Summer of Yesterday (14 page)

Yes, he meant for me to find this window.

If I take the cart, though, he won't have a way out if he needs it. He's already taken enough of the blame on my behalf as it is. From inside, I hear another knock at the bathroom door, louder this time. It's only a matter of time before Fred comes bursting in when he doesn't get a reply.

Up ahead, there's a tram pulling into the station. People start getting out. If I can blend in with them, I might be able to escape unseen. The only problem is most everyone is getting
off
it, carrying wet ­towels, beach bags, and sleeping children. I'd be one of only a handful getting on. Who would be heading into Fort Wilderness at this time?

But it's all I can do.

I have only seconds to do this. I take off running toward the tram, but I try not to look too desperate, lest I cause alarm with the driver. Just in time. I reach the tram and get on in the middle car, slumping low in my seat.

Please, please, God.

I can't live like this. I can't be a fugitive. I can't be distracting people and running all my life. I have to somehow force myself to leap again, even if it means leaping to another time altogether and starting all over again. But how can I leave Jason high and dry, taking the blame for everything? If I have another seizure, can I bring him back with me?

The tram driver mumbles, “All clear,” and the train on wheels whisks off again. I need to stay low the whole way, but I also need to pay attention to the stops. We slow down, and the brakes screech softly. “Meadow Trading Post.”

I need to get to Settlement Trading Post.
Ugh, come on, come on.

A lot of people get on at this stop. A family with like four kids tries climbing into my row, but when they see me practically lying down, I shoo them, and they move to another row instead. A few cars drive around us slowly. I pull back from the window and pray that none of them contains Chip and Dale searching for me again.

We glide through the quiet main road, and minutes later we finally roll into . . . “Settlement Trading Post.” I get off and run. Run, run, run down the street, stumbling, down another street, and through the loop I remember Jason driving when he was taking me to the abandoned trailer. It's even darker here without the lampposts, and I get a few curious looks from people hanging out in front of their trailers for a summer night's beer, but I keep running.

I think this is it.

I turn down another street where I remember seeing a trailer with the American flag in its window. Yes, this is it. I see the beige trailer up ahead and run up the steps, peeling back the doormat, looking for the key, the key, but it's not there. No! I check under the steps. Maybe it fell into the grass.

Suddenly the door above pops open, and I just about crap in my pants. I hide underneath the steps. Marsha—at least it looks like Marsha in the dark—runs out. She's crying. “Jerk, just leave me alone.”

I feel like my lungs are going to explode inside my chest.
Calm down, Haley.
That strange sensation is back, the one where I feel like a light is starting to glow and cover me completely, and all I can do is try to breathe calmly, my back against the steps. No, I can't seize now.

I can't leave Jason back at the Mickey Police by himself like this.

“Baby, get back here.” It's Jake standing above me, calling out.

“Go to hell, Jake. I ain't staying the night with you after all the chauvinist things you just said, and I ain't your baby!”

“I was kidding! I'm nice, baby, please. Just come here!” he yells.

Normally, I'd wait very still and not try to get caught, especially by Jake Hewes, Boy Scout–player wannabe. He'll only turn me in again. But I don't have a choice. I need to lie down. I need to stabilize myself. I need air.

“If you really are nice, then let me in,” I say, out of breath.

“Who the hell is that?” he asks, and a moment later his mustached face appears as he crouches next to me. “Haley? What the hell?” He reaches over to help me stand. “You like to pop out of thin air, don't you?”

I accept his help to stand and lean against him. “You have no idea.”

eighteen

J
ake crouches next to me on the sofa. “All right, stay calm. Tell me what happened.”

“I don't have time. I need you to make sure Jason is okay. He's at the police trailer down by check-in.” I take deep breaths until I can see clearly again.

He bangs the back of the couch. “What? Not again. That boy can't stay out of trouble.”

“No, it's my fault. He came to bail me out, only I escaped, and he's still there.”

“You escaped security?” Jake shakes his head miserably. I suppose there's nothing worse in his eyes. He glances at the corded telephone on the TV stand.

“Don't. Please. Don't turn me in.”

“I don't know else what to do with you, Haley. They're going to come around eventually, trailer by trailer, starting with all the unoccupied ones. You're going to have to go back to your family. Where are they again, Contemporary Resort?”

I see everybody knows my fake story by now. I have nothing to lose by telling him my real story. Everyone else knows it now anyway. “They're not here. I'm from another time, Jake. I slipped into the past by accident. I need to stay near River Country. That's why I was there the other night. I need you to help me, please.”

Ugh, I sound crazy even to myself. He stares at me like I'm an alien from another planet, which might be easier to understand. Then he breaks into a forced laugh. “That is the dumbest thing I ever heard anybody say.”

“Well, I'm glad the truth sounds dumb to you. I'll just be going, then.” I get up to leave. He does nothing to stop me, only stands up too.

“So that thing”—he points to my phone, which is sitting on the kitchen counter right next to a beige shopping bag that says Radio Shack—“really is a phone from the future?”

My phone. I need that back. I need it on. I need Jason.

“Yes. Give me a place to hide, somewhere that's not a trailer, and once Jason gets it to turn on, I'll show you how it works.”

He shakes his head. “I can't do that. I could lose my job for harboring a runaway.”

“You mean, for helping someone?” I stare at him hard. It takes a special person to trust someone you've known only a few days, to see that they're in need, not a hindrance. He's no Boy Scout, that's for friggin' sure. “I guess that's where your brother outshines you.”

A look of shock crosses his face, then melts into hurt. Something tells me I'm not the first person to tell him that his so-called delinquent baby brother is a better person than he is, as much as he thinks he's doing the right thing. I do a quick check of my energy level. I'm still stressed out, but I don't feel the aura that precedes a seizure anymore. I can do this.

I get up calmly so as not to alarm him. “You know, your girlfriend is right.” I shoot over to the counter, throw my phone inside the Radio Shack bag, and burst out the door. “You're not nice.”

I run. And he runs after me. But I play baseball, and if there's anything I know how to do, it's pitch a mean curveball and run my ass off. I run, hearing his shouts behind me. “Haley, don't be stupid! You have nowhere to go! You need my help!”

“I haven't hurt you. Leave me alone!” In the murky darkness of the night, I nearly drop into a ditch full of leaves, but I swerve right in time.

“Fine, I'm not an asshole. I'll help you—
oof
!” And when I look over my shoulder, I see Jake, feet in the air, in the same ditch of leaves. “Ow!”

Oh my God, for real? I stop and turn around, hands on my knees, the Radio Shack bag dangling from my grip. “You will? How?”

“How, what?” Apparently, falling in the leaves has knocked his short-term memory right out of his skull.

“How can you help me?”

“I—” He holds his knee to his chest and twists his ankle around, as if testing it. “I can hide you near River Country.”

“Where?”

“I'll show you.” Awkwardly, he flips in the leaves, trying to gain leverage in the fluffy foliage. “Are you going to ask me if I'm okay?”

Cautiously, I walk toward him. This had better not be a trick. But from the way his face is squirming in pain, it's not. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

I walk up to the shallow ditch and stare down at him. As much as they may not get along, Jason would not appreciate it if I didn't help his brother. I hold out my hand to help him up, praying that I don't get suckered into an act of betrayal. But I don't. Jake takes my hand and hoists himself out.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

“You didn't have to run, you know.”

“You didn't have to be a jerk.”

***

I have no idea where we're going. It feels like I'm headed to the Magic Kingdom on a little miniboat under the cover of darkness. How is this keeping me near River Country? But in a few minutes Jake pulls up to a dock on the north side of a small island between Fort Wilderness and the Contemporary Resort, an island I've seen in the future but never been to.

“Where are we?”

“Discovery Island.”

“What
is
this place?”

“A nature preserve. There's birds, flowers . . . stuff to look at.”

“Don't people work here? Won't they see me?”

“There's a place in the back where you can stay. If you're quiet and stay away from the pens and cages, nobody will ever know you're here.”

“How do you know?”

He turns to me and scoffs. “You sure ask a lot of questions, don't you?”

“I want to know, to make sure you know what you're talking about.” I take advantage of the darkness and smile a smart-ass smile, knowing he can't see me.

“It's where I used to hang out overnight sometimes before I discovered that old trailer. There, you happy?”

“I see. So, who's the happy trespasser now? You like breaking rules, is that what I'm hearing, Jake?”

He stands carefully and steps onto a wooden dock, taking a rope wrapped around a post and looping it through the metal grips on the miniboat. He reaches down and grips my arm, pulling me up to the dock with him.

“I guess you're not answering that.”

“Follow me.”

We walk down the gangplank and through two posts with tiki torches that are turned off. Already, birds start screeching and fluttering at our presence. Are those vultures? “I don't like this,” I say.

“This is all I got. I'm friends with the folks who give the tours during the day. I can sneak back here and bring you food in the morning and tell my brother where you are. This might buy you one more night, but they'll find you eventually. You're going to have to turn yourself in.” His words are like a punch to my stomach. “Or leave.”

Of course he's right. What am I going to do? Hide near River Country indefinitely until I find my way back to the future? No. Eventually I'm going to have to give up and start living life in the eighties for the rest of my days. I'll miss my family, my friends, Jupiter, but, hey, at least I'll get to experience Michael Jackson and Mom's favorite movie,
Dirty Dancing
. That's something, right?

Following Jake through the winding sidewalks of Discovery Island, I realize I can't get away from here if they do find me. I don't have a boat, and it's impossible to swim away from the police, so this is pretty much it. My dead end. But for the same reasons, it's my salvation.

Jake must read my mind, because he whispers, “I doubt they'll come here looking for you. You'd be stupid to hide here.” As if taking the ominous cue, a shipwrecked pirate ship appears out of the darkness on the beach of the island.

“That's the
Walrus
,” Jake mumbles, gesturing to the ship.

“Doesn't look very walrus-y.” I follow him into what appears to be the backstage area of the island. There's no pirate paraphernalia, no crude-looking signs pointing this way or that, no roped bridges or fake pirate ships here.

Jake reaches a wooden door to a shed and opens it. Inside, there're some coils of rope, an old Discovery Island sign, and a life vest. He ushers me inside. “Your stateroom, mademoiselle.”

“What? This is it?”

“This is it. What did you expect, a spa?”

“No, but . . .”

He walks in with me, maneuvers the life vest over to the blob of ropes, and points to it. “That'll make a great bed.”

I turn to him, trying to make out his features in the dark. “Jake, I'm nervous. This place is creepy. I'm scared the employees will find me here in the morning.”

“Trust me, just stay put. But if they do see you, tell them you're friends with Jake Hewes, the lifeguard from River Country,” he says importantly. “They'll wonder what the hell's going on, but they won't turn you in.” He rubs my arm, runs his hand down to my hand, and squeezes it.

“Thanks,” I say, battling the urge to let it all out.
Stop, Haley. Time travelers do not cry.

“Don't mention it. I'll have my brother come out here as soon as he can, so if you hear someone walking around, look through this hole first.” He points to a crack in the wooden door, a crack he's probably peeped through many a time, it seems. “And make sure it's him.”

“And if it's not?”

He laughs softly. “What's the worst that could happen? They're not going to shoot you, Haley. This is Disney.” He turns around and leaves, and for the rest of the night, I'm left with the sounds of birds, crickets chirping, soft waves against the shore, and the realization that he didn't take back my phone.