Random Call

By Geof Johnson

It seemed like a fun social media game to Finn Garland. Log in to the website and get connected to a totally random person and have a conversation. The longer you talk, the more points you score, while competing with other members worldwide for the highest weekly total.
Finn first tried it on a stormy night in late spring, and got connected in the most unlikely way — to June Harrison, in Westhampton, Long Island, living 80 years in the past.
Finn was able to maintain his supernatural connection with June for the entire summer, but when school started in the fall, he learned of a catastrophe that devastated Long Island in September of 1938, killing hundreds of people. He knew he had to somehow warn her of the approaching danger before it was too late to save her and her family.
Changing history has consequences. Should Finn risk altering his present to save a girl in the past? Could it cost him his very existence, and if so, was that a sacrifice he was willing to make?

Random Call is a novel for young adults.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781543999860

Book preview

Author

Chapter 1

It is no great accomplishment to be born rich. Nor is it a notable triumph to be born handsome or beautiful, or tall and graceful, or even smarter than the average person. It only takes sheer luck, the best kind, to be born into a close, powerful, well-established family, the kind dynasties are made of.

It also takes no talent to be born into a family that is always on the edge of the abyss.

This was the fate of Finn Garland.

* * *

Finn slouched in his chair like a discarded overcoat and stared glumly at the computer screen. Displayed upon it was the Facebook page of Olivia Garland, second wife of Wade Garland, Finn’s father.

His utterly absent father.

Finn had never seen him in person, except when Finn was a baby (which he couldn’t remember). Olivia saw him every day, in Vancouver, British Columbia, their home.

Finn lived 5,106 miles away in Jacksonville, Florida. From there, it was only a 47-hour drive to Vancouver, without traffic. Finn knew this because he’d checked it on the Internet several times. It didn’t matter how far it was, though, because he didn’t have a car. He had his driver’s license, having already turned 16, but had nothing to drive except his mother’s old Honda Accord, and she would never allow him to take it for that long or that far, and it was questionable as to whether it could go that distance without breaking down.

His father hadn’t asked Finn to come visit, anyway. Finn had never spoken to him, not even by email or text.

Sometimes Finn wondered if his father even knew he existed.

Vancouver looked to be beautiful, sitting on English Bay, with a stunning view of the nearby mountains. Jacksonville was flat as the bottom of a cast iron skillet. The highest elevation was about 40 feet — Finn checked that on Google, too — but he didn’t know where that elevation was. It wasn’t near his dull, featureless neighborhood of concrete-block ranch houses, constructed during the boom of the 1950s, when couples were having kids at astonishing rates and needed some place to raise them.

The boom had ended but the houses remained, and Finn and his mother lived in one. It was all they could afford.

Finn’s father didn’t have a Facebook page, so the only way Finn could keep up with him was by reading Olivia’s posts, and she had plenty of them. Besides the all-too-many selfies of her with Finn’s father, there were an enormous number of pictures of her twin 14-year-old girls, Finn’s stepsisters. He’d never met them. He doubted he ever would. He didn’t particularly want to.

There were pictures of them at every birthday party, pictures with their lacrosse team, swimming at the lake, snow skiing, rock climbing, summer camps, and vacations. It seemed like they did a lot of fun and exciting things. Finn rarely did. Money was always the issue, or rather, lack of it.

The current Olivia Garland Facebook post Finn was scowling at was from their spring break trip to Alaska. Finn had never been anywhere more exotic than Disneyworld in Orlando, and that was just once, on his twelfth birthday, and he and his mother didn’t spend the night because it was only 140 miles away.

There was a photo of his father with the twins, each of them holding up a stringer full of fish, grinning like proud winners, their Alaskan campsite in the background, and beyond that, majestic, snow-capped mountains. Finn had never seen a mountain, except in pictures like this one.

He was jealous. He couldn’t help it. He hated the feeling.

He abruptly stood and grimaced at the pain in his ribs, then opened the door to his bedroom and stomped down the hall to the kitchen, where his distressed-looking mother was sitting at the table, staring at a slew of mail scattered before her. Mom, when are we going on vacation? he said as soon as he entered the room.

She looked up, somewhat startled. I beg your pardon?

Are we going on vacation this summer, or what? We didn’t go anywhere for spring break.

I had to work. You know that.

Almost all of my friends went somewhere.

Warren didn’t. He stayed here and surfed, as I recall.

Yeah, well, Warren’s okay with that. But you didn’t answer my question. Are we going on vacation this summer?

She sighed long and hard, and he knew what that meant before she said it. I doubt it.

Why not?

She gestured at the opened mail on the table. You see all these bills? That’s why.

So? We always have bills. Everybody has bills.

We seem to have more than our share, and we only have one income.

He felt his scowl returning, dark as midnight. Dad should be paying.

I’ve told you a hundred times, I can’t do anything about it. He’s a scofflaw. Always has been, always will be.

Derek’s mom took his dad to court ’cause he wasn’t paying child support. She won, so he got his paycheck garnished. You should do that.

Your father lives in Canada, Finn. I don’t have the money to fly up there, find a lawyer, and pay for a hotel room. Plus, I’d have to take off from work, and I can’t do that. I don’t know how the Canadian courts work in cases like that, either. It’s not easy getting an ex-husband to pay child support here in the US. It might be even harder in Canada.

Finn’s foul mood remained, despite the explanations. Can’t we go somewhere this summer, just for a weekend? Even Warren goes to North Carolina.

That’s because his grandparents live there, so he and his family have a free place to stay. Your grandmother lives here. You can stay with her for a while if you want. She might like that. She’s a lot closer to the river. Walking distance.

I don’t want to stay with Grandmama, he grumbled in his best teenage-petulant voice. She’s too weird. And the river’s boring.

I don’t know what to tell you, except that I’m sorry. I’m going to try to pick up a few extra patients at work, since a couple of the other hygienists will be taking vacations soon, but even that might not be enough. I’m still paying for the new fender on the car, and for your broken ribs.

I’m sorry about the fender, but I thought we had insurance for that. For both of them, the fender and the hospital.

We do, but our deductibles are high. I had to pay for most of the fender out of pocket, and your medical bills seem to keep coming in no matter how many I pay. She picked up a letter from the table and shook it at him. Radiologist. Five hundred and thirty-seven dollars.

Really?

That’s not the only one. By the way, how are you feeling? Do I need to renew the prescription for your pain meds?

He involuntarily touched his side, a habit, now. Um…no. It still hurts when I sit up or move suddenly, and it kills me to sneeze or cough, but I don’t notice it so much when I breathe. That simple action had been sheer agony the first few days after the injury.

Are you sleeping better?

If I lie on my back.

Don’t worry about mowing the lawn, then. I’ll do it.

I’m sorry I’m not doing my share, Mom.

You will soon.

I talked to another guy on the football team who hurt his ribs last year, only his was in a game instead of practice. He said it hurt for months, but he only sat out three weeks before he started playing again. Finn couldn’t imagine doing that. It had been that long since his injury, and it still felt like someone was stabbing his side with a hot knife if he moved the wrong way, which seemed to be just about every way possible. He couldn’t even roll over in bed without experiencing severe, momentary agony.

So do you understand why we’re not taking a vacation this year?

Yes ma’am, he said. Can Warren come over now?

Are you going to play video games?

There’s nothing else to do.

How about finals? Shouldn’t you be studying for those? There are less than two weeks of school left.

My first one’s not ’till Friday, and today’s Sunday. I have plenty of time.

Which class? I hope it’s not Environmental Science.

It is.

Last I checked, your grade wasn’t very good. You’re barely pulling a C.

So?

Finn! Your overall average may slip below a three-point-oh. That’s bad.

I have time to pull it up. I’m only a sophomore.

The longer you wait, the harder it is. And the lower your average, the less of a chance you have of getting into a decent college, and you can forget about getting any scholarship money. You need to study and get that grade up. Did you bring your textbook home?

I forgot.

Can you study online?

My teacher doesn’t post stuff until the last minute.

You can’t wait until the last minute. You need to start studying now. Do you know anybody you can borrow the book from? How about Warren?

He doesn’t have that class. None of my friends do.

His mother stared at him, unmistakably exasperated. He recognized the look because he’d seen it often. Honestly, Finn. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. At this rate, we’ll be lucky if we can get you into the community college here in Jacksonville.

What’s so bad about that? That’s what Warren is thinking about doing.

Warren is a classic underachiever. He doesn’t care about the future, and apparently his parents don’t either. But I do, and I wish you did, too.

He shrugged nonchalantly. I do. I mean, I want to have a career and all that. I just don’t know what it’ll be, yet.

You can decide later about that, but you’re limiting your chances of success by lazing around now. This is the time to start preparing, Finn!

Does that mean Warren can’t come over?

I’m upset with you for leaving your textbook at school. I don’t want to reward you for being forgetful.

I’ll study tomorrow, soon as I get home from school.

I won’t be home until nearly six o’clock. How do I know you won’t play video games instead?

I promise, Mom. There’s nothing to do right now and it’s Sunday. I don’t have anything to study and I can’t mow the lawn. All I can do is play video games or watch TV, and there’s nothing on that’s any good. I checked already. I’m bored.

Is Warren even home? He’s always at the beach, seems like.

He’s home. He sent me a text. The surf’s bad. Too choppy.

All right. He can come.

Finn made a quick maneuver with his ship to avoid the debris from the enemy vessel he’d just destroyed, and he scanned the screen for more hostiles. Warren, whose ship occupied the second monitor, said, There’s a squadron of Darvellan fighters approaching from ten o’clock.

Finn used his game controller to swerve his virtual craft in that direction, and he spotted the eight blips that signaled the approaching foe. He checked the lower right corner of the screen to assess his weapons’ inventory and said, I’m low on missiles.

Then use your lasers.

Charge is down to twenty-two percent.

Plasma shells?

Four left. You’ll have to do most of the fighting. I’ll be your wing man.

They accelerated toward the incoming vessels and prepared to fight.

Bonnie planted both elbows on the kitchen table and clutched the sides of her head so hard that it hurt. The pain was a welcome distraction.

The bill from the radiologist sat in front of her, glaring at her accusingly. Past Due, it said in stark letters. Her checkbook was beside it, open, and next to that was her calculator. No matter how she worked it, she wasn’t going to have enough money to pay the bill and still be able to cover the others, electric and water, also due.

She didn’t want to use her credit card to settle the account. Only if I absolutely have to. That was a trap that was hard to get out of. One of the other hygienists at work had done that, online shopping, and had to take out a loan to pay it off, and her husband made her tear up her card.

I have to save mine for emergencies only.

She briefly considered cancelling cable TV, but that was part of a package that included their telephone service and Internet, and Finn needed the Internet for school, and the television was the only entertainment she had. She hadn’t been to a movie in so long she couldn’t remember which one it was.

Maybe I should cancel our cell phones. Then she remembered she’d have to pay a penalty because she recently signed a contract for a new plan, so that was no option.

And she hadn’t given Finn his allowance for the week.

She got up and headed down the short hallway to his room. Through his closed door she heard the all-too-familiar sounds of video combat — piercing, shrieking sizzles of energy blasts. Sharp rumblings of explosions. The muffled voices of Finn and Warren.

She knocked and let herself in.

Finn and Warren were sitting side by side on the edge of the bed, each holding a game controller and their eyes intent on the two screens on Finn’s desk a few feet away. Finn only glanced at her before shifting his attention back to the virtual destruction they seemed to relish.

Finn, she said, can I speak with you for a second?

Can it wait? We’re in the middle of a battle.

You’re always in the middle of a battle. I don’t think you’ll get a commercial break. So please pause your game and come out into the hall with me. It’ll only take a minute.

But if we destroy this batch of fighters, we can get to the mothership and that’ll give us a chance to get enough points to move up to the next level.

"Now, Finn!"

Aw…crap. Okay. He pressed a button on his controller and got up and said to Warren, I’ll be right back. Don’t play without me.

I can’t. We’re in dual player mode. Warren slipped his phone from the back pocket of his pants and turned it on while Finn left the room with Bonnie.

Once they were out in the hall, she closed the door and said in a quiet voice, I’ve been going over our finances for the last hour, and no matter how I try to fudge things, I’m going to come up short this month. I don’t have enough for your allowance this week.

His brow fell. Again? You didn’t give it to me last week.

I know, and I’m sorry. Finn, something’s got to change. I can’t keep up at this rate. You need to get a job, and soon.

A job?

Yes, a job. You know what that is, right?

Sure, but I just turned sixteen, and…and how am I going to get to work? You have to take the car every day.

You can use it on weekends, though you need to work more than that. You need to work as much as you can during the summer. You’ll have to ride your bike to work.

You’re kidding.

DO I LOOK LIKE I’M KIDDING?

He gestured with both hands. Calm down. Warren can hear you.

I don’t care. You need to get a job and you need to do it now. I have a regular patient who told me about an opening this summer at the Driftwood Bay Country Club. She said you have to apply soon, though, because they want to fill the position right away. She’s the personnel director and she seems to like me, so I think your chances of getting the job are good.

Ride my bike? he said with his lip slightly curled.

Yes, Finn, ride your bike. It won’t kill you to do that. You’ll have to wear your helmet, or course.

Helmet? he said vacantly, as if he couldn’t believe his own mother was suggesting he give up all vestiges of cool.

She patted her head. Helmet. The hard plastic thing that protects your skull.

I’ll look like a dork.

If you have an accident, you’ll be worse than a dork. You’ll either be dead or brain damaged.

But the country club is far. It’s like, ten miles, at least.

It’s three point one. I checked. Easy biking distance.

But I’ll get all sweaty.

Not in the morning because it won’t be too hot yet, and it doesn’t matter if you get sweaty when you ride home in the afternoon. You can take a shower then.

Can’t I work at McDonald’s or something?

You’ll only make minimum wage. The country club pays a little more. And if you think you’ll look dorky with a bike helmet on, just picture yourself in one of those McDonald’s uniforms.

His lip curled again, higher. Well, it would be nice to have some money for a change. Do you think I’d make enough to buy a car?

I doubt it.

Even a cheap used one?

Not one that’s worth having. We don’t need another vehicle around here that has to go in the repair shop all the time. We can’t afford it. And our insurance will go up, too.

Then maybe I could buy something else, like a motorcycle! His lip-curl morphed into a hopeful grin."

Absolutely not!

Why?

You know why.

They’re not that dangerous.

Yes they are, and I’ll look up the statistics and show you, if you don’t believe me.

Then I can buy something else, like maybe a new gaming computer.

You need to start saving for college, Finn.

College?

Do you have to repeat everything I say?

No, but if I’m working and making money, I’d like to buy something for myself.

I did some figuring, and if you’re able to work full time at the country club, you can save enough for tuition and books at the community college for a semester, with a little left over. The woman who told me about the job said they’ll hire you every summer if they like you. That would go a long way toward paying for your college costs.

Even if I go to someplace out of town, like FSU or UCF?

Not unless you get a scholarship, and your grades aren’t good enough for that right now.

But I don’t graduate for over two years. I have plenty of time to save money.

You don’t, Finn. You have to start saving now! As much as you can.

Can’t I spend a little of my paycheck? If you’re not going to give me an allowance, I have to have something, at least. I can’t take Ava on a real date without money. She’s getting tired of us just hanging out at her house. She wants to go to movies and other stuff that costs money.

Well…I suppose. But you have to work up a budget. We’ll sit down together, once you get the job, and figure out how much you can spend on entertainment.

Gee, thanks a lot, he said unenthusiastically.

I’m sorry it has to be this way, but we’re better off than a lot of people. At least we have a roof over our heads.

It leaks during a real bad storm.

I wish you hadn’t reminded me of that. I need to call someone and see if they can fix it. It probably just needs a shingle replaced. I hope that’s all it is. I couldn’t possibly pay for a whole new roof right now.

A resigned look crossed his face, and he said, When do I have to apply for the job?

I can take you tomorrow, after school. My three o’clock appointment cancelled, so I can leave then, and I’ll drive you to the country club. I don’t want you riding your bike because you’d be sweaty for your interview, and that wouldn’t be good.

Interview?

You doing it again, repeating my words.

You didn’t tell me I had to do an interview!

Yes I did. Just now. It won’t kill you. You can fill out the online application after dinner tonight, but this lady wants to see you in person, so don’t dress like a homeless person.

Do I have to wear a tie?

I suppose not, but wear a decent shirt and slacks.

Finn returned to his room with his mood spoiled by the prospect of what lay ahead of him the next day. Warren was still on the edge of the bed where Finn had left him, and Warren stuck his phone back in his pocket and said, A job, hunh?

You heard?

Couldn’t help it. You two were practically shouting at each other.

That was nothing. My mom can really crank it up when she’s mad at me.

But a job! Dude! If you’re working at the country club, you’re gonna be around rich, hot lookin’ babes all the time. What if you get to be a lifeguard? That’d be awesome, man. Nothing but sittin’ by the pool, watchin’ babes in bathing suits all day long. And getting paid for it!

Ava would be super jealous, though.

No doubt, ’cause she’s got a temper. It’s that Cuban blood. But she’ll get used to the idea of you being a lifeguard. And think of the cash you’ll have! Even if you can’t spend it on stuff, it would be nice to have some lyin’ around. He nodded thoughtfully. I should get a job, too. Then I could get a new bass amp.

What’s wrong with the one you have now?

The speaker’s rattling real bad, like it’s about to blow. My parents said they won’t buy another one, after I blew out the last one. Cost over a hundred and fifty bucks to replace it.

Why would a new amp be better?

I think something’s wrong with my old one. It shouldn’t be blowing speakers ’cause I don’t play that loud.

Yeah you do. Finn had heard the band practicing in their drummer’s garage. The rock trio produced enough noise to register as a minor earthquake on a seismograph, and they almost always caused the neighbors to complain. Finn empathized with them. At least he could leave and get away from the racket.

I don’t play as loud as some people, and I gotta keep up with Nick. He’s got a Marshall hundred watt head now, and he’s blowin’ me away.

Where did he get the money for the Marshall?

His great aunt gave it to him for his birthday. He sure didn’t earn it. He doesn’t have a job either. Warren picked up his game controller from beside him on the bed and idly thumbed the buttons on it for a moment. I’d love to get a job at a surf shop. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Surrounded by surfboards and cool clothes and cool guys all day long, talking about surfin’.

There are probably a thousand kids applying for those jobs.

For sure. But if you’re gonna be a serious surfer, you gotta have a job that’s flexible, so you can take off when the waves are good. It’d be better to live at the beach, and get up every day and look out your window to see what the surf’s like. If it’s no good, you go to work.

This is Jacksonville. You’d end up working most of the time.

Warren chuckled. True, dude. Surf’s not good that much. That’s why you gotta live by the ocean, so you don’t miss a single good wave. Warren gestured with his controller at the two monitors on the desk in front of them. You know what you should buy if you get a job? A big-ass TV for gaming. Like, seventy-two inches or something. That’d be wicked.

I doubt my mom would let me, especially since she and my grandmother just got me that dual monitor setup for Christmas. That was like, all I got, practically. That and some socks and stuff.

Man, I hate getting practical stuff for Christmas. I got clothes. He glanced down at what he was wearing, his standard outfit of khaki shorts, T-shirt, and flip flops. I guess I needed them, though. Nothing seemed to fit anymore. I’ve gained like, thirty pounds since the beginning of the school year.

Warren was a big boy, with an upper body like a barrel and broad shoulders from paddling his surf board, but he had typically skinny surfer legs.

Is Coach Maxwell still pestering you to try out for the football team?

If he can catch me. When I see him in the hall, I duck into the nearest bathroom or lockers or whatever. He can’t seem to take a hint. I ain’t playin’ football. I’m a surfer and a rocker. He dipped his chin forcefully, them gestured toward the two monitors, where their video game was still displayed, frozen at a critical point in the conflict. Speakin’ of playin’, let’s play.

They resumed their electronic skirmish and battled with minimal conversation for the next twenty minutes, until the fight was over.

Finn checked the point total displayed in a box in the upper left corner of his monitor. Good score.

Not our best, though, Warren said. Let’s go again. A bling sounded from his phone, and he said, Hold on. He pulled it out and inspected it with a frown. That’s my mom. She said I gotta come home ’cause dinner’s almost ready. He set his controller aside and stood. Hey, did I tell you about that new online game I played, Random Call? It’s totally awesome.

Never heard of it. What’s it like?

Well, it’s not a game, exactly. It’s more like a social media thing. You still got your headset?

It’s in my desk drawer somewhere.

"Okay. Cool. You register on this website where thousands of other people are signed up, and after you log in, you put on your headset and click on this button that says Dial, and it connects you with somebody else who’s a member, and you can talk to them, even if they’re halfway around the world."

A total stranger?

"Totally random, but they’re a member of the website, so they expect it. That’s what’s so cool about it. And there are three option boxes you can select, where you can pick if you want to talk to a boy or a girl, or one that says doesn’t matter. That last one is in case you don’t care one way or the other. You just wanna chat. The website logs the minutes of your call, and the idea is to talk as long as you can every time you log in."

Do you compete with other players?

There’s a pull-down box that lists the initials of the players with the most minutes per week for all their calls combined. It’s the Top Talkers section. Somebody named R.S. logged four hundred and seventy-two minutes this week.

Sounds like a cool game.

It is. I think the website earns money from it by making you look at advertisements while you talk, but I just turn around so I don’t have to see them. I got connected with a girl this morning who lives in Wales, and that’s like, a million miles away, and we talked for almost an hour, man! It was awesome. She sounded hot, but she wouldn’t give me her last name so I can’t like, check her out online, but she was about our age, I think.

You don’t know that. She could be twelve or thirteen, and pretending to be older.

"She didn’t sound that young. But I’m going to try to call her back. You’re not supposed to, ’cause the Random Call website won’t let you, but I installed a hack before I clicked Dial so I can do that. The guy who told me about the game told me how to do it. It’s easy. You can get the hack from a users’ group. Want me to show you before I go?"

Sure. I mean, there’s no harm in that, right? It’s just a hack. Everybody does that.

* * *

Judy looked up from the book she’d been reading to her grandmother to see that she’d fallen asleep. The frail woman couldn’t seem to make it through a single chapter, lately, and her health, what little she had left, was declining noticeably. She won’t last much longer. It gave Judy an ache in her heart, realizing that.

Judy slipped the bookmark in between the pages and set the novel on the shelf, and gripped the top edge of the quilt and pulled it up to cover her grandmother’s bony shoulders.

Her eyes flickered open. Judy! What day is it?

Oh! Judy jumped back with a start and let go of the quilt. You surprised me, Grannie J. I thought you were asleep.

I was, for a minute. What day is it?

May thirteenth.

Sunday?

Yes ma’am.

Her ancient grandmother rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, and let out a sigh that was longer than what seemed possible, coming from such a thin, emaciated body. Tonight is the night.

Are you sure?

Sweetheart. She turned her head so that she faced Judy. How could I forget? It was the most important night of my life.

But how did you know what the date would be?

I looked it up in an almanac. We didn’t have the Internet back then.

Did you write it down?

She chastised Judy with a you-know-better-than-that look.

I would’ve written it on my arm with a Sharpie, Judy said, just in case.

That’s because you worry too much. Or rather, you worry about the wrong things. That’s the beauty of getting old. Your perspective improves.

Will I have to wait eighty years to gain a better perspective?

I doubt it. You’re much smarter than I was at your age. She held Judy in a piercing gaze for a long, reflective moment and said, Sometimes I wish I had married younger. Then I wouldn’t be old enough to be your great-grandmother.

It doesn’t help that Dad married late, too.

He did seem to take his sweet time to settle down and have kids. That means I’m going to miss some important events in your life. I won’t get to see you graduate from high school, or start college, or—

You might. It’s not that much longer.

She shook her head gently. It’s taken all my willpower to hang on until today, but I had to. I couldn’t miss it.

What if it doesn’t happen? It could be different this time. Maybe since you know it’s going to happen, it has affected the outcome.

Sometimes you talk like a grizzled, gray professor. How old are you again?

I’ll be sixteen in two weeks. You knew that. Judy doubted her grandmother had forgotten. The cancer might’ve wasted her body, but her mind was still as sharp as ever.

I’m sorry I can’t get you a birthday present, dear. For you or your brother.

We don’t need anything, Grannie J. We’re just happy that you’re part of our lives.

There you go again, sounding old and mature.

I’ll try to act silly, if that would make you happy.

Seeing you truly happy is what will make me happy, but I doubt I’ll live that long.

Stop saying that! You’re going to live forever. You’re only ninety-six.

I don’t want to live forever. I just wanted to live until this day, the day it all started.

I’m still worried that it won’t. I think the fact that you’ve known about it all these years has somehow altered the course of events.

It hasn’t. Trust me, dear. I can feel it. It’ll happen. Besides, I’ve made it a point to not interfere in even the slightest way. I’ve only watched him from afar.

You mean, stalked him. Judy fought to contain a sudden smile.

Her grandmother scowled. You make me sound like a criminal. Criminals stalk. Old ladies just look. But quit worrying about whether it’ll happen. I’m absolutely certain it will. Fate is too determined of a lady to not let it be so. Her gaze moved toward Judy’s laptop on the dresser. Now that we’re on the subject of looking, has he posted anything new lately?

Not since the last time we checked, which was…oh…about an hour ago. Judy suppressed a mild smirk.

I can’t help it! I don’t have that many hours left. I want to see him as many times as I can.

Judy felt a pang so sharp that it made her eyes wet and blurry, and she sniffed and turned her head toward the other wall so her grandmother couldn’t see it.

I’m sorry. I’ll try not to be so morbid around you.

It’s all right, Grannie J. I’ll try to be little more understanding. Do you want to see him now? I have his Facebook page up, still.

If you don’t mind. I’d love to.

Judy fetched her laptop, sat on the edge of the bed next to her grandmother, and flipped it open. The screen came to life, and displayed upon it, among other things, was a selfie of a boy about Judy’s age, with hazel eyes that gleamed with an internal spark, slightly curly brown hair that needed a trim, and an impish half-smile. He looked like he had a secret, a humorous one, and if you’d only listen, he might tell it to you, and it would make you laugh.

Grannie J sighed again, wistfully. He sure is a handsome devil, isn’t he?

Yes. He’s definitely that.

Have he and your brother exchanged messages recently?

Not that I know of. They don’t really know each other anyway. They’re just Facebook friends, and that doesn’t mean all that much.

That’s probably a good thing. If their relationship was anything more than superficial, it might affect the outcome.

It had gotten to the point where Judy heard the outcome in all capital letters. It had become that significant. She saw it clearly in her mind: THE OUTCOME. It was loud and intrusive, like tornado sirens blaring across the street, impossible to ignore.

Grannie J glanced toward the closed door. Where is your brother, anyway? I haven’t seen him all day.

He’s off somewhere with a couple of his buddies. You know how he is. He’ll be back in a little while.

He’s a social animal.

That’s one way of putting it, she said with all the derisiveness she could manage.

Don’t be so hard on him. He’s not as irresponsible as you make him out to be. He’s a teenage boy. It’s okay to act like one. He’s supposed to.

It’s not okay to act like an idiot.

He’s not an idiot, Judy. He’s just not as mature as you are, but he’ll get there. And he has a lot of friends, and that’s a good thing. I think you should get out more, like him. You spend too much time cooped up with me. That’s not right.

Who’s going to read to you and keep you company if I’m not here? Surely not my mom. And Dad’s been busy with the foundation this month, courting donors. It’s that time of year.

It won’t bother me to go for a few hours without company. I can sleep. In fact, I think I might do that now. Why don’t you go and do something for yourself? I’ll be fine. I promise I won’t die, yet.

Are you sure? I worry that you’ll be alone and—

Judy Tate! Stop worrying! I will be all right without you for a little while. I have a small favor to ask, though. Will you wake me when it’s time?

Do you remember when that is?

It’s around seven forty-five. I want to be conscious then, even though I won’t be a part of it. I just want to be alert when it happens, so I can be there in spirit.

It means a lot to you, doesn’t it?

It’s the most significant moment of my life, dear.

I think Dad will want to be with you, then.

If your brother’s home, he might, too. Probably not your mother, though.

She’s busy, getting her stuff ready for her next show. It’s a really important one.

I understand. I don’t expect her to drop everything just for me. She has her own life.

"But we wouldn’t have much of a life if not for him." Judy said the last word reverently, the way her grandmother often did.

"We’d have no life at all if not for