sister and brother.”
“Can you pack for me? Put a change of clothes in my duffel bag?”
She eyes me again. “You sure?”
I nod.
A shaky smile surfaces. She points to the back room. “I’ll tell your father and then go pick up the stuff. Be back shortly.”
“Okay, Mom.”
When she leaves, her purse brushes the candy rack. I pick out something sweet for Grandpa and pay for it. I reach for my cell phone, but it’s dead. I’ve noticed a pattern while time traveling – everything in my pockets travels with me. The dice, my money, my phone. Except it’s always dead. I use the store phone to dial Vlad.
“Hey,” I say when he answers.
“Luke?” His voice is squeaky and young. It makes me laugh. His voice hasn’t changed yet into the deep tone it is now, although mine has.
“Hey, listen Vlad. I’m gonna go see my grandfather after all.”
“Oh, okay. No problem.” His voice cracks, so he winds up saying ‘no’ in a girl’s voice, and ‘problem’ in a deep baritone.
“See you when I get back.” I rush away to pump more gas as Mr. Benjamin limps in to take over the counter again.
I pump three more cars before my mom returns with the white van.
The windows are rolled down. Ivy pokes her head out the front passenger side. “Hey! Hear you’re comin’ with!”
I groan at how loud she is, but don’t mind her friendliness. At fifteen, she’s starting to wear a lot of makeup. Orange lipstick and black eyeliner. Her hair’s still tame, though, she hasn’t cut it yet into that spiky look. It’s long and wavy.
Simon must be in the back, but he doesn’t greet me. I have to remember that I haven’t yet straightened it all out with him, so it’s our old relationship I have to deal with. It’s going to be one of the most difficult things in traveling back two years.
“Luke,” says my father, his longish hair neatly combed back. He looks well rested and it throws me for a second. “Go wash up, son. It’s time to go. Mr. Benjamin will take over.”
I rush inside the store, into the back room and splash water on my face. I scrub my hands really hard with soap. Everything comes out smelling clean.
When I step back into sunshine, I head to our van around the corner. However, I spot a black Ford SUV pulling into full serve.
My dad’s not around to gas it up. Neither is Mr. Benjamin.
The SUV’s waiting.
I look to the store. No one’s coming out.
The SUV’s still waiting. It’s got Illinois license plates.
Finally, I walk over and peer inside the driver’s window.
It’s a businessman with cropped hair, sunglasses, white shirt and tie. He’s got a cast on his wrist, likely why he wants full serve. There’s a lady sitting next to him. She’s friendly looking, with long brown hair and red lipstick. They must be married. There’s a teenage girl sitting in the back, but I can’t see much of her other than her tanned legs in blue shorts.
“Fill it up,” says the man.
“Yes, sir.”
I position the pump lever inside the tank and let it run. In the meantime, my dad has exited the store and is getting into our van. He waves to me and I nod okay.
Be there right after this one
, I try to indicate to him
.
“That’s eighty-five dollars, sir,” I say to the driver as I recap the tank.
He sticks out his credit card and I take it, but Mr. Benjamin’s right beside me, signaling that he’d like to take over.
“Thanks. See you later,” I say to him.
Leaning over, I say to the driver, “He’ll finish up with you, sir. Have a good day.” My shoulder presses against the SUV’s side window. I get a good glimpse of their daughter’s face and am stunned.
Jennifer?
Jennifer
.
My heart drums in a maniac beat. She looks at me through the glass, her big brown eyes flickering. Her hair is shorter, shoulder-length, but thick and rich chestnut. She looks young. Her lips part at me. Our gazes lock. Does she recognize me? We’re not supposed to meet until next year, but is there something in her eyes?
The SUV takes off. I leap after it and raise my hand at her. She swivels her whole body to study me out the side window.
“Stop!” I cry. “Stop!”
But the SUV rolls into traffic, through the green light. Her face fades into the reflections bouncing off her window and my heart sinks in desperation.
∞
“Dad!” The muscles in my legs stretch as I run full speed at our van. “Follow that SUV!”
My dad’s moving in slow motion while I’m in high gear. Can’t he sense my panic?
“Why?” He slides into the driver’s seat. I lunge into the third row of seats, behind my sister and brother.
“Hurry, please!”
“We’re on our way to Parry Sound, Luke. We don’t have time for games.”
“Please, it’s a matter of life and death!”
“You know those people?” My mom squints at the SUV that’s disappearing into traffic.
“That girl! That girl! We need to catch up!”
My mom and dad grin at each other at my comment and buckle up as slow as two old ladies in a shoe store.
I stare at Jennifer’s vehicle turning onto the northbound highway. “It’s not too late. We’re headed in the same direction!”
My dad finally pulls out of the station and follows them. “Why exactly is it so urgent?”
I sift through imaginary reasons for one they might buy. Another white lie. “She owes me a hundred bucks.”
My mom gasps. “A hundred dollars?”
“Where’d you get a hundred dollars?” asks Ivy.
“I saved it from working here.”
“The plates are from the U.S.,” says Simon, who’s only eight.
“I guess her dad hasn’t changed them yet,” I respond.
“She goes to school with you?” asks Mom.
“Umm…yeah.”
“Are you gonna split the money with us if we catch her?” asks Simon.
“Sure.” I have to go along with anything to get them to follow Jennifer. What’s going on? What is she doing in this time travel?
“We better hurry, Dad,” says Simon.
The van beneath me surges forward. It’s brand new, my mother’s baby, and still has that new car smell.
“Don’t cause any accidents, Tom,” says my mom. “If we lose ’em, we lose ’em.”
“It’s a bit much for a young girl to take advantage of a boy for that much money,” he says.
My mom shakes her head.
Sorry Jennifer
. I don’t want them to dislike her. I promise myself that I’ll remove the stain from Jennifer’s reputation as soon as I can.
We roll onto the highway. My dad passes three cars but we don’t catch up. I see the shape of Jennifer’s head in the back of the SUV every time they turn and the sun bolts through her window. She’s looking ahead and doesn’t seem to notice we’re following them. She stared at me back in the station, though. Why?
“Oh-oh,” says Mom. “Watch out, Tom!”
My dad slams on the brakes and swerves to avoid the slowing car ahead. He swears.
“Tom, the children.”
“Sorry about my language.”
The traffic ahead has stopped for some reason. “Dad, get into the middle lane,” I say.
He does but the middle lane comes to a halt, too. Just the right lane is still coasting, Jennifer’s lane, but there’s no way we can get to it since we’re blocked in.
“Please,” I say. “Try.”
“Nothing I can do,” says my dad.
My stomach’s in turmoil. Their SUV is getting smaller and smaller. It crests the hill and disappears. Oh, man.
No
.
“Do you know where she lives, Luke?” asks my mom.
“Not really.” In the future, yes, but not right now.
“You can catch her at school,” says Simon.
Our vehicle rolls slowly over the hill. We pass a car pulled over to the left shoulder that’s got a flat tire. It’s the obvious reason for the slowdown.