Timeless (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

Once in the kitchen, Drew grabbed a trash bag and filled a bucket with sink water, telling me to wait there before bringing both items into the living room. I collapsed into a chair at the table, unable to clear my mind of what the crow looked like as it fell into the flames. I couldn’t erase the helpless look in its eyes as it struggled, squirming as it burned alive, its little body becoming still when it stopped fighting. 

I got myself a glass of ice water, needing to do something while I waited for Drew to “take care of the problem.” I heard the sizzling as he dumped the bucket of water into the fire. A minute later, the back door opened. Drew must be getting rid of the carcass.

I shivered at the thought.

I walked around the island in the kitchen while I finished my water, needing to keep moving. Didn’t crows know better than to fly into smoking chimneys? Didn’t that go against every basic instinct of survival?

And why was this filling me with dread—like it was the beginning of something terrible? It was an irrational thought, but as much I tried, I couldn’t shake it.

Drew came back into the kitchen a few minutes later. “It’s taken care of,” he said. He dropped the empty bucket on the floor and washed his hands, using more soap than necessary and scrubbing his skin extra hard.

I waited for him to turn off the faucet before speaking. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”

“Never.” Drew dried his hands on the towel next to the sink. “It must have been a freak accident. Birds know better than to fly down smoking chimneys. Survival sense, you know?”

“Survival of the fittest,” I quoted what I was learning in my Advanced Genetics class. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Hey.” Drew walked over and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. “It’ll be okay. It was just an accident.”

“I know.” I closed my eyes and breathed in the familiar pine scent of Drew’s cologne. “I just have a weird feeling about it, that’s all.”

“What kind of ‘weird feeling?’” He ran his fingers through my curls, and I relaxed at his touch. Being close to Drew was already making me feel better.

I pulled back from his embrace and looked into his eyes. “We’re safe now, right?” I asked. “After we stopped the accident from repeating itself … we have a second chance. A real chance. Everything’s supposed to be okay now. Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Drew said, confident and sure. “We prevented the past from paralleling the present. You’re going to be fine. What happened in the fireplace wasn’t anything supernatural. It was a freak accident. That’s all.”

“Okay.” I nodded, wanting to believe him. “No more fireplaces for a while though, all right?” I laughed, trying to lighten up, but it didn’t change how I felt like there was something bad in the air. Something dark.

I had to be imagining it. Seeing the bird roasting to death was playing with my mind. Once I showered and slept, I would wake up tomorrow and everything would be normal.

“Deal.” Drew laughed with me, but then his eyes turned serious. “Do you want me to drive you home tonight? You’re still shaking … maybe you shouldn’t be driving.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” I straightened and placed the empty water glass in the sink. “Besides, I need my car in the morning so I can get to school.”

“Speaking of that,” Drew said. “Since we’re an official couple now, and your house is on my way to school, I was thinking I should pick you up from now on. But only if that’s okay with you, of course.”

“I would like that,” I replied.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “If you think it’s too soon for Jeremy and Chelsea to see that, I understand.”

“I’m more than sure,” I said, stronger now. “I would love for you to drive me to school.”

For a moment, all thoughts of the bird burning alive left my mind. Now that Drew and I were together, everything in my life was finally falling into place.

If only my best friend didn’t hate me, then everything would be perfect.

CHAPTER 3

Drew walked me to my car, even though it was below freezing outside, and kissed me goodnight. Now that Drew and I were together, I couldn’t imagine how I had dated Jeremy for so long. I probably should have broken up with him before I did—okay, I know I should have broken up with him before I did—but it wasn’t that easy. I’d known Jeremy forever. Even though he changed when everyone at school realized he was an incredible soccer player, I remembered who he was before. When he was the boy who I played with in the sandbox in elementary school, when he sat with me in every class we had together in middle school, and when he asked me to the Valentine’s Day Dance in eighth grade, even though he was nervous to do so.

At one point, I really did love him, even though that love was different from the magical, everlasting love that existed between Drew and me. Jeremy was my first love, and I will never forget that. Having that relationship made me appreciate what I have with Drew even more.

I got into my RAV-4, waving to Drew standing outside the double door entrance to his house. The full moon shined gently against his skin, the tips of his dark hair glowing with the light. He smiled, and I was happy all over again about how everything had worked out—how Drew and I had crossed paths in this life and could be together.

I still found it hard to believe that reincarnation existed, and that magic was real. I’d always believed in an afterlife, but now with the memories that were slowly returning to me with every passing day, I had proof that there was more than just this life—that the soul lived on after the body died.

It was incredible to think about.

The ten-minute drive back to my house was relaxing, since I didn’t have to take main roads. I turned my iPod to the playlist Drew made for me a few days ago. I usually listened to whatever was on the radio, but I liked the songs Drew picked for me. They were mostly by alternative rock bands that weren’t famous, but were still talented.

As I drove, I barely had to think about the turns. The drive was so ingrained into my memory that I was on autopilot. I could just enjoy the music and get lost in the words and melodies.

At least that’s what I normally did. Tonight, I couldn’t get the image of the bird burning to death in the fireplace out of my mind. It looked like it was in so much pain in its final moments. I hated that I hadn’t been able to do anything other than watch it die.

Then there was that dark, sinister feeling surrounding the incident. It felt wrong. Like a sign, almost. 

I decided to play a game with myself—a game of fate. If the bird wasn’t a sign, the traffic light around the next turn would be green. If it was a sign, the traffic light would be red.

I made the turn, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding when the green light shined ahead.

The bird wasn’t a sign.

Then the light turned to yellow, changing to red before I reached it. No cars were coming from the other way, but I had to stop. 

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel as I waited for the light to return to green. What did this mean? It was green when I first saw it, but then it became red before I could pass.

Was the bird a sign or not?

This was silly. Logically, I knew the color of a traffic light couldn’t give me the answer I needed. I was freaking out over nothing. But the night felt darker, the emptiness of the streets putting me on edge. My skin prickled under the sleeves of my jacket, and I turned the heat up, as if the warm air blowing against my cheeks could erase the unease that filled me.

I wanted to get home and go to sleep, so I could wake up and start fresh tomorrow.

The light turned green, and I hurried across the intersection, wanting to get away from it as fast as possible. Glancing at the speedometer, I noticed I was going ten miles per hour faster than the speed limit, and made myself slow down. I hated speeding. It was reckless, and there was no reason to rush home. My mom wasn’t strict about my curfew, as long as I was back around the general time we agreed on. She would say it was more important to be a safe driver and get home five minutes late than to rush and be there on time.

Once the traffic light disappeared from the view of my rearview mirror, I realized how ridiculous I had been about that “sign” nonsense, and made myself relax. Fate was bigger than a stupid game I invented on the spot.

Then chills passed through me, and three blobs of black arched through the sky towards my car. I identified them as crows seconds before they reached my windshield. I slammed the brakes, the tires screeching against the pavement, but it didn’t help me avoid impact. The birds thumped as they hit the glass.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see their broken bodies on the hood of my car. I could feel the rising and falling of my chest, and hear the heaviness of my breathing over the music playing in the background. But everything outside was still.

At least I had stopped without hitting anything big, like another car, or a tree.

Realizing it wasn’t safe to remain stopped in the middle of the road, I opened my eyes to survey the damage. There were three circles of shattered glass on the windshield where the bodies of the birds had collided with it, cracks coming out of each one like spiderwebs. Luckily, I didn’t see their bodies anywhere. They must have deflected off the car from the impact. I was glad, since I couldn’t handle seeing more than one dead bird in a single night.

Even though I was five minutes away from my house, I pulled over to the side of the road to collect myself. I made myself breathe steadily, focusing on slowing my heartbeat to a normal pace. I had to calm down.

I wanted to call my mom, or Drew, but I knew what they would tell me—to try to relax, and when I felt better to continue home, being extra careful. There wasn’t much else I
could
do.

Once I was calm enough to drive, I continued down the road to my house. I tried not to think about the crows coming toward my windshield, but the three bird-size circles where they had cracked the glass didn’t allow the image to leave my mind.

What did this mean? One incident with a crow I could pass off as an accident. But two?

It had to be a sign.

And I doubted it meant good things to come.

CHAPTER 4

Just got home
, I texted Drew after pulling into the garage.

He liked me to let him know when I got back if I was driving somewhere myself. He said he worried about me otherwise. It was sweet of him—one of the many things he did that let me know how much he loved me.

Glad to know you got home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow morning
, he replied.

My fingers hovered over the screen. I didn’t want him to worry about the crows—I was all right, and that was what mattered—but it wasn’t something I should keep from him.

Something weird happened on the way back—three crows hit my windshield. I’m okay, but my windshield, not so much.
I pressed send.

Another incident with crows?
His response came quickly. 

Yeah, it’s weird
, I texted back.
But I don’t want to think about it too much right now. I just want to go to sleep.

I understand
, he replied.
I’m glad you’re okay. We’ll take your car in to get fixed sometime this week. I love you.

I smiled when I read his text.
See you tomorrow
, I sent back to him.
I love you. Always and forever.

It was good he was driving me to school tomorrow, because while I made it home fine tonight, I didn’t want to drive with my windshield the way it was. The glass hadn’t broken, but I worried the cracks would become worse and combust while I was driving. It wasn’t worth testing my luck, especially since luck wasn’t on my side tonight.

My hands shook as I opened the door to the house, and I was glad to be home. Compared to Drew’s, my house was tiny, but it was more than enough space for my mom and me. We may not have fancy antique furniture, but the worn hardwood floors and mash up of pieces my mom and I discovered at the local consignment shops were always welcoming.

I found my mom in the kitchen, pouring herself coffee. I assumed it was decaf. She looked perfectly poised, her dark blonde hair sprayed in a shoulder length bob, and she had on the semi-stylish but sensible brown pants suit she wore to work.

I said hi to her, unable to get rid of the jittery feeling coursing through my body.

“Is everything okay?” she asked when she saw me, her eyebrows creasing in concern.

My mom could always tell when something was off with me. It was probably because she was a psychiatrist. It was her job to sense when people needed to talk.

Or maybe it was because she was my mom, and mothers can tell when something is bothering their daughter.

“Three birds hit my windshield when I was driving home tonight,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “It freaked me out a little, but I’m okay. Just … shaken.”

She placed her coffee down on the counter, her lips forming into a circle of surprise. “They flew right into your windshield?” she asked. “While you were driving?”

“Yeah.” I walked to the display of coffees and teas and picked one labeled Sleepytime. “I was freaked out, but there were no other cars on the road when it happened, so I didn’t hit anyone. I was just spooked, I guess.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “I’m fine. But I can’t say the same for my windshield. Drew’s going to take me to get it fixed later this week.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Because I wanted to talk with you about something important. If you’re not up for it, I understand, but it’s something I want to discuss before you go to school tomorrow.”

I wanted to go to bed, but now that she mentioned wanting to “discuss something important with me,” there was no way I was going to be able to fall asleep without knowing what it was.

I glanced at my watch to see what time it was, only to be reminded again that the battery wasn’t working. Yet another thing I needed to get fixed. I checked the time on the microwave instead. 10:20.

I liked to be well-rested for school, which meant getting a full eight hours of sleep, and even if I went to sleep right now I wouldn’t be getting that. A couple of weeks ago I sneaked out a few times to spend time with Drew, and I was tired in school for days afterward. While spending time with Drew in secret was exciting, now that we didn’t have to hide our relationship, we decided it was best to not sneak out. He didn’t want my mom finding out and not liking him for “being a bad influence,” and it was getting too cold for midnight rendezvous on the lake, anyway.

“We can talk about it now,” I said, suppressing a yawn. I took my cup of tea out from the instant hot and blew in it. It smelled delicious, but I had to wait a few minutes to drink it so I didn’t burn my tongue.

“Okay, good,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

I joined her, worrying what this was about. Did I get in trouble at school? I couldn’t think of anything I could have done, since I wasn’t a trouble-maker. Maybe I did poorly on my Advanced Genetics test last week, and Mrs. Sharon called my mom to let her know? I had been distracted recently with the drama between me, Drew, Chelsea, and Jeremy, but school was important to me, so I didn’t let my personal problems interfere with my studying. I doubted that was it. So what could it be?

“What’s up?” I asked, trying my tea. It was too hot, and it burned going down my throat.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to put it out there.” She cleared her throat and took a sip of coffee. “I’m seeing someone, and it’s getting serious.”    

That wasn’t what I was expecting right then, but I wasn’t surprised, either. I relaxed at the realization that I wasn’t in trouble, and that I wouldn’t have to be the one who asked my mom about whoever she’s been dating.

“I had a feeling you were seeing someone,” I said. “I wanted to ask you about it, but you were being so secretive and I had no idea how to bring it up.”

“I’m sorry about that.” She laughed. “It’s just that you know him, and I didn’t want to make things strange for you until I knew it would work out between us. But things have been going great, so I figured it was time you knew.”

“So,” I said, leaning forward. “Who’s the guy?” I took another sip of tea as I waited for her to tell me—it was the perfect temperature now.

“Tyler Givens.”

I gasped and choked on my tea. She didn’t say anything as she waited for me to stop coughing.

“Tyler Givens … as in Chelsea’s dad?” I clarified once I could breathe again.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Chelsea’s dad.”

“Wow …” I took a moment to soak this in. My mom and Chelsea’s dad had known each other for a while—they went to high school together—but I had never pictured them
together
. But now that she mentioned it, I saw how it could work. They were both professionals—he a lawyer and she a doctor—and before Chelsea and I got licenses and they had to drop us off at each other’s houses, they did get along well.

But being able to chit-chat for ten minutes and seriously dating were completely different.

The biggest problem with my mom dating Mr. Givens was that Chelsea wanted nothing to do with me anymore. If I thought things were awkward with Chelsea now, they were going to get worse once her dad broke this news to her. She would probably twist this into a reason to hate me more.

“I know you and Chelsea are working through some difficulties right now,” my mom said. “But Tyler invited us to Thanksgiving dinner this Thursday at his house, and I was hoping you would consider going.”

I stared at her with wide eyes. First of all, it was strange that my mom and Mr. Givens were on first name basis. I supposed this should have been obvious since they were “seriously dating,” but it was different to hear her refer to him that way out loud. Secondly, Chelsea basically kicked me out of her house when I tried to apologize yesterday. She wasn’t going to be happy that her dad invited me and my mom to their Thanksgiving dinner.

“I understand if you don’t want to go,” my mom said, although I could tell from the hopeful look in her eyes that she wanted me to say otherwise. “So I told him I would ask you before giving a definite yes.” 

I wanted to say absolutely not, without giving it any more thought, but I knew better than that. My mom knew about what had happened between Chelsea, Drew, and me—how Drew dated Chelsea first, broke up with her for me, and now Drew and I were dating. I told her after getting home from Drew’s when he gave me the bracelet last night, and she took it well. (Although I did, of course, leave out the reincarnation stuff).

She made sure I didn’t allow anything to happen with Drew until after he broke up with Chelsea, and I told her the truth, that he broke up with her first. She was proud of me for not allowing cheating to happen. She also said it reflected well on Drew’s character, because lots of guys in high school cheat on their girlfriends. She can’t give me any names, but some girls from Beech Tree are her patients, and they talk with her about their boyfriend problems. It was strange knowing that girls from your school talked with your mom about personal issues, but that’s something you have to accept when it’s your mom’s profession.

The best part about telling my mom everything was that she didn’t make me feel like I was in the wrong for dating Drew after he was with Chelsea. She also told me that it made sense Chelsea was upset, but she wouldn’t be mad at me forever.

She wouldn’t have asked me about Thanksgiving dinner unless it was important to her.

“I guess it’s okay,” I said, even though I was worried about seeing Chelsea in a situation like that. There would be only four of us in the room, and no escaping conversing with each other.

At least our parents would be around, so she would have to be civil. But when Chelsea got upset, you never knew what she would do. I remembered one time in ninth grade when Joanna Rowland called Chelsea a slut on her blog. Chelsea got mad, so she anonymously contacted Joanna’s parents and told them about the blog (where Joanna also discussed sneaking out to go to parties and other things her parents didn’t know about). Joanna was grounded for months. That was the end of her social life that year, and all because she upset Chelsea.

I hoped that because Chelsea and I used to be best friends, the worst she would do was not talk to me for a while. But with Chelsea, you never knew.

“Are you sure?” my mom asked. “I understand if you’re not up for it yet.”

“Yes,” I lied. “I’m sure.”

“Maybe this will be good for your friendship with Chelsea.” My mom smiled. “You two were so close … and Thanksgiving is the time for forgiveness.”

She sure was chipper. I supposed she was happy because she had finally told me about dating Mr. Givens. Correction: Tyler. Ugh. Could my mom have picked anyone more inconvenient to date? I didn’t have a problem with Mr. Givens—he was friendly, and a great dad to Chelsea and her older sister Tiffany—but the timing couldn’t have been worse. 

“Maybe it will be.” I forced a smile that I doubted was believable. Then I yawned. “I’m tired, though,” I said. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“All right,” my mom said. “Do you want me to drive you to school tomorrow since your windshield needs to be fixed?”

“Drew said he’ll pick me up,” I told her. “Even before my car got messed up.”

“He seems like a good kid,” she said. “One of these days I’m going to want to meet him. Dinner or something.”

“Sure,” I said, even though I had no idea how that would go.

Hey, Mom, I forgot to tell you something. Drew and I are reincarnated. We fell in love in 1815 in England, but then I died at sixteen in a carriage accident. Now that we’ve been reborn, we have a second chance to be together without death getting in the way. Cool, right?

She would think I needed to become one of her patients.

I made my way upstairs, glad I would be in bed within the next few minutes. Then, as I took the final step to the second floor, a framed picture of me at eight years old in a puffy red dress standing next to a Christmas tree clattered to the ground.

It made me jump, but at least it didn’t sound like the glass shattered.

I picked it up, expecting the back of the frame to be broken, but everything was fine. Putting it back onto the nail, I told it to stay. I let go once satisfied it was firmly in place.

Looking at the picture made me smile—my mom got me a huge Playmobile dollhouse that year. The giant box was behind me, waiting to be unwrapped. It was one of the best Christmases ever. 

I yawned again, and walked to my room. But before I could close the door, I heard another bang near the stairs.

The picture next to the Christmas one had fallen—this one of me holding my diploma after my eighth grade graduation.

One picture randomly falling off the wall I assumed was an accident. But two?

I hung it back in its place. Just like the other picture, nothing was broken, and it went back up easily. It was as though someone—or some
thing
—had knocked it off the wall on purpose.