Timeless

by Rachel Spangler

  I stared down at her sitting in a splay of legs and notebooks. She took a few deep breaths and gathered her things quietly.

  “What happened?” I asked. “Did you miss the chair?”

  She glared at me. “Yeah, it must have jumped right out from under me.”

  I extended my hand, and she looked at it like I might hit her. When she realized I only meant to help her up, she glanced over her shoulder quickly. I followed her line of sight to three guys snickering in the opposite corner. All the pieces made sense. They’d kicked the chair out from under her just as she began to sit down, but instead of going off on them she was protecting me by not involving me in the situation.

  She stood on her own and stacked her books neatly beside her without another word.

  I pulled her chair closer. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” she said through clenched teeth.

  She wasn’t fine, clearly. Even if I didn’t know how this part of my dream ended, I could see she’d already neared her breaking point. Why did I have so few memories of her? Had I blocked them or just been too absorbed in my own survival skills to pay attention to the trials of anyone else?

  I turned back to the guys. Two of them had moved on, but the third one stared me down. His broad shoulders and muscled chest alone dwarfed Kelsey’s whole body. He had dark facial hair and the sneer that suggested he might have failed a grade somewhere along the way. Michael Redly. My memory had blocked the name until now. A football star with rugged good looks and an alpha-male mentality, he served as a living stereotype of a first-rate jock and top-notch asshole.

  I turned away to hide the burn of shame under my skin. I didn’t want to shy away from a bully, but damned if I wasn’t a little afraid of him. He had the power to make anyone’s high-school existence hell, and I couldn’t handle one more complication now. Making myself a target could expose me to all sorts of problems that went well beyond my social status.

  Thankfully, Mr. Glass entered the room and started class, which is to say he gave us our assignment. We had to type a 500-word piece he projected onto the whiteboard, then copy and paste it into three different documents. Why? I don’t know, but high school had never been the place to search for logic.

  I opened a new document and began to type. I kept my eyes on the projection page while my fingers flew across the keyboard. The entire exercise would take ten minutes max. I wondered what we’d do after our warm-up. I snuck a peek at the clock as I neared the end of my assignment, only to notice Kelsey staring at me in wide-eyed, open-mouthed disbelief. She’d typed about three lines. The girl sitting to the side of me had finished about the same amount. I surreptitiously scanned the monitors around the room. No one else had more than a full paragraph while I moved onto my second page.

  I immediately slowed down, but Kelsey had clearly seen my typing speed and the accompanying results. I took my sweet time proofreading the page but still finished before anyone else, so I clicked the keystrokes to copy and paste my work into new documents.

  “How did you do that?” Kelsey whispered.

  “What?”

  “How did you just make the text appear without using your mouse?”

  “I just hit control C to copy and control V to paste.”

  She tried, but nothing happened, causing her to glare at me incredulously.

  “Sorry. You have to “select all” first. Do control A.”

  She repeated the process with the added step and actually smiled when it worked. “How did you learn to do that?”

  “I don’t know. I just picked it up somewhere along the way. It’s no big deal. You could just use your mouse to do the same thing.”

  “Not when they unplug your mouse.”

  “What?”

  She held up her computer mouse, and sure enough the cord dangled freely from the end that should’ve been connected to the computer tower.

  “Just plug it back in.”

  “I have to crawl under the desk and reach behind the towers to find the right outlet.”

  I heard the unspoken fear. She’d be on the floor, out of sight of the teacher, and completely vulnerable to anyone around her. The keystrokes weren’t just a matter of convenience. They offered safety.

  I pursed my lips, trying to stem the temper I’d learned to express more readily in adulthood. I couldn’t blow up in the middle of class, but I could still help her. “There’s a bunch of shortcuts. Give me a piece of paper, and I’ll write them out for you.”

  She pulled a sheet out of her spiral notebook, still looking a little leery. “Can you also write down how you learned to type that fast?”

  I laughed nervously. “Lots of practice.”

  “In the last four days?” Kelsey asked. “‘Cause you were slower than me last week.”

  “Really?” I shrugged. “Just been spacing out, I guess.”

  I lowered my head and set to work without waiting for a response. I’d made it almost to lunch before doing something stupid, and hopefully I could dodge this too. It seemed rude to think, but no one paid attention to Kelsey anyway. I needed to be more careful in the future about being too proficient in my studies though. I couldn’t suddenly make a bid for valedictorian. I almost groaned when I realized I’d just considered my long-term prospects for survival. A few good hours did not contentment make. This dream had to end sometime, didn’t it? Dare I hope for sometime soon? Just because I could keep up the charade didn’t mean I wanted to.

  I wandered into the hallway after the lunch bell. Thankfully we had open campus, and I could get away for a bit. I was headed for the front door when Nikki stopped me. “Where you going?”

  “Um, out?”

  “Did you bring your car?”

  “No. Mom didn’t think I should drive yet.”

  “Right, so where you going?”

  “I was going to walk.”

  She shook her head like I’d lost my mind, and clearly this was not an unfair assumption.

  “Or I could stay in,” I offered weakly.

  “Or you could go with me.” She finally laughed. “You need a Happy Meal.”

  I cringed. I hadn’t eaten at a McDonalds since I’d read Fast Food Nation in college. Which of course meant not yet. Maybe I could spring for something a little nicer. I felt my back pocket, finding it empty. Where was my wallet? Or didn’t I carry one yet?

  “What’s the matter?” Nikki asked.

  “I don’t have my lunch money.”

  She smiled sweetly and threw her arm around my shoulder. “I’ll cover you.”

  I wanted to run and hide, but I couldn’t do this alone. I needed all the help I could get, and Nikki was offering me a lot, so I resigned myself to accepting her support as graciously as possible. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  *

  Jody had her back to me as she bent over her desk to make a note on some papers. I rested my shoulder on the doorjamb to her classroom and let myself watch her. She hummed softly and swayed gently to the music in her head. She’d shed her suit coat, revealing a white oxford. The accompanying navy skirt hugged her hips in a way that made my breath catch painfully in my chest. She didn’t seem so young anymore, and frankly, neither did I. Maybe the uptick in my libido came with the other youthful changes in my body, but even the most hormonally charged teenager wouldn’t have been capable of imagining the scenarios that flashed through my mind. All hot-for-teacher fetishes aside, nothing good would ever come from my current line of thought.

  I cleared my throat, startling Jody so badly she jumped, then landed, clutching her chest and laughing. “Stevie, I swear if you scare me one more time I’m going to give you a detention.

  “I’m sorry.” I laughed for the first time in days. “You told me to come in during my study hall.”

  “Right, I remember.” She perched on the edge of her desk. “I just got lost in thought.”

  “Penny for them?”

  “My thoughts?”

  “Sure.” I took a seat at the student desk
closest to her. “Lay ‘em on me.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I think that might be an inappropriate request.”

  “Only if the thoughts are inappropriate.”

  “Stevie, look, you’re a great kid, young woman, person.” She sighed. “But you’re a student, and you can’t talk to me like a peer.”

  I wanted to scream, “I am your peer.” Instead I hung my head and said, “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

  “It’s not that, but I’m trying to establish myself as a teacher. I’m trying to find my voice, and it’s not easy.”

  “I’m sure it’s not. You’re only a few years older than I am, and you look younger than that. It’s probably hard to make people take you seriously. But I do, and I’m sorry if my comments made you feel otherwise.”

  She opened her mouth like she wanted to say more but held back, so I pushed on tentatively. “You’re a good teacher. You’re going to be a great teacher someday. The students here need you, but I know that will take a toll on you personally.”

  “My personal life isn’t the issue here,” she said with conviction, but I noticed the tremble in her hands.

  “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought if you were working on something—a lesson plan, a pedagogical statement, issues of classroom management, whatever—I could be a sounding board.” I was floundering. The more I tried to be supportive, the more it sounded like a cheap come-on. I needed to shut up, but I couldn’t. “You know, as a student. You help me see the lessons from your point of view. I help you see them from mine.

  “You’re very intuitive, aren’t you?” she asked, seeming wary but not outright dismissive of my offer.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I pulled your file on Friday.”

  The sudden change in topics threw me. “Really? Why?”

  She sat down beside me and toyed with a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. “You can say you don’t remember Thursday night, and maybe you don’t, but you said things to me no seventeen-year-old should know.”

  “I’m eighteen.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to make that statement now. Perhaps I thought the extra year might lend me some credibility, but more likely I wanted her to know I was of legal age to make my own decisions.

  “Still, your comments didn’t make sense to me, so I went through your records to try to find some answers.”

  “And?” I’d kind of like some answers myself.

  “You’ve got impressive transcripts. Great grades, high test scores, plenty of extracurricular activities. I’m not surprised you got into NYU.”

  “Why do I feel like there’s bad news coming? Did you find I’m an elite operative for some underground literati organization?”

  She shook her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched up, betraying amusement despite her serious tone. “No, there’s nothing there to indicate you’re anything other than an average high-school senior.”

  I exhaled a breath heavy with relief. “Well, that’s good.”

  “Is it?” Her brow furrowed. “You seem like so much more than average to me. You’re smart, and you notice things other teenagers don’t. You’re also maddeningly disarming.”

  My stomach did a little flip-flop move right up into my throat. She found me disarming?

  “What I can’t figure out is why no one else ever saw any of this in you.”

  “Saw? Past tense?” Had the heat gone up in the whole room or just under my collar? “Does that mean you have me pegged now?”

  “See what I mean?” She held out her hand in my direction as if I’d just demonstrated a valuable piece of evidence. “You catch things. You make connections to larger conclusions. Why aren’t you a student leader? Why aren’t you at the top of your class? Why don’t you even talk during class discussions?”

  “I think you’re digging for something that’s not there. I don’t extrapolate any great life lessons. I don’t want to be a symbol or some voice crying out in the wilderness.” I backpedaled quickly. This isn’t where I’d wanted this conversation to go. I’m not you. I’m not Rory. “I’m solidly average.”

  “You’re not. Average students don’t say ‘extrapolate’ or talk about pedagogical statements or describe themselves in terms of ancient Biblical allusions.”

  I stood up, pushing away from the desk and trying not to pace. Of course I wasn’t the average teenager, but what did she want me to say? That I was some sort of child genius? A literary savant? I didn’t want to lie to her, but I couldn’t tell the truth, either. Frustration twisted the muscles in my back. Even on my best days I didn’t handle conflict well, and right now I was drowning in it. My defenses rose. “Why are you determined to label me as above average?”

  She stepped closer, pushing just into my personal space and sending my blood pulsing through my ears. “Why are you so invested in believing the status quo is good enough?”

  “It was good enough the first time, so forgive me if I want to stick with what worked until I figure out how to get out of here without going insane.” I covered my mouth, then flopped back into the chair and put my head down on the desk. I couldn’t pull the words back in, no matter how much I wished them away.

  I sat perfectly still, part of me relieved to have it out there. Now maybe she could just call the hospital to come get me. At least then I wouldn’t have to go to gym class.

  “Stevie,” she said softly, and crouched down so her face was next to mine. “Look at me.”

  I lifted my head and met those compassionate blue eyes, so soothing no matter the circumstances.

  “You’re not insane. And you’re going to make it just fine. You’re going to graduate in a few months. You’re headed to NYU, and you’ll thrive there. You and I both know that.”

  “Yeah,” I said, my throat raw with emotion.

  “I understand wanting to stick with what has worked for you in years past. Trust me, I know all about the urge to blend into the crowd. I don’t fault you for that. I probably would’ve done the same if I could have.”

  I heard the pain in her voice. Even if I hadn’t known her story, I wouldn’t have doubted her sincerity.

  “But unless we’re willing to take some risks, to challenge the perceptions of ourselves, we’re doomed to keep repeating our mistakes, to keep selling out and settling for good-enough when we could make a real difference.”

  Why the hell did everyone want to change me these days? First Edmond, then Rory, now Jody. I liked my life just fine. Well, except for the whole coma-nightmare scenario I was currently facing. Then again, I wouldn’t be having this dream if people had left well-enough alone. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. I really do, but I’m not one of your charity cases. I don’t need you to unlock my hidden potential.”

  Her frown and sagging shoulders caused my chest to constrict so tight it nearly broke my heart. I didn’t want to sound harsh, and I got an extra shot of guilt for using her reason for teaching against her, but the last thing I needed was extra scrutiny. Why did the one person I most wanted to be around pose the greatest risk?

  “Fine,” she said, returning to her polite professional façade. “I guess I misread the situation.”

  Of course she had. How could she not? Who looks at a high-school student and assumes she’s a twenty-nine-year-old fiction writer in a time-travel nightmare? I wished this conversation could end differently, but I’d yet to find a way to make sense of anything, much less change it. Perhaps the best thing I could do for both of us was stick to the roles we knew. “Do you have those assignments I missed?”

  She eyed me expectantly for a few seconds more before she acquiesced and became the teacher I’d asked her to be. I watched as she detached herself emotionally and physically distanced herself by returning to the other side of the desk. She shuffled paperwork, then began to recite an abbreviated version of last Friday’s English-lit lesson plan. I missed her immediately, and I had only myself to blame, but this was just the way
things had to be for us right now.

  *

  I arrived in gym class with the golden ticket in my pocket. My mother, the doctor, had written a note excusing me from all exercise for up to ten days and anything that might risk physical contact for the rest of the month. There’d be no locker-room changes or awkward showers with real teenagers. I also wouldn’t have to face basketball practice since they were in the last two weeks of the season. In fact, gym would’ve been a breeze if not for the prospect of facing Drew Phillips.

  I could barely stomach the man for a photo op in present day with Rory by my side. I had no idea how I’d face him one-on-one when he clearly held all the power. I didn’t have to wonder long since he spotted me the moment I entered the gym. “Geller, front and center.”

  What was this, the marines? He certainly had the haircut for it, but even marines didn’t wear their pants as high as he did.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Glad to see you came to.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I think.

  “And what did we learn from this experience?”

  I snorted. I couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry?”

  “What did you learn from your embarrassing incident last week?”

  Well, let’s see. I learned a concussion can induce time travel. I learned you, sir, will get more powerful, but you’ll never stop being a douche. I learned Jody is a better teacher in her first week than you are after a decade on the job. I’d actually learned a lot of things, but I doubted he wanted to hear any of them.

  “I’ve got a concussion,” I said, falling back on the now-comforting excuse and producing the note from Doctor Mom. “I don’t remember anything from Thursday night.”

  He scowled as he read the letter, but even he was too afraid of a lawsuit to go against a medical excuse. “Go ahead and sit this one out, but I want you to think about what got you in this mess in the first place, so maybe next time you’ll pay attention to the task at hand instead of daydreaming during a game.”