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Chapter Sixty-Five
Jemma
“Ocean Breathes Salty” faded into my mind. Serenading me. Bringing me back to a time when I whistled with a boy on the top of a roof… and we danced that way, oblivious to each other, oblivious to what would happen and all the things that wouldn’t.
But most of all, oblivious of our own hearts and the true capacity with which we would one day love each other. Oblivious to how this love would save my soul.
“Argh…” I groaned, rolling over onto my side on the mattress as my back cracked. A shooting pain shot up my left shoulder blade, eyes squeezed shut. “Jesus fucking Christ…”
My eyes slowly opened. The light from the sun shone in through my windows, highlighting icicles on the exterior glass which were dripping, melting, and trickling down to the pane on the outside of my house.
My house.
I shot up, memories of the night before and the accident and dying and arriving in the great beyond rushing into my mind.
“Well, fuck!” I cried as I tried to process everything that had gone down. I glanced back at the icicles on the outside of my window, my head tilting with confusion. “What the hell? Did the whole entire world go crazy or something after last night?”
Why was I back here, exactly? Hell, I’d seen enough movies to know that wasn’t how it was supposed to work. The person typically ended up in the same spot where they had died if they were given a second chance.
I mean, duh, Hollywood was always right!
After looking back at the icicles once more, I rushed out my room and down the steps in what I realized were my pajamas—my heavy, winter pajamas that I only dressed in during the colder months. My eyes squinted as I extended my arms, taking in the striped pattern of clothing which I hadn’t worn in a good seven or eight months. Clothing I wore during the previous winter… when Jamie died. September and October, while significantly cooler than the summer, had no place for thick pajamas. None whatsoever.
When I made it out my door, a wintry wonderland greeted me. A good three inches of sparkling white covered the ground around my house and all around the other typically grassy areas of my neighbors.
September and October never had snow, either.
“What the actual fuck,” I said, pivoting back toward my home and heading back inside. I did the only thing I knew to do. I ran back upstairs and grabbed my iPhone from my room with every intention of checking the weather app for information and/or the news for signs of a world apocalypse.
Instead, before I even got that far, I noticed the date on the lock screen.
February fourteenth. That calendar readFebruaryfourteenth.
The fuck…
No fucking way. That couldn’t be. I went into google chrome and searched for the day’s date, yielding the same results.
February fourteenth.
My eyes narrowed. Something had to be off. But then, did anything really surprise me anymore? Hell no. Not after what I’d been through the last couple weeks. Nothing surprised me.
Did this mean that they’d sent me back in time? To stop Jamie’s death? So that I could be here and have him, too? My heart light up, suddenly my whole body jittering, dancing with hope. But… what if somehow my phone was wrong? What if Jamie was still dead?
There was one way for me to find out.
I clicked into the phone app and dialed my mom who answered on the second ring.
“Well, good early afternoon,” she said. “Nice of you to actually call me first for once.”
“Mom, what happened at the party yesterday?” I asked.
“What?”
“The party. You know, Jamie’s parents.”
“What party? What are you talking about with Jamie’s parents?”
“You know, the party we went to yesterday… the one where I yelled at you and caused a scene and then stormed off?”
