The Walls Of The Universe Part 14

He was nervous, and he chided himself for it. She didn't know him; he didn't know her. The Casey he knew was far away. She was John Prime's now for all he knew. Prime certainly had shown interest in her.

But this Casey was an unknown factor. She might be completely different from the one John remembered. She might have the same name but a totally different genetic makeup. She might be dark haired and short, not the tall blonde he knew. She might be mean-spirited. She might be a lesbian. She might have a boyfriend.

She probably did have a boyfriend, a pretty girl like her.

John brooded as he walked the last hundred meters.

This was all a mistake, he was sure. He should be minimizing his problems, not adding to them. What would he say to her? We shared a cla.s.s, but you don't remember me. I had a crush on another version of you. He'd sound like a total wacko.

The front atrium of the dorm was a madhouse of people: It seemed like everyone was going home for the weekend. Laundry and luggage were piled everywhere. John found the house phone and dialed Casey's extension.

"h.e.l.lo?" someone said, definitely not Casey. Benchley Hall was all quads, so Casey shared the room with three other women.

"Is Casey there?"

"Is this Jack?"

"Uh... no. I'm her ride to Findlay."

"Oh, right. She'll be right down."

He hung up wondering if Jack was her boyfriend. Jack was probably on the football team. Or he was a medical student. Or he was a professor in the music college. Not any of whom John could compete with. Not that he would. She wasn't his Casey.

He stood by the elevators waiting. She got off, carrying a green duffel bag. Her hair was blond and bobbed, one of the current styles in this universe; he was glad she wasn't wearing a beehive. She wore baggy dungarees and cowboy boots. Her coat was a lettered jacket from Findlay High School. Casey looked just like he remembered.

"Casey?"

"John?"

"Yeah. I'm your ride. Can I carry your bag?"

She hitched it up her shoulder and said, "No. I got it. Let's go." They fought their way through the throng at the door. "This is worse than move-in day," she called over her shoulder.

"Johnny! Johnny!"

John turned at the shrill voice.

"Hey, Johnny," Grace said. She wore a s.h.i.+rt that said: "I'm Not Dead Yet." She had hold of the inside door behind him.

John looked back at Casey, holding the outside door, looking back at him, and then over his shoulder at Grace.

"Hey, Grace," he said, trying to not match her shrill, piercing tone.

"Did you hand in your lab notebook?"

"Yeah, I did," he said, turning again to look at Casey. She looked back at him with a smile. "I'll see you later," John said to Grace.

"Okay. Happy Freya Day! Bye, Casey!"

"Right."

Casey nodded and turned away. Then they were through and into the crisp evening air.

"How'd you know it was me coming off the elevator?" she asked.

"Your jacket."

"Oh, yeah," she said, looking down at the jacket. "As close as Findlay is, you'd think more people would be from there here at the university."

"Yeah."

"But not many people in my cla.s.s went on to college." She looked at him. "You go to Findlay High?"

"Uh, no," he said. "But I know people who did."

"Where'd you go then?"

"School in Columbus. I know people in Findlay, though. That's where I'm heading for the weekend."

"Yeah? Who?"

"Bill and Janet Rayburn. They're my aunt and uncle."

"Yeah?"

"On McMaster."

"Yeah, I know them. They go to my church. They're over by the abandoned rock quarry. I've been there. The quarry, I mean." She looked around the U outside the dorm. "Where'd you park?"

"Not too close. Sorry. You sure I can't take your bag?"

"Yeah. Lead on."

After a moment, Casey said, "So you're Grace's Johnny?"

"What? I'm not her... I mean we're not..."

"She's got a thing for you, Johnny."

"She does not! It's professional between us."

"Uh-huh. You should hear her talk, and can she talk. You'd think you were Jesus Johnny Christ, but not a celibate one." She smiled at him.

"She's just my lab partner," John said, exasperated. "Besides, I thought she and Henry were a thing."

"You mean that guy who never talks?"

"That's the one."

Casey shrugged.

They reached John's car. "Over here," he said. He unlocked the trunk and took Casey's bag.

"A Trans Am?" she said.

"Yeah."

"I didn't picture you in a muscle car for some reason."

"It was cheap. I rebuilt it this summer," he said, suddenly defensive. "You don't like my car?"

"It's better than my car," she said with a smile. "You gonna let me drive?"

John shut the trunk and looked at her. Then he tossed her his keys. "Sure."

She smiled and ran around the car to the driver's side.

"You're a brave man."

For a smile like that, he would have let her do anything.

"So you're in physics? You must be smart," she said as she accelerated onto I-75.

He shrugged, though she probably couldn't see it from the driver's seat. The engine growled as she edged the car in front of a semi. The truck had a flat front, like all the trucks in this universe, and reminded him yet again of the 1950s of his universe. Everything had a retro feel to it here.

"I'm in psychology, but it sucks. Boring. It sounded a lot better in the guidance counselor's office," she said, and he laughed.

She'd taken the car through a series of back roads, not going straight for the interstate. At one point she had the car up to 115 kilometers per hour on a small road in the middle of nowhere.

"Psychology could be fun," John ventured, knowing he sounded like a fool as he said it.

"Yeah, whatever," she said, sliding the car around a slower Olds. "I'm thinking of switching to premed. My biology cla.s.s rocks. Speaking of which..." She turned on the radio and zipped through his presets. "Country, country, country, blues." She glanced over at him. "Don't you listen to rock and roll?"

John shrugged again. The truth was that the rock and roll of this world sounded like the golden oldies of his own. And the new hard reverb was impossible to appreciate. The only music that sounded decent to him was country. There was none of the heavy metal rock that he listened to when he was back home.

She rotated the dial to find the Toledo rock station.

"Bill and Janet seem like nice folks," she said. "I've met them at church stuff."

"Yeah, they're real nice," John said quickly, glad the conversation had turned away from his lack of taste in music. "I spent the last twelve months working the farm with them." He'd gone to church with them too but had never seen Casey there. He hadn't thought to look, maybe because he could never shake the feeling that this universe wasn't real.

"Farm boy, huh. You got that look to you."

"Do I? Don't I look like a physicist?"

"No. Not at all. You look like you should be driving a tractor or a pickup truck."

"Huh."

"Don't take it the wrong way," she said with a laugh. "I knew lots of farm boys in high school."

"Where you were a cheerleader and a flirt?" John asked, wanting to defend himself.

"Well, yeah. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. You know, I barely remember high school, and it's been like six months. All my friends were saying, 'Stay in touch,' 'Write every day.' Bulls.h.i.+t like that. None of them write. None of them call."

"They're busy."

"Having kids, getting married, working minimum-wage jobs. At least they can afford to buy cars. I have to b.u.m a ride off a farm boy." She looked at him slyly, and John realized she was making fun of him.

"And I have to give rides to flirty cheerleaders for gas money."

"Touche." She paused, then said, "So what's this pinball device Grace keeps talking about? You guys are building it? I can't understand what she's talking about half the time."

"We're not-," John started; then he shrugged. "It's just a game I saw once. Played on a ramp with a metal ball. It's a game of skill and luck."

"Yeah?"

John spent fifteen minutes trying to explain how pinball worked. When he was done, Casey nodded and said, "Sounds cool. When you guys get it done, show it to me."

"We're not-," he said. "Okay, I will."

She fell silent after that, and John spent the next half hour super-aware of how close he was to her. Casey smelled good. She looked good. His body wanted to test all his other senses on her as well.

Three times he almost spoke up, wanting to ask her out, start the conversation again. The trip to Findlay was too d.a.m.n short to waste it in silence.

Finally, forcing himself to say anything, he said, "Your roommate thought I was Jack." He instantly regretted saying it because he sounded too d.a.m.n needy.

She laughed, though. "Jack? That is funny. He's some s...o...b..ry frat boy I gave the time of day to at a party. He's from Findlay too."

"Oh, then he's not a boyfriend."

She looked at John with her pale blue eyes, and he knew what she was thinking. He knew she dealt with such puppy dog affection like his on a regular basis.

"No, not a boyfriend. I'm unattached at the moment. I had a boyfriend back in Findlay, but he was a junior and long-distance relations.h.i.+ps don't work."

"Findlay and Toledo aren't that far apart."

"It wasn't the physical physical distance, John." distance, John."

She took the Findlay exit, taking Bigelow into the north side of town. Her family lived in an older house, built in the 1800s. It had three stories and a widow's watch. Two huge oak trees towered over the lawn.

She pulled up in front of the house and hopped out. John grabbed her bag and handed it to her.

"What time should I pick you up?"