Jumper 1 - Jumper by Steven Gould Page B

me in the eye, but I didn't let go. I jumped to the observation deck of Will Rogers Airport, sixty miles to the southwest of Stillwater, and dropped him. He staggered away from me, falling to his knees in the suddenly different, brightly lit place, putting his hands out before him to catch himself. Before he could regain his feet and turn around, I jumped away, back to the dark spot on the dance floor. Somebody turned the lights back on.
    Millie was looking at me with wide eyes. I felt my face and winced. She came forward and tilted my head back, so she could look at my eye.
    "Ouch. We better put some ice on that. Where's Mark?"
    I looked around. People started dancing again. I stuck to the truth. "I think he left while the lights were out."
    "Did he hit you?"
    "His elbow, I think."
    She pulled me to the kitchen, her arm intertwined in mine. As we walked she kept looking around her, looking for Mark.
    We passed Sissy in the hall, talking on the phone, one ear plugged with a finger against the noise of the band. She was speaking loudly into the receiver.
    "You're where? Don't give me that! You were just here a minute ago! No, I won't come get you! You want me to drive to someplace you couldn't possibly be? If you don't want to tell me the truth, don't tell me anything. Fuck you!" She slammed the receiver down and stomped off toward the dance floor.
    Millie raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Well, I guess he's started lying to her, too. What did you do to him?"
    I blinked and kept my mouth shut.
    In the kitchen she filled a dish towel with ice cubes and eased it against my face. It hurt, but I was enjoying the attention too much to complain.
    "Does that feel better?"
    "Well, no, but it's probably keeping the swelling down."
    She laughed.
    We went back to the patio then, with fresh drinks and the towel-wrapped ice. After a bit, I did another slow dance with Millie. Then she danced a couple of fast dances with Paul and another friend. Then we left.
    "I'm glad I went," she said in the car, "but I'm really sorry about your eye."
    "It's okay. I had a good time. It was worth the trip."
    She looked at me over her glasses. Then she sighed and returned her attention to the road. We drove down by the university; then she pulled into a block of apartments.
    "Whoa. What about my hotel?"
    She smiled a little smile. "Waste of money."
    "I have the money."
    She turned off the ignition and stared straight ahead for a moment. Then she turned to me and said, "I want you to stay at my place." She averted her eyes as she said it.
    "Are you sure?"
    She nodded.
    "Okay."
    She had a two-bedroom apartment, which she shared with a roommate. When I asked, she said, "Sherry went home for the weekend, to her folks in Tulsa."
    I dropped my bag by the couch and sat down. The room was filled with plants, hanging, on stands, and on the floor. The couch, a small coffee table, and a large wicker chair sat among the greenery like clearings in a jungle. Leaning back, I studied a large, frondy thing in a clay pot over my head.
    My heart was pounding very hard.
    "What do you call this potted plant of Damocles?"
    She finished hanging up our coats.
    "It's a Boston fern and it's hardly hanging by a thread."
    "My mother used to keep them. I never knew the name."
    I had a dark memory, a vivid flash of Dad heaving pot after pot out the back door to smash on the patio tiles, all the time raging while a small boy cringed in the corner, crying because his mother was gone.
    "Would you like something to drink?"
    My mouth was very dry suddenly, or maybe it was all along and I just realized it. "Water, please. Lots of water."
    She brought it in a sixteen-ounce tumbler with ice. I drank half of it at once, chilling the back of my throat so it ached.
    "You were thirsty."
    "Yeah."
    She sat down beside me, but didn't lean back. She reminded me of a bird, perched for instant flight.
    I sighed. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea, Millicent."
    She looked at the floor. "Am I being too