So why did Jessie still feel confused?
TWENTY-FIVE
Jessie climbed to the top of the King of the Mountain rock and sat down, pulling her knees against her chest. She still didn’t have her full strength back after the sickness, and her legs trembled a little from the exertion.
Around her, the cool, shadowed woods felt good after the thick August heat in Clifton. The trees were still green and leafy, but Jessie’s sharp eyes could pick out brown patches, patches signaling autumn wasn’t far away.
It had been almost four months since the night Ma crouched beside this rock to start Jessie on her quest for help. But it had been only a week since the state decided it was safe for Jessie and her brothers and sisters to live with their parents again. They’d all moved back to their cabin in Clifton only three days ago.
“Just like before,” Katie had said brightly when the family all gathered around the supper table the first night.
“Yes, princess,” Pa said, and smiled.
But Jessie knew things would never be the same as before. Abby and Jefferson were dead, and that still upset everyone. Besides, all the other families had moved away; the Keysers were allowed to stay only because Pa was taking care of Clifton while judges decided who should get the land.
Jessie bunched up her calico skirt in her hand. She looked like the old Jessie, “just like before,” but that was just for today. Tomorrow she’d wear blue jeans and look like every other 1996 teenager.
For tomorrow, the Keyser children would all be going to a modern school outside Clifton. They’d ride one of those big yellow vehicles Jessie had seen all those months ago—she knew now that they were called school buses, not limousines. Jessie and the others would learn about all the twentieth-century things they’d missed all these years. They’d even do some of their work on something called a computer.
Jessie let go of the calico. All the others were excited about going to school and “being modern.” Hannah had discovered makeup and marveled at how red she could make her lips and cheeks without pinching them. Andrew had fallen in love with cars and any other vehicle that didn’t need a horse. All he could talk about was getting to ride a bus every day. He had the younger ones thrilled about that, too.
Jessie could understand why her brothers and sisters were eager to learn more about the outside world. But for once, she was the most frightened of the Keyser children. She wasn’t sure she’d fit in at the modern school. And she couldn’t understand why the others didn’t see the difference in Ma and Pa: Ma, who cried sometimes when she thought no one was looking, and Pa, who had to be cajoled to wear modern clothes or talk about anything that happened after August 1840. Pa had to see someone called a psychiatrist for help. “Jes-sie! Oh, Jessie!”
Jessie turned and saw Ma coming toward the rock.
“I thought you might be here,” Ma said.
“I needed to think…. Did I forget some chore?”
“No.” Ma looked up at Jessie carefully. “Things are pretty confusing, aren’t they?”
Jessie nodded. “When I was little, I thought you and Pa knew everything, and you could protect me from everything. And now—” Jessie chose her words carefully. She didn’t want to insult Ma. “Now it’s not like that.”
“I know,” Ma said. “You went from feeling as safe as a five-year-old to finding out news that would destroy a lot of adults. That practically has destroyed a lot of adults.”
Jessie remembered that the psychiatrist had said Pa might be trying to forget it was the twentieth century on purpose—because remembering would mean knowing he’d put his whole family in danger. The psychiatrist thought coming back to Clifton for a while might help Pa ease into the twentieth century. Jessie wasn’t so sure.
“Ma, is everything going to be okay?” Jessie asked.
“I hope so. You have to remember—you may not feel safer now, but you are.”
“But school’s going to be different and—”
“Jessie, you coped with a lot when you went for help. I’m less worried about you than any of the other children. Or Pa.” Ma looked down at her hands. She twisted her wedding ring on her finger. “I’ve got to go start supper,” she finally said. “Stay here as long as you like. Hannah’ll do your chores.”
Jessie sat still for a while, watching Ma’s retreating back. She thought about how scared she’d been, leaving Clifton that night almost four months ago. In spite of everything, she’d done all right on her journey. No—she’d done okay.
Jessie was still scared, but she felt better. She stood and jumped off the rock, letting the wind puff out her skirt. It was frightening, plunging through the empty air, but she believed she’d land safely.
Margaret Peterson Haddix, Running Out of Time
(Series: # )
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