Dianne Salerni - The Eighth Day

Why hadn’t Jax’s father told him about this extra day? Did other Aubrey relatives have the same ability?

“Do you have other Aubrey relatives?” Riley asked.

Not that he knew of. His father had been an only child, and his Aubrey grandparents had died before he was born. “Why are you my guardian?”

“Your dad knew my dad.”

Jax watched Riley check the fluids on his bike. “Your dad’s dead, isn’t he?”

Riley didn’t look up. “My whole family’s dead. At least you have cousins.”

“Can I still go live with them?”

“Eventually. I was gonna talk to Crandall’s dad about it. We were all so sure you were going to be a Normal. Now . . .” Riley stood and picked up his helmet. “We can’t let you go without some training.” He mounted his motorcycle, then paused. “You can come along. If you want to.”

Jax didn’t want to go to A.J.’s house, and Riley didn’t want to bring him. Jax could see it on his face. “No, I’m gonna ride my bike and look around.”

“Stay within the town limits. It’s safe for you here.”

“And it’s not safe outside of town?”

Jax watched Riley’s expression. He seemed to be mulling over how to answer that question. “Just stay close,” he said finally, turning the key in the ignition and revving the engine. “And leave the girl alone.”

The motorcycle was hardly out of sight before Jax whipped off a note to the mysterious girl and shoved it through Mrs. Unger’s mail flap. Then he spent the rest of the afternoon kicking himself for not waiting until he could come up with something less stupid than:

Hi, I’m Jax Aubrey. Maybe we can hang out sometime and have a soda. I’d like to meet you.

He wondered if she would read the note or just leave it lying by the front door for Mrs. Unger to find. Mrs. Unger would think Jax was nuts.

When it was obvious the girl wasn’t going to introduce herself—or even come to a window again—Jax took a bike ride through town. It wasn’t as interesting as he’d thought. In fact, it seemed like the extra twenty-four hours were going to be pretty dull. He could ride his bike on the empty roads and wander into stores that had been open at midnight. He also could walk out with anything he wanted and snoop in neighbors’ houses.

He wasn’t tempted. The fact that he’d searched the Ramirez house while Billy and his parents were kinda-sorta there made his skin crawl. And even though he guessed the security cameras at Walmart hadn’t been working last Grunsday, Jax still wasn’t convinced the police weren’t going to pin the burglary on him.

Riley returned in the evening and showed Jax how to disengage the generators. When they shut down the one at Mrs. Unger’s house, Jax found a basket of freshly baked cookies left nearby. “She thanks you with baked goods?” Jax rummaged through the basket to check for a note. There wasn’t one.

“Not very often.” Riley sighed glumly. “I guess I have to share them with you now.”

Jax stayed up until midnight to see for himself what happened. A few minutes before twelve, he sat on the front porch with his father’s Rolex on his left wrist and Riley’s Timex in his right hand.

Riley’s watch ticked steadily until exactly twelve o’clock and then stopped.

The Rolex started.

Across the street, a pit bull went berserk, running up and down the length of its fence, barking and growling at Jax. From the dog’s perspective, he’d just popped into existence from nowhere.

“You’ll get used to it,” Riley said from behind him.

Jax held up both watches. “But they’re mechanical watches! There’s no computer chips in them!”

Riley shrugged. “Every time-measuring device is affected by relativistic change, and, like the car you saw on the highway, a lot depends on the perspective of the observer.” When Jax’s mouth dropped open, Riley grinned. “Einstein’s theory of relativity. What, did you think that because I work at a garage, I’m stupid?”

Well, yeah, actually. He had.

THURSDAY WAS DISTRESSINGLY NORMAL,full of teachers and classes and work. Jax wondered how he could have an extra twenty-four hours that bored him silly and still be annoyed by a regular day. Either Grunsday should be more exciting or Thursday should be more satisfying.

When he got home from school, he scoped out the windows of Mrs. Unger’s house. If what Riley said was true, the girl wasn’t there today. She wasn’t anywhere today.

A.J.’s truck was parked in front of the house—A.J.’s old truck, which, like Riley’s motorcycle, had no computerized parts. Hefting a plastic bag of milk and orange juice, Jax went into the house and was greeted with “ Heeeere’s our little Walmart burglar. Went back for more, did ya?”

Jax glared at Riley. “Did you have to tell him?”

“Steal anything I might like?” asked A.J.

“I took canned goods and water and batteries, you jerk. How was I supposed to know Thursday was still coming?” Jax walked stiffly into the kitchen. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done. The refrigerator wheezed when he opened the door to put away the milk and juice. It sounded like it had emphysema.

There were two pizza boxes on the counter. With A.J. in the house, he expected them to be empty, but there were four slices left and Jax grabbed them all, piling them crisscross onto a plate.

Riley came in and broke up the boxes.

“I have more questions for you,” Jax said around a mouthful.

“I’ll bet you do. But that’ll have to wait until later, if you feel up to it.”

“Why wouldn’t I feel up to it?”

“It’s tattoo night!” A.J. hauled a leather case into the kitchen and onto the table. He unbuckled it and whirled it around to face Jax. The case was filled with tattoo guns, needles, and bottles of ink.

“You’re giving Riley another tattoo? Where?” Riley pretty much had tattoo sleeves up to his armpits.

“No, I’m giving one to you,” said A.J.

When A.J. wasn’t driving equipment for a strip-mining company, he worked part-time at a tattoo parlor. But that didn’t mean Jax wanted the big doofus sticking needles into his arm. Just because they shared this weird Grunsday thing didn’t mean he liked A.J.—or Riley. “It can’t be legal to give me a tattoo,” Jax said.

“It is with the permission of your guardian,” said Riley. “Trust me, Jax. This is traditional. Your first Grunsday. Your first tattoo.”

Jax hesitated. The idea of a tattoo was cool, although not the needle part. Jax hated needles. And what would Naomi say, when Jax finally went to live with her? “I’ll pass,” he decided, and started walking out with his slices of pizza.

Riley stepped into his path and gripped his arm. “Sit down, Jax. You’re getting a tattoo.”

Jax shivered and sat down.

He looked at A.J.’s equipment.

He was getting a tattoo.

“I’ll have a snake,” he volunteered.

Riley let go.

A.J. burst out laughing. “You can’t have a snake!”

“Riley has a snake. And a tiger, and a bunch of other things.”

Riley held up both arms for Jax to see. “These are camouflage. The only reason I have these is so people don’t bother to look at this one.” He extended his left hand, and for the first time Jax noticed a family crest in blue, gold, and red ink on the inside of his wrist. It was so well surrounded by other, more interesting tattoos that it practically faded into the background.

For a moment, Jax felt dizzy. “My dad had a tattoo just like that. Except—”

“Yeah, I know. He had your family crest, and this one’s mine. You have to have it, Jax. We all have it.” Riley looked at A.J., who rolled up his shirt sleeve and turned his arm over. He, too, had a crest inked on his wrist. Jax had never noticed that one either, not that he looked at A.J.’s arms that much—or any other part of A.J.