We stay at Grandma’s for a couple of hours, but it gets late, and she doesn’t have a place for me to sleep, so we have to leave. As we drive toward Bradley’s home and his family, a family that’s separate from what I think of as our family, I hesitantly touch his arm.
“Thank you for taking me to Grandma. It was”—my voice hitches—“hard, but I needed her.”
He stays focused on the road. “I figured you’d feel more comfortable there.”
I pull my hand back into my lap and watch the lights whizzing by. “You were right.”
We wind through a few more streets, and Bradley pulls into the driveway of a modest house with a one-car garage. A light clicks on over the open garage; a lawn mower and bikes of varying sizes barely fit alongside a large vehicle. There’s a bumper sticker on the back that says “Trust Me, I’m an Engineer.” I peer at the saying, trying to decipher the drawings around it—a wind turbine, space shuttle, calculator, pi sign.
I now know more about Bradley’s wife and what she does than I do about Bradley. We’ve been together for hours, and I haven’t asked him anything about who he is now. I don’t know if he’s an accountant or a construction worker or a drummer for a rock band (as his T-shirt perhaps implies). He’s dressed very casually on what’s obviously a workday, so he probably doesn’t work in an office, unless people don’t dress up for work anymore.
The passenger door opens; Bradley’s waiting. “You coming inside?”
“Yes.” I grab my backpack and purse. I hope his wife and kids like me. He probably told me their names, but I can’t remember. I hop out and turn to face the brick-front house, more afraid of what awaits me inside than what’s happening back at the airport with the FBI.
Bradley takes my hand like we’re little kids and leads me through the garage. This comforts me actually, that he’s guiding me into the house like a family member. Which I am. I know I am, but still, this small gesture causes a tightness in my throat.
We walk through a laundry room. He releases me because we have to walk single file to maneuver around a basket overflowing with brightly colored clothes. Miniature clothes. Proof his children exist as well. My hands tremble at my sides, and I stuff them in my pockets to still them.
After the laundry room, we pass down a hallway, and it’s weird. Because there are nails on the wall but no pictures, like they’ve taken them down.
Bradley notices what’s caught my attention. “We’re getting ready to paint.”
“Oh.” It’s a plausible explanation, but the way he looks quickly away is suspicious. Why would they remove the pictures from the walls? I can’t imagine what they wouldn’t want me to see.
Finally the interminable hallway ends, and we enter a living room. The first thing I see is a massive screen. I resist the urge to rush toward it. “What is that?”
Bradley glances swiftly to the right before he notices what I’m locked onto. “The TV. Didn’t you notice the one at Grandma’s?”
“That’s a TV?” It’s completely flat, balanced above a stand instead of enclosed in a box. And no, I didn’t see anything like this at Grandma’s, but I was pretty focused on her. “It’s huge! Are you rich?”
Bradley’s awkward snort-hiccup again, easing the knot in my gut.
“Definitely not,” an amused new voice says.
I whirl to the right, where Bradley’s eyes had gone before, and I stumble as I catch my first glance of his wife.
“You’re Black!”
Oh no, oh no, oh no. I did not just say that to Bradley’s wife. I cover my face with my hands. I wish for a hole to open up in the floor and swallow me. Better yet, for the plane to swoop in and carry me back to 1995. “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.”
A hand lands on my shoulder, and based on the lavender scent that accompanies it, it’s not Bradley’s. “You’ve had a super-long flight today and just learned about your grandparents. Let’s sit down.”
Bradley’s wife guides me to a sofa, but I still can’t look at her after the abysmal way I just greeted her. There’s nothing I can say now to redo her first impression of me. Why, oh why, did my horrible habit of blurting my thoughts before I think have to show up right now?
“Jenny, it’s okay.” Her hand squeezes my knee. “Let’s blame Brad. That’s what I like to do anyway. He obviously didn’t tell you anything about his gorgeous wife.”
I peek through my fingers. She’s smiling, and even though she’s joking, it’s true. Bradley seriously leveled up. With amazing curly hair and deep brown eyes, his wife is gorgeous. “I’m sorry. Again.”
“Already forgotten.” She raises an eyebrow at Bradley. “As for you … what’s with walking her in here and introducing the TV before me?”
Bradley rubs his beard. “Yeah. I’m a little rusty on sibling etiquette.”
“Actually,” I say, “I think this is about how we always treat each other.”
We’ve never been the closest siblings in the world, with a five-year age gap. Last week he stood at the gate mouthing, Don’t come back, over Mom’s shoulder. He was angry I told Mom about his crush, which was a bit of a sister fail. Now our dynamic will be screwed up even more.
“I’m Kelly, by the way, since Brad still hasn’t introduced me.”
Brad. Not Bradley. It’s weird to hear her call him that, like he’s a real adult. Now that I think about it, Grandma did, too, after that initial scolding.
I smile tentatively. “Nice to meet you.”
“Now.” She pats my knee, and despite the fact I only met her a few minutes ago, it’s easier to focus on Kelly than my time-warped brother. “What do you need?”
Honestly, that question is so huge I don’t know where to start. I need to rewind this day to before I got on the plane, when I was in New York with my living grandparents, having breakfast in a diner, chatting about the possibility of attending Columbia next fall and meeting up on a regular basis. Or maybe even further, to last week, when I was here in St. Louis with my family—including twelve-year-old, no-idea-Kelly-exists-yet Brad—and Angie and Steve.
But since neither of those are feasible, I opt for the next-best option. “I need my parents.”
I’m a little surprised my voice breaks. Again.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Kelly hugs me close, enveloping me in her lavender scent and silky blouse.
“Hopefully they’ll call back soon,” Bradley says.
Kelly rubs my back. It’s soothing. She knows what she’s doing. But I guess she would; she’s a mom. I shudder, the reality of it all hitting me again. Kelly is the mother of my brother’s children.
I pull back. “Where are the … kids?” I can’t help my hesitation. It’s just too weird.
She smiles gently. “With my parents. I thought they might be a bit much for you to handle tonight.”
Considering I’ve traveled through time, evaded the FBI, been reintroduced to my little brother as an adult, hit with the news most of my grandparents are dead, and am now sitting with my apparently not-so-new sister-in-law …“Good call.”
Music begins playing, and I search the room for a stereo, wondering how it came on without Bradley or Kelly moving. Bradley holds up his phone. “It’s my ringtone.”
“Your phone plays music to ring?” I’m momentarily distracted by this concept. Then, “Is it Mom?”
He shields the phone from me. “No. Give me a sec.”
I feel like our roles are reversed. There are so many instances I’ve hidden things from Bradley to protect him, and I’m sure that’s what he’s doing now. He leaves the room and shuts a door so I can’t hear what he’s saying to whoever’s on the other end of the call. I’m tempted to press my ear to the door, but Kelly’s watching me.
“Who do you think it is?” I turn to her with a raised eyebrow. “Why are they calling now? Is it about me? What do they want? Why did Bradley go into another room?”
“Wow.” She holds up a hand. “Brad told me about how you used to go into interrogation mode, but it’s something to actually experience it.”
I narrow my eyes. “Nice deflection.”
She holds up fingers to tick off her answers. “I don’t know who it is. It might have to do with you, or it could be completely random timing. Maybe it’s even a work call, but considering you’re all over the news, it probably is about you.”
I nod. “Thanks for being honest.”
“I’ll try to always tell you the truth, Jenny.”
Shouldn’t it just be “I’ll always tell you the truth”? I’m about to call her on it, no matter how nice she is, when Bradley returns.
“Who was that?”
They exchange the sort of loaded glance I’ve often seen between Mom and Dad, like they’re having a telepathic conversation. “I’m right here!”
Bradley finally breaks their weird staring contest and looks at me. “Work call.”
He’s so lying, but just when I start to say so, his phone blasts more music and he leaves the room again. Kelly shrugs, as if that’s any sort of answer. We sit in awkward silence until Bradley comes back a few minutes later.
“I have Mom on the phone,” he says. “Dad’s still out at the worksite but should return any minute. I explained about you being, well, the same, but I’m not sure she totally gets it.”
My pulse accelerates. Finally!
Bradley passes me the phone. I’m not sure how to hold it. It’s flat, with no clear spot for my ear. “Here.” He pushes a button on the screen. “Mom, you there? I’ve got you on speaker.”
“Brad? Jenny?” Mom’s voice is frenzied. “Jenny, are you really there?”
I gulp, trying to form words around the knot in my throat. Because it’s my mom. It really is her on the other end of this odd phone. Unlike Bradley, Mom sounds the same.
“I’m here, Mom.” Tears course down my face. I’m just so grateful to hear her voice. She sounds so familiar in the midst of everything else that’s completely foreign.
“Oh, thank God! Jenny—” She breaks off, and I hear her sobbing. It’s heart-wrenching. She sounds like her guts have been ripped from her body and stomped into the ground. I glance at Bradley, unsure what to say. I asked for this, to call her, for me, and it’s hurting her.
“Mom, I’m okay.” I’m not. I’m nowhere near okay, but it seems like the right thing to say.
Bradley grimace-smiles in approval.
“Carol? What’s wrong?” Dad’s voice is muffled. Mom clearly doesn’t have the phone she’s using on speaker, but I still recognize Dad in the background, and I slide off the couch onto my knees. He’s the same too. No matter what has happened, my parents are still my parents. I close my eyes and thank God for that.
“Jenny’s alive!” Mom says. “But Brad says she’s still somehow seventeen. It’s … I don’t …”
Bradley leans over the phone. “She’s wearing the ‘I Heart NY’ T-shirt, and her bangs are curled like she always had them.”
I raise a hand to my bangs, wondering why that’s relevant.
“Jenny, you’re really there?” Dad says.
Just like Mom. And once again I confirm, “Yes, Dad. I’m here.”
“It is her,” he says, his voice full of wonder. “How? When? Why?”
I got my inquisitive nature from Dad. “I don’t know.” I have a feeling I’ll be repeating this story for the rest of my life. “I left Grandma and Grandpa in New York this morning, and I landed here this afternoon, and everything was different.”
Dad inhales. It must hurt for him to think about me seeing his parents so recently.
“Incredible,” he finally says. “I believe you. I know you and Brad wouldn’t lie to us, but it’s just so … I’m at a loss for words.”
“I don’t think there are words for this, Dad. It’s unprecedented.”
He chuckles shakily. “That one works.”
“Let me talk to her!” Mom’s voice is calmer. “Jenny. It will take us a few days to get home. God works in mysterious ways, but we will figure this out together. No matter what, I want you to know how much we love you. We’ll be there for you. And Brad and Kelly too.”
“Of course.” Bradley nods.
“Absolutely,” Kelly says behind me. I’d forgotten her.
Mom swallows audibly, her tears gone, which doesn’t surprise me. She’s a rock. “It’s a miracle you’re all alive. Bradley said it’s not just you, but the rest of the passengers on the plane too?”
I murmur agreement, but internally I beg to differ. Not that I’m ungrateful to be alive. And from Mom’s perspective, I suppose a time-delayed daughter is better than no daughter. But if this is a miracle, then God has the most warped sense of humor in the universe, and I’d like to schedule a one-on-one interview so we can discuss why He put my family through twenty-five years of anguish and delayed my life.
“I can’t wait to see you and hold you, Jenny.”
Yes, that’s what I really need. There’s nothing like a Mom hug. “Me too.”
“Now Dad needs to speak with Brad about some details.”
“Okay.” My voice hitches up in a question. Dad and Bradley are going to discuss me like they are two adults and I am a child. I’m a seventeen-year-old about to start my senior year of high school. Bradley is my little brother. But he’s not anymore. I can’t wrap my mind around this concept.
He moves away, and I watch him nodding into the phone. When he finishes, I expect Bradley to hand the phone to me so I can continue my conversation with Mom and Dad, but he pockets it.
“Hey! I wasn’t finished talking to them.”
There’s so much more to say, so much more to catch up on.
He presses his lips together apologetically. “They want to talk to you more too, Jenny-san, but they have a lot of arrangements to make.”
Kelly stands and holds out her hand to help me up. “You should rest. We don’t have a guest room, but you can stay in Kira’s room.”
Kira. That’s my niece’s name.
It takes all my energy to get to my feet. The day has taken a toll on me. I follow Kelly down a hallway to a purple-walled bedroom. I’m about to flop onto the twin-size mattress when the doorbell rings. The bed is so tempting. But when Bradley clearly shouts, “No!” I’m instantly alert.
I rush out of Kira’s room toward the living room, where I find Kelly physically restraining him. The focus of his chin-jutted gaze is a deeply tanned woman in a sharp black pantsuit. The jacket fits her like a glove, tailored in at her waist. There’s another person standing behind her, but I can’t see anything more than a pale blue pant leg and white tennis shoe.
“My sister’s been through a lot today,” Bradley says. “She needs to sleep. I won’t let you bother her.”
Sharp suit tilts her head at me. “Looks like she’s awake to me. Good evening, Miss Waters. We missed you at the airport.”
Of course. She’s FBI.
Her reproving tone zings me right in the gut. If you ask Angie, it’s a weakness, but I’ve always considered it a strength that I’m so tuned into authority figures. The downside is that when they level that I’m-so-disappointed-in-you look in my direction, it hits me hard. Still, I can’t regret skipping out earlier to see Grandma. Despite the awful news she laid on me, her presence grounded me in a way Bradley couldn’t. I don’t think I could have held it together, stuck in a room with a bunch of strangers, plus the FBI.
I cross my arms over my chest and mimic Bradley’s chin jut, squashing down the urge to cower and beg forgiveness. All I did was leave the airport, which is what any normal passenger would do after a flight. “What do you want?”
The woman steps forward. “I’m Agent Willa Klein with the FBI.” She pulls out a badge and holds it up for my inspection. “I have a few questions for you, and then we would like to get a fingerprint and a sample of your blood.”
“What?” My voice comes out high-pitched, and I recoil.
Bradley shakes off Kelly. “Her blood? Why do you want her blood?”
Agent Klein exhales through her nose. “This would have been much easier if you’d remained at the airport with the others for a full explanation.”
When we continue to stare at her, waiting for her to explain, she shifts aside, revealing her companion, a twentyish guy in scrubs holding a soft-sided bag. “Micah here is with our forensics team. They’ll be comparing your fingerprints and blood samples with information already on file to confirm your identity.”
I tighten my arms around my torso. “How can you have that stuff on file?”
Bradley’s brows lower. “I don’t think they can. Not for you.”
Agent Klein purses her lips. “A fair point, Mr. Waters. As a minor without any sort of record, we don’t have her fingerprints. However, we can at least verify her blood type against her medical records. It’s a start toward investigating this situation.”
Bradley strides over and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You don’t have to, Jenny.”
I burrow into him, drawing strength from his presence. I peer out at Agent Klein. “What will you do with it? My blood? Besides check my blood type?”
After a brief pause, Agent Klein smiles slightly. “Smart question, Jenny. There are some additional tests to verify your age within a range, that your DNA hasn’t been altered in any way.”
Bradley’s hand tightens on my shoulder, and I shiver. “You mean you want to make sure I’m not an alien or something.”
Agent Klein holds out her hands. “We don’t mean you any harm, Jenny. We just want to figure out where you’ve been.”
“I want to know that too,” I say quietly. I really do. It doesn’t make any sense. If a blood test might help answer that question … “Okay.”
Bradley twists me to face him, blocking me from Agent Klein. “Are you sure? Because I don’t think they can make you. You’re a minor. Mom and Dad probably have to approve it.”
He may be right, but if I don’t get this over with, they’ll just keep coming back. I step around him. “Do you need my parents to sign a waiver or something?”
“Not in these circumstances,” Agent Klein says.
I swallow. “Then let’s do it.”
Agent Klein inclines her head. “Where can Micah set up?”
Kelly sweeps her hand out. “The kitchen?”
She leads our odd procession. Bradley leans in. “It’s gonna be fine, Jenny-san.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “Nobody’s about to stick a needle in you to make sure you aren’t harboring alien DNA.”
“Jenny.” He stops me outside the kitchen and meets my eyes without wavering. “You will ace this test the way you ace every other test you’re given. No studying necessary.”
He sounds like such an adult. Like my dad. It’s just so wrong. But I also hear his underlying message, that he doesn’t believe they’ll discover I’m anyone other than who I say I am. “Thank you.”
“Ready, Miss Waters?” Agent Klein says.
“Yes, ma’am.” I march into the kitchen and sit at the table, holding out my arm for Micah.
Seated across from me, Agent Klein pulls out her phone. “I’m going to record this, if that’s all right.”
“Okay.” I eye the phone, wondering what else it will do. Micah ties an elastic band around my bicep.
Agent Klein taps at her phone and says, “Interview with Jennifer Waters, age seventeen, passenger on Mid-States Airways Flight 237.”
Bradley and Kelly sit together at the end of the table, holding hands and showing support with encouraging expressions.
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary during your flight?” Agent Klein asks.
I wince as the needle pinches into my vein. I glance over, watching Micah collect my blood. “Uh … not really. It was a smooth flight. I mean, until Art started telling me all that stuff about the air control tower.”
“The air control tower?” Agent Klein repeats like she doesn’t already know. “Tell me about that.”
So I do, distracted by Micah filling three vials with my blood before finally removing the needle and covering the pinprick with a small cotton ball and Band-Aid. Kelly hands me a juice, which I gratefully sip.
Micah gets out a fingerprint kit.
“What about outside?” Agent Klein asks. “Did it suddenly change from cloudy to sunny?”
My gaze snaps to her face. “What? I don’t think so. Did that happen?”
Agent Klein remains impassive. “It was quite cloudy in St. Louis on August 2, 1995. It was sunny today. We’re just trying to ascertain exactly where the … inconsistency occurred.”
Huh. I did notice some wispy clouds when I was searching for fighter planes, but I’m assuming that was after we jumped forward. “Well, I wasn’t looking outside until after Art started freaking out, but he definitely was. He would’ve noticed something like that.”
Really, it seems like the pilots are the best witnesses for that sort of information. Micah takes my finger, presses it into the cool ink and then onto a paper. Once he wipes it clean, I pull my hand into my lap.
Wait. “Why does it matter what I saw? Didn’t everyone say the same thing?”
She tilts her head. “That’s the point of these interviews. To confirm you all had the same experience.”
“Did we?”
She smiles, giving nothing away, and stands. “We’re finished, Miss Waters. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“That’s it?” Bradley says, standing as well.
I understand his hesitation. I’m uncomfortable with her presence, but she didn’t tell us anything. “When will you have the results from the tests?”
Agent Klein motions for Micah to follow. “Very soon. This investigation is of utmost priority. I expect once we conclude these initial tests we’ll do others. We’ll be in touch if we have further questions for you.”
I trail her to the front door. “What if I have questions for you? Can I get your card or something?”
I didn’t care much about answers earlier, but I do now. I have an inside track on this story.
She turns back with another frustrating, noncommittal smile. “That’s not how this works, Miss Waters. I’ll follow up with your parents when they return. One more thing: don’t talk to the media until we’ve completed our investigation. The situation could easily spiral out of control if the passengers start speaking out individually.”
The door closes in my face.
No media! I can’t write my story for the New York Times? I mean, I guess she has a point, but still. It would’ve been the most amazing scoop.
I swivel around; Bradley and Kelly are waiting behind me. “I feel strangely violated. They came, they took my blood, but there wasn’t a single hot vampire.”
Kelly stifles a laugh. “Yeah, Ian Somerhalder would’ve definitely improved that whole visit.”
“Is he in the Interview with the Vampire sequel? I heard Tom Cruise was going to do a Lestat movie.” I rub my finger against my shorts. It feels like there’s still ink on it.
Kelly opens her mouth, then shakes her head. “Let’s get you to bed.”
I don’t protest as she leads me back to Kira’s room. I dimly notice the stars and hearts lining the walls as I finally flop onto the twin-size mattress. It’s so comfy I snuggle in and, despite the questions bombarding my brain, am asleep in seconds.