Read Jump When Ready for Free Online Page B

would be left in total darkness. I wasn’t even sure she’d know.
    “Bethany, you need to get out of here!”
    Then the last bit of light was covered and I couldn’t see
her anymore.
    I sat up in bed, my heart hammering in my chest. Someone
was knocking on my door. I felt hot and wiped sweat from my forehead. Until that
moment, I didn’t even know if people “between lives” could sweat, but
apparently we did.
    The knocking sounded again.
    “Who is it?” I hoped it wasn’t time for another meeting
or funeral.
    “My name’s Martha,” a woman said. “I wondered whether it
might be time to check in on you. I can come back later, if you’d prefer.”
    I was still freaked by the dream and wasn’t sure I wanted
to meet anyone. At the same time, I was curious and couldn’t see any real
reason for putting her off. So I told her to come in.
    The door creaked open and Martha stepped into the room.
She was probably in her late thirties, possibly early forties (I can never
guess at that sort of thing very well). She had long golden hair tied back in a
ponytail and wore faded jeans and a sweatshirt. Her eyes were the bluest I’d
ever seen.
    Martha looked around my room. “This is nice. Do you like
it?”
    “It’s cool,” I said, not sure if she’d had anything to do
with it. “But I’m still kind of getting used to things.” I got off the bed and
stood facing her.
    Martha nodded. “Of course. And you can make changes as
you go. But we thought this might be a good start.”
    “It is, definitely. I like it.” I hoped I hadn’t said
anything to hurt her feelings. It seemed like she really cared.
    “Good. Did you have any bad dreams?”
    It seemed almost like she knew, but then maybe most dead
kids had bad dreams for the first couple of days. Come to think of it, not
having some bad dreams would be strange. “Yeah, I did have one,” I said.
    “Understandable,” Martha said. “Just like in life, we
sometimes have bad dreams between lives as well. Although, you’ll find that
dreams mean more now than they usually did before. Either way, I felt that you
were troubled.”
    “I’m sorry?”
    “I know that must seem a little strange, but it’s part of
my role here to sense when one of you might need assistance. You can tell me
about your dream if you’d like, but you certainly don’t have to.”
    I thought about telling her but at the same time reminded
myself that it was just a dream. I’d just seen Bethany a few hours ago. She was
fine.
    I didn’t know quite what to say, so I asked, “Is that
your room at the end of the hall?”
    “When I’m needed,” Martha said. “Is there anything I can
do for you? Do you have any questions?”
    Actually, I had a million. But I had no idea where to
start.
    Martha seemed to sense my confusion. “There’s no rush.
Take your time.”
    “We have plenty of it, don’t we?” I remembered how Curtis
had mentioned all those days, years and decades as if all they shared here was
wasted time. I even smirked a little for effect.
    Martha hesitated for just a moment, then her face
brightened again. “Well, time is different here as I’m sure you’ve already
noticed. And it’s also different for each person. For some, ten years feels
like a few months. For others, two months feels like two years. Sometimes a
week feels just like a week. There’s a reason for this, of course.”
    “What’s the reason?” I expected another vague answer,
along the lines of the answers I’d received so far, but Martha didn’t hesitate.
    “Some people need to stay here much longer, while others
don’t stay very long at all in the scheme of things. Each person’s perception
of time shifts accordingly so that their waiting doesn’t seem so long. Usually.
There are also exceptions. For those who remain angry, time passes the most
slowly. Anger is the devil, by the way. Hatred is hell. Just in case you were
wondering.”
    I had no idea what she was talking about. “Then