Miyu's Wish (8 page)

I slid my spoon thoughtfully through a droplet of chocolate syrup resting in my dish. “Thad was being a bully,” I heard myself murmur, but it almost felt as though someone else were speaking. Thad would have the chance to make things up to me on Monday, at least. But Clarence, despite being an annoying pest who tried to sabotage my date, had displayed courage I never imagined he had. I couldn’t help but smile.

“What’s with the sudden grin?” Marlene asked suspiciously, her own eyes betraying a twinkling amusement.

“I’m not sure,” I replied truthfully. “I suppose people just surprise me sometimes.” My eyes darted between the two of them. “Want to go catch a movie?”

They both nodded and smiled in agreement.

“But none of that cutesy stuff you like,” Tamara warned as she stood up.

“OK,” I said softly, not really minding. It was good to have friends.

Chapter Eleven

“Y
ou want me to do what?” I asked Monday morning as my aunt drove me to school.

“Take a CPR class,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s something everyone should know. I signed you up for one after school tomorrow at the community center.”

I groaned. “How long is it?”

“About three hours.”

“Oh Auntie,” I whined. “Why didn’t you tell me before now? I don’t want to go.”

“Did you have anything else planned for Tuesday?”

“No…”

“Then you’re going to do it. It’s a skill you may need one day.”

I sighed and kissed her good-bye as she stopped near the school entrance. She smiled at me in that same old, wise way she always did when she wanted me to do something she thought was
important. I then slid out the car and headed to class, thinking about Thad as I hurried along. I giggled. Perhaps learning a little CPR might not be so bad after all.

I spotted him immediately as I went to my locker; he was just standing there, staring blankly at his feet. I closed my eyes, steadied myself, and then slowly approached.

“Hi Miyu,” he said, his voice uncertain.

“Hi Thad,” I responded offhandedly. I spun the dial back and forth, and my locker door flew open.

“Look,” he continued, “I’m sorry about what happened on Saturday.”

“Sorry about walking off with Kimberly or how you treated Clarence?” I asked, pulling out my Math book.

He regarded me curiously. “What do you mean? Because of what happened with Kimberly, of course.”

I pulled my bag onto my shoulders and peered into his face. “You were about to clobber Clarence. You’re not sorry about that?”

Thad looked incredulous. “No! Twerps like him need to be put in their places from time to time! And then he wouldn’t have bothered us again.”

I closed my locker with a slam. “I don’t date bullies,” I said coldly. “Just because you’re big doesn’t mean you can beat on others who aren’t.” He just stared at me, a look of stupefaction and wonder contorting his face.

“I have to go to class now.” I spun around and walked away, barely able to hide an inexplicable smile suddenly spreading across my face. It was as if I had finally gotten back at him for doing something terrible.
To me
. It made no sense.

And then Keil flashed before my eyes, and the smile vanished.

I didn’t see Thad for the rest of the day. But as Art ended, Kimberly finally made herself known, catching up to me as I headed toward Biology.

“Stay away from him,” she said threateningly, poking me just above the right bosom with a finger. Her nails were long, red, and sharp.

I looked at her like an innocent fawn. “Why, Kimberly, do you dislike me so much?”

She regarded me coolly. “I wasn’t sure what to make of you at first,” she replied, her perfect teeth and rosy lips twisted into a stunning snarl. “But now I see you’re going to be trouble. If you know what’s best, stay out of my way.”

Her bluntness stung me with an unexplainable sense of nostalgia, my heart withering like a flower. But I stood undeterred, peering into those lovely, baby-blue eyes of hers.

“Kimberly, you’re the most lovely girl I’ve ever seen. So I wish, I wish…you were better than this. Because you should be.”

She seemed to stumble back slightly as she processed my words, looking like a confused baby whose ball had just rolled under the couch. Her reaction was actually pretty cute, her cheeks even reddening as she struggled for an appropriate response. But time was ticking away; I needed to get to class.

“Just don’t forget what I said,” she said indignantly as I walked away. But her voice seemed uneven now, even shaken.

I entered Biology and sighed, flummoxed by the images of Thad and Kimberly flickering in my head. A moment later, Clarence sat down next to me. We slowly turned to look at each other; neither of us really knew what to say.

“I’m sorry about Saturday,” he finally murmured.

“You should be,” I said, but my voice was gentle. “You don’t have any right making my decisions for me, and I did want to go with Thad.”

“Do you
still
want to?” he asked.

“Never mind that,” I said pensively. I then smiled at him and lowered my voice. “Now quick, before class starts. What did you find out about time travel?”

Back at home, I stared at my computer screen, pondering what Clarence had explained during class. He had spoken with some acquaintances—self-proclaimed experts in time travel, dimensional rifts, astral projection, and other off-topics that left me both rattled and confused. He basically had three ideas to offer.

The first, assuming again I wasn’t simply a nutcase, was that I was somehow psychically connected to an ancestor or descendent. A family member may have somehow tapped into my psyche—my mind or soul—and was sending me information. But the process was unreliable, which possibly explained the scattered, even nonsensical visions I had already received. And if true, did that make Keil a long-lost brother? Or a cousin? A grandson?

Somewhat similarly, the next scenario involved being contacted by a specter from a different plane of existence. Apparently, my experiences resembled those of certain people befriended—sometimes haunted—by spirits with a specific purpose or agenda. But the idea of being pursued by a ghost, or whatever, was just too creepy to think about.

The last explanation hearkened to an old legend about a band of “body leapers” who travel across time, inhabiting the bodies of people from different eras. Allegedly, the more bodies these people leap into, the more fragmented their memories become.

“What do they want with other people’s bodies?” I had asked, finding the idea highly disturbing.

Clarence shrugged. “Maybe they use them to fix the past, making it better. Others might just do it for enjoyment. Who knows? I wouldn’t take the idea too seriously, though.”

I sighed, returning to reality and refocusing on my computer screen. That last option would indeed explain my scattered memory a few weeks back, but I seriously doubted I was a body jumper now suffering from schizophrenia.

I reached for my mouse and clicked on the bookmark tab, allowing it to bring me back to the forum thread I had created a few days ago. The handful of replies I found were mostly disappointing. A couple of posts said communication between time periods could happen on the astral plane, and a couple of others suggested I seek the spirit world for guidance, which seemed like a dubious thing to do.

But the final post was undeniably intriguing.

It read:
Have you experienced any strange phenomena, such as otherworldly detachment, fragmented memories, or feelings you are/were someone else? If so, then it’s possible you might have been “blessed” with a case of parallel incarnation, but those instances are decidedly rare.

I couldn’t help but gasp as I thought back to the first day of school. True enough, for just moments after awakening,
I had felt like someone else. Keil?
I bit my lip, recalling the weird dreams and displaced feelings that had persisted afterward.

I clicked the author’s username—Rraman—and went to his profile page. An image of a beautiful woman with a pale, serene face formed on the screen. She wore a translucent, blue sari that trailed behind her like the wisps of a falling star, and her immaculate form underneath glittered as if doused in a million tiny diamonds. Her hair flowed around her body gracefully like an incomplete cocoon, and pink petals blew about her gently. She was incredibly lovely, and I forgot myself as I gazed upon her, wondering who she was. As I sat transfixed, my breasts seemed to bulge forward, tightening painfully against my bra. I squirmed and touched them; they felt more doughy than usual, but I was surely imagining things.

I glanced back at the woman. She seemed to smile playfully before vanishing, revealing the author’s bio and personal information in her place. Most of the information was missing, but surprisingly, an e-mail address was listed. I quickly copied it.

Feeling it best to continue the discussion privately, I went to my e-mail account and sent him a heartfelt message.

Dear Rraman,

       
I recently posted a question on the Time, Space, and Migrating Soul website about communicating messages across time to other people, such as through thoughts or dreams. You answered (thank you!) with a very intriguing reply, and I was
hoping you could tell me more about this “parallel incarnation” thing you mentioned.

       
The truth is, for a brief moment one morning, I did feel like I was someone else. Maybe. And there have been other times when I’ve felt oddly displaced or stricken with a sense of déjà vu. It seems to be a guy, perhaps from a future time, who’s the source of my troubles. He has appeared in my dreams and thoughts, and seems to be trying to tell me something. I have no idea what to do.

       
I hate asking, but what might be causing these feelings of mine, other than I’m simply crazy? :-)

       
Thank you so much for all your help!

Gratefully Yours,

Miyu

I sat back and reread my message, hoping I wasn’t being foolish by beckoning this stranger for help. But at this point, there was simply no one else.

Chapter Twelve

I
 
slept restlessly, harassed all night by a series of nonsensical dreams. The last one was the most distinct; I was in a sagging hot-air balloon, drifting far underneath the full, bouncy lofts of my friends. Marlene, Tamara, everyone—they were all laughing at me. I yelled at them to stop, but my voice was like the squeak of a mouse, and they all hissed in return. I turned away, hugging myself tearfully, only to see Kimberly’s own balloon rise past me. It was splendid, like a bulbous, ever-expanding rainbow. I watched longingly as Kimberly waved cheerfully from her basket, beckoning me to follow. I felt stronger now; emboldened, I soared after her, leaving the others whining beneath me. My balloon was becoming as huge as Kimberly’s, and bumping up next to each other, we flew on toward two massive mountains waiting for us in the distance. We couldn’t stop cheering.

My phone then sounded, playing a bittersweet tune about crisscrossed lovers. I opened my eyes with a twinge of regret, then frustration as I replayed the entire scene in my mind.
Why did she despise me so much?