Summer of Yesterday (7 page)

“It's not. My dad is always doing stuff like that. He wants to show me what it's like to get along in the world without him. He's just trying to get me to understand. Now I have to figure out where I'm going to sleep, how I'm going to eat without any money. See? Teaching me a lesson.”

“But you suffer from seizures. No father would do that.”

Crap. He's right. This lie totally sucks!
Modify.

“You wouldn't think so, but they didn't leave Disney World. They just moved to the Contemporary for the rest of the week. He's waiting to see how long before I give up, go back to him, beg for forgiveness, you know? But I know he's keeping an eye on me. Fact, I saw him a little while ago. He doesn't know I saw him though.”

Please, Jason. Please buy this whole story. It's gotten way better! And part of it is true.

He winces, points to the pizza, and says, “You're not eating. Sounds fishy, Haley. But I guess some parents are modern like that. What are you going to do? Seems like he's right. You can survive in the campground without a roof over your head, but you can't survive without cash.” He serves himself, then digs in. “I mean, let's face it. This
is
Disney.”

He's right. And I feel like Pinocchio for stretching this lie as far as it will go. But Dina did say I could get anything I wanted by using my looks. Maybe I need to use that advantage now.

I pick up the slice again and try not to shove the entire thing down my throat, as hungry as I am. “Right, so I was thinking . . . maybe you could help me with that?” I tilt my face ever so cutely to one side, as cutely as one can appear while swallowing huge mouthfuls of pizza.

I know this is terrible. Jason really is, quite possibly, the nicest guy I have met in a long time, and I feel horrible for fooling him. But I need a place to sleep, clothes to wear, and food to eat. This dream-hallucination has not exempted me from needing the basics. I need his help until I figure out how to get back to the twenty-first century. If I have to stress myself out to trigger another seizure, that's what I'll do. Problem is, what if I don't go back to the present after doing so? What if I fall into a different year altogether?

Man, how does the Doctor deal with this?

“Haley, I want to help you, but I can't just show up with this homeless girl and ask my dad if you can stay in our motor home. First off, there's no room, and second, how would that look?”

“I understand.” I'm suddenly not very hungry anymore. What did I expect? “I'll just take the next boat to the Contemporary and find my father. I appreciate everything you've done for me.”

I wish it were that simple. When, really, my only choice is to hand myself over to authorities as soon as I'm done with this pizza. I can loiter around the campground for only so long before someone catches me foraging for food inside the trash bins. I'll have to come clean with my lunatic time-travel story, explain my medical history, and let them figure me out. At least I'll be safe and fed.

Jason says nothing, polishes off two more slices, and downs his soda while I sit there pecking at my slice. He watches me intently, shakes his head, and says, “I don't know what it is about you. But okay. You got me.”

You got me
—the sexiest words he's said so far. He's in! He's in my world, as much as I'm in his. At Jason's mercy isn't such a bad place to be. I look up, holding down my happiness. “So you'll help me?”

A smile materializes across his face. He signals for the waitress to come over, then asks for a check. A girl older than me strolls right through the restaurant, flipping her long headbanded hair in Jason's direction. She's hot, and the way he looks at her for a split second makes my stomach flip. Because everyone seems to notice Jason. But he's chosen to spend his time with me. “Yes. But if I get in trouble for this, you owe me.”

I bounce in my seat, smiling at him. “I owe you, no matter what.”

eight

A
s great as it's been meeting Jason, there's a huge downside to all this.

My future dad is wondering where I am by now.

He's probably already notified Disney security. They're scouring the campground right at this very moment. It might even be morning, since it's turning to dusk around here. Then again, do I exist in the future if I'm here now? The thought makes my stomach hurt.

Jason weaves his cart through the streets with the same expertise Dina did yesterday, if you can call it “yesterday.” And he's right. There are no log cabins now. Just loop after loop of trailers all in a row. On the seat between us is a folded-up newspaper—the
Orlando Sentinel
. The date—July first, 1982. There's a review for the movie
Blade Runner
on it: “Futuristic Thriller Fails to Make the Cut.”

Wow. The cult classic my dad's always talking about? Got a bad review?
For shame, Father.
I want to take a picture but remember the dead battery.
Ergh
. Mental picture instead.

“So you came to enjoy the Fourth of July weekend and ended up getting in a fight with your old man instead. That stinks. Where you all from, anyway?” he asks.

“Jupiter.” Ugh, that was supposed to be Atlanta!

“Jupiter, neat. I've driven through there a few times,” he says, making no joke about my town's name being the same as a planet in our solar system like every other person always seems to. “And you're a what? Junior? Senior?”

“I'll be starting my senior year.”

He nods, pressing his lips together. I'm not sure what that means, whether he's disappointed that I'm still in high school, or whether he's happy we're close in age.

“What about you?” I play with the frayed hem of my shorts.

“I don't know yet what I'm going to do,” he says pensively.

“You're not in college?”

“I don't know if college is right for me. I was thinking the army might be better.”

“Wait, what? Why don't you think college is right for you?”

“'Cause. I don't know. I thought maybe I'd keep working for Disney, maybe climb the ranks, since my foot's already in the door. That's sort of always been my dream. But we'll see.”

What he's saying makes me sad. I mean, he seems pretty smart. He would make a good computer programmer, engineer, or something. I'm pretty sure you can't do that without a degree. Part of me feels relieved, though. At the thought that if I stay here, he won't be leaving for college right away. Though what business I have thinking we might have an attraction or that I might be staying here is just bizarre. No, my goal is definitely to wake up or find my way home.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, turning down a street named Terry Trail. “Not having any aspirations? I guess that must sound lame to you.”

“No. I think for some people it's normal not to know what you're going to do after high school. But had you gone to my school, they would've pounded you into a career path before graduation. My school is all about focus, focus, focus.” Maybe that's a generational thing. Maybe they didn't have career fairs, FCAT, and IB programs in 1982.

“Well, that's sort of why I was hoping to join the army. I could learn a thing or two while figuring out what I want to study.”

“I guess that might work.” It occurs to me suddenly that Jason must be alive somewhere in the future, working for the army. He's three years older than my dad. Common sense is screaming the word
illegal
at my brain, so I should therefore abandon any thoughts of romance. But when I look at the kid sitting next to me at the wheel, that's all I really see—a kid. Older than me, yes, but only by two years.

Because here's another thought . . . what if I'm not dreaming? In the future I might be a missing person right now, while my parents kill each other over whose fault it is. But here, now, life continues. With Mom, Dad, Erica, Willy, and Alice there. And me here.

I may be stuck here.

Jason makes a turn by a trailer with a big American flag in the front window and stops in front of a beige trailer with a red racing stripe across the middle. “Well, this is it. You can stay here for now, two days tops, or until you think your dad has learned his lesson.” He smiles, then looks down at his feet. “But, uh, Haley, you're going to have to go back eventually. You know that, right?”

He has no idea. “Yes, I know. Whose trailer is this? I don't feel right intruding on—”

“No one,” he interrupts. “It's empty. I mean, you might find my brother trying to get in without the key, but I'm going to do everything I can to prevent that.” He sees my momentary confusion, as I try to figure out why he would have a key to an empty trailer, then leans against the siding. “Geez, this is embarrassing.”

“Oh,” I say, clucking my tongue. “I got it.”

This makes him look even more perplexed, as if a girl shouldn't understand anything about guys sharing a private place, a booty place, to be more specific. “Nah, I don't think you do. It's guy stuff. You wouldn't—”

“First of all, I might be a girl, but I get it. Second, you don't have to explain anything to me. It's none of my business.”

He shakes his head. “Now, don't go thinking it's mine, because it's not.”

“Of course not. You just hold the keys for your brother, right?” I chide, but somewhere inside I do feel a little jealous of all the girls he's probably brought here, even though he denies it. Why that should bother me, I don't know. Maybe I wanted to believe that Jason was different. Call me crazy.

He looks genuinely offended. “As a matter of fact, I do. The raccoons that live out here are more responsible than he is. One day they'll drain River Country and find all of Jake's dropped keys and lifeguard whistles sitting there at the bottom of the lagoon.” He laughs, then runs up the steps to unlock the trailer.

His words sting. Not because I care about his brother, but because it'll happen. River Country will cease to be. He can't even imagine what I saw. It's frustrating knowing a world of information I can't share with him. Not only would I ruin his vision of the future if I did, but it'd ruin our relationship, too. And even though I know I shouldn't start one, I don't want any ruination of one just yet.

The trailer is laid out pretty much the same as the cabins that replace them, with kitchen, bunk beds, bathroom, and everything else. “I'll get you some clothes from the trading post, enough to last a couple of days. What, uh, size are you?” he asks.

“A four if it's shorts, a small or medium if it's shirts.”

“You know what?” He pulls out his wallet and hands me a fifty-dollar bill. “This should get you a few things. They might have Fort Wilderness logos on them, but at least you won't look like a castaway anymore.” He smiles so sweetly, I want to run my hand along his face.

I stare down at the money. This is nice of him. “Jason, I don't feel right.”

“Just take it, Haley. Your dad can pay me back. Or better yet, get me the insider scoop on that new Commodore 64. Listen, I have to go check in with my folks. But I'll be back soon. Don't go sliding off slides by yourself, okay?” Blue eyes and dimples send me swooning.

“I'll be fine. I'll take the bus to Pioneer Hall, the campfire, or something. I won't be alone. Don't worry. Go do whatever you gotta do.” I'm shooing him away, but I really want him to come back. He's kind of grown on me. I would definitely spend more time with him if I were in the future. But I'm not. So this needs to stay friendly.

“There's no bus. You gotta take the tram. Okay, but if I don't see you again later, look for me tomorrow by River Country. I'm always there,” he says, and my heart falls a little. I was kind of hoping he'd come back later and, I don't know . . . hang out with me . . . or something.

Because now that I think about it, I may not be here tomorrow. I may not be here tonight. But I can't hang out with him. I really have to figure out how to get home. “Of course. Go. I'll see you tomorrow.”

I can feel him thinking the same by the way he's blinking slowly. Maybe he's wondering if he'll see me again. “Hey, you said your birthday was coming up,” he says, leaning back against the door. “I remember because you wanted your dad to buy you something. . . .”

An iPad. I nod. “Yeah, good memory.”

“So you'll be how old?” Ah. A guy doesn't ask how old you are unless he's having thoughts of hooking up with you. At least I hope that's what he's thinking.

“Eighteen.”

He closes his eyes for a second, and maybe it's just me, but he seems really relieved. “Eighteen. Okay. Rad.”

“Rad. Okay, Jason-Jason.”

He smiles that wide, gorgeous smile of his. “All right, Haley-Haley.” His gaze lingers on me a moment. Then he taps the door frame, scuttles down the steps, and drives off in his cart.

I lean against the railing with butterflies in my stomach and watch him go. He's really cute. Like, really cute. But NO . . . I can't.

I close the door and scan the trailer. How plain can you get? Hey, at least the AC is running. I need a nap. I feel like I've been awake for days. Yet I'm terrified to drift off. Do I really want to sleep in a bed that Jake brings girls to? But more important, what if I wake up back in the present?

And then I'll never know.

How this dream—this crazy time-travel hallucination where I met a really sweet guy one summer in 1982—was ever supposed to end.