Yanked Chapter Two    Jason opened his eyes and wondered where he was.    "He’s awake," a woman said.    A hospital. It had to be a hospital. White room, white blanket, his head hurt...But it wasn’t a hospital. No hospital had a person in it that you could look right through and see the wall behind. He could see through the woman standing by his bed! No hospital contained a ghostly person made of light but three-dimensional, like a transparent sculpture that could move and talk. No hospital in New York.    "He’s awake," the transparent person said, and vanished. A second later a real person who looked exactly like the ghost image walked through a door that Jason didn’t see either open or close. Or maybe she had walked through the wall. Where the hell am I? he thought.    "Hello, Jason," the real person--if it was a real person--said. "Don’t be frightened. I’m Dr. Serena Mep Cee. Do you have a headache?"    Jason sat up. He did have a headache. But that seemed to him the least of his problems. He took a deep breath, pulled himself together, and smiled. "Yeah, a little headache. How you doin’?"    "See?" another voice said in thin air. "I told you. A natural team-builder."    "Quiet, please, da Vinci," Dr. Cee said. "Jason, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I’m glad you’re not frightened. But now you need to prepare yourself for a great shock. You’re not in New York, and you’re not in 1999. This is the future."    "Yeah, right," Jason said.    "Yes, it is. But before we convince you of that, or tell you anymore, I want to say immediately that you will be going home eventually. In fact, you can go home after just one hour, if you like. But for that one hour, you must listen to us explain why we brought you here."    "Explain away," Jason said. He felt light-headed. None of this was happening. It was a hallucination of some kind. Had he been doing a drug? No, he didn’t do drugs, he didn’t ever do drugs. This wasn’t a high, it was some sort of weird dream or something. Over in a minute. Might as well go with the flow until it did.    "We brought you here to save the future," the woman said.    Jason laughed. Save the future! Man, how cheesy could you get...so it wasn’t a dream. It was a practical joke, a really good kick-ass practical joke. Some of his buds got together and spent days dreaming this one up...In a minute DeShaun would walk through the door, and Wayne, and even Brian...    What walked through the door was a robot, another transparent person you could see right through, and another doctor. This one was a man, although he wore the same long white shirt and short white pants as the woman. Unlike the woman, he wasn’t smiling.    "Hello, Jason" he said. "Welcome to 2565." # # #    Sharon could hear the shouting even before she opened the front door to her house. Her mother was doing the screaming. And she wasn’t sober.    "...think you can just barge in here like some kind of queen and--"    Sharon went inside. The tiny living room was a mess. Dirty glasses, newspapers, clothing, and in the middle her mother and her older sister Johnna, yelling at each other.    "--dump your responsibilities on me like--"    "I don’t care what you say! I’m going and you and nobody else won’t--"    "--the irresponsible brat you always were, you got another think--"    "--stop me! I’m going to turn out like you, another wasted drunk who --"    The baby, Sharon thought. If Johnna was here, then so was her baby. Little Tara would be scared and upset, listening to her mother and grandmother shout at each other.    "--coming! I did my time with kids and I’m not--"    "--let one mistake wreck her life! If you’d been any kind of mother --"    But where was the baby? There was no diaper bag in the living room, no squeeze toys, no Tara.    "--going to raise yours too!"    "--in the first place, I wouldn’t be in this position!"    Sharon hurried into the kitchen. No Tara. The bathroom. No Tara. There were only the two tiny bedrooms above, hers and her mother’s. Then she heard a soft babble.    Tara was on the little glassed-in porch that connected to the kitchen, still dressed in her snowsuit. The porch was jammed full because Johnna had brought all Tara’s stuff: Pampers and a portacrib and a cardboard box spilling out baby clothes. In the middle of it all Tara sat in an infant seat she’d really outgrown, smiling and cooing to herself.    Sharon knelt down on the porch floor beside the baby. "Hello, little one."    Tara babbled and held up her arms to be picked up.    At nine months, she was the most beautiful baby Sharon had ever seen, and she didn’t say that just because Tara was her niece. The blonde hair that on Sharon hung in flat lank clumps, and on Johnna frizzed up, on Tara curled into shining ringlets. Tara had big green eyes and perfect, baby-smelling skin. Sharon adored her.    Now she gathered up Tara in her arms and carried her from the cold porch into the house.    Johnna had left. Sharon’s mother stood pouring herself a huge whiskey. "Rose-of-Sharon, do you know what that bitch your sister did? Do you know?"    "No, Mom."    "She ran off with that crummy new boyfriend of hers and left Tara with me! For me to raise! Says the only reason she has a baby is because I was such a horrible mother. I was a perfect mother! Wasn’t I?"    "Mom--"    "Wasn’t I? Say it!"    "You were a great mother," Sharon said, because if she didn’t, this would go on all night. "Mom--"    "Damn right I was! And I will be to Tara, too! I know my responsibilities, even if your sister doesn’t! Now, sweetie, go get the baby something to eat, will you? We must have something in the pantry. I’ll take over right after I finish this drink."    After she finished the drink, Sharon’s mother had another drink. Then she fell asleep on the sofa.    Sharon fed Tara some toast, banana, and scrambled eggs. She gave the baby a bath, dressed her in warm pajamas, and rocked her to sleep. Tara’s portacrib just barely fit into Sharon’s own room, jammed in between her bed and the battered old dresser.    What was she going to do about the baby?    Because it was up to her, Sharon. She was the one who would have to do something about Tara. Sharon knew that much. Her mother would kiss Tara and cry and say how Tara was at home now with her granny, and then her mother would drink too much and pass out. That wasn’t safe for a baby. Somebody else would have to take care of Tara.    Who? Sharon? But how could she go to school and watch Tara, too? For one thing, she had to do more research at the library on her Technology & Communication project. More long-term, she had to finish school. And then find a way to go to college.    But she also had to take care of Tara. It had been bad enough for Johnna and Sharon, growing up in this house. But at least then her father had been here, and her mother hadn’t been as bad as she was now. Now she would be a disaster. Sharon didn’t want that for Tara.    So how was Sharon going to go to school and watch Tara? Nobody could be in two places at once.    She fell asleep planning and worrying. # # #    The next morning Sharon went straight to the hallway outside her principal’s office. It was a while before Mr. Ruhl noticed she was there.    "Rose-of-Sharon! I didn’t see you, you’re so quiet...come in, come in."    Sharon sat in a chair across from Mr. Ruhl’s desk. She’d read in magazines in the library that principals in big-city schools had to deal with gang fights, drug raids, arson, death threats. But Spencerville was different. Mr. Ruhl’s desk was covered with flyers for the Thanksgiving PTA Bake Sale. What would it be like, Sharon wondered, to have a mother you could go to and say, I need something for the bake sale, could we make that great chocolate cake again...Sharon pushed that out of her mind. Concentrate on what has to get done.    "What can I do for you?" Mr. Ruhl said.    "You can let me bring--"    "Speak up, Rose-of-Sharon, I can’t hear you."    "You can let me bring my nine-month-old niece to school with me. My sister left her with my mother, who drinks too much to take care of the baby. So I have to."    Mr. Ruhl stared at her. Sharon wondered what she’d said wrong. She’d only spoken the truth. Maybe the words had rushed out a little fast, but they were still the truth.    "Tara can come with me to class, in her infant seat. In lunch and study halls I’ll go home with her. I live just a few blocks away."    Mr. Ruhl went on staring.    "Well...okay?" Sharon said. She couldn’t think what else to say.    "No, I’m sorry, it’s not okay," Mr. Ruhl finally said. "This school isn’t...I know in some big cities they have special programs for unwed mothers to bring their babies to school, not that you’re an unwed mother of course, but we’re just not set up for it here. You must see that, Rose-of-Sharon. And as for going home between classes, there are insurance reasons why no student may leave the premises during school hours. And anyway, Rose-of-Sharon, your sister’s baby is not your problem. Your education must come first."    "I can still get my education," Sharon said quietly. "I can do it."    "I don’t think you realize how we...It’s out of the question, my dear. There are other alternatives."    "Like what?"    "Well, like, for instance, foster care for the child--"    Instantly Sharon stood up. He didn’t understand. Tara was her niece...family. You didn’t send family to be cared for by strangers. Maybe Mr. Ruhl would do that, but not the Myerses. They took care of their own.    "Thank you, Mr. Ruhl." She turned to go.    "Rose-of-Sharon, wait, you must see--"    Sharon didn’t see. She didn’t have time to see. She had to find daycare for Tara.

Copyright ©1999 Nancy Kress