The Long Wait for Tomorrow Page 12

  “Mrs. Saint,” Jenna spoke up, reaching for the wastebasket. “I can clean up here, if you need a moment with your son—”

  “Don’t touch that,”Patrick’s mother snapped.

  Jenna’s hand froze, inches from the rim.

  “Thank you, but I’ll take care of it,” she continued, smoothing over her outburst with a genial nod. “Patrick and I will discuss this later, with his father. When he gets home. Tonight.”

  Patrick nodded.

  Jenna took a step back.

  “You two should get going,” Patrick’s mother suggested. “These next few days are the important ones.”

  Jenna and Patrick made a silent exit, eyes lowered as they passed his mother. She stood at the top of the stairs as they went down. Stood at the bottom as they cut through the living room. Stood at the front door as they glanced back over their shoulders, keeping watch from an always-indefinable distance.

  hat was that about, back there?”

  “Nothing …” Patrick slowed to a stop, waited for the light to turn green. “Nothing important.”

  Jenna stroked the armrest absently. “Wasn’t from Ohio State.”

  “Huh?”

  “I thought OSU was the only school you hadn’t gotten into.”

  Patrick squinted up at the stoplight, images of his acceptance letter dancing in his head.

  “I feel better, Patrick…. I feel a bit better now that I …”

  Jenna groaned, remembering just what it was that was bringing her out of her stupor. “I’m sorry about puking in the waste-basket like that.”

  “Not too many ways a person can puke in a wastebasket; you did fine.”

  “Are you mad?” Jenna asked, leaning forward a bit, trying to get a read on Patrick. “Are you mad at me, Patrick?”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “What was that letter about?”

  “I’m not mad,” Patrick repeated, pressing on the accelerator as the light turned green.

  “Your mom doesn’t like me hanging out with you.”

  “Believe me, my mom’s got no problem with you hanging out with me.”

  “Oh.” Jenna looked down, folded her hands together. “Just with Kelly, I guess.”

  Patrick didn’t answer.

  “I’m not stupid, Patrick.”

  “I know …” He flipped his turn signal, slowing down for the entrance to Wellspring Academy. “I know you’re not stupid. I’d just rather not … I’d rather focus on Kelly right now.”

  “What do you suggest?” Jenna asked, looking out to the passing forest lining the winding driveway. “I mean, what do you think we can even do?”

  “Keep him from getting worse.”

  “I don’t know if he’s really gotten worse.”

  “Oh …” The driveway opened up to the gulf of white lines and parked cars. Patrick focused his attention on finding their spot, kept his heart from sinking any further. “I kind of thought you liked him better this way.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “You don’t like him better this way?”

  Jenna didn’t answer.

  Patrick found their space and slid in. Turned off the engine and waited.

  “It’s funny,” Jenna sighed, bringing her hands up to cover her face. “This is the second time you’ve brought this up.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you have.” Jenna dropped her hands, and Patrick was amazed to find a smile hiding beneath it all. “You brought it up yesterday, at Kelly’s house. Right before he showed up with your suit and my dress.”

  “Another banner moment for the New Kelly McDermott,” Patrick muttered.

  “You were upset because I was enjoying myself just a little too much. You’re jealous of Kelly.”

  “I’ve always been jealous of Kelly,” Patrick informed her, a little surprised to hear it come out so blatantly. Surprised, but unabashed. It was a bit like taking his own shot at vomiting, a welcome purge. “When it comes to you, I’ve always been jealous.”

  Patrick glanced over, found Jenna staring at him, confused.

  “Surprised?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied. Her abrupt honesty seemed to startle her, mouth open as though looking for a way to backtrack into familiar territory. Instead, she forged ahead. “No. But it’s just not the kind of thing you’re supposed to … It’s conceited, to imply that you’d be … that you—”

  “I was upset, last night, because you weren’t concerned enough,” Patrick interrupted, talking fast to keep her from taking it any further, because Jenna was not a stupid girl. Just polite, but both of them seemed to be in short supply of manners, and something had to stop Patrick’s heart from migrating to his sleeve. “Jealousy is a passing emotion, meaningless. I wasn’t upset that you were enjoying yourself with Kelly. I’m glad you were. But it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye, and now we’ve got a time-traveling Kelly McDermott out there somewhere, probably scouring the countryside for the nearest wormhole, and we’ve got no way of bringing him back to earth!”

  “Uh, Patrick …”

  In his mad rush to paint the perfect doomsday scenario, Patrick hadn’t noticed that Jenna was no longer paying attention to him. Her eyes were focused straight ahead. Neck urging her head forward, and that concerned expression he’d been searching for had finally made its appearance. Patrick shifted in his seat, looked through the windshield, and slowly grew to understand why.

  He did not immediately recognize Kelly McDermott. A bit of a mind-bender, as what he saw should have been Kelly McDermott at his most recognizable. Freshly showered, blond hair lightly tousled. In place of his father’s suit were a pair of blue jeans and a casual white-collared shirt, topped off with his team’s letter jacket, green and white colors, with the WA badge stitched onto the shoulder.

  He stood in front of the car with a wide, confident grin.

  Book bag slung over one shoulder, football nestled in his right arm.

  It was Kelly, all right.

  Perhaps a little too Kelly, Patrick’s angels observed.

  “So much for scouring the countryside looking for wormholes,” Jenna added, getting out of the car.

  Patrick followed, approaching Kelly with a reserved nod. “Hey, Kelly.”

  “What’s up, Pat?” Kelly reached out and playfully smacked Patrick’s shoulder.

  “Not much, not much …” Patrick watched Kelly put an arm around his girlfriend’s waist, draw her close with a gruff kiss on the cheek. Jenna smiled nervously and slipped Patrick an urgent look. He couldn’t decipher its meaning, went ahead and asked, “How are you feeling, Kelly?”

  “Feeling good,” Kelly said, nodding his head to some invisible beat. “Better than ever.”

  “Good.”

  Kelly continued to nod, grinning widely.

  Jenna let out a breathy laugh, nodded along.

  Without realizing it, Patrick had also fallen into their head-bobbing ritual, and he had to make a conscious effort to knock it off. “A little hot for the jacket, isn’t it, Kelly?”

  “Huh … I hadn’t really noticed.”

  “Oh.” Patrick held off for a moment, then dipped his shoulder playfully. “I guess the earth is probably, like, a hundred degrees warmer in the future, huh? This must be like Anchorage for you, right?”

  “Ha!” Kelly held his hands up in mock surrender. “You got me, Pat. Hey, look, I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such a freak, guys.”

  “What?”

  “Seriously, I’ve just had a lot on my mind. Big game coming up. Gotta beat Wilson tonight, right?” Kelly palmed the football and hoisted it above his head. “STATE CHAMPIONSHIP, BABY!”

  A wave of cheers and hollers arose from every which direction. Students en route to class held their fists in the air as they walked by. In the distance, someone began to chant Fight, fight, outta sight, gaining a little momentum from others before the excitement faded into isolated pockets of applause.

  “So, babe
…” Jenna bumped Kelly with her hip. “You sure you OK?”

  “Yeah,” Kelly insisted, giving her another kiss on the cheek. “It’s all good, baby. I’m back in the saddle. You got nothing to worry about.”

  “I wasn’t really—”

  “KEL-LY!”

  Zack trotted up to them, hand held over his eyes, casting a shadow over his pie-pan face. Sweat poured down his neck. An archipelago of damp blobs dotted his UNC jersey, light blue turning gray beneath his armpits. “What up, Kelly?”

  “What up!” Kelly hooted. He took Zack’s hand and shared a quick man-hug. Two bumps on the back, before falling to a safe distance. “What’s going on?”

  “Ain’t you hot in that jacket, man?”

  “Guess I’m just superstitious. Gotta beat Wilson tonight, right?” Kelly looked as though he was about to repeat his previous grandstanding. Instead, he took off his jacket and held it out for Patrick to take.

  Patrick stared at the jacket as though Kelly had just offered him a dinosaur bone.

  Reaching up slowly, he took it off Kelly’s hands.

  “That’s right,” Zack agreed, ignoring Patrick. “Speaking of which, we got some plays we want you to take a look at before class.” He sent a fat thumb over his shoulder. Cody and a few others were waiting at the edge of the parking lot, enjoying a couple of laughs.

  “Yeah, man,” Kelly grinned, giving his book bag a pat. “Got my playbook and everything.”

  “All right, man. Let’s do it.”

  “Let’s do it!” Kelly turned to Patrick and Jenna. “I’ll see you guys later, cool?”

  He sauntered away without waiting for a reply.

  The smell of vinyl drifted up from the letter jacket still hanging in Patrick’s arms. He watched Kelly jog over to the football team. All previous acrimony had apparently been laid to rest, high fives and man-hugs all around. The sight left Patrick feeling empty. The last guest to leave the party, wondering where the evening had gone.

  “You all right, Patrick?” Jenna asked. Her almond eyes were following the same scene. Hair a stiff mess of gnarled brambles.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s kind of like volunteering at a suicide hotline, and having someone call to tell you what’s happening on their favorite show.”

  “That’s Kelly for you.”

  “A little too Kelly, if you ask me.”

  Patrick sniffed. “What?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jenna said dismissively. She kicked at an imaginary rock and watched it skip across the parking lot, all signs of Kelly now gone. “Say goodbye to the New Kelly McDermott.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks for letting me puke in your wastebasket,” Jenna said, smiling warmly. “I’m going to hit the showers. I’ll see you in class.”

  Jenna gave his shoulder a squeeze and headed off for the locker rooms.

  Patrick was left standing next to Kelly’s car. Wearing the suit Kelly had bought for him. Holding on to Kelly’s letter jacket, a single sleeve brushing against the ground like an elephant trunk.

  is mind kept going back to the jacket.

  The jacket and the football.

  It was the first day of presentations in their Modern Psychology class. A welcome day for anyone who wasn’t scheduled to present their final project. It was just a matter of showing up and feigning interest. Some doodled, others stared into space. Finishing homework for other classes was a big favorite. It was the homestretch, and everyone was working for the weekend.

  From his seat, Patrick watched Kelly slouch in his desk, situated one row down, one row over. Going the extra mile to ignore everything around him. There was the football, resting atop his books. Kelly kept his hand planted on it, scrutinizing the white stitching as though peering into a crystal ball.

  And then there was the jacket.

  Patrick kept going back to the football and the jacket, unable to shake the eerie settlement reached between Jenna and his angels.

  A little too Kelly.

  It was halfway through the fifth presentation that Kelly sat up in his chair. Cautiously alert, he leaned forward, propped up with both hands on the football.

  Patrick glanced up, surprised to find Edmund standing before the class.

  Not that Edmund wasn’t supposed to be there. He was the only freshman in the class, given special permission to join as the only freshman in advanced calculus and trigonometry. Still, that wasn’t what accounted for this perplexing reaction. It had only been two days since Kelly had duct-taped Edmund to the flagpole, photographed him naked from the waist down. Seemed like another life—another Kelly, his angels whispered—but Patrick knew it had only been a couple of days.

  In that short period, Edmund had withered. Patrick wasn’t sure if that fully captured what he was seeing. Edmund was no less a skinny little shrimp than he had been two days before. It was more of a fading quality. Not unlike the bleached pastels of old photographs or a barely noticeable scar. His eyes were distant. Staring straight ahead, voice a hollow monotone.

  Edmund was lessening, somehow.

  Patrick could see Kelly straining to hear, now tilting his ear toward the front.

  “This is where Carl Jung’s notion of the collective unconscious comes into play …,” Edmund was explaining, unaware that two people up from nobody were now listening. “The simplified notion that our inner thoughts manifest themselves in direct relation to the world outside our minds. Like when you’re thinking of a person and two seconds later they call you …”

  Edmund’s voice dropped a little.

  For a moment, Patrick was convinced that Edmund was about to vanish right before the entire classroom.

  The substitute teacher, a round woman with a frizzy French braid, prompted him to speak up.

  “… to the speed of light!” Edmund’s voice rose sharply before regulating itself. “When they shot the cesium photon at the wall, their readings detected residue from the collision appearing a trillionth of a second before the actual collision itself. In essence, it traveled back in time.”

  Patrick saw Kelly’s hand twitch, rise slightly from the football.

  “Possible, of course, because a cesium photon has no mass.” Edmund’s eyes shifted over to Kelly, and the slow chant of his nowhere voice was disrupted. He began to fidget, rock lightly from side to side. “As do … same as thoughts, which have no mass … and, if thoughts do travel, which there are … have been studies … with little bearing but … if thoughts could travel to light speed … Then maybe they can go backward, too, so … When your friend calls you, the thought could very, might … very well travel back two seconds and occur to you right before your friend …” Edmund swallowed. “Right before your friend actually calls.”

  Kelly’s hand shot up.

  Edmund tensed, knees pressed together. Nails digging into his palms.

  The substitute half stood from her seat, frowning as though she’d forgotten what a raised hand meant. She pointed at Kelly, referring to him as you.

  “So is it possible, then, for a person to travel back through time?” Kelly asked.

  The class sprung to life, chuckling derisively at the perceived joke.

  Going on the same assumption, the substitute rolled her eyes.

  Edmund’s discomfort swelled, grew into a malignant fear.

  “No, it …” His voice cracked. “The theory of relativity won’t allow for it.”

  “Why?”

  Kelly’s question set the classroom on another roar. It wasn’t a question of what the joke actually was, only that this simply had to be a joke. The few sympathetic souls who kept quiet did it for the same reasons, but their solidarity was lost on Edmund. His petrified degeneration only fed the fire. A warbling kind of noise escaped his lips as he bolted for the door.

  Directly on his heels was Kelly McDermott.

  The football rolled off the desk, and continued its wobbly journey across the floor.

  Looks like Kelly forgot who he was there for a sec
ond, Patrick’s angels said.

  Before the football had come to rest at the substitute’s feet, Patrick was already out the door. Heading after Kelly McDermott, who was heading after Edmund.

  And all of them, Patrick determined, were going to have to stop meeting like this.

  The final stretch took them practically right back to where they had started.

  Edmund was a runner, greased lightning. Agile, too, he led them on a wild chase that spanned half the campus. Rounding buildings, changing direction with nimble irregularity, the scrawny freshman turned the school into an obstacle course for army cadets. He weaved between cars in the parking lot, shot up the stairs to the science building, cut through the science building, out the back doors, wasn’t halfway down the wheelchair ramp when he leaped the railing, landing on his feet and tearing in the opposite direction.

  If it weren’t for the lock on the basement door to the main building, he might have even made it. From his distant third place, Patrick saw him dart toward the door, arms outstretched. Planning to cut past the snack machines, no doubt, and beeline through the new music room they’d never finished building, and out the emergency exit.

  Patrick didn’t hear the impact. He was too far, and it came off looking like a gag from a silent movie. Edmund had simply bounced off the door upon impact and fallen back. From ninety degrees to zero, the needle on a sound board after the music dies.

  By the time Patrick reached them, Edmund had scrambled to his feet in a series of crablike motions. Unable to run any farther, he held his arm out, the last line of defense.

  “Leave me alone,” he managed.

  “What are you running for?” Kelly tried to take a few steps closer. “You all right, Edmund?”

  “I’m warning you …,” Edmund gasped, eyes of a cornered animal preparing itself for a last resort. “Stay away from me.”

  Classes were slowly being let out, students beginning to fill the outdoor passageway. One or two looked over. Not enough for an audience, but that kind of fever spread faster than most.