Jump | Zach Mitchell

six

"WHERE'S Aunt Claire?" 

We stand at the entrance to the dock, surrounded by buzzing tourists. Loud speakers repeat the phrase we heard when we first landed: "Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Isla Nublar: home to Jurassic World. We hope you have a safe and enjoyable stay with us." 

"What does she look like?" I ask, trying to find an answer for Gray's question. I stand on my tip-toes and crane my neck, searching the crowd. "You said that she was a redhead, right, Zach?"

When I get no reply, I huff and drop to my normal height. "You know, you could-" I stop myself when I see them staring at a woman with long dark hair and sunglasses. She's holding a sign that has our names neatly printed on it. "Is that her?"

"No," Zach says glumly. Still, he stalks over to her.

"Okay then." I grab Gray's hand and follow the Great Wall of Bad Attitude.

The woman holding the sign lowers her sunglasses when we approach. "You're Zach and Gray?" She asks, nose wrinkled as if in disgust.

Zach crosses his arms. "Yeah. Where's Claire?"

"Your aunt found herself caught up in some business matters. She'll be available later. For now, you're stuck with me. I'm Zara, her assistant."

Gray elbows his way forward. "Do you get to work with the dinosaurs too?" He stares up at Zara with slight awe.

She gives him a forced smile. "No."

"Then what do you do?" I find myself asking. "Bring her coffee?" Zach snorts at the accusation.

Zara doesn't think I'm that funny. "Sometimes," she reveals stiffly. "I also keep track of her schedule and make appointments-"

"-and the occasional kid-sitting duty?" I raise my eyebrows, fighting the urge to laugh in her face.

If she's bothered by my jabs, she doesn't show it. "I'm to get you to your hotel room and have you settled." She glances down at her watch. "If we're to be on time, we should go now."

"Lead the way, coffee-monkey." Zach sweeps his hands out in front of him. Zara sends him a sour look while I cover my giggles with my hand.

"With pleasure," she says dryly. She spins on her heel and begins to stalk through the crowd, shoulders pulled in tight as she tries to avoid touching people.

"You shouldn't be so mean to her," Gray reprimands us as we scramble to keep up.

"We're not being mean to her," I tell him.

Zach backs me up. "Of course not," he assures his younger brother. "We're just... having a little fun." He nudges me. "Right?"

"Right," I agree with a large smile.

___

BY the time we board the Monorail, I've had just about enough of Zara. Her pesky British accent makes it sound like everything she says is a criticism.

"Honestly, Gray, it's a train. Nothing too exciting," she nags as we step inside.

Gray isn't easily deterred. He bounds down the aisle, quickly claiming a window seat. "Zach! Sit next to me!" He eagerly pats the empty seat beside him.

"No way." Zach plops down in the row in front of Gray. I sit next to him, yanking my luggage into the small space between my chair and the one in front of me.

Zach sends me an amused look. "You know, you could put that in one of the racks." He uses his eyes to indicate the slots above our row. "That's kind of what they're there for."

"I have a hard-enough time wheeling the damn thing everywhere, let alone lifting it." I settle back against my seat. "That's definitely not happening."

He sighs. "Fine, I'll do it."

"I didn't ask you to-"

"I know." He steps over me and then grips the handle of my suitcase. Then he heaves it into his arms. "Jesus, Jonelle, what the hell do you have in here?"

I shrug. "Just some clothes and a couple of pairs of shoes."

He stares at me with wide dark eyes. "Why would you bring all of that?"

"We're going to be here for a week, Zach!" I remind him. "And I'm a girl. Girls tend to bring a lot of stuff."

Zach just rolls his eyes and focuses on successfully maneuvering my massive trunk into the upper storage unit.

Unfortunately, in the process, his shirt tail rises. I catch a teasing peek of his abs and quickly look away.

When he settles back next to me, he shoves on his headphones and props his feet up. I know from his posture – slouched with crossed arms – that he needs some alone time. I don't take it personally. I know that's how Zach is sometimes.

I fish out my phone and check my messages.

There's a text from my dad, wondering how the flight went. I send him a brief message that claims it went well, not wanting to discuss my near-panic-attack due to flying over a body of water.

Maybe I need counselling.

Mom sent me a text also, but it's just reminding me to call her as soon as we get to the hotel room.

I bite my lip and stare down at her worried words. The conversation that we're going to have definitely won't be a fun one.

Mom's a believer in grand gestures and happy endings. She used to read to me out of a book filled with princess stories. When my younger, naïve self would ask her if life was really that way, she would tell me yes.

In her mind, maybe it does. But I see the real world as it is – just like I see the trio of pretty girls ogling my best friend from across the Monorail.

I frown and mimic Zach's stance, crossing my arms. First water, then Gray overhearing, and now the constant heart-eyes fest? Ugh.

"Ladies and gentlemen: towards the front of the train, you should be able to see our main gate, built from the gate of the original park twenty years ago."

I see the blur of blond hair, but it doesn't register until Zara calls, "Gray!"

That's when I recognize the thin elbows and white stripped shirt. He pushes his way through a thick throng of people and then disappears from sight.