So Totally (5 page)

When Paul and I walked up the stairs to the garage, I tried to cover my nervousness with babble. I sounded like Kevin. But I wanted to caution Paul that this situation had become drama breeding grounds. With Nate running hot and cold with me, Kevin feeling emasculated by Nate, and me being a basket case, I thought he should have fair warning.

“So, basically, what you’re telling me is I should have stayed home and studied the theory of quantum physics.”

I shrugged. “Anything is better than this.”

“I like physics.”

Ooops. “Sorry, did I just insult you?”

“No.”

I knocked on the door before opening it slowly. The guys sat on the floor playing
Super Mario Bros.
on a Nintendo console. I know this because my father used to break his old one out now and then and tell me about the good old days and a game called
Pong
. The sight of guys playing video games in front of a television comforted me a lot—this, I was used to. Some things hadn’t changed. I bet Kevin would die if he saw
Halo
.

The room was set up like a mini-apartment. A little kitchenette to the right of the door didn’t appear to have more than a small fridge and microwave (which was huge, I mean
huge
). The rest of the room was living room. It felt very grown-up. Not like my room at home. I still had all my stuffed animals on my bed and crayon marks on my dresser.

“There’s Coke in the fridge,” Nate yelled over his shoulder.

Yes, caffeine
. “Want one, Paul?” I was already pulling one out for myself.

He shook his head and took a seat behind the hulking computer. “I hate New Coke. It tastes like crap.”

“New Coke?” Sure enough, the label on the can claimed it was new and improved. I took a sip. “Oh yuck.”

“I like it,” Nate said.

“It’s too sweet.” I shuddered.

“Nate stocked up on it,” Paul said.

“Why?”

He sent me a look that said Carrington=Alien. “In case they stop making it.”

“Oh.” That couldn’t be right. I drank Coke all the time.

“They went back to the old formula.”

The computer was taking forever to boot up.

“Old formula?”

Paul looked at me weirdly again. Notice I hadn’t mentioned his Adam’s apple? I was totally getting over that.

He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Were you out of the country last year? Everybody in the world, except for Nate, hated the new stuff…so they went back to the old and are calling it ‘Classic.’”

Weird. Who knew that even cola led such a complicated life?

Paul picked up the phone and placed it on some kind of modem or something on the desk. Great. Dial-up. I pulled up a chair next to him; this was going to take a while.

Nate and Kevin joined us around the desk.

“So, are you changing her grades?” Nate asked.

Paul shook his head. “We’re enrolling her.”

Nate had leaned over me a little to look at the screen. He bent his neck to ask me, “Why?”

Our faces were very close and I was caged in by one of his arms. I prayed to God for a non-booger day. “Long story.”

“First, Middle, Last,” Paul asked.

“Carrington Krystal Morris.”

Nate, so close I could feel his breath in my ear, said, “Like
Dynasty
?”

“Coincidence,” I blurted. Mom had named me after her favorite character on
Dynasty
. For those of you whose parents are not stuck in the ‘80s or addicted to soap channels on cable—
Dynasty
was about a rich family who defy explanation. Lots of catfights and intrigue. Krystal Carrington was the main character, but Mom thought it would be too weird to name me exactly after her.

Reversing the order made perfect sense.

“Date of birth.”

“October 05, 199—I mean,” Crap. I detest math. “1970.” That was close.

“What kind of transcripts do you want?”

“Let’s just do
B
’s straight across.” The key was not to draw too much attention to myself—but if I ended up stuck here, I had college to think about.
B
’s were solid.

We filled out the rest of the database, and Paul was just finishing when I nonchalantly threw out, “So…what do you guys know about time travel?”

“Yes! I knew it!” Kevin shot up from his chair and pointed to Paul. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

Nate and I exchanged confused glances.

“Paul guessed alien, but I said time traveler.”

Nate unfolded himself from the chair. “What are you talking about?”

“We knew it was something. She’s not like the other girls.” To me, he added, “Future, right?”

“You think I’m from the future?” Did I stick out that much?

He had the sense to blush a little. “Well, Paul thought you were a hot alien.” As if that were a good argument.

Crap. Crap. Crap. “I need to go.”

Nate grabbed my arm. “I don’t think so.” He led me back to the love seat. “What the hell is going on?”

As I lowered, I said, “I’m in the Witness Protection Program?”

The three of them exchanged glances and then shook their heads.

“I’m a teenage runaway; it’s very tragic, really.”

They didn’t even look at each other that time.

“I’m on the lam after a bank heist.”

The Trifecta crossed their arms and glared at me.

“I can’t believe you guys believe time travel over the teenage runaway story.” Tough audience.

“I’m not sure I believe any of the stories,” Nate said. “Why do they think you’re from the future?”

“I don’t know.” Really I didn’t. “Ask them.”

Paul began pacing. “It’s not possible. Time travel is not possible.”

“Settle down, savant,” Kevin answered. “She’s not an alien, and you owe me twenty bucks.”

Kevin and Paul argued back and forth while Nate watched me like I was a flight risk. His jaw ticked and he stared at me. His future had police interrogator written all over it. I was going to crack any minute.

Finally, Paul addressed me. “Did you build it yourself?”

“Build what?”

“Your time machine.”

“I don’t have a time machine. I have no idea how I got here.”

Whoops.

Instead of surrounding the computer monitor, now everyone formed a half circle around me and stared expectantly at me, waiting for more details. As disappointed as I was in myself for outing my travel, I was relieved to be able to share it.

“I need help, you guys. I don’t understand what happened and I don’t know how to get back. And I don’t get the paradox thing either.”

“Which one?” asked Kevin.

I groaned. “There’s more than one?”

Great. Time paradoxes. Or was it paradoxi?

“Start from the beginning,” Paul offered. “And don’t leave a single thing out.”

Nate hit his shoulder. “Dude, if you showed this much enthusiasm for a girl instead of sci-fi, you might actually get laid.”

Brain bleach on aisle four, please
. Paul and his Adam’s apple having sex just about cured me from ever wanting to do it myself.

“You guys need to tell me about the paradox stuff.”

“Well, you should be okay for now, as long as we keep you away from your parents,” Kevin said.

I buried my face in my hands.

“What’s the matter?” Paul asked.

“Heather is my mom.”

One of them said, “That is not a good idea.” And the other said, “Dude.”

“A little late now.”

Nate rolled his eyes at the other two. “Start from the beginning.”

“Okay. I was in the girls’ bathroom.”

“What year?” Paul asked.

“2011. Serendipity High—same school. I was looking in the mirror when my reflection started acting of her own volition—autonomously from me. I blacked out and woke up here.”

“Mirror?” Nate sat up straight, like he’d just been poked. “You guys need to go. I’ll walk Carrington home.”

“What’s the matter now?” I asked.

“What’s wrong, Nate?”

He shook his head. “Not a thing.” He didn’t take his eyes off me. “But we need to research any paradox that might affect her future—or our future.”

Paul asked, “Shouldn’t we figure out how she got here first?”

“I’ll work on that.” He was shooing them out the door while they argued.

All was not well in Nerdville, but they left me alone with him anyway.

“Tell me what’s really going on,” he demanded.

“What are you talking about?” I started wondering if it was such a great idea to be alone with him. Aside from the fact that he was unhinging, he was also a lot cuter than I wanted him to be.

His eyes blazed blue-gray fire. “How did you know about the mirror?”

“The mirror in the girls’ bathroom? I didn’t know about it, I sort of experienced it. Why are you so mad at me?” This time?

He sat on the coffee table in front of me so that we were eye to eye. The guy was big into eye contact. And still overly intense.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m trying to decide if you are playing games with me.”

I sighed. Like I had time for games right now. “I don’t understand you, Nate. You took one look at me and decided you hated me. Then you were nice. And now we’re back to Scary Intense Guy and my head is spinning. I’ve had a really bad weekend, I hate jelly shoes, and I am going through caffeine withdrawal because my grandparents only drink instant and it will be years yet before lattes are popular.”

I finished my rant and rubbed my temples while he continued to stare at me. Was he even aware that his legs brushed mine? I know I was—electrical currents zinged from the contact.

“I want to show you something.”

He got up and reached his hand out for mine. I rose unsteadily, and he led me toward the bathroom. Which was when I realized that across the little nook of a hallway from the bathroom was his bedroom.

I stopped short. Show me something, ha. “I don’t think so, buddy.”

“Relax.” He tugged me again. “I’m not dragging you into my room so I can jump you.” He arched one brow. “Even if you beg.”

I made snotty faces at him while my heart bounced around my rib cage like it wasn’t tethered in place. “How do you do that eyebrow thing?”

“Practice in front of a mirror.”

“No, thank you.” I no longer cared to spend that much time in front of a mirror. Who knew where I’d end up next?

He opened his bedroom door and gestured “ladies first.” I hesitated. I hadn’t been in a boy’s bedroom since I was about seven. Parents frown on that type of thing after a certain age—about the time the Legos get put away. I crossed the threshold; it seemed like a big moment.

I don’t know what I was expecting. It reminded me of my room, only blue. Bed, desk, dresser. No big. His desk was built into a set of wall shelves, and he lifted up the top of it and it turned into an easel.

“Nifty.” That was my attempt at casual indifference, and it was met with a knowing perusal over his shoulder.

I couldn’t stop stealing glances at the bed. It looked bigger than mine but that was probably because it wasn’t filled with stuffed animals and squishy pillows. I have a passion for squishy pillows.

He thumbed through a sketchbook, searching.

“So, you’re an artist?” Stater of the obvious, am I.

He nodded, “Mostly comic books.” He handed me the book. “Take a look at that.”

One cursory glance had me sitting quickly on his bed. There was one frame, drawn in pencil. A girl with crimped hair in a side ponytail pointed to her reflection. The reflection, a sad mirror image of the girl, held her hands up to the mirror with a lone tear falling from her eye.

“How did you…?”

He joined me on the bed. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. How did you know I drew that? I haven’t shown anyone.”

“I didn’t know you drew this. I haven’t told anyone about the mirror before tonight.”

He took the pad from me and set it on the other side of him. Then he picked up my hand and held it between both of his. “Carrington, I drew that last night. Before we met.”

M
Y heart sank to the pit of my stomach. Prickles of numbness assaulted my nerves and I was going, going, gon—

“Whoa. Stay with me, Red.”

Nat braced me in his arms and the world began righting itself, for the most part. I still felt like I was chewing on cotton balls. “Please explain.”

He didn’t let go, and I let my head rest on his shoulder. It may have been foolish, but it felt good to rest for a minute. He wasn’t pushing me off him, so I settled in. Just for a little while…

“I fell asleep watching a movie last night. I woke up suddenly with this vision. The two girls on either side of the mirror.”

“One girl,” I piped in.

“Technicality. Anyway, I couldn’t sleep or eat or even take a piss until I penciled it out. Like I was possessed. Once it was done, I had no idea what to do with it. It isn’t like my usual stuff, and I had no story go with it. I figured it would come to me eventually, so I put the sketch away. When I saw you tonight…it scared the crap out of me.”

I pulled back to look at his face. “I have that effect on all men.”

He grinned. “I suffered a serious case of déjà vu. I knew you were her—the girl in the picture—the second I laid eyes on you.”