Author's Note

If you haven't read Jumper: Griffin's Story by Stephen Gould, then you probably won't quite follow this. In the book, Griffin lives with Sam and Consuelo for a while after his parents are killed. Later, he becomes romantically involved with a girl from New Jersey, known as E.V. Kelson.

I don't own anything except the Italian girl.

It was a very nice cafe, just across the road from Central Park. I wasn't really keen on New York City, but there was plenty of Paladin cells operating within the city that never sleeps. It didn't surprise me, though. They probably took it in turns to keep watch for Jumpers.

Paladins hunted in packs, like wolves, while Jumpers generally travelled alone, more like jaguars. My eyes stung slightly as I recalled an afternoon sitting on a hilltop with Sam and Consuelo, the people who had been sort of like parents for four years after my parents had been killed.

You are not a jaguar to live alone and solitary. It is unhealthy.'

Yeah, right; unhealthy. Unhealthy for who, though?

They were both dead, just like my parents.

I brought myself back to the present, looking around. No one seemed to notice me, and I hastily dug a palm into one of my eyes. Old wounds had a habit of reopening if they didn't heal properly. I guess the same went for wounds on your soul.

The door swung open and I hunched over my coffee, trying to shield myself from the sudden blast of cold air. I looked up as someone called out, and stopped dead.

No. No way.

It had been two years, but I still recognised her easily, as though I'd only seen her yesterday. She was still wearing that old coat, but it didn't seem so large on her any more, and I could see a dark green sweater underneath it.

She slid into a seat at a table with two other girls, both gossiping like old women. I wanted to walk up to her, to talk to her again, to see how she was doing.

Remember what happened last time?

Her father was dead. It was my fault. I didn't know how she'd react to seeing me again.

She scanned the room, as if just glancing about, and her eyes hesitated on me for a moment, before continuing. She didn't even remember me? I stood up to leave, and her eyes flicked back to me, widening in surprise. So she did recognise me.

I was torn. I wanted to jump, before she could say or do anything hurtful, before she came over here. But I also wanted to talk to her again, be with her.

She stood up, and I panicked, jumped.

Sand whirled around me, settling slowly. I looked around, not quite noticing the gully I was standing in. I only realised where I was when my eyes settled on the boulder, the paint splatters faded and crumbling away after nine years of sun.

The Empty Quarter.

I hadn't been here in years, I realised, not since I'd gone to France. It was the place where Dad and I would practice my jumping, where he would fire round after round of paintballs and I would have to avoid him. It was these practices that had kept me alive.

I closed my eyes, and realised I was taking deep, steadying breaths. I jumped back to Central Park, and decided to wander away from the cafe where EV was probably still sitting.

I almost ran into a short girl with black hair, and she swore at me in Italian. It was one of the few languages I couldn't speak well, but I was still learning.

I'd had it with New York for the day.

I jumped.