It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,77
like it did when your first timeline came to an end.”
I nod. “And then what?”
“Hopefully, you’ll rejoin your life just after midnight on the day of your first death,” Yeats says, reaching out to place his hand on my shoulder. “With any luck, you’ll be asleep, giving your mind and body enough time to re-form the connection. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re still a little disoriented when you interact with others. There may be some residual interference from the first timeline, at least for the first day or so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some events will seem almost exactly as they did in the first timeline, but more than likely there will be some slight change. Those anomalies may take a little longer for your consciousness to identify and correct.”
“For example?”
Yeats shakes his head. “I don’t know. Like maybe when you go to open your locker, you’ll use the combination from the first timeline instead of the second.”
I think back to my locker. Before the collection, it was next to Felicity’s. I hope things change enough so I’m not in the same hall as her.
“Okay, I get that,” I say and then start to think about all the trouble this could cause if I forget who I’m friends with and, more importantly, who I’m not.
“You’d think, after all this time, I would get used to all your questions,” Yeats says, throwing his hands in the air. “We’re in uncharted territory and you hopefully won’t remember this conversation when you wake up, so—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. You want me to get moving.”
“It’s time,” Yeats agrees.
I stand at the edge of the car, take a deep breath, and step onto the platform. Fear seeps through me and I spin around, yearning to get on the train and flee back to the Afterlife.
“What if I screw this up?” I ask Yeats.
“You won’t.”
“But how do you know?” I press. I take a step back toward the train but my retreat is cut short as the doors snap shut.
A slow smile spreads over Yeats’s face. “Because I can see your future,” he says before the door closes with a loud thud.
Chapter 32
I sit upright in bed, shielding my eyes against the bright sun. Is it morning already? I don’t remember going to sleep and when I try to think about yesterday, a distracting hum kicks in my brain. I pick up my phone to check the time just as the alarm blares the latest boy band chart topper. Hitting the snooze button, I pull the comforter over my head, vaguely aware of the phone falling to the floor as the humming grows louder.
“RJ?” my mother calls from behind the door. “Are you awake?”
“No,” I say, but the fabric muffles my response.
She knocks again.
“What?” I yell and immediately grab my head. “I’m up. Geez.”
She doesn’t answer, but I see the shadow of her feet from under the door disappear. Sitting up again, I yank back my hair in a messy ponytail, then lean over the side of the bed, searching for my phone. My fingertips graze the edge of the case. Just a little farther and I’m able to hook my pinkie around it. When I finally fish it out, a ring I don’t remember seeing before tumbles out from beneath the bed. I vaguely remember Mom telling me last week that she had some fake jewelry I could use for my Halloween costume, but the diamond in the middle of the leaping dolphins looks pretty real. At that moment, the alarm on the phone rings again. If I don’t get moving, I’m going to be late. Grabbing the clothes lying on the back of my desk chair, I plod to the bathroom and turn on the faucet in the shower. It isn’t until I step out of the tub and wipe the steam off the mirror that I actually look at the clothes hanging on the back of the door. Why in the world would I ever wear a yellow polka dot pleated halter dress to school? I double check the date on my phone. I thought so. It’s Halloween. What? Am I dressing up as Mary Sunshine?
A tap on the door distracts me and I wrap the towel around my body. When I swing the door open, my mom, who is also wearing a yellow ensemble, is standing in front of me. Usually, my mom only wears black power suits.
“How are you doing?” she asks, rushing to be the first to speak.