Time Drifters
Chapter Thirty-Eight: 2001-12-21 at 2:21

When numbers have meaning, it’s a numerologist who can tell you what they mean. Unfortunately, my Post Master wasn’t one.

“I’m Drifting on the twenty-first day of the twelfth month in the year 2001,” I noted, “and at 2:21pm.”

“But that’s only here in New York,” Mr. Danby said, preoccupied with a spatula and a pan full of sizzling bacon. The old-fashioned windows in his house did little to keep out the draft from wintertime, and the food smelled particularly good in the chill of the kitchen.

“In other time zones, it doesn’t come at 2:21pm,” he clarified.

“So it means something special, for me,” I said, watching him move home fries into a large bowl. “Is someone else coming?”

“No, but you’ll be back soon enough, “ he said. “And I hope you won’t mind a repeat on the menu.”

I grimaced. Leftovers were never a favorite.

“I will tell you that this one isn’t going to be short,” he added.

“Like epic?” I asked. “I’m not going to miss Christmas, am I?”

“No, no. Not that,” he said, counting just under his breath while he squinted at the ceiling. “Almost, but only be if you Drifted in real time. And we both know that there isn’t much that’s real about time.” He laughed.

“I don’t wanna miss Christmas,” I repeated.

“Or the rest of your life,” he said, soberly. “I just want you to be a bit prepared. That’s kind of my way of giving you something,” he added, nodding towards the paintbrush that he’d unwrapped moments ago.

It was the best present I could think of, considering that the house had so much in it already. Miss Prankle had helped me with my choice for Mr. Danby because she knew that we both liked art. I’d gotten her a gift basket of colorful flower seeds, because she said she wanted them, even if they’d have to wait till next spring to grow.

“That’s why the food,” I said, talking through another bit of cranberry scone, feeling suddenly very hungry.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Will there be food?” I asked, a bit desperately.

“Oh, I expect so,” he answered quickly. “And you’re very resourceful, it seems.”

“You don’t really know, do you?” I said, getting worried.

“No, not a clue,” he admitted. As if to echo the deflated feeling we both had, Teabag sighed loudly and settled his chin onto his front paws.

“So, what happens when I get to the year mark?” I asked, trying to be as casual as possible.

“Hmm,” he murmured, spooning out some of the potatoes onto my plate. “Don’t push it, eh?”

It was a late lunchtime and I was hungry. It had been easy enough to stretch the truth that afternoon. School let out at noon because it was the Friday before the December Holiday, but there was an optional party going on until 3pm to allow parents extra time to pick up their children. I’d told Mom and Dad that I was going to hang out and get a ride from one of the kids. They were busy enough not to piece it all together and so I had a free pass for the afternoon.

“Is this one still here in America?” I asked, pulling on the old and formal-looking loose shirt Mr. Danby had left for me, wondering if I might be Drifting onto a pirate ship or something.

“And, the pants are too short!” I yelled.

“That was the style,” he called out. “Breeches or… oh! I can’t remember the name. Darn it! Just a second.”

“I don’t need to know what you call them,” I said. “I’d just appreciate getting a pair of real pants and not ones with buttons below the kneecaps.”

His voice trailed off and I finished putting everything on as best I could. I looked in the mirror and winced, pulling out the basket with magazines from under the sink and balancing myself on it to get a better overall view. I looked like a character in a summer stock musical or from one of my Mom’s TV movies of the week.

I heard the clock strike quarter past two and opened the door, startled to see Mr. Danby, snapping his fingers right in my face.

“Knickerbockers!” he said, delighted with himself. “Still a winter pant, so I don’t know if you’ll need shorts, seeing as it’s May. But it would be too adult for you to wear long pants, and you can always rip them if you absolutely have to.”

“Why is that bad for me to look more adult?” I asked.

“Just five minutes, Liam, come along,” he said, fidgeting as he pawed at a gold pocket watch he pulled from his vest.

“After this, I’ll have been a Drifter for a year,” I said.

“Not quite,” he retorted sharply, opening the owl statue and holding it forward for me to take out my crystal. Seeing it there again gave me a shudder, and the crystal shuddered back as my fingers neared it.

“But yes,” he continued, “This is the final Drift of your first year.”

“Is there something special about this one, then?” I asked. I knew about hazing that older kids tried to do when you entered high school. I wondered if there was anything similar you had to do in order to pass through the noted first-year shunning from other Drifters.

“Frankly, I think they’re all pretty special, Liam,” he said. “Just keep your wits about you.”

He was practically pushing me towards the Great Room but I stopped when I saw the exposed quartz expanse ahead of me.

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything particular I should know this time,” I said.

“It’s OK,” he said. “You’re not late on this, you know. Not yet. It doesn’t have to be like it was.”

“Oh, right,” I said, feeling my insides shaking. “I thought it was maybe that I was just cold.”

The timbers in the building creaked as a growing rumble grew from the ground beneath me and I jumped.

“You’ve done this before,” he said, assuring me. “Now go along and get in position.”

I looked at him and he nodded. My legs felt heavy and I had a weird feeling of foreboding, but it was more like static in my head than real coldness inside.

The simple leather slippers I had on allowed me to feel the ridges in the rock as I stepped onto the stone and across to the center. The edges of my knickerbockers covered just enough of my knees to shield me from anything hard, but my shins felt cold as they got close to the rock.

Mash was skulking behind Mr. Danby this time instead of Teabag, her tail swishing back and forth with annoyance.

My hands touched the quartz and it felt like the cold was already sucking warmth from my body.

“Now!” Mr. Danby said, jerking his hand downward like a referee at a car race.

I reached up and grasped my crystal and pressed it into my chest. I felt a jolt in the stone, as though it had all lurched a foot to the west, and I saw Mr. Danby grab onto the doorframe of the portico and then lean to grab the standing lamps as they tipped. Mash the cat flinched and slunk down onto her paws, hissing, as though someone had taken a swipe at her.

I gulped hard but I held on.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

I saw Mr. Danby beginning to right himself, just as a second jolt backwards surged beneath me. He was there but moving his foot forward in slow motion. The Drift arcs were forming and I could sense that whatever had happened, the stones were exactly where they needed to be now. The shimmer arc formed around me, the Great Room went white and the growling roar zoomed to a deafening pitch.

And then, that silent, floating space of weightlessness. It was so peaceful and this time, I had such a sense of relief. Everything that had happened in the world seemed to fall away in that moment. It was gone and I was leaving it to the future. Wherever I was going, it had to be a better place.

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