A JINX IN TIME

Chapter 1

2014: August 19th

On the morning of her eighteenth birthday, the woman formerly known as Ginni Wells strode through the exit doors of New York’s Elmhurst Psychiatric Hospital. Three minutes earlier, she had discharged herself against medical advice. Standing at the edge of a furious downpour, she pulled the pungent air deep into her lungs and savored the acrid freedom of asphalt, petrichor, and exhaust. In her left hand, she held a pilfered umbrella. A roller bag rested in a puddle at her feet.

Beneath the stucco overhang, she watched strangers pick at their phones, oblivious to the callous cruelty mankind had forced upon her. What would these people think if they knew the slight girl with the black-stubbled scalp had cowered as she watched a madman slaughter her parents and allowed it to happen? Would they recoil in fear? Wince with disgust? Would they flee from a jinx who ruined everything she touched?

Eighty-eight days of treatment, and the memory still clung like a second skin.

Cowering in the bedroom closet, the walls leaned in as she coaxed the folding door shut and peered between its narrow slats. Shadows of the madman’s furies jerked and jolted across the ceiling as his maniacal rants echoed through the house. Breathless, heart racing, the hair on her arms prickled to attention. Her father’s high-pitched howl sliced through the air, and she trembled. Get the phone. Call for help. And then, like static through her veins, the tingling began.

A rickety Ford Taurus pulled to a stop in the middle of the lane, blocking the crosswalk. The passenger window shuddered down, and the grinning driver leaned toward the window and yelled, “Ginni—what the hell did you do to your hair? Get in here, girlfriend.”

She tossed her bag and unopened umbrella in the back and leaped into the front seat. The girls collided in an embrace and clung tightly until a car horn blared.

“Jinx,” she said, as she slid back into her seat, wiping her eyes.

“Huh?” Angela Dalton, Jinx’s best friend from high school, raised a curious eyebrow as the driver behind them leaned on his horn again. Her chestnut ponytail swept her shoulders as she checked the side mirrors.

“I changed my name to Jinx.”

“Are you nut—” Angela sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”

“What do you think of my buzz cut?” Jinx asked. She grabbed Angela’s hand and rubbed it across her prickly scalp. “It’s all the rage in the cuckoo’s nest.”

“Ha, that tickles, Gin … Jinx. Come on, now, let’s get you out of here and back to Secaucus. You’re staying with us; Mom and Dad insisted.” Angela leaned toward the flapping wipers and pressed the accelerator, spinning the tires on the slick pavement.

“It’s nice to talk without people listening in,” Angela said. “I called often, but they rarely … you know.”

Jinx squirmed in her seat as she thought of the murders and how the young police officer had glared at her suspiciously. “No witnesses but you,” he had voiced in a thinly veiled insinuation. That, and her honest but inconceivable explanation, got her committed. If she had lied, the summer would have turned out differently. Better? Worse? It didn’t matter now.

“I know. Ward rules.” Jinx noticed Angela wore the V-neck she had given her for her birthday. The baby-blue fabric popped her summer tan, an olive hue that matched Jinx’s natural skin color. Angela looked happy.

“So, why did you change—”

“Because I’m a jinx,” she said, rubbing her thumb along a rip in the armrest. “Everything I touch, I ruin. Summer plans, college, me … even you.”

“Me? What have you ruined for me?” Angela tapped Jinx’s empty seatbelt latch.

“Where should you be right now?” Jinx asked as she clipped her seatbelt in place.

“That’s not important. We’ll get you settled, and I’ll fly out to Baylor on Sunday. No harm, no foul. Besides, I don’t want to miss the Celebration of Life for your folks on Saturday. Father Franco has it all planned out.”

“So I heard. A celebration, huh? That’s a laugh.” Jinx stared out the side window. “God, I miss them, Angie. I screwed up bad.”

“Whoa there, girl. No! Not your fault at all.” Angela took Jinx’s hand and squeezed it. “It was him. Only him.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“I am your therapist,” Angela said. “And I say the die is cast. It’s time to let it go.”

Jinx forced a smile. “Caesar said that, not you. And they haven’t caught the guy yet, so how can I let it go?”

“They’ll get him. Sooner or later.”

Rain pelted the windshield as they listened to the shushing of vehicles on the wet pavement and the car’s suspension that creaked with every bump.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck babysitting me,” Jinx said, a mischievous smile growing. “You’re missing Welcome Week, you know. The tours, initiations, and parties with hot guys. When you finally get there, your only friend will be some rando roommate who’s an ogre with hairy armpits and stinks like low tide.”

Angela drummed the steering wheel while the pair laughed so hard the windows fogged. For the first time this summer, Jinx allowed herself to be happy.

“I missed you, Ginni-Jinx.”

“I missed you, too, Angie.”

“I’m glad you signed yourself out,” Angela said.

“Hell yeah. I’m an adult now. Law says they can’t keep me locked up if I don’t let ‘em. I’ve been waiting for this day all friggin’ summer.”

“Damn, I forgot to say it: Happy birthday, Miss Adult! You’re as old as me. We can vote, join the Marines, and get tattoos. Ooh, let’s get cute matching hearts tattooed on our—”

“I want you to drive by my house,” Jinx declared.

Angela frowned. “Why? What good is that?”

“I need to show you something.”

“You still think it’s possible?” Angela’s knuckles whitened on the wheel.

“I know what I know.” Jinx crossed her arms.

The car’s interior darkened as they curved into the Lincoln Tunnel. Surging echoes and flashing lights filled the cabin while Jinx searched for words.

“So, you’re going to be a nurse,” she said, breaking the uneasy silence.

“Yeah.” Angela snickered. “In four years, I’ll be draining pus and lancing boils with the best of ‘em.”

Jinx flinched. “Ew, gross. I’ll take a history degree over that any day.”

“You should. I’ll bet Columbia would still take you.”

“No.” Jinx flipped her wrist, dismissing the idea. “Not after all this.”

They rode in silence, each in her thoughts, until Angela turned down Centre Avenue.

Jinx pointed ahead. “Go right on First.”

“I friggin’ know where you live, dork.” Angela shook a toothy grin at Jinx.

Rounding the corner, Jinx tensed, eyes fixed on her porch and the plywood sheet hammered over the shattered front window. Goosebumps rose, and she scoffed at the red crucifix spray-painted on the board.

Get the phone. Call for help. A tingling sensation spread from her arms to her legs and up to the crown of her scalp. The intruder’s rants faded as she felt her body pulled through her neck and out the top of her head, twisting inside out and upside down. The closet walls turned black, and she found herself standing upright, dizzy, in a construction site eighteen years in the past.

Jinx stood in the concrete slurry of their neighbor’s driveway, confused and disoriented. The tingling and dizziness abated, replaced by the rumble of an approaching wood-sided station wagon pulling into her driveway across the street. Jinx recognized her young father as he rushed around the car and opened the passenger door, helping Jinx’s mother out. He tenderly removed an infant from the rear, and the pair climbed the porch steps hand in hand, cooing at the newborn. Jinx’s mother posed on the porch, beaming as her father ran down and snapped a picture of the beautiful mother and child.

“Stop!” Jinx blurted.

“Here?” Angela pulled to a stop.

Jinx swiveled to look at the house across from hers, a remodel. “Open your window.”

The rain had lightened to a drizzle, and the breaking sunlight sparkled in the dew.

“See the driveway?” Jinx leaned over Angela, pointing.

“Duh.” Angela nudged Jinx’s arm away.

“Those footprints. In the concrete. Those are mine.” Jinx flopped back in her seat, relieved to see the two distinctive divots that proved her case.

“So?”

Jinx unbuckled and slid closer to Angela, whispering. “They’re from the night of the murders—when I twisted into the past. I told you that when you called.”

“I remember. But Jinx … those prints have always been there. The doctors said you had false memories. From the trauma. Remember?”

“No! Come with me.” Jinx flung her door open and sprinted onto the driveway. She dropped onto the wet concrete beside the imprints and removed her shoes.

Angela approached and held her umbrella over Jinx. “You’re sitting in a puddle, silly.”

“Look.” Jinx placed her shoes in the prints. “I wore these that night, May 23rd.” She showed Angela the design on the soles and the matching concrete pattern. “Back when they poured this—eighteen years ago—they didn’t even make these shoes. See? They fit perfectly.”

“Mm-hmm.” Angela glanced nervously at the house. “We should go.”

“How could they get here?” Jinx said. “Do you see any prints leading in or out? No! They just appear in the middle of the driveway, alone. Like magic.”

“But … they’ve been here as long as I can remember. Your memory—”

“My memory is perfect! I time-traveled that night, Angie. No matter what you and all the therapists and doctors say, I remember it as clear as day. My body tingled, twisted, flew back to the past, and I landed right here, stuck in the wet concrete. Jinx slapped a shoe in a divot, splattering water. “This is irrefutable proof, Angie. If I time-traveled once, I can do it again. I can go back and stop that maniac before he gets my parents. He made me an orphan. He screwed up my head. He’s the reason I spent the entire summer on that miserable ward.”

Angela squatted down and wrapped her arms around Jinx. “I love you, Ginni-Jinx. Let’s go home. You’ll feel better soon.”

“No.” Jinx pushed away and glared at Angela. “I’ll feel better when my parents are alive. I’m going back to save them.”

Chapter 2

2014: August 19th | August 23rd

The day of Jinx’s parents’ Celebration of Life rolled in on a fog of dread. “You’ll have a chance to say your final goodbyes,” Father Franco had said tritely during a supervised and recorded phone call a few weeks back. She told him she didn’t want to say goodbye, that she had every intention of finding a way to put her life back the way it was. “Family and friends need closure,” he had insisted in his divinely calibrated voice, and she relented.

Jinx stood slumped in the Daltons’ guest bedroom. She knew she should be thankful for the soft bed, warm friendship, and food—a sharp contrast to the mental ward’s bleak austerity —but all she could think about was her churning stomach. Three months had passed since the murders, and she still found it hard to breathe.

As she changed into a more churchly outfit, Jinx braced for the slew of pitying condolences she would hear from schoolmates and her parents’ friends. “I’m sorry for your loss,” and “Please call if you need anything.” Hidden behind sympathetic expressions, she knew they would be evaluating her. Was she crazy? Dangerous? Could she have done it?

After a light lunch, Jinx and Angela rode to the church in the back seat of Mr. and Mrs. Dalton’s sedan. Angela rested her hand on Jinx’s thigh momentarily, its weight reassuring.

Jinx had known Angela’s parents for as long as she had known Angela. Both were immeasurably kind, but with Mr. Dalton’s engineering approach to relationships and Mrs. Dalton’s prim, impenetrable demeanor, they had never truly been close.

Mr. Dalton cleared his throat. “Uh, Jinx?”

“Yes?” She met his thick-framed glance in the rearview mirror.

“How long do you plan on staying with us?” he asked in a hard-to-interpret monotone.

“Stay as long as you like, of course.” Mrs. Dalton added quickly, eyeing her husband.

Knowing Angela would fly off to college tomorrow, and mortified at the idea of facing breakfasts, dinners, and conversations with the Daltons alone, Jinx raced through her options. Secaucus wouldn’t work for obvious reasons. Manhattan would bleed her bank account dry in a month. She remembered playing on bright yellow swings with her late grandfather at a park in Queens near his home. That area could be affordable. “I can only stay until tomorrow, Mr. Dalton. I’m renting a place in Queens.”

“Queens, huh?” Mr. Dalton nodded in the mirror. “Sensible choice for a young lady. Economical. Safe.”

The idea of renting a place by herself, as real adults do, rattled Jinx to her core. She hadn’t thought about it, didn’t know how it worked, and couldn’t guess how long her cash would last.

Mr. Dalton seemed to read her mind. “How are you doing with money? I can loan you some if you need it.”

He must have noticed the look of terror on her face, so she forced a confident smile and answered in an uplifting voice. “No, I’m fine, Mr. Dalton. The estate guy put Mom and Dad’s life insurance settlement in my account. It’s not a lot, but it’ll do for now. Thank you, though.”

“And the rest? Still in probate?”

“That’s what I understand. He said it would take a few months. Ultimately, they’ll sell the house and the car, and I’ll get the money.”

“And the bank accounts?”

Jinx looked at Angela and mouthed, What the heck? Angela shrugged. “That’s tied up too,” Jinx said. “It’ll shake out in the end, they say.”

Mr. Dalton pulled into a parking space near the church, switched off the engine, and swiveled to face Jinx. “Let me know if you need any help. I’m serious.” Mrs. Dalton smiled along with him.

Jinx popped the door open.

As they walked past the Episcopal Church of Our Savior signboard, a family at the top of the entryway stairs turned to look. Jinx recognized them as neighbors. Their six-year-old girl, Allie, a bubbly chatterbox, had often bent Jinx’s ear with stories about school, friends, and soccer. At the sight of Jinx, the girl squealed, and her eyes brightened, but when her father placed a firm hand on her shoulders, her smile disappeared.

“Good afternoon, Miss Allie,” Jinx said, crouching to wrap her in a hug. “It’s good to see you again. You’ve grown two inches over the summer. And had a birthday. You’re six now.”

Allie beamed as Jinx straightened up. The father’s gaze landed on Jinx’s bristly scalp. He offered a curt greeting and stepped back as he held the door open.

Jinx led the group into the sanctuary’s dry, processed air where some twenty-odd people sat, eyes fixed on the altar. As they marched up the aisle, Jinx recognized most of them—friends, neighbors, and a few schoolmates who must have been coerced by their parents. She and the Daltons settled into the front row, Jinx closest to the aisle.

“Welcome to the Celebration of Life for Hugo and Estelle Wells,” Father Franco began. Dressed in starched white vestments, the priest stood behind an open Bible on a simple wooden pulpit. Fingers entwined, his posture conveyed confidence and compassion. Jinx wondered what he would do if she screamed, “Why did God let this happen?” But she held her tongue while he held his smile.

After the shuffling and throat-clearing ended, Father Franco resumed. “Jesus said, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believeth in me, though he dies, yet shall he live’.” He went on to pray for Jinx’s parents’ souls, although by now, Jinx reasoned, Saint Peter should have made up his mind one way or another. He told stories of Jinx’s father and his contributions to the church. Her mother, he explained in a sizable white lie, had committed her life to the service of Christ.

Jinx knew the truth. They attended church but rarely engaged with the spiritual community beyond picnics and fundraisers. As she listened to the priest speak, Jinx mused about how people reinforced their beliefs with a generous dose of self-deception.

Am I any different from Father Franco?

In the psych ward, Jinx had learned how to pretend, not how to cope. To appease the psychiatrists, she recanted her time travel claims and repeated those lies with dedication and enthusiasm. False memories. Delusions. Reframe, advocate, express. She even feigned interest in a higher power. She knew they couldn’t keep her there beyond her eighteenth birthday without her permission, so unlike the eternity of a distant Heaven, her sentence was temporary. And temporal.

I am different and will never forget my truth. God’s help or not, I vow to go back and stop the killer.

Scheming vengeance in a church pew felt sacrilegious, so Jinx rose, dismissed Angela’s puzzled look with a shake of her head, and without a word, strolled down the aisle toward the exit. Eyes ahead, she felt burning stares and heard the father’s voice waver. Amid rustling and hushed whispers, she slammed both doors open with her palms and bounded down the steps, taking three at a time.