"Hey, I'm going to go say hi," Naomi said, slipping her hands through the bag that held her old clothes.
Henry looked surprised at that. "Do you know her?"
Naomi shrugged, which she could see didn't exactly put Henry at ease. "Sort of," she quickly added. "I just met her recently."
That wasn't a lie. It left out a lot, but it felt better to leave out the details that would make her seem nuts rather than outright fib after everything Henry had done for her. Naomi didn't see any other way out of it. Clearly the woman wanted to talk to her, and Naomi actually had a couple of questions herself that she wanted answered.
Lucky for her, Henry appeared to accept the answer. His brows unfurled and he unlocked the door for her. "Don't go too far," he requested as she hopped out of the seat. "Your dad should be here soon. I'm sure he's worried about you."
'Not likely.' Naomi nodded her agreement though and approached the strange woman from the park. She'd changed slightly since the park. Her curly hair was pinned up instead of rolling freely down her shoulders and she'd swapped out her long, cloak-like poncho for a flowing black dress that seemed much more appropriate for a funeral. There didn't appear to be any sequins or jewels on the dress yet it shimmered as the woman walked, giving her the effect of being clothed in shadows. It was very intimidating, and Naomi wondered if that might be the point.
A grin split the woman's face as Naomi came to a stop before her. The two stood together just outside the doors to the funeral home. From this spot Naomi could see the guests gathering in the hall through the cracked front door. Some of the people inside were sobbing openly. Others were sniffling as though attempting to be discreet. The whole thing felt way too morbid. It made Naomi shudder.
"Awful, isn't it?" the woman spoke. Naomi tore her gaze away from the guests to regard the woman. Her smile was now gone. She was all business.
Naomi frowned. "Is that really a question?"
"What do you mean by that?" the woman asked.
"I mean that a girl is dead," Naomi growled, angered by the woman's seeming nonchalance. "Her mom is too. Mrs. Murphy was kind and cool and she took care of me. She was going to start her own business. Did you know that? And Lyla… She was so amazing. She hadn't even gotten started on all the ways she was going to change this world for the better."
The woman's head tilted as she studied Naomi yet again. "You really believe that," she observed. Naomi couldn't tell what the woman was thinking. "You really think Lyla Murphy was something special."
"Of course," Naomi replied. What kind of a question was that? "Don't you? I mean, isn't that exactly why you're here?"
The woman shook her head in response. "I'm here for you," she told her.
Naomi froze. So a crazy lady in a park had tailed her to her best friend's funeral. Wonderful. The worst part was that Naomi had played right into her hands. She'd just walked right up and started talking to her like this was all normal. Her heart hammered in her chest as she sucked in a shaky breath and said, "What do you want with me?"
The woman pursed her lips. She seemed to be debating what to say, which Naomi did not take as a good sign. Finally she looked up and pointed at the bag of clothes in Naomi's hand. "I noticed you have my token."
'Her token? Oh.' The figurine. The one she'd found at the arch. She should've known the woman would come looking for it. Naomi rummaged around in the bag for a moment. As soon as she felt her fingers close around it she yanked it out and held it out. "Here," she offered, opening her palm so the woman could get a more clear view of the thing. "I didn't mean to steal it if that's what you're upset about."
"I'm not upset," the woman promised. She reached out and placed a hand over Naomi's, gently closing the girl's fingers back around the token. "If you found it then it's yours. It chose you."
"What?" Naomi frowned, making her befuddlement visible. That made no sense. How could an inanimate object choose her for anything? And what would it be choosing her for? "What do you want with me then?"
"I want to help you save your friend," the woman said, being as blunt as Naomi had ever heard her be. Now if only she made any sense.
"I hate to break it to you," Naomi sighed, standing outside the doors of her friend's viewing, "but we're a little late to save Lyla."
The woman's lips curled up into an impish grin, her eyes shining with what Naomi could only describe as mischief. She leaned in close, her breath warm against Naomi's skin, and she whispered, "I have ways around that."
Naomi pulled away, thoroughly creeped out now. Nothing about this girl was anything close to sensical, but this statement really was something else. What in the actual heck was she trying to say? Was she claiming to be a time traveler or something? Whatever it was it didn't matter because it was clear to Naomi that the lady was either nuts or just flat-out lying in case Naomi turned out to be more gullible than a toddler.
She shook her head at the woman. "What does that even mean?" she demanded.
"It means," the woman said, taking a step closer to Naomi, "that I can help you."
It was impossible for Naomi to stop herself from rolling her eyes in that moment. She felt like flipping this woman the bird and walking away, but curiosity kept her from doing so. Instead she closed her eyes, mentally counted to three, and asked, "How?"
"I know you won't believe me," the woman began, which already didn't inspire much confidence. "Your species is so skeptical of everything, probably because you're all liars and con artists."
Naomi crossed her arms, raising a brow in suspicion. "Are you really about to tell me you aren't human?" she questioned.
"See? Skeptical of everything," the woman pointed out. She gestured to the figurine in Naomi's hand. "That's my true form."
A laugh burst from Naomi's lips. So that answered her question: the woman was crazy. She kind of felt bad for laughing, but she really couldn't help it. Everything was just so ridiculous right now that she couldn't muster up the ability to care about this nutty woman's feelings. And why should she? Her best friend in the world was in a casket just inside the hall that Naomi stood outside of. For the life of her she couldn't figure out how it had fallen to Naomi to entertain this young woman.
Ever the walking insane asylum, the woman pressed on with her tale. She tapped the belly of the token that Naomi still held. "That engravement there? That's my name," she explained.
Naomi appraised the writing. It certainly didn't look human. She focused her attention back on the woman. "What's it say?" she asked.
"The human tongue doesn't exactly have the ability to pronounce it," the woman confessed with a shrug. "You can just call me DJ."
"Fine," Naomi sighed, feeling less compelled to believe her. "What exactly are you, DJ?"
"I suppose your kind would consider me a fallen angel," DJ told her. "I was banished from the gods for my ability to challenge Fate. When pressed to choose between me and them, the gods chose Fate."
Naomi tilted her head, trying to think what religion that was from. DJ had spoken of gods, plural, so that eliminated all the monotheistic ones. Naomi was barely familiar with Judaism, which had been her mother's practice. She didn't know much beyond that one. Whatever. At this point, Naomi thought it might be easier to just go with it. "So what exactly could you do for me?" she asked.
DJ smiled. "I can send you back to the day this all happened," she told her. "You can save Lyla and Heather Murphy. I even have enough power to send you back three times if your first two attempts fail."
Yeah. Time travel was where Naomi drew the line. She'd let the woman tell her story, but now people were hurrying inside for the viewing. That was the reality. There was no chapter where Lyla could be saved because she and her mother were already dead. There was no changing that, even if Naomi wished with all her heart that it could happen.
"Well, it was nice meeting you," Naomi lied, slapping the token back into DJ's hand as she shook it. "I'd better get in there though. I don't want to be late for the service."
"You're making a mistake," DJ warned as Naomi turned and slipped into the small crowd. "I can help you!"
'Sure you can,' Naomi thought with another eye roll. She looked around at everyone forming a line up to the caskets in the front of the room. She wondered if anyone here knew DJ, and if so then why they had brought her along and left her unattended. They had to know this day would be hard enough for plenty of people. It was rude in her opinion.
The closer she got the front of the room, the shorter her breaths became. She wished desperately for someone to be there with her, maybe her dad or even Henry. She dove her hand into her bag just as she reached the first coffin, looking for anything to latch onto that might stop her sweaty hands from shaking. Her fingers wrapped around something solid and cool right as she laid eyes on Lyla for the first time since that dreadful night.
Lyla's red hair was curled, draping her powdered face in waves. Mascara coated her closed eyelashes. Blush colored her cheeks. A beautiful white dress flowed down her still body. It was strange. She had the appearance of laying down for a quick nap, like at any moment she might crack open an eye and give Naomi a sly smile. It felt wrong though. Lyla hated wearing makeup. She said it was uncomfortable, especially mascara. She always preferred to be in a t-shirt and jeans, too, not dresses. Naomi couldn't remember the last time Lyla had worn a dress.
Naomi lowered herself down, getting eye level with Lyla. She felt her knees touch the carpet, and very briefly tried and failed to recall anyone else doing something like this. 'Whatever,' she decided, 'I'll do my own thing.' She stretched closer, leaning now over the casket, and left a featherlight kiss on Lyla's forehead.
"I love you," Naomi confessed, whispering it in Lyla's ear. "I think I've always loved you."
She stood up and wiped tears from her eyes. At least she'd finally had the guts to tell her, even if it didn't really count now. As she made her way over to Mrs. Murphy, she finally realized what she was clutching inside her bag. It was DJ's token.