Living Backwards (3 page)

“Hi, Mrs. J,” I squeaked. My palms were sweating and the day had barely even started.

“Jillian. Hello, how can I help you?” she asked with a wrinkled brow.

“Well, I was hoping to get a copy of my emergency card from you, please.”

Polite. Concise. I’m doing all right.

“May I ask why you need that? It’s a peculiar request.”

She eyed me cautiously. It didn’t occur to me that asking for a copy of my emergency card would sound weird, but now that I had actually said it out loud, it sounded really, really weird. There was no good reason why I should need her to make a copy for me, and because I obviously sucked at this, I never took the time to think of an excuse.

“Well, um, I’ve been taking a medication for…some dizziness that I’ve been experiencing.”

I felt really proud of my ability to think on my feet because Mrs. Jankowski looked genuinely concerned.

“It’s not a big deal,” I continued. “I bumped my head because—you know me,” I added rolling my eyes. “Super klutz. So, it makes me very forgetful, and I’m concerned I may forget my locker combo or my class schedule…”
Or what year it is.
I could see that she was buying my explanation so I trailed off, quitting while I was ahead. She walked around to the file cabinet behind her desk, searched for my card and headed to the copy machine.

“Here you go, dear, but please take care of yourself. We’d like you to make it to graduation in one piece.” She handed me the paper with a smile.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. J.”

I was a sweaty mess, but at least I could now find my locker and get the inevitable over with. Then as I turned the corner, I saw them. Danielle and Josh walking hand and hand. He stopped in front of a locker, spun her like a ballerina and kissed the top of her head. I had to catch myself from yelling “Josh, you nerd!” because, come on, who does that? But I held back, because I think if I randomly called a guy I’m not supposed to know a nerd, he’d be kind of pissed. Pretending not to know my friends was going to be harder than I thought. I had to talk to Danielle and fix this, so I needed to formulate a plan. Maybe I would see if she wanted to study together for…whatever we were studying. Then I would be my charming self and she would realize that I’m awesome and be my best friend.

I may need a more detailed plan.

Fortunately, I had some time to work on the execution because according to my class schedule, World Lit was after lunch. I had trig first period.

After a quick stop at my locker, I headed for Room 218. My plan for going to class was to arrive late after everyone was sitting down. Then I could just take the seat that was left. But as I peeked through the window, there were a number of open seats. It was three weeks to graduation and senioritis had invaded Reynolds High. After a sigh of defeat, I decided that if worse came to worse, I would stick with the head trauma story. It was completely believable because I was clumsy as hell.

“Ah, Jillian, so nice of you to join us today,” Mrs. Jacob snapped from the blackboard. “Maybe you can help us find the reference angle in the example on the board.”

I had no idea what a reference angle was and was fairly certain that I never actually did. I thought I was really good in trig, but I obviously didn’t retain information well. I was under the impression that angles belonged in Geometry. Clearly math wasn’t my strong suit.

“Um, no, that’s okay,” I responded casually. “I’m sure there’s someone else that would be more qualified to do that. I’ll just take my seat.” She looked stunned for a moment, opening then closing her mouth. I thought maybe I’d gotten out of answering the question except I noticed her staring as I sat down in one of the empty seats.

“Jillian,” she began. And I already knew what was coming. “Your seat is over there next to Valerie.” She pointed across the room and my eyes met the bane of my best friend’s existence.

Before I could think of an explanation as to why I was sitting in the wrong place, it hit me. I could fix this. I could make it so that Danielle and Val never go into business together. Maybe that was why I was here. It might be against the rules of time travel, but I doubt the laws of physics took Val Cooper into account.

“Jillian,” Mrs. Jacob repeated.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I couldn’t stop grinning. “Um, I bumped my head last night and could I…”

“Why don’t you go see the nurse?” Wasting no time, I took off to start planning. With a note from the nurse, I managed to avoid classes for the morning. I was too nervous about having to set up my girl date with Danielle. It seemed silly since I had known her for over ten years, but it didn’t change the fact that I was freaking out.

By noon, I was a wreck. I decided that I needed to get some air and get away from the high school smell for a bit. Following the walkway around the side of the school, I noticed a small space behind the gymnasium facing the woods. There were a few milk crates turned upside down to sit on and the ground was littered with cigarette butts. It looked like a giant ashtray. I sat down on one of the milk crates, bending my knees and leaning my back against the wall. I closed my eyes and tried to take deep breaths to calm myself down, but it wasn’t working. I knew there was one thing that could help me relax, but it felt kind of wrong. It took me less than a second to decide I didn’t care. I grabbed the flask from my back pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a quick sip. The familiar burn warmed me once again. Bending over, I rested my head on my knees, closed my eyes, and imagined a life where Danielle ran her own successful company. No inappropriate behavior to deal with. No lost clients. Her reputation intact. I was still visualizing how happy Danielle would be when I heard a strange noise.

Standing near the corner of the building, lighting a cigarette and looking at me with a curious expression was Luke Chambers.

I woke to that annoying song by Santana playing on the radio. I must have knocked it on the floor while I slept because there was no way I would be listening to that crap. I grabbed my pillow and covered my head, attempting to drown out the noise. It didn’t work and I knew that if I was late again I’d get stuck in detention, and I wasn’t spending any more time at that school than was absolutely necessary. Since there was no use prolonging the inevitable, I slowly dragged myself out of bed and over to the bathroom.

Passing the calendar on the wall, I saw the date—April 30th. It was almost time.

22 Days

528 Hours

31,680 Minutes

And I would be gone.

It wasn’t that my aunt and uncle weren’t great. I’d always be grateful that Grace and Carter took me in. I just didn’t belong here. I never would. I think Carter always understood that about me.

It didn’t come as a big surprise that I decided not to go the college route. I was a decent student and wouldn’t have had a problem getting into one of the local schools. It just wasn’t in the cards for me. Carter had actually been the one who suggested I talk to his cousin Jonas about working in his bar after graduation. Jonas owned a pub in Seattle with his wife Maura. I always loved tagging along with Carter when he’d go into the city to visit. Even though the bar would have its share of sad and lonely old guys drowning their sorrows in scotch, I still always felt comfortable there. Maybe because I knew how those guys felt.

With Carter’s blessing, I drove to Seattle to meet with Jonas. It had been an unseasonably warm and dry day so I jumped at the chance to ride my bike into the city. The wind against my face and the vibration of the pavement below made me feel more alive than I had felt in a long time.

It was just a matter of convincing Jonas that he should hire me. Every summer, he’d take on a college student to help out around the bar, but once school started he was usually left high and dry. I knew he needed someone on a permanent basis that he could depend on. I just needed him to accept that the person was me. I was a big risk and he would have to take a chance on me. At eighteen, I wouldn’t even be able to man the bar for three more years, but I hoped that he would be willing to teach me the ins and outs of the business in the meantime.

One of the things I liked about Jonas was that he always shot from the hip. I didn’t expect him to take it easy on me.

“Listen, Luke, you know I think you’re a great kid and that underneath all the attitude is a hard worker,” he began, “but I need to be sure you’re going to take this seriously. You’re family, but this is my livelihood. You can’t screw this up.”

“Jonas, man…” I replied quickly, attempting to calm him down.

“Don’t ‘Jonas, man’ me. I mean it, Luke. The hours are long. The pay is shitty and you won’t have much time off. In fact, I’d need you to start right after graduation. I need to know you’re committed.”

There was always a steady stream of bars opening and closing in Seattle, but Jonas’ pub was successful and had been thriving for years. It was insane for me to pass up the opportunity even though he made it sound like a prison sentence. This was what I wanted. This was where I belonged.

“May 22nd is graduation. You can have me on the 23rd, man. You have my word.” We shook on it. Jonas slapped me on the shoulder and smiled.

“May 23rd it is.”

I just needed to survive the next twenty-two days and I could start over. Earning my way. Not having things given to me because I had become someone’s obligation. I needed to do this on my own.

I heard the sounds of dishes clattering downstairs. Grace was most likely making a complicated breakfast like French crepes. She’d want to watch me eat them with wide eyes while waiting for my approval. Grace was writing a cookbook and I had become her unwilling guinea pig. While I wanted a simple bowl of Cheerios, Grace wanted to make me eggs benedict. And if it wasn’t enough for me to eat the drippy eggs, I needed to let her know what I thought of her hollandaise sauce. I wanted to yell ‘I don’t give a damn about hollandaise sauce’, but Grace would look so genuine and excited. So, I’d tell her it was creamy, but not too heavy, and I’d finish the plate. But for some reason, this morning I just couldn’t deal. I wanted to get to school, do my time, and work on my bike later on. I didn’t want to debate the merits of strawberry jam versus strawberry preserves.

Yes, they’re different and it pisses me off that I know that. I wish I could climb out the window.

With a groan, I headed down the stairs and made my way to Grace’s war zone. Her back was to me and her hair was falling out of the bun on the top of her head as she cleaned the dishes. A plate of Belgian waffles was placed at my seat along with fresh fruits and some whipped cream.

I wonder if she’d be willing to add “Bowl of Cheerios” to her cookbook. Then I could have a bowl of cereal for once like a normal person.

“Morning, Grace,” I greeted with a yawn.

“Luke,” she beamed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m dying for you to try my vanilla waffles. Your uncle thought the vanilla flavoring was too strong, but I really think it’s the perfect amount.” And here it comes. “What do you think?” she asked looking at me with those wide eyes.

I wanted her book to be great, but I’ll be honest, even if I started to choke on vanilla, I’d tell her that they were the best damn waffles I had ever eaten. Carter and Grace didn’t have kids. I think that if they wanted kids they would’ve had them. It always bothered me that as wonderful as they were to me, having to raise a teenage boy with baggage was never in their master plan. I owed them a lot so if she wanted to hear that she made the best waffles I’d ever eaten, I’d tell her they were the best waffles I’d ever eaten. She deserved so much more.

“Grace, seriously,” I began while still chewing. “These waffles are amazing.” I wasn’t lying. They were great. I had no idea how Carter knew whether there was or wasn’t enough vanilla, but I wasn’t dwelling. I couldn’t have cereal, but I wouldn’t be an idiot and complain. I’d eat my waffles like a man.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “I’m keeping the recipe as is. Oh, and we’re having osso bucco for dinner tonight. I’m adding the lemon zest this time to see if it gives it the kick it needs.”

This would be the third time in as many weeks that we’ve had osso bucco for dinner. Find me another student at Reynolds High that knows what osso bucco is. I dare you.

“I think I’m going to be late tonight,” I began apologetically.

“Late? Why?” She sounded so disappointed. God, I hated when that happened.

“I’m taking my bike to school today so Scanlon can take a look at it. I really need to find out what that sound is when I’m idling,” I explained. “So I’ll be spending some time in the shop after school.”

I started taking Scanlon’s auto shop class junior year and began rebuilding a ‘73 Honda CL 175. The parts were used and nothing was top-of-the-line, but it was mine and that was what mattered.

Scanlon was a good guy. He was probably the only teacher at the school who was worth listening to. He had a friend that could sometimes get parts cheap and seemed to enjoy working on the bike with me. I just hoped he could shed some light on the problem.

“You know I hate that bike, Luke. Why can’t you just drive your car? That’s why we got it.” Yes, you bought the Lexus. I rebuilt my bike. It’s mine.

“I don’t know. Because it’s nice out. Because school’s almost over. Because I want to annoy you. Take your pick.”

She shook her head and threw her dish towel at me.

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “I suppose I can save you some and you can tell me what you think later. But don’t be too late, okay?”

I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed my beat-up rucksack, and headed for the door. Tossing the bag on my back, I jumped on my bike and heard the rattling sound again. I needed to get that figured out before I headed to Seattle. I probably won’t have the time to screw around with my bike once I start working.

I was already in a bad mood when I pulled into the parking lot. The rattling seemed to have gotten worse at every stop. It sounded like it was the clutch side of the engine, but I wouldn’t be able to take a look until later, and I knew it would bother me all day. While I parked my bike, I noticed Josh Fletcher waving me over. He was standing with his girlfriend and looking miserable.

“Hey, man,” I greeted him.

I was lucky to have Josh for a lab partner considering some of the alternatives in our class. He knew what he was doing and never bailed on our assignments. He had a good head on his shoulders and never seemed to let shit bother him. If he did, he never let it show. But today he looked really stressed out.

“Luke, please tell me you still have your copy of the lab that’s due today. I’m dying here.”

“Yeah, I still have it. Why?”

“I love her, but Danielle here had to visit every limousine company in the Greater Seattle area before settling on the perfect one for the prom,” he began, rolling his eyes. “I was trying to tweak a few things in our report while she talked for-
ev-er
with
every
sales rep at
every
place we visited.” It was Danielle’s turn to roll her eyes clearly not feeling very apologetic. “I must have left it in one of the thirteen places we went to.”

“Jesus, Josh,” Danielle chided, “reel it in a little, will ya?” Dismissing him, she turned to me. “So, Luke, I have the perfect limo booked. Have you got yours reserved yet? We have room in ours!”

“Prom’s not really my thing,” I replied. It was definitely not part of my Surviving-the-Next-Twenty-Two-Days Plan.

“Not your thing?” she asked incredulously. “But Luke, it’s a rite of passage. How can a rite of passage not be your thing? Please tell me that you’re at least going to the bonfire?!” She seemed truly upset now. I knew she meant well, but I was starting to feel as annoyed as Josh.

“Hate to disappoint, kid. Bonfires aren’t my thing either. Don’t worry about the lab, man,” I added, speaking directly to Josh before she could argue with me anymore. “It’s fine the way it is. We’ll just turn in this one. I’ll catch you later.” I started walking away and turned back to nod a goodbye to Danielle.

“I’m not giving up on you, Luke!” she yelled as I walked off.

Awesome
.

My day wasn’t getting any better. Between Grace’s culinary ambush, my messed up bike and now Danielle’s sudden desire to adopt me as a pet project, I would’ve been better off staying in bed. Detention definitely sounded less painful.

The first two periods of the day were generally uneventful. Most of my teachers were reviewing for finals and the kids that decided to show up for class weren’t interested. It seemed like a lot of people decided that today was a good day to stay home. I silently cursed myself for ignoring my instinct to stay in bed. The only thing keeping me sane was the knowledge that I had time to head over to the gym and have a cigarette after western civ.

As I sat in class, listening to that idiot Mrs. Dupont drone on about the Civil War, my mind wandered envisioning life in Seattle. I was picturing myself behind the bar, mixing one of those drinks with ridiculous names that girls order when they want to talk dirty without feeling guilty. My mood had greatly improved due to my fantasies of coeds and cocktails by the time the bell rang.

“Please pick up your papers at my desk on the way out,” Dupont announced. I made my way to the front of the room slowly because I sat in the back of the class. “Ah, Mr. Chambers. Maybe if you spent less time staring out the window and more time researching your topic, you’d fare a little better.”

She pursed her lips and arched her brow when she handed me the paper. Bitch hadn’t liked me since I corrected her the first week of school. I looked down at the paper that seemed to have more red markings than black. And at the top was a larger red D. I knew I had hit my boiling point. I needed a cigarette. I needed out of this damn school.

I crumpled up the paper and threw it in the garbage on the way out the door. I heard Dupont calling my name, but I kept walking down the hall and out the front doors. It was cold and would probably start raining again soon, but I knew I had some time before it started again.

Originally when I was assigned a free period before lunch, I was irritated by the big gap in my day. But more and more frequently, I found myself needing to decompress. I was able to handle things better after sitting out behind the gym on one of the milk crates I had taken from the cafeteria. After a half hour, I wouldn’t want to call Dupont an ignorant bitch for not knowing that Bay of Pigs wasn’t Kennedy’s idea. I wouldn’t feel like kicking Mike Wakefield’s ass for trying to paw some freshman up against the locker next to mine. I wouldn’t focus on how many more days I had to suffer through until I left this town. It was enough to get me through the rest of the day.

Before I rounded the corner to the rear of the gym, I knew something felt off. I just couldn’t figure out what it was. Turning the corner, I saw that for the first time all year, I wasn’t alone. A girl was sitting on one of the milk crates. Her long brown hair was hiding her face as she bent over. In her hands, dangling between her legs was what looked like a flask. She looked more like someone who belonged at Jonas’s pub than at a high school. The girl hadn’t heard me coming and I was irritated because I just wanted some peace and quiet. Grabbing a cigarette from my pack, I cleared my throat not knowing how else I could get her attention and tell her to leave. She looked up, startled, and nearly knocked the wind out of me. It was Jillian Cross. Jillian Cross was sitting on my milk crate. Behind the gym. In my place. With a flask. And it was pink.

“Oh,” she gasped climbing back up onto her feet. I watched her look from my cigarette to the butts scattered around at her feet. “I didn’t know...I mean…I didn’t expect anyone to come out here.”

Logically, I realized that I had no issues with this girl. I didn’t even know what her voice sounded like until just then. But as illogical as it was, I was really annoyed by her presence. It was just one more thing to add to my list of things that weren’t going right today.