Redeemed (3 page)

The bunk beds were impossible.

Jordan got his hand around the doorknob. He spun out of the room and
then
he slammed the door, shutting himself off from the view of the strange posters and the extra desk and dresser and the preposterous bunk beds. He stood in the hallway for a moment, panting.

Just a hallucination, just a reaction to being sick, just . . .

He wasn't convincing himself of anything.

Don't be a loser. Don't be a coward. There's got to be
some
explanation for all this . . .

He began tiptoeing back down the hallway, back toward the stairs. Mom and Dad were the type of parents who liked having family pictures all over the house, and Jordan felt better seeing the old familiar photos: There was the picture of Jordan standing by his tent at his first Cub Scout campout . . . Katherine at five with a gymnastics trophy . . . both of them playing basketball when they were maybe seven and eight . . . Jordan proudly holding up the first fish he ever caught, a tiny sunfish . . . Er, no—was that a giant catfish? And why was he suddenly wearing a blue shirt in that picture, instead of a red one?

It couldn't be a picture of that Jonah kid instead of me. Couldn't be, couldn't be, couldn't be . . .

Jordan stopped looking at the pictures. He put his head down—there were school pictures hung along the stairway, and he kept his gaze away from any of them as he cautiously eased down one step at a time. He concentrated on avoiding squeaky spots on the stairs. When he reached the point where he could almost see into the living room, he stood on tiptoes and peeked around the corner—that room was empty. But he could hear voices
coming from the kitchen at the back of the house.

Jordan tiptoed away from the living room and into the dining room the family almost never used. He crouched down beside the china cabinet, and practically under one part of it. This had been one of his favorite hiding places back when he and Katherine were little and they thought hide-and-seek was a thrilling game.

The buzz of voices in the kitchen broke out into distinguishable words.

“—feel sorry for him,” Katherine was saying. “He's so confused. Is it really going to make any difference if he hears everything?”

“We have to contain the damage!”

That was JB's voice, wasn't it? JB's voice, completely tense now that he wasn't playacting for Jordan's benefit?

“But if Jordan's going to have to live with the—what did you call it? Blended dimensions?—for the rest of his life, shouldn't he—”

Jordan thought this was the tall girl speaking now. She'd hung back so much while everybody else was running and hugging that he hadn't noticed much about her. Was she maybe somebody else that he might have recognized if he'd looked a little closer? She was tall and pretty and African-American and . . .

And, really, that was all that had registered with him.
He didn't think she was anybody he'd ever seen before—at any age—but he couldn't be sure.

“Angela, I'm not talking about the dimension challenges,” JB said, sounding impatient. “Those will work themselves out. I'm sure of it. It's you and the two Skidmores being the wrong ages—and Chip's parents too, and God know how many other adults around here—”

“Angela said that was going to be fixed. Right after we got to see our kids.” Was that Dad sounding so pathetic? He'd always been a little nerdy, but somehow that made him lovable as a grown-up.

Jordan was embarrassed for him now.

That whiny voice would get him labeled a total loser at school,
Jordan thought.

“The time agency is working as fast as they can,” JB said, and Jordan had the feeling he was speaking through gritted teeth.

Time agency?
Jordan thought.
As in time travel, like Katherine was talking about before?

It didn't make sense to Jordan. Even if time travel were possible, couldn't someone spend years figuring out what to do—and then come back in time to make the fix? And to everyone else it would look like no time had passed at all?

“You're saying we can't do anything but wait?” This
was the young version of Mom, sounding dismayed. The real, grown-up Mom didn't like waiting or not having anything to do. Normally, if she saw Jordan or Katherine just lying around—when they weren't sick—she'd be like, “Oh, could you help me fold this laundry?” or “Would you stir the soup in the Crock-Pot?” or “Want me to quiz you for your social studies test tomorrow?”

Jordan could hear Mom clearing her throat, the way she always did when she was annoyed.

“And you're saying we have to keep our own son confined to his room and in the dark about everything until we're adults again?” Mom asked. Jordan wanted to cheer. She may have been the wrong age, but at least she was on his side.

“That is what I'm saying.” This was JB again. “All of you need to sit tight and let the experts do their jobs.”

“JB, I thought you'd eased up on thinking experts are the only ones who can solve problems,” Jonah said—it had to be identical-boy Jonah. Except he sounded so calm and authoritative. Jordan could never in a million years imagine his own voice sounding this way. “These are my parents, remember? And they've just met you. Be nice.”

“I know, I know,” JB said, as if Jonah had every right to scold him. “I'm sorry. There's just a lot at stake.”

“Isn't there always?” Katherine asked. Was she
teasing
JB? “But if two totally different dimensions can smash
together, and that's working out, then can't the age problems be okay too?”

Silence. Jordan had a feeling that JB might just be standing there in the kitchen with a look of panic on his face.

“The time agency was able to solve all
your
problems, JB,” Jonah said encouragingly.

What does that mean?
Jordan wondered.

The only thing he could think of was that JB might have had his age messed up too. But how could he have changed back when nobody else did? Anyhow, it was hard to imagine JB as a teenager, so Jordan decided he was probably wrong. He listened even more intently.

“They only risked changing me because the alternative was worse,” JB said.

This was another mysterious statement that didn't help Jordan in the least.

In the kitchen JB let out a heavy sigh.

“What happened with all the un-aging—it was unprecedented,” JB said. “We've got dozens of adults within a one-mile radius who went back to being thirteen-year-olds. An entire middle-school staff is now the same age as the students.”

Does he mean Harris—my school?
Jordan wondered.

It should have been funny to imagine all Jordan's
teachers as thirteen-year-olds. But Jordan didn't feel the least bit like laughing. The way JB was talking, none of this sounded like a joke.

“With every second that ticks by, the likelihood of permanent damage increases,” JB said grimly.

“But why—” Katherine began.

“We don't know!” JB exploded. He seemed to be struggling to control his voice. He continued in a softer tone. “All we can think is that there was something seriously wrong with the Elucidator Charles Lindbergh was using.”

“Elucidator—that's the device that lets people travel through time, right?” Mom asked.

Now even Mom was talking about time travel like it was real.

“Hold on—who's Charles Lindbergh?” Chip asked. “What's he got to do with anything? I thought this was all Gary and Hodge's fault.”

“It was.” This was Jonah again. “But they manipulated Charles Lindbergh into doing some of their dirty work. Lindbergh was a famous pilot from, like, eighty or ninety years ago.”

“He was the one who kidnapped me and turned me back into a baby,” Katherine added.

Why wasn't everyone laughing? None of them were actually taking her seriously, were they? Someone from
eighty or ninety years ago couldn't have kidnapped Katherine. As for turning her into a baby—

That's not any crazier than Mom and Dad looking like teenagers again,
Jordan thought.

He felt dizzy again. He leaned his head against the side of the china cabinet.

Maybe this was all just a dream? Maybe after Mom agreed to let him stay home from school, he'd fallen back asleep—in his normal bed, in his normal room, in his normal life—and everything since then had just been a particularly vivid nightmare?

He missed whatever was said next in the kitchen. Something rang, and JB groaned, “Noooo . . .” Then he muttered, “I'll take care of it.”

Nobody answered him. Had JB maybe been speaking on a cell phone, instead of to the others in the kitchen?

“JB, what's going on?” Angela asked. “They
are
going to be able to fix this, aren't they?”

Jordan strained his ears to hear JB's reply, but there wasn't even a whisper. Jordan turned his head so he could press his ear tightly against the wall.

And then someone grabbed his arm and yanked him out from beside the china cabinet. It was JB.

“Get out from there!” JB snarled. “How much did you hear?”

“Elucidator,” Jordan babbled, as JB's fingers dug into his arm. “Charles Lindbergh. Time travel. And . . . there are bunk beds in my room.”

“Bunk beds? Really?” Katherine said, coming into the dining room behind JB. The others were right behind her.

“Haven't our sons always had bunk beds?” Dad asked. But he was squinting like he really just wanted someone to agree with him, to talk him into the notion.

“Did the time agency put them there, or did it just happen?” Angela asked.

“Is my room his room now too?” Jonah asked. His tone was the opposite of Dad's: He seemed to want someone to tell him no.

“Can we all please just stop talking about beds and rooms and—” JB seemed to be making a visible effort not
to explode completely. He kept a firm grip on Jordan's arm and began angling him back toward the stairs. “I know this is a difficult time for you, Jordan, but remember, you're sick. You're going to go back to sleep, and later you'll just remember that you were delirious, and—”

“Don't do that to my son,” Mom said. She stepped forward and jerked JB's hand away from Jordan's arm.

Whoa, Mom,
Jordan thought. She looked like a middle-school cheerleader—especially since she was wearing a baby-blue sweatshirt of Katherine's that said
CHEER
! in sparkly letters. But she sounded
fierce
.

Mom crossed her arms and faced JB directly.

“You may think you're in charge here, because you're the only one who's an adult right now, and you know more about time travel than the rest of us,” Mom said. “But this is still our house—my, uh, husband's and mine—and there are house rules. It's not fair for you to lie to Jordan like that and make him think he's just imagining things. I won't allow it.”

The kid version of Dad stumbled over beside Mom and clumsily crossed his arms too.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “What she said.”

“Nobody messes with the Skidmore family,” Katherine said, giggling. She sidled up alongside Dad and Mom. “And Jordan probably already heard so much that you might as well tell him everything. And the rest of us too.”

Jordan locked eyes with Jonah, who was still standing on the other side of the dining room table.

See, this is my family. Not yours,
Jordan wanted to say.

Why did he feel mad at Jonah, when JB was the one who'd grabbed him and tried to trick him and send him back to his room?

“JB, maybe some damage just can't be contained,” the tall girl—Angela?—said softly. “Maybe it's not even damage.”

“Sometimes when your troops complain against you, it's not because they're insubordinate,” Chip said. “It's because you're wrong.” He leaned close, as if he were some old man imparting wisdom, not just another teenager. “Ruler to ruler, I'll tell you, sometimes you have to give the people
some
of what they're asking for, lest they seize power for themselves.”

Was he
trying
to sound like some old king from a Shakespeare play or something? And what did he mean by “ruler to ruler”?

JB let out an exasperated-sounding sigh.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Jordan can come back into the kitchen with us. But there are some questions I'm not answering from anybody.”

Everyone trooped back to the kitchen. Jordan noticed that there were five chairs around the kitchen table rather
than the usual four—had someone pulled over an extra one just this morning, or was that another bizarre change that happened when the mysterious bunk beds appeared?

JB glowered at him, and Jordan decided he should stick to important questions, because there was no telling how long he'd be allowed to stay in the kitchen.

“How did you know I was in the dining room?” Jordan asked. “I didn't make any noise.”

Mom and Dad looked as puzzled as Jordan felt. Katherine, Jonah, Chip, and Angela exchanged knowing glances.

“That's something you should know about time travel,” Katherine said. “People from the future can see pretty much anything we do. Anytime.”

“That's creepy,” Mom said, hunching up her shoulders and shivering. “Why isn't that illegal?”

“It typically is in connection with the recent past,” JB said in a soothing tone. “But—”

“I'm confused,” Dad complained, his voice whiny again. “JB wasn't in the future. He was standing right here with the rest of us.
I
didn't hear Jordan make any noise. How
did
JB know he was out of his room?”

“His Elucidator told him,” Katherine explained. “That thing that looks like a cell phone. He got a message from the future.”