Whispers From the Grave

by Leslie Rule

“Jenna,” Rita said helplessly. “Please!” But I was angrily stomping away, pausing only to kick over Ben’s beer.

  “Hey!” he cried. “Watch what you’re doing!”

  “Whoops,” I said sarcastically. “Was that your beer? I didn’t see it.”

  “What’s your problem?” Ben snarled.

  “What’s yours?” I retorted.

  Shane came around the bend, confused to find me arguing with his best friend. “Mellow out, you guys,” he said and turned to me. “Why did you take off like that?”

  “Didn’t you hear my sister scream?”

  “Girls are always screaming.” He sounded unconcerned. “I thought some guy threw his girlfriend in the water or put a crab in her hair.”

  I was the only one who recognized danger. The only one who knew this night could spell murder. But everyone thought I was paranoid.

  For the rest of the evening, Shane watched me curiously as I watched Rita. I didn’t dare let her out of my sight again.

  I was exhausted from worry when we finally got home. But sleep would not take me. Each time I shut my eyes, an image of a troubled little boy filled my mind. Chuck was heading straight for tragedy and no one cared.

  How could I save him? Wasn’t there anything I could do?

  He was so possessive of the box in the tree house. Was that where he kept his precious firecrackers?

  As Rita softly snored, her long hair splayed out on the pillow, I climbed out the window and down the tree. With the moon lighting my way, I found Chuck’s tree house and crept up the rope ladder. Just as I suspected, the wooden box stashed in the corner was filled with firecrackers. I lugged the box to the beach and spilled its contents in the surf.

  “Hey! What are you doing?”

  I turned to see Chuck, his mouth contorted in fury.

  “It’s for your own good,” I told him. “You’re too young for those things.”

  “I’m older than you!” he said. “I’m nineteen and I’m a midget.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  His little face crumpled and he sobbed, “My brother gave me those firecrackers!”

  Impulsively, my arms reached out to hug him, but he pushed me away. “I hate you!” he said and kicked me.

  What could I say to make him understand? I’d just spared him a lifetime of darkness. And made myself into his enemy.

  “I didn’t do it to be mean,” I said quietly, but he refused to look at me.

  If I went back to 2070, would the elderly Chuck Edwards remember what I did for him? Would he thank me? Or would he still believe that a cruel teenage girl ruined the gift his brother gave him— simply to be mean?

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Chuck could still see. His mother would not have to turn away when she looked at him. He would not have to be bitter.

  As I headed for home, the moon slipped behind the clouds. Immersed in darkness, I walked along the beach, heading unsteadily toward the lights of the houses on the hill. I knew the tide was coming in, for the waves were loud—tumbling furiously as they raced to flood the beach. A sharp, deliberate crunch cut through the persistent rhythm of the waves. Footsteps! Was someone following me?

  I held my breath and listened. Perhaps it was just someone from one of the beach houses walking his dog. If I couldn’t see them, then they couldn’t see me. They would probably walk right past me. It would have been reassuring if the footsteps had continued. But they stopped when I did. Someone was standing nearby, listening. Waiting!

  Maybe it was Chuck tormenting me.

  But what if it wasn’t? The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose.

  I broke into a run. My feet found the wooden steps below Banbury House, and I bounded up them, no longer trying to be quiet. At the top, I raced along the dirt path. Plunging through the shadows, I slammed into something—someone! The collision knocked my breath away. Cruel fingers dug into my arms. I looked up into the shadowy face of Ben.

  23

  “Let go of me!” I cried, twisting away.

  “Then watch where you’re going,” he said gruffly.

  I tried to move past him, but he grabbed my arm. “Wait a minute,” he said.

  “I have to go home.”

  “I just want to ask you something.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.

  I backed away, putting several feet between us. “Don’t come any closer,” I warned, trying to keep my voice from quavering.

  The moon floated free from the clouds, casting an eerie light on Ben’s strong features. His eyes seemed to glimmer and I froze, caught in his stare like a frightened deer in bright headlights. The crazy drumming of my own heart filled my ears. My mouth was dry as dust.

  Was this the night? Was this the night Ben was supposed to kill my sister? Would he kill me this time, because I was the one who crossed his murderous path?

  I was edging away from him when he spoke again. “How come you hate me?”

  The question startled me. I cautiously weighed my answer. “You’re not good for my sister.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You drink too much, Ben.”

  “You think I’m an alcoholic?” He said, laughing much too loudly. “I’m just partying a little. I’m not hurting anybody.”

  What was I doing, standing there in the dark, trying to reason with a killer?

  As he took a drunken step toward me, I dodged out of his way and bolted up the path. I don’t think I even breathed again until I’d scrambled up the tree and tumbled through the open window into Rita’s room. She muttered something in her sleep as I locked the window.

  I crawled deep into my thick sleeping bag, my teeth chattering. I couldn’t stop shaking. I wasn’t cold. I was frightened. For both of us. Calm down, I told myself. But how could I with Ben lurking out there on the path—stalking us?

  Obviously, he’d been watching the house. If only Rita would believe me!

  I should have left him on the beach when he passed out in the water. The tide would have washed in and solved all my problems. I should have let him drown!

  In the blazing light of day, I was never as frightened as I was at night. My encounter with Ben faded like a forgotten nightmare as my friends and I celebrated in the school halls on Thursday morning.

  “We won!” Rita laughed. “I can’t believe those dorks actually backed down.”

  “They were scared of a lawsuit,” Lynn said.

  The new dress code allowed girls to wear jeans, as long as they were “tidy with no frayed edges or holes.”

  I felt heady with the victory. The protest would have eventually taken place without me, yet I liked knowing I’d helped.

  I enrolled in school under the name Jenna Mills and vowed to spend my days near my sister. I was assigned to the same homeroom as Rita, along with the rest of those with last names beginning with M through S.

  Shane moved his seat next to mine—much to April’s disappointment. When he saw me doodling, he asked me to draw something on his notebook. While I sketched a mermaid, we talked. We talked about everything—music, parties, school, the dress code. It had never been so easy to talk to a boy before. But eventually the conversation rolled around to Ben.

  “I know he’s your friend,” I said. “But I don’t like him. I wish he’d leave my sister alone.”

  “I don’t hear her complaining,” he said, grinning.

  “Ben’s a drunk,” I spat. “One of these days he'll get so bombed he’ll do something he’ll regret.”

  “Wow. You’re serious,” he said, his velvety brown eyes thoughtful. “I’ve known Ben forever. He drinks because he’s got a rotten home life, but he's an okay guy.”

  I shivered, wishing Shane knew what I knew. If only I had someone to confide in!

  At school, at least, my sister seemed safe. Besides homeroom, we shared four classes and lunch. That meant just two hours I could not guard her.

  She and Ben had History class before lunch. He certainly wouldn’t murder her with Mr. Fri
nk and a whole class watching!

  Still, I was relieved when the school day ended and Rita and I boarded the bus to head for Twin-Star, where she was scheduled for a PK session.

  A lab assistant took my sister to a private room for a dice experiment much like the one I’d taken part in.

  Sky invited me to wait in his office, a small, untidy room with stale air. “Excuse the mess,” he said. “Dr. Crowell split and I haven’t had time to clean up after him.”

  I plucked a framed photograph of a young girl from a box overflowing with junk in the corner. “Who’s this?”

  “Dr. Crowell’s daughter.”

  “Is this the stuff from his desk?”

  Sky nodded. “The old dude finally cracked under the pressure and just took off. He was a genius but undependable.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Who knows? His wife left him and took the kid with her. She didn’t even tell him where they were moving. Maybe he went to find her.”

  “He didn’t even say good-bye?”

  “Did you?”

  “What?”

  “Say good-bye?” he asked, his green eyes burning into mine. “Or did you just leave?”

  “I just left,” I said softly.

  His voice brimming with understanding, Sky said, “Maybe I can help you. You must be worried about getting back home.”

  I gasped. “What do you mean?”

  Sky reached into his desk and pulled out a crude version of the visor. “I have spent the last five months immersed in a theory that has convinced me time travel is possible through PK ability and a device like this.”

  I stared at the visor on the desk, aware my eyes held a glimmer of recognition, aware Sky could read the truth in them.

  “I only had to look at you to know you’re Rita's sister,” he said. “From certain angles, you almost look like twins. And I know for a fact Rita has only two siblings, her brother and the frozen embryo. Did you travel here using a visor like this?”

  “Yes,” I said, relieved to finally share the truth.

  “What year did you travel from?”

  “2070.”

  He whistled softly. “I did it!” His voice held awe. “I really did it. It must have taken years to perfect the visor, but it all began with my design.”

  I tactfully did not point out what Rita had told me, that the invention was actually Dr. Crowell’s. I hoped Sky was familiar enough with the visor to help me go home if I wanted to.

  “I’m shocked the scientists let you come here, Jenna. I’d think they’d be concerned a visit to the past would challenge the security of their existence. Your visit could have a damaging effect on history as they know it.”

  “They didn’t want me to come,” I admitted, and the rest of the story came tumbling out. “Dr. Grady told me it was dangerous. I stole the visor and came here on my own.”

  “That was a stupid thing to do,” Sky said, genuine annoyance sharpening his tone. “You don’t know what you got yourself into—”

  “You don’t understand!” I interrupted. “I had to come. I had to stop my sister’s murder.”

  He stared at me in shock as I described Rita’s violent death.

  “She’s like a little sister to me,” he said hoarsely. “We’ve got to help her.”

  Relief streamed through me as he patted my hand. It felt wonderful to confide in someone, to have someone helping me.

  “We’ll find a way to keep Rita safe,” Sky assured me. “But you must not tell anyone where you came from. Knowledge of the future can be dangerous,” he warned. “You could hurt people by telling them too much.”

  “I wish I could tell Rita and my family!”

  “It wouldn’t be right,” said Sky. “It would change their whole way of thinking. If they didn’t like what the future held, they would take a different course in their lives that could have even worse repercussions. Not only would that hurt them, it would damage the people from your era. Jenna, you must keep in mind that everything you do has the potential to change the history of the people of 2070.”

  “I know,” I said, sighing in frustration. “Dr. Grady told me the same thing.”

  “He was right. If you want to return to find the world as you know it, you had better be cautious. Saving Rita, of course, will change things. She may have children and grandchildren who will all make their mark. If your Dr. Grady was here, he’d insist that you go home now without changing Rita’s destiny. But I will never forgive myself if that girl is harmed. We’ll find a way to save Rita, without telling her about time travel.”

  “How can we stop Ben from hurting her?”

  “For starters, I won’t buy him any more beer,” he said. “He should be kept away from alcohol. I’ll have a talk with him and encourage him to go to AA meetings. I’m not saying he won’t hurt Rita if he’s not drunk, but it could make a difference.”

  Sky drove us home and distracted Rita while I ran up to the attic to get the visor. He had promised to examine it and advise me on the best way to use it—if I chose to go back to the future.

  My loyalties were torn. Rita needed me. But thoughts of the mother who raised me had begun to surface as my anger toward her gradually wore thin. She was wrong to lie to me. Yet now I understood how a person could lie to someone she loved. I, after all, had lied to Rita.

  I was only trying to protect my sister. Had Mom been trying to protect me?

  Mom had been on my mind that morning when Rita asked, “Why do you look so sad?”

  “I was thinking about my mom,” I’d told her. “She’s probably worried.”

  “Does she know you’re here?”

  “No.”

  “You could call her.”

  Of course I couldn’t.

  Had time stood still since I’d left? How long had I been gone? The three days spent here, or only seconds?

  I felt a sudden stab of regret. Why had I left on such bad terms? Mom must be going crazy with worry. Or was another Jenna still there in 2070? Was I living parallel lives?

  It was all very confusing,

  I pulled the trunk away from the corner and reached behind it. My fingers felt only the dusty wood of the attic floor. The visor was gone.

  24

  Who in the world could have taken the visor?

  Whoever found it certainly wouldn’t have known what it was!

  Frantically, I searched the attic, digging through old suitcases and knocking over boxes until Sky tooted his horn and I drifted back outside and numbly reported, “It’s gone.”

  Sky stared at me, his words weighed with disbelief as he said, “You wouldn’t misplace something that important, Jenna.”

  “What was it?” Rita asked.

  “A visor,” I admitted, too upset to think up another lie. Without the visor, I no longer had the option of returning home.

  Rita’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “A visor? Like the one at Twin-Star?”

  Sky leapt in and covered for me. “It was an updated visor,” he said quickly. “I gave it to Jenna the other day so she could experiment. You guys are so much alike, I thought she might have PK skills too.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rita asked, hurt.

  “It was a surprise,” I said miserably. Losing the visor was bad enough without having to tell more lies. I hated deceiving my sister.

  “It couldn’t have walked away on its own,” Sky said. “You’ve got to find it.”

  I turned to Rita. “Ask Jim and our parents if they’ve seen it.”

  Despite an intense search, the visor did not turn up.

  If I couldn’t go home, could I stay with the Mills family? Would they accept me as a sister and daughter?

  Perhaps I was meant to stay here. Without the visor, I did not have to choose between two centuries. I could stay forever and live out my life with my real family.

  Though Sky had warned it was dangerous, I still longed to meet the rest of my family.

  I watched our brother from Rita’s
window seat as he and Chuck played croquet in the grassy backyard. Jimmy gingerly swung the croquet club, his head bowed in concentration. Caught in a shaft of sunlight, his curls gleamed like fire.

  “Where did Jimmy get all that red hair?” I asked.

  “Grandma Mills had red hair before it turned gray.”

  Grandma Mills! How lucky my sister was to have grandparents—to have blood relatives who knew and loved her. Would I get a chance to know them too?

  “Jimmy and Grandma Mills both have fiery tempers,” Rita continued. “It must come with the red hair. Jimmy drives me up the wall. Sometimes he—”

  “He loves you!” I interrupted. I pictured our brother, gray and frail from the years, eyes glistening with tears as he remembered his sister’s tragic death.

  “He’d gag if he heard you say that,” said Rita. “The only thing Jimmy loves is his bike!”

  “That’s not true.”

  “How would you know?” she asked, amused. “You’ve never met him!”

  “I wish I could! I wish I could meet our parents!”

  Friday night my wish came true.

  “We’re going to a party,” Rita informed me. I sat on her bed as she did my makeup, insisting, “No peeking until I’m done.”

  “It seems like you’re putting an awful lot on,” I protested. “Usually I just wear a little eye makeup and lip color.”

  “This is just foundation,” she said, rubbing her fingers over my face as her eyes danced with a secret. “It’s practically invisible.”

  “Where’s the party?”

  “It’s a surprise. Now close your mouth while I paint your lips.”

  When she was done, she still wouldn’t let me near the mirror. “Come on!” she said and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the hallway and down the stairs.

  “Rita, wait!” I said. “What if our parents see—”

  “Surprise!” a chorus of voices rose from the bottom of the stairs. Dozens of people milled about, laughing up at us.

  “Happy birthday, Jenna!” someone shouted, and I turned to see our mother, smiling at me—looking right at me!

  “Rita,” I hissed. “Does she know who I am?”

  “All she knows is you’re a friend from school and this is your birthday,” said Rita, turning me to face the oval mirror on the hallway wall. My face was painted like a clown’s, my skin milk-white, my lips thick and red. Orange triangles decorated my cheeks. No one could possible recognize me.