by Gillian Chan
“Nah, I’ll stay here, keep an eye on him,” I said, nodding toward Jacob.
Luce smiled. “Careful, Mike,” she said, “you’ll be getting a reputation as a softie.”
I didn’t dignify that with a reply.
As soon as everyone was outside, I went over to Jacob. Without looking up, he said, “You have thought of a way for me to return to the real place.” His voice implied absolute certainty. Great.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Not yet. I don’t get what you mean by ‘you pushed.’”
Jacob’s pencil stopped moving. He became very still. When he finally spoke, there was a tiny pause between each of his words, as if he was weighing them carefully. “Caspar was my brother, but he was also my only friend for so many years. I felt the same love for him as you do for your Jon. When I felt . . .”—there was a much longer pause here, and Jacob’s voice wavered—“his life end, when I felt what Foda had done . . . part of me ended, too.” He put his face in his hands for a moment. “Kat was safe, which was good, but without Caspar by my side everything in my world was black. I did not want to be there. It was like a wind, a huge wind in my head. I let it grow until it was all I could feel. Then I used that wind. I let it blow me away without caring where it would take me. I wanted so badly to be gone.” Tears were forming in Jacob’s eyes. He dashed them away. “Only now that I am here, I don’t want to be. I want to be with Kat. I want it so badly, but I cannot make that strong wind come, only a little breeze.” He looked hopefully at me.
“I think I get it,” I said, “but I’m going to have to think about it some more. How to get that wind feeling back. It’s not like I can beat you up, is it?” He smiled a little at that. “Anyway, if that were all it took, you would have gone back when Paddy and his thugs jumped you. Can you remember anything else, anything at all?”
“Eggs,” Jacob said, “the smell of bad eggs that have been left too long in the chicken house. It came from the water. I did not drink it even though I was thirsty.”
There was a commotion then in the hallway, a voice wailing about a snowball being thrown too hard, one of the littler boys crying, Luce’s voice soothing.
Jacob almost seemed glad of the distraction, but he shifted his arm so that I could see the paper he had been scribbling on. Only it wasn’t scribbling; it was a drawing, an amazing one, so good that it looked almost like a photograph. It showed a little girl, a toddler almost. She had long hair that had been messily braided, and wore a smock-like dress. Her feet were bare. One hand was reaching up to a larger, disembodied hand that was grasping hers tightly. It’s difficult to describe the look on her face. I want to say hopeful, but there was more to it than that: concentrated, desperate, fervent. I could go on. Jacob was a brilliant artist. My spine tingled a little as I recalled the pamphlet: Kat had written that The Prophet drew likenesses of the dead.
“This is Kat,” he said, “and that is my hand.”
I wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, and the hubbub in the hallway was growing as more kids trooped inside.
“Perhaps,” he said, “it will help for us to see Kat, help us take my body back to her.”
The whole thing was so bizarre: I didn’t see that it could hurt. “Who knows, Jacob?” was all I had time to say before the others piled into the room.
I’ll admit I was stymied.
Adam came over to us, cheeks pink and eyes shining. “We built a snowman.” In his excitement, he sounded so much younger than he usually did. “I’ve never played in the snow like that before!” He dropped his voice and looked around like an actor in a bad spy movie. “Did Jacob say anything else? Do you know how we can get him back?”
“Yeah, a bit. I got him to try and explain this ‘pushing’ thing, and I think I get it. It’s like he used his sadness, or his pain, as a wind to blow him away.” Even as I said this I realized how far-fetched it sounded, but Adam was nodding like it made total sense to him.
“It’s not just being sad, though, is it?” Adam was looking very serious now. “If it was that, he’d be long gone, because he must be really sad here, and when they beat him up especially.” With a snort, he continued. “I wish it was that easy, because everyone who’s sad or hurt could be somewhere else, right? Only . . .” He paused, shaking his head sadly. “I don’t know where else I could go.”
There was something in what he said that nagged at me, but I couldn’t tease it out. Not then, anyway.
The rest of Sunday was uneventful. Jacob kept to himself, drawing and being secretive about what he was doing, although no one was interested in it. I didn’t bother him, just watched to make sure no one else did either. Adam was obviously still shit scared of Paddy, because he stayed close to me all day. He inveigled me into a game of chess, which at least stopped him talking all the time about his mother or, worse, asking me about mine. He got me thinking, though. I suspected that over time my mother would visit me less and less—it was too much effort for her, and I was too troublesome to her version of things —and I was okay with that. Once I aged out of the system, I wouldn’t have to see her again, and I wouldn’t. I didn’t need her, not really. It made me think about how the three of us, Jacob, Adam and I, were all sad in our different ways for reasons having to do with our mothers. Jacob’s mother loved him but died. Adam’s mother loved him too much, and I had to wonder just what had caused that and what damage it had done to him, and mine, mine had not been cruel but she was careless in her love of Jon and me. Heavy stuff.
Adam beat me, not because I was distracted but because he was really good at chess. With all the thoughts of family and mothers roiling around in my head, I also kept wondering why Adam’s take on Jacob’s “pushing” bothered me. There was something I was missing.
After dinner that night, when most of the others were watching TV and Jacob had gone up to our room, I sat down with Adam and set up the chessboard again, but really I just wanted to talk to him.
“Adam, you know how you said that Jacob’s emotions must not be enough to let him ‘push’ through time. What else was there, do you think?”
As he toyed with the pawns, moving them around and then putting them back on their proper squares, Adam scrunched his face up. “My mummy read this book to me . . .”
I sighed. I really didn’t want to hear any more about Mummy.
“It was about kids who time-traveled. They had to go to a special place. It was a place where there was a kind of hole.”
“You mean they went into an actual hole, like a tunnel?” That wouldn’t work, not from the description of the place where Jacob had been found.
“No, silly!” Adam was amused by what he obviously considered my stupidity. “They went to a place in the forest where it was like there was a hole in time itself!”
I wanted to punch the air, because it sounded like this might be it. Jacob had tried and tried to go back to his real place since arriving at Medlar House, but it never worked. Could it be that he had to be back at the same place where he first came through?
“You’re from around here, aren’t you?” I asked Adam, who looked puzzled at the change of subject.
“Yes, for the last two years anyway. We were somewhere else before but we had to move away quickly. Why?”
“Did your mother ever take you to the conservation area in Dundas?” It was a long shot, but Adam had mentioned that she took him to places that were free.
“Yeah. We went to the railway station they have there. It’s like a museum. And we walked on some of the trails.”
It was hard to keep my excitement under wraps. “Did you go anywhere where there was a sulphur spring? Where it smelled really bad?” I was holding my breath.
Adam nodded furiously. “There’s a place where a road crosses one of the trails and there’s a brick thing with a water pipe coming out of it. Pee-yew! It’s stinky and there’s yellow stuff where the water h
its the bricks and the ground. Mummy said I shouldn’t touch it, but when she was looking at the trail map I stuck my finger in and tasted it. It was gross!”
I stopped him there. “That’s where Jacob was found. I think you’ve nailed it. We have to get him back there somehow! At least we can try and see if it works.”
“I bet it will!” Adam’s voice was rising.
I put my finger to my lips to get him to tone it down. We didn’t need anyone overhearing this.
“Apart from the brick thing, I bet it’s just like it was in Jacob’s time. The road isn’t even paved, just dirt.” Adam was running with the idea and it gave me hope. “Let’s tell him!”
“Not now, Adam. I’ll see what he thinks tonight, okay? And no sneaking into our room. We can’t do anything that might cause trouble.”
He pouted a bit at that, but eventually nodded.
I went up to our room early and found Jacob sitting on the edge of his bed just staring into space. Looking up, he said, “You will get me back to Kat, yes?”
I had to respect his single-mindedness. “Maybe.” I didn’t want to promise something that I couldn’t deliver. All I had was an idea. “Adam and I were talking about your ‘pushing.’ He thinks you might have to be back at the place where it first happened, by the sulphur spring.”
I watched him closely as he thought about this. He smiled then, a huge, happy grin. “Yes,” he said simply. “That could be.” He lay down then, still smiling. “I just have to wait. Mutt will get me to the real place. Adam helped. Jon said this is how it would be.”
He was smart. He’d pushed the right buttons. I thought I would have difficulty sleeping, given everything that had happened, but, no, it was like the events of the last few days had caught up with me. I was out like a light—no dreams, nothing—until morning.
Jacob had slept well, too, I could tell. His bruises were fading from thundercloud purple to yellow, and despite them, he looked better than I had ever seen him. He had lost that closed-off, haunted look, and, for the first time, he seemed to be taking in his surroundings, watching everything and everyone, touching objects like he was seeing them for the first time. When it was time for the rest of us to head off to school, he was actually sitting in front of the TV, watching something, although what he was going to make of talking aardvarks, God only knew.
Chapter Twelve
My intention for the day was to keep my head down and find out how to get to Sulphur Springs Road. The money issue was also on my mind. We were given lunch money each day to use in the cafeteria, so the obvious move was to skip lunch and pocket it, starting from that day. What can I say, I’m a big guy and it had never occurred to me to voluntarily miss a meal before. By the end of the week, I’d have twenty-five dollars and that should be enough.
Nothing else was out of the ordinary, except that Paddy, perhaps sensing my distraction, and feeling confident that Jacob wasn’t going to blow the whistle on him, had a little more swagger than usual. He was more overt than he had been lately with his bullying of the others. He left me alone, but that was the only sensible thing to do. What was worrisome was that Matt was definitely on the outs with him. Some of Paddy’s shoves and gibes today were for him, and I didn’t like the way Matt was hanging around me as though that would afford him some protection. When we got on the van, I had to throw my backpack down on the seat next to me when I saw Matt making like he was going to flop down there. Paddy, who was behind him, let out a psychotic giggle and elbowed him hard in the kidneys as Matt was forced into the seat behind me. Once we were at school, I stopped worrying about it. Matt and I were in completely different classes, and I didn’t have to see him or think about him.
Going without lunch was hard. My stomach was screaming and twisted in knots by noon. I tried to tame it into submission by drinking water, but that didn’t seem to have much effect. Distracting myself was the only thing that worked, and I used my free time to look up stuff on Mr. Halloran’s computer, mapping a route from Medlar House to Sulphur Springs Road and locating the spring itself. I checked out bus routes, too, and found that we could get within about a mile of the spring, but the rest of the journey would have to be on foot. The safest way to go was through the conservation area. We would be the least likely to be spotted there, and one of the trails actually crossed the road right by the spring. I didn’t risk printing anything off—Halloran was in the room, at his desk—just made notes and drew myself a map that would be good enough.
I also started to formulate a plan—well, more of a schedule. If I didn’t die of starvation, the twenty-five dollars I’d have amassed by the end of the week would cover bus fare and maybe some food should we need it. The difficulty would be getting out of Medlar House. Within reason, we were allowed out as long as we said where we were going and could accurately say when we’d be back, but somehow I didn’t think anyone would let Jacob out without an adult, even if I came up with a plan to take him somewhere and offered to be his guide and guardian. So that ruled out the weekend; there would be a hell of a ruckus if I tried to spirit Jacob away then. I was going to have to sneak him out after lights-out some night and then hope I could get back before anyone noticed that we’d gone. I thought Friday night would be best, since we were allowed to sleep in until nine if we wanted to on Saturdays. Adam, of course, couldn’t come; his roommate would raise the alarm. I wasn’t looking forward to telling him that, nor was I sure how patient Jacob was going to be, but at least I would be giving him a timeline.
If we did manage to get out and the plan, unlikely as it seemed, worked all around, I decided that if I got back unseen, I was going to swear that Jacob had taken off under his own steam in the night without waking me up. No one would be able to prove otherwise, and I would just have to withstand a couple of days of questions from everyone before it was all just added to the mystery of Jacob Mueller.
I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase “the best laid plans of mice and men.” Yeah, nothing worked out, and that’s why I am stuck here trying to sort it all out in my head, trying to decide what I can say when I finally start talking to the cops.
It would be easy to blame it all on Paddy. I’ve kind of been setting him up as the villain through all this, but you know what, it wasn’t just him. Jacob started things, and, God help me, I finished them. That’s probably what’s going to do me in.
Everything seemed routine after school. Jacob was in the van with Chaz when he came to pick us up, and you could tell that Chaz was thrilled about this. For all I know, old Jacob had been talking up a storm all day, though I somehow doubted it. He stuck close to me when we got back to Medlar House, not saying much. Adam was waiting in the hallway when we walked in. I felt like the leader of a pack of small, annoying dogs.
While the others watched television, we sat down at the table and got the chess set out. Adam and I made a half-hearted effort at playing while Jacob watched. What I really wanted to do was tell them about the plan I had come up with and what my research at school had turned up.
To say they liked my scheme was the understatement of the year. Adam in particular was all over it.
“I never spend my allowance, Mike. You can have it. I have fifteen dollars. I’ll go get it now. We can . . .”
I put my hand up, trying to get him to pipe down before he got so excited that people started noticing. “Adam, I’m sorry, but you can’t come.” Thank God he didn’t protest loudly or, worse, start to cry. He just looked at me miserably. I felt so mean. I tried to explain: “You have a roommate. He’ll report you missing.”
“No, no,” Adam insisted, keeping his voice low. “I’ll beg him not to.”
“We can’t take the risk. I promise I’ll be back before it’s time to get up in the morning. I won’t let you down.” This sounded feeble even to me.
Jacob spoke then, which surprised us both. Our surprise grew when he leaned toward Adam and took his hand where it was res
ting next to the chessboard. “Adam, your mother has told me where you must go. You have a grandfather, her father, who helped her hide you by sending money to her. She meant to tell you, tell you his name and where he lives, but she had no time. She got so sick, so very sick, so fast.”
Adam’s mouth hung open. “She never said. She told me we were all alone.”
I couldn’t tell whether the look on his face was anger or sadness.
“Once a month, she got a letter,” Adam continued. “A small brown envelope. I asked her about it, but she said it was just a magazine. She was lying to me.”
It was definitely anger now.
“She says she did not mean to hurt you, Adam.” Jacob was awkwardly patting the smaller boy’s hand. “She believed that there were people who would do harm to both of you. It was not a true belief, though, not at all. It came from a sick place in her mind. But Mike will help you. He will help you pretend that you have just remembered about your grandfather now. You have been sad and it has been hard, and they will believe that you have only just remembered.”
Mike the hero, rescuer of young orphans and lost time-travelers! I suppose I should have been flattered that they both had so much faith in me.
It did the trick: Adam accepted that he would not be coming with us, that I would come back and help get him out of Medlar House, too. He scooted off to his room to fetch his stash of money.
At dinner, Jacob was not only calm, he was positively voluble, asking for more mashed potatoes and even giving Chaz something other than “That I do not remember” when he asked if potatoes had always been one of his favorites. With a sly glance at me, he said, “Yes, I have always liked them. I have liked them for a very long time.”
When it was time for bed, everyone headed upstairs. Lights-out came and went, and I was drifting off to sleep when Jacob got up and said he had to go to the bathroom.
I was dozing, so I didn’t think about it at first, but after a while I realized that he’d been gone about ten minutes. I listened, but it seemed quiet in the hall. I was just about to go look for him when our bedroom door opened and Matt’s white face appeared.
