A/N: So this is a project meant to be just for fun. It's been nagging at me to write and I was somewhat hesitant on posting it. There are a few kinks I'm sure, so don't hold it against me and I'm well aware of the Jumper books, but for this story I won't touch on them. This story will take place a couple years before the movie. So as you read this first chapter, please try not to be too harsh with it. Don't forget to review, thanks!
Disclaimer: Of course, in no way shape or form do I own Jumper nor am making money with it. If I did, Griffin would have had a much larger part and David would've been…better.
The sky held a tinge of darkness as the clouds shrouded over the sun. Crisp fall air had everyone in respectable coats and hats as they traveled about outside. It wasn't the nicest of fall days, with wind nipping at exposed skin and clouds looking as if to threaten rain, but it wasn't unexpected for that time of the year. Like clock work, the seasons settled in and everyone adjusted. Shorts and tank tops were traded in for coats and scarves. Hot for cold.
When she was little she used to love the cold weather. Come fall there would be no stopping her from building up piles of leaves so high they'd almost be bigger than her. The sensation of that first jump into a perfectly accumulated heap of deadened leaves was purely magical. In the winter meant snow, which for her meant snowballs, icicles, snowmen and as much hot chocolate that she could drink. The more frigid the weather, the better she had always thought because the colder the weather the more snow was brought.
When you're a kid you never notice how cold or hot the weather is. Things like that were of little importance. Attention was focused on all the fun that was brought due to the fact that the seasons changed. That stage in her life had long since passed and she now noticed the frosty temperatures. Putting on extra layers was a hassle and she always lost her gloves, which was the case at the moment. She stuffed her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat in an effort to stave off the cold.
The walk home should have taken her fifteen minutes but it felt like a lot longer. She wanted to check her watch but that would mean taking her hand out of the warmth her pocket provided. She shuffled along hoping that she made it home before she froze to death. She was all too happy when she reached the familiar door of her home since childhood. She pushed the door open and instantly felt the comfortable heat.
The sound of the television came from the kitchen and slipshod banging could be heard from the basement. She dumped her backpack by the door and shed her hat and coat off, tossing them onto the coat rack. With a rumbling stomach, she made her way to the kitchen, eager to see what was for dinner. Usually a smell of something good took over the house, but there was no mouth watering aromas greeting her. Her mother loved cooking and almost by nature she followed in her wake with the talent.
"Parker sweetie, you're home."
Her mother was at the table, engrossed in whatever latest novel was taking up her time. From time to time that happened. Some new book from her favorite author would come out and for the next week she'd be no good to anybody. She glanced around the kitchen to see nothing cooking before answering her mother.
"Hey ma, new book I see."
"Mmhm," she replied turning a page.
Shaking her head, she turned and opened the refrigerator. A quick hunt around found her a can of spaghetti sauce. She pulled it out and went to the cupboard for the noodles she knew were there. Nothing special, a spaghetti dinner, but it'd be enough to satisfy. She gathered together necessary pots and filled one with water setting it on the stove.
The television was set to the six o'clock news, the chipper Dana Struthers was reporting on the scientific proof of how chocolate can boost happy emotions. She opted to turn the channel of the news which she never liked watching and instead replaced it with a cartoon channel. There was nothing better than getting out of the cold and cooking to Ren & Stimpy. Once her water was at a boil, she tossed in the noodles and dusted off her hands for a job well done.
"I forgot to check for mail today. Be a dear and go see for me, will you?"
She almost glared at her mother for making her go back into the cold, but she reeled it back. "Sure."
She walked through the living room, passed up her coat and opted for running outside. She jogged to the crooked banged up mail box. It was pea green, missing the trademark flag and Hales was painted on the side in red lettering. The box was filled with the usual junk; pamphlet from the army trying to get her to enlist─ at that she raised an eyebrow, she was the most un-athletic, scrawny person in the history of ever and a relationship with the army would certainly kill her─ there was a book of coupons, an electric bill that would probably drive her mom nuts and a note addressed to her father.
Mail for her father was rare; in fact he got none if it wasn't a bill. Deciding to further inspect inside the house and not outside where she could potentially turn into a popsicle, she ran back inside.
"Hey mom." She strolled back into the kitchen still examining the letter.
"Who'd be writing to dad?"
"Your dad got a letter?" She asked in light curiosity.
Parker leaned against the kitchen counter after throwing all the uninteresting mail next to the sink and examined more closely the letter addressed to her father. The lettering on the envelope was thin and neat a little too neat for her taste, but it definitely did not belong to anyone she knew.
"Yep, dad got a letter."
Her mom put down the book which was probably the first time all day she had done so to eye her daughter across the kitchen. She took a moment to watch her daughter. It was only when Parker wasn't paying attention that Mrs. Hales got the chance to ogle at how much she had grown up. She was short for someone to have inherited genes from two relatively tall parents, at eighteen years old, Parker stood just barely over five feet tall. Her height had never bothered her like her mother had thought it would but what she lacked in stature, she made up for in brilliance.
Granted, she didn't have the scientific mind that her father possessed, but she had a real knack for numbers. Parker was the kind of kid who once she got started on something; she was determined to see it through. Mrs. Hales watched the hazel eyes of her daughter focus on the letter in her hands, her brow furrowed in innocent curiosity. She noticed the teen was long over due to repaint her fingernails; the light shade of pink was chipping horrendously. But that was Parker, ever the procrastinator. The girls chocolate colored hair fell past her shoulders in messy curls and her cheeks were rosy from being outside.
Mrs. Hales held much pride for her daughter; she was such a treasure to her life.
"Well bring it here, maybe I know who it's from."
Parker shook her head and looked away from the envelope. "Unless you can identify handwriting I doubt you'll be able to figure it out." Her mother held out her hand despite the comment and Parker crossed the kitchen to drop the letter into her mother's waiting hand. Parker dropped into a chair at the table and rested her chin in her hand as she watched her mom inspect the envelope. After a minute Mrs. Hales dropped the letter onto the table next to the bowl of apples.
"Nope, not a clue who it is," said Mrs. Hales and she went back to her book.
"Can I open it?" Parker perked up at the idea.
The sound of water boiling stopped her from getting an answer. Parker hopped from her chair and rushed back over to the stove and her pot that had water boiling over it. Mrs. Hales looked over the top of her book at her daughter as she turned the fire down on the stove and bustled about with drying up the spilled water and readying the noodles.
"Is it time for new shoes?"
Parker turned to look at her mother, wet dish towel still in hand. "Huh?" She followed her mother's eyes downward to look at her beat up sneakers. The instant reply to come from her mouth was no. It was a constant question to come from her mother, the need for new shoes and it was only because she hated the old pair of pink sneakers that over time collected scrapes, dirt and pen doodles from when she was bored that she kept up with the question persistently.
"No, so what's dad been working on in the basement lately?"
"I don't know," Mrs. Hales said turning a page. "You know how he gets about his projects sometimes."
Parker nodded as she watched her noodles begin to soften in the hot water. That was her dad the ever secret scientist. As much as she loved him, sometimes he drove her crazy with his occasionally compulsive need to work on whatever it was he worked on in the basement. Most of the time he worked on things for his job, he was a scientist at some company whose name she often forgotten. It was important to him, his work and so her mother and her left him to dwell in the basement.
"Oh Lynn's mom wanted her to tell me to tell you that she said to call her tonight. Something about a Hugh Jackman movie marathon coming on television tonight." Parker struggled a bit with opening the jar of tomato sauce but sighed once the audible 'pop' sounded.
"Oh really? I've got to call her," Mrs. Hales stood from her chair and in a bumbled rush left the kitchen, abandoning the book that seconds ago had held her interest.
Pouring the sauce into the other pot, Parker watched as her mom bolted for the phone located somewhere in the house. She didn't get her mother's girlish fascination with the man, but then again it might have had something to do with the fact that she never really went gaga over guys, not the way other girls in school did. She was more of the type who pined from afar. Once her spaghetti was done, she carried it to the table all set to dig in and indulge in dinner and cartoons before having to do homework. Her mom's gabbing cared over the television and she hurriedly snatched up the remote and upped the volume while twisting spaghetti around her fork.
With Mrs. Hales enthralled in her telephone conversation about a beloved actor and Parker captured by cartoons and noodles the letter went forgotten all too easily as it sat idle on the table.