John droppedthe mic and walked toward Rori, his jaw flexing with withheldemotion.
There it wasagain, Rori thought. Look for Jack in others. It felt likesome kind of secret code, obvious to everyone but her. She wonderedif Jack was gone yet, and felt tears choke her again.
John movedthrough the crowd, shrugging off the hands extended to him, orvoices calling his name. His time was almost up, and it didn't lookgood. He had precisely one hour before the grace period ended andhe returned to his old body. He wondered vaguely how they'd do it.Would John just drop dead of a heart attack? Would Jack sit up inhis hospital bed, his mother waiting, and break the bad news?
He sat in atable near the door, brooding.
"That wasactually pretty great, what you said." Rori fell into a chair nextto him. "It's funny. I keep hearing that phrase. Look for him inothers."
John saidnothing. I'm right here, Rori. See me. He closed his eyesand pushed the thought outward with his will, but hope wasdwindling.
"Thank you fortucking me in." She was blushing furiously.
"I owed you atleast that much. Are you feeling okay? You were shaking so hard Ithought you would rattle your teeth right out of your head."
"I'm fine." Herhead was bowed. "No, I'm not."
Hazel eyes methis. Whitney Houston's voice pounded through the speakers.
"How the helldid we listen to this crap?"
Rori's snort oflaughter was watery with unshed tears. "I don't know. I rememberJack, one weekend down at the beach, got caught singing with hishead-phones on. Oh, man, they rode him so hard over it. Itwas some really cheesy song..."
"Divinyls, ITouch Myself." He hadn't meant to let that slip out.
"How onearth did you know that?"
Rori met hisgaze. Was it her imagination, or were his eyes the same blue asJack's? Of all the people in the world, how could she be looking atJohn Lydon and seeing Jack Lynch?
God, Ror, I'mright here. Please, please see me!
"Why didn't youeat your orange M&M's the other night?"
"I hate orangethings."
"Why?"
"I— just do."Look hard, Rori. Look with your heart.
"When did youstart taking Double Stuff Oreos and turning them into QuadrupleStuff Oreos?"
"I guess I'vealways done it." I'm right here. You're so close.
Rori's mind wasspinning. Her heart was pounding. The pieces of an elusive puzzletumbled in her head.
Kate's guidedog, Preston, shoving his nose into John's hand.
John, pushingthe cookie-tops over to her.
The pile oforange candies.
John's mother,Norman, the mystery man in the hospital... look for Jack inothers.
Jack's face,dripping with water and blood, as he turned away from her... John'sface, dripping with water and lined with concern, as he tumbledinto the fountain with her...
Jack-John-Jack-John shaking dark hair out of blue eyes.
Rori glancedtoward the door. Norman was standing there, dressed in a rumpledhooded sweatshirt. A strange light seemed to come from within thehood. How could this guy be everywhere, all the time? He caught hergaze across the room and waved, his hand emerging from a box ofCrunchios.
Heaven CanWait. Freaky Friday. What Dreams May Come.
Extreme'sMore Than Words was playing. John Lydon had his eyes pinnedon her face. He seemed to be waiting for something. He seemedfrightened. He seemed lonely. He seemed...
"Dance withme." She took his hand and they found their way out onto thefloor.
"When I wasfive I skinned my knee leaving dance class. I still have the scar."She closed her eyes, pressed her cheek to his chest, andprayed.
"Yourflip-flops folded under and tripped you on the concrete stairs."His eyes flew open. The words were out before he could stopthem.
Rori's face,turned up to his with astonishment, beamed. John shook the hair outof his eyes again, and a tumbler clicked into place with a cosmicCLUNK.
"Jack!"
He shut hermouth with a kiss that was twenty years in coming, but arrivedright on time.
EPILOGUE
EllingtonMemorial Hospital, February 15, 2011
With his motherby his bedside, Jack Lynch's heart monitor gave a prolonged, shrillbeep. He flat-lined. Hospital staff marked the time of death as12:01 AM. His organs were donated to science.
At 12:02 AM, ina similar hospital room in Augusta, Maine, a fourteen year old girlnamed Hildegard Applethwait sat up in her bed with a startled gasp,looked down at her acne-speckled, pudgy body, and shouted "son of abitch!" Her shocked nurses alerted her family, who rushed to thegirl's bedside to weep tears of joy, for Hildie had been in a comanearly a week with no signs of recovery. Doctors had been certainshe was brain dead.
And in case youthink that is the end...
In ten years,Hildegard will have lost quite a few pounds, and her acne will havevanished. Still curvy and wholesome, she will develop a passion forfootball. On a starry night, after graduating from college, shewill go on to win the highest-rated season of Next Big Star, withthe largest call-in-vote tally in the show's long-runninghistory.
So there.
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About theAuthor
Chrissy Olinger is a writer and language forensics specialistwho lives in Green Harbor, Massachusetts. You can read more abouther online at www.chrissyolinger.com
Dedication
This story isfor Ahmed. He knows why.
