Your Gravity: Part Two

by L. G. Castillo

  Your Gravity

  Part Two

  L.G. CASTILLO

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Your Gravity - Part Three

  Also by L.G. CASTILLO

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2015 by L.G Castillo

  Your Gravity - Part Two

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express written permission of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Image and Cover Design: www.maeidesign.com

  Editor: Kristie Stramaski with EKS Edits

  Chapter One

  1984

  Damn, Greg had really outdone himself with this prank. It was stupid for him to spend so much money, but the man had talent. He’d thought of every single detail to make it look like it was 1984. For a moment there, I’d almost fallen for it.

  “Okay, Greg. You can come out now. Ha, ha. Very funny.”

  I dashed through the house, opening and closing doors, yelling out his name as I searched for him. I imagined Greg hiding with Penny in one of the bedroom closets, bribing her with a juicy worm to keep quiet.

  My stomach sank with each door I opened. Everything looked different and normal at the same time. There were no funky fishnets hanging from the living room ceiling, no neon-colored walls, no beanbags or fluffy pillows on the floor. There was actual furniture, and the walls were a boring beige. Everything that had made Rainbow’s house special was gone.

  “Done playing hide and seek with your imaginary friend yet?” Charlie asked when I walked back into the kitchen. She placed a plate of eggs and bacon on the counter.

  “Your eggs are getting cold.”

  Wow. An actress who cooked too. I wondered if that had cost Greg extra.

  “You’re looking a little pale. Are you all right?”

  Charlie reached over and placed a hand on my forehead. Her brow furrowed with concern.

  I shrank back from her touch, a touch that shouldn’t have felt familiar.

  “Sorry, but I don’t know you.”

  “Nicole, what are you—?”

  I grabbed what I assumed to be Rainbow’s purse dangling from the back of a kitchen chair. Taking out a couple of tens, I handed them to her. “I’m guessing Greg already paid you upfront. Here’s a tip. I know actors don’t make much, especially in small college towns.”

  I was sure Rainbow wouldn’t mind. She was obviously in on the prank too and was probably taking extra time on her morning bike ride. I expected her to waltz into the kitchen at any moment.

  Blank brown eyes stared into mine as I held up the bills. A clock ticked in the background, making me shiver because Rainbow only had digital clocks. I shoved that fact to the back of my mind.

  Finally, Charlie’s eyes crinkled and she tossed her head back laughing. “Oh my god, Nicole! You’re too much.”

  She laughed so hard, tears streamed down her cheeks. She walked past me, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.

  “When you’re done trying to buy me off with my own money, would you put it into the rent jar? And don’t forget to ask for an advance on your pay. We’re behind on the light bill. Oh! And I’ll be working late again at the shelter, so don’t wait for me. I’ll catch a ride.”

  She left me in the middle of the kitchen, jaw hanging open and hand in midair.

  I fought the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was not real. There was no way it was 1984. No one just goes to sleep tipsy and wakes up in a different decade!

  All right, so I was drunk. But still. Time travel was impossible.

  Wasn’t it?

  I picked up the radio, searching every nook and cranny for something—anything—to prove me wrong. No such luck. It was a plain radio.

  As I held it, a commercial came on for a local movie theater announcing tickets sales for a new release—A Nightmare on Elm Street.

  No.

  I dropped the radio back onto the counter, staring at it like it was going to bite me. This entire situation was like a nightmare.

  Wait. That was it. I was having another one of my nightmares.

  I pinched myself. Hard.

  “Son of a bitch! That hurts!”

  Nothing. Still here.

  Rubbing my wounded arm, I spotted a mason jar labeled “Rent.” I snatched it off the shelf, stuffed the cash into it, and dashed to my bedroom. I’d just done the laundry and hung a couple of Sheryl Crow concert T-shirts in the closet yesterday.

  I went into the closet, rifling through clothes that appeared to be in my size but couldn’t possibly be mine. Jordache blue jeans? Who wears those? Polo shirts in colors so bright they were burning my retinas. And what was with all the ruffled blouses?

  I flipped through each blouse, shaking my head. Ruffles around the collar, ruffles down the front, ruffles along the wrists, short sleeve ruffles, and long sleeve ruffles. There were even shirts with puffy shoulders and shoulder pads.

  I pulled out a white blouse with puffy sleeves, ruffles, and shoulder pads. I shuddered. There was no freakin’ way these clothes were mine.

  Tossing the blouse aside, I grabbed the least offensive clothing, a pink oxford shirt, and threw on a pair of jeans. The zipper only went half way up. I groaned. This was so not my day.

  I hopped around, sucking in a breath as I tugged on the zipper.

  Zip up, damn it.

  Zip.

  Up.

  The zipper finally skated up just as I banged into the desk, scattering papers and pencils. I gasped, wondering how Gianna breathed wearing her skintight jeans.

  That’s when I saw it. An unfamiliar chemistry textbook lay open with notes written in the margins in my handwriting.

  No way!

  I always took notes on my laptop when I studied so I could sell back my textbooks. Those things were expensive.

  I picked up the text and brushed my finger over the scribbles and crisp pages. Blood rushed from my face. There was no doubt about it. It was my handwriting.

  I flipped the book to the copyright page. And there was again. That number. Taunting me.

  I snapped the book shut. The slick cover shone under the light as if it were brand new.

  “Are you ready? Since you’re running late, drop me off at Magic. I’ll hoof it to work from there.”

  My eyes flicked to Charlie.

  “This is my room,” I said.

  She wrinkled her brow. “Uh, yeah.”

  “And you’re my roommate?”

  She marched over to me and pressed her fingers against my eyelid, stretching it open. “Did you get into the mushrooms again? I told you not to take anything from that boss of yours. Those mushrooms are not for cooking.”

  Kind brown eyes gazed at me with concern. She wasn’t acting. And I was wide-awake.

  Maybe.

  My eyes darted from the red spot on my arm to her creamy one.

  Aww, what the hell. Go for broke.

  I pinched her.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  She pinched me back.

  Nope. Not a dream.

  I sighed. What could I tell her? That I had no clue what she was talking about, that I thought I was having a nightmare about being from the future and had somehow landed in 1984, but pinching
hadn’t worked on me, so for some crazy reason I thought it’d work if I pinched her?

  “Sorry, I’m a bit off today,” I said instead.

  “You think? Come on.” She took hold of my arm and led me to the front door. “I need to get my ass to The Phoenix House in fifteen minutes.”

  “The Phoenix House?”

  “Boy, you really are out of it. It’s the name of the women’s shelter I work at, remember? You drop me off every Sunday when you go in for your shift. No more mushrooms for you. I don’t care what Lou says.”

  “Lou?” I crossed my fingers, hoping that it was the same Lou who owned Jitters, Rainbow’s friend. If he was the same person, maybe he could explain what was going on.

  “Yeah Lou, your boss. You know what? Maybe I should drive.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’ll put the car’s top down. I could use the fresh air—”

  I froze on the bottom porch step, shocked at what I saw. If there was any hope at all left in my mind that I was still experiencing Greg’s mind-blowing prank, it was gone now.

  The house was white with light gray paint around the windowpanes. Everything was fresh and new. The front lawn was freshly cut. Flowers lined the sidewalk to the house. It looked nothing like Rainbow’s house. It looked normal. Even the graveled driveway was gone.

  And so was my car!

  “Where’s my car?”

  “Your car? What’re you talking about, and where are my shades?” Charlie ducked her head as she rifled through her purse. “I swear I put them in here yesterday.”

  “My beamer. My Z3. Where is it?”

  Her head popped up, big round sunglasses sitting on her perky nose. She broke out laughing.

  “You’re such a hoot! That’s a good one. BMW.” She shook her head as she made a beeline to a red moped that sat in the middle of the lawn.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Hop on your ‘beamer’ and let’s get going.” She swept her arm over the bike like a model showcasing a prize.

  Oh my god. Someone shrank my beamer.

  And stripped it.

  And stole two tires.

  I gawked at the moped. Greg better hope that I actually did go back in time. Replacing my Z with this thing was so not funny.

  I took a deep breath. It didn’t look like Greg or Rainbow was going to pop out of the bushes yelling “surprise” anytime soon. So I was just going to have to go with the flow. If this was a dream, it was a very interesting one. Better than the ones where I was lost in the fog and a lot more entertaining. I was curious to see what was going to happen next.

  “Okay, where are the helmets?” I swung a leg over the moped, wondering if I could drive this thing without killing us both.

  Charlie busted out laughing again.

  “You’re killing me. I take it back. You can have some more of Lou’s mushrooms again, but this time give me some all right?” She dangled a key in front of me. “Helmets. That’s hilarious.”

  I snatched the key and placed it into the ignition, remembering that the 80s weren’t big on safety like wearing seat belts and helmets. Why couldn’t I dream like a normal person? Like oh, I don’t know, in the present decade! Anything close to 2002 would’ve been nice.

  The streets on the way to campus were familiar. The only difference was that everything looked newer and cleaner. When we got to the bridge that led to campus, I jammed on the brakes, and we almost toppled over.

  “What the hell, Nicole?” Charlie cried.

  I stared at the bridge railing, the silver gleaming under the sun. Black birds sat on a guardrail, the same guardrail that had been missing from the accident. When Travis and I had crossed the bridge last night, the huge gap was still there with only construction cones and tape filling it. Even if someone had managed to replace the missing guardrail overnight, it didn’t explain how the rest of the railing looked so new.

  “The guardrail. How did they fix it so fast? It’s like new.”

  “Yeah, they finally finished installing it last week. They were pretty fast about it too. I thought they’d take longer.”

  “But there was a hole there from the accident.”

  “There was not. Seriously, Nicole. We’ve only driven by this bridge every single day since the beginning of the semester. Yesterday you said that the birds creep you out. Remember?”

  I swallowed back the bile that crept up my throat as I stared at the guardrail. The birds gazed back as if studying me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. There was no denying it now. This wasn’t a prank, and I wasn’t dreaming. Somehow, someway, I had gone back in time.

  And I had no clue how to go back to 2002.

  Chapter Two

  After Charlie had left for the women’s shelter, I stood, jaw hanging open again, in front of the exact same spot where Jitters was supposed to be. Instead of looking through the clear storefront windows into a coffee shop, the windows were blacked out and had the words Magic Roller Rink written across them.

  Across the street where Club Vortex should’ve been was a large park with kids playing on . . . what was that?

  I squinted at the glare coming from the large metal dome some of the kids were climbing. Whoa! It was a metal jungle gym dome. Then I realized that everything in the park was metal: the merry-go-round, the spiral slide, and the monkey bars.

  A couple of boys stood on a metal bar on the foot of the monkey bars. Their hands slapped against the bars as they raced across its length. Another pair of boys yelled at each other as they played tetherball. The chain clanked against the metal pole as it swirled around it. On the swings, a girl with strawberry-blond hair in pigtails swung high, kicking her legs up, throwing her head back as she sang.

  A shiver ghosted up my spine at the familiar, high-pitched giggles. I’d heard them before.

  I shook my head. This was so unreal. Of all the places I could’ve been, why did I go back in time to here? I didn’t grow up in Texas.

  I opened the door to Magic, hoping Lou would have some answers.

  I walked to the counter, taking in everything that was different and the same. The counter was at the same place, but instead of ice cream there were shelves with roller skates for rent. Where the small stage and tables and chairs once were, there was large roller rink. A few teenagers rolled around the dim rink. Pop music blared from the speakers, and in the center of the rink hung a spinning disco ball.

  I gasped. It was the same ball I’d seen in my dream.

  “Good, you’re here. Will you take over the counter? I have to go over the books.”

  I sighed with relief at the sound of the familiar voice. It was Lou.

  With hair.

  In a mullet.

  Lou had mullet hair!

  “Rough night?” Lou eyed me carefully as I gawked at him.

  Look away from the hair.

  I couldn’t stop staring. It was thinning at the top, but the back was long, hanging in waves around the collar of his Hawaiian shirt.

  “Uh, yeah. I mean, I have a bit of a headache.” That was an understatement. “But I can take over the . . . you know.”

  Yeah, I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

  “If you need help, ask.”

  Boy, do I need help. I was about to ask him if he knew where I’d come from when I stopped myself. I couldn’t ask him that. I’d sound crazy. There had to be a more round about way of asking him without directly asking him.

  Oh god, this was so confusing. I rubbed my temples. The combination of my hangover and all the bright colors everyone wore was giving me a bigger headache.

  The job didn’t seem difficult. There was a large sign behind the counter noting the price of admission with and without roller skates. For those who wanted to rent, it was a matter of getting their shoe sizes. A mixture of teens and college students came inside, keeping me busy.

  I was putting up a pair of roller skates when the little girl I’d seen in the park earlier ran up to the counter.

  “I can’t find Ethel. Can you
help me find her?” Her pink cheeks were streaked with tears.

  I went around the counter and knelt down to her eye level. She had the most beautiful light brown eyes.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I said. “I’ll help you find her. Do you think she’s in here?”

  She nodded. “She likes skating.”

  “Okay, do you know her last name?”

  “Arlana.” Her lower lip quivered.

  “Ethel Arlana. Okay, let me see if I can get a hold of her. Maybe she’s still skating.” I looked around the skating rink for an older woman. I couldn’t imagine any of the teens in the rink would be named Ethel.

  “Lou. There’s a little girl looking for someone.”

  “Use the mic.” He pointed his pencil to a microphone near a stereo system. He took a bite of his apple, scratching his head as he studied the ledger sitting in front of him.

  I went behind the counter and tapped on the mic. It gave a loud pop.

  “Ethel Arlana.” My voice echoed in the rink. “There’s a little girl looking for you.”

  I turned to the girl. “What’s your name?”

  “Caroline.”

  “Ethel Arlana. There’s a Caroline up front for you.”

  A couple of girls giggled at the announcement. I scowled. Some people could be so rude. I didn’t know if they were laughing at the name or that a little girl was lost. Either way, they weren’t nice at all.

  “Caroline, what are you doing here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  The male voice calling out the little girl’s name was not who I was expecting and he definitely did not look like an Ethel.

  I turned to face the most stunning blue eyes, familiar blue eyes, blue eyes that haunted me, blue eyes that belonged to a man who pulled me to him like no other.

  “Cooper,” I breathed.

  It couldn’t be him, could it? Those eyes were the exact same intoxicating blue that drew me to Cooper every time. He looked so young; he couldn’t have been more than eighteen.

  I quickly calculated the time from 2002 to 1984. It was entirely possible that I’d run into a younger version of Cooper, a kinder, gentler version. He did say that he’d attended Texas State as a student before leaving to do his graduate work.