by Amber Garza
I shrugged. “He was all like, ‘Oh, babe, it wasn’t what it looked like’.”
Ava cringed. “Do guys really think that’ll work?”
“They must,” I said. “But it so doesn’t.”
Ava laughed. “Fail.”
“Major fail.” I laughed with her.
This felt good. Right. And for a moment, the ache of missing Nick faded. Not completely. But enough that I could at least breathe.
SIXTEEN
I burst into tears when Dad called me ‘Punkin’ during our facetime call. Dad was concerned, but I overheard Mom later telling him it was a hormonal thing. I could work with that. Raging hormones trumped time-travel in the way of excuses.
Dinner was back to veggies and protein, and, of course, more kale. Nothing microwaved or processed. Preston got yelled at multiple times during our meal for being on his device. All the things I used to complain about made me smile tonight. It probably wouldn’t last long before I got annoyed again, so I relished it.
After dinner, I went upstairs to practice our new choir song. It felt good to sing again. To be a part of something I was actually good at. While I was rehearsing, Ava texted.
Ava: Trying out for the solo?
I’d been practicing the alto part. I hadn’t even tried the solo. Michele Dekker almost always sang the solos. She had since freshman year. So, I never auditioned for one.
Me: I doubt it. U?
Ava: No, but u should. It’s in your range.
It was. I bit my lip. Maybe I would try out.
Me: I might. I’ll play around with it tonight.
Ava: Yay!
I pulled my keyboard out from under my bed and set it on my lap. Then I plunked out the notes, belting out the tune at the top of my lungs. It didn’t sound half-bad. Not exactly Michele Dekker good, but I felt like I could get there.
I kept at it until my fingers were raw and my throat hurt.
Then I headed downstairs to get some water.
“Sounded great up there,” Mom said.
“Thanks.” I hesitated a moment. “I think I might audition for the solo.”
“Oh, honey, that’s great. You really should. You have such a beautiful voice.”
“Thanks.” She had to say that. She’s my mom. Still, my spirits lifted from the compliment.
“Hey, do you mind taking out the trash?” Mom asked, pouring herself a glass of wine.
“What about Preston?”
“He’s all the way upstairs,” she said like it was a million miles away. But I got it. Some days it felt like that. “Help me out, okay?” She sounded tired.
I nodded, sighing. If it weren’t for my little stint in 1993, I doubted I’d have been so compliant. But today I was feeling all kinds of generous. “Okay.” Hoisting the garbage out of the can, a few things fell out. She wasn’t kidding about it being full. When was the last time Pres took it out? Bending down, I scooped them up and shoved them back inside. Then I carried the garbage outside as quickly as I could. It was heavy, so by the time I reached the garbage bin I was breathing heavy. You would think all that cheering would’ve gotten me in shape, huh?
Holding my breath, I launched the bag into the garbage bin. Dear god, it stunk. I was beyond relieved to close the lid and step away from it.
When I rounded the corner, my breath hitched in my throat. Nick was outside, hunched over his car. That was nothing new. But his head was lifted out of the hood, and he was staring straight at me. That was new.
Smiling, he offered a little wave.
Smoothing down my hair, I waved back with my free hand. I had no idea what I looked like. Probably like crap.
His head bobbed up toward my window. “Was that you singing?”
My gaze shot upward. Oh, man, did I leave my window open? My cheeks heated up.
“Um…” I cleared my throat. “Yeah.”
“It sounded amazing,” he said.
“Yeah?” I took a few steps until I stood at the edge of our two yards.
“You have a really good voice.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
“How come I never hear you doing the solos when the choir performs?”
I was surprised he even paid attention to our performances. We hated when we were forced to sing at rallies and school events. Students booed us or laughed or talked so loudly we could barely be heard.
“Um…I don’t know. I’ve never actually auditioned for one.”
“You should.” He smiled.
I bit my lip, heat working its way up my spine. “Maybe I will.”
It was quiet for a few awkward moments where neither of us seemed to know what to say. A few cars drove past. A dog barked in the distance. I glanced around, racking my brain to come up with something cute or witty, but my mind was annoyingly blank.
“So, I guess you’re doing better now?” He finally spoke.
I raised my brows. “Better than what?”
His lips twitched and his eyes crinkled in that amused look I’d gotten used to over the past few weeks. “Then this afternoon.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, that was really weird how I sat down with you, huh?” I forced out a laugh, even though inside was withering up and dying. God, how could I have been so stupid? They were probably making fun of me the entire lunch period. I’d sat with them before. I knew how brutal they could be.
Not Nick, but the rest of them. Especially Brooke. Yeah, she was the worst. My stomach knotted. I thought of how she was all over Nick today. I hoped for the umpteenth time that they weren’t together.
He blinked, running a hand through his hair. He wore a funny expression, almost like he was confused or thinking really hard about something. “It’s funny, though…” he paused, pressing his lips together. I felt a little uneasy. “When I first saw you sitting there, I had this sense of…I don’t know…like déjà vu or something.” His gaze met mine, and he laughed nervously. “Sorry. I know that sounds stupid.”
“No,” I said swiftly. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”
“It was like you’d sat there before…or always...or…” He shook his head. “Now I really do sound stupid.”
My body warmed. He remembered me. Us. Maybe not consciously, but deep down he did.
“No reason to feel stupid. It happens.” I stood there for a minute mulling over his words. It was almost too good to be true. My feet were getting cold, and I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t stand out here staring at him all night. That would be bizarre. “Well, um… I better get back inside.”
Nick nodded, his gaze returning to his car. His shirt was tinged in sweat, and it stuck to his skin. His arm muscles bulged as he leaned against the sides of the hood. My insides trembled. Sucking in a sharp breath, I turned away from him.
I’d almost made it inside when his voice stopped me. “Keep that window open. I like to hear you sing.”
My whole body tingled from his words. Peering over my shoulder, I smiled. “Deal.” Then I slipped inside, my heart hammering so loudly I feared he could hear it.
Running up to my room, I immediately texted Ava.
Me: Ok. I’ll audition.
She sent me a thumbs-up emoji.
Me: Nick convinced me.
She sent me back a gif of a person with their head exploding.
I laughed. A second later my phone rang.
I answered, “Hey, Ava.”
“This was way too huge of a convo to have over text. Spill it, girl.”
“Well, Mom made me take out the trash because Pres totally hadn’t taken it out in like forever, and--”
“And you’re the responsible one, yada, yada,” Ava interrupted, talking a mile a minute. “I know. I get it. Fast forward to the hot guy.”
I giggled. “He is hot, right?”
“Of course he’s hot. He’s freakin’ Nick Sinclair. Geez, girl, get to the good stuff.”
“So, anyway, I took out the trash, and Nick was out there working on his car like he always is, but only th
is time he looked up and waved at me.” It was super weird. I’d lived next door to him for years and rarely did he acknowledge me at all. And if he did, it was a wave or hello, and every once in awhile an odd, stilted conversation. Everything about tonight was different. My head swirled with all the possibilities.
“OMG!”
“Wait. It gets better.” My pulse was racing again, my body surging with adrenaline. I couldn’t even sit still. I was pacing my room with the phone pressed tightly against my face. “Then he asked if it was me singing just now.”
“You were singing? Where?”
“In my room. I’d been practicing, but I guess I forgot to close my window.”
“Nice.”
“And then he said I had an amazing voice.”
“See? I told you.”
“Not really an I-told-you-so moment, Av.”
“Right,” she said apologetically. “That’s awesome.”
“Isn’t it?” I said, practically squealing now. “And get this, then he told me to leave my window open so he could hear me again.”
“Whaaa?”
“I know.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s crazy.”
“Totes.”
“Does anyone even use that word anymore?”
“I do.”
“Totes,” I said, and we both laughed.
After hanging up, I lay back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. I wanted to tell Ava everything about Nick and me. Not just about tonight, but about the last few weeks. About our first kiss and the first time he put his arm around me. About how he held me so close at homecoming, and how he showed me his childhood home.
Now that I was back here, it all felt like a dream. Saying it aloud would give it life. Make it real again.
Because it was real, right?
Rolling over, I reached for the Discman, fingering the cord. A part of me wanted to put it on, crank it up and wish my way back to the nineties. But I feared it wouldn’t work again. Or maybe it would take me to a totally different time frame altogether.
Either way, I didn’t really want to go. I liked it here. I had everything I wanted.
Except Nick.
I had to figure out a way to get him back. And this time, for good.
***
The next couple of days, Nick and I didn’t talk at all. I saw him every once in awhile, outside with his car or hanging with his buddies. At school I passed him in the halls or spotted him from a distance, but he didn’t seem to even notice me.
It had been like this for years, and it had always bugged me. But now it hurt. It was physically painful.
I wanted to make him notice me, but I didn’t know how.
I’d been practicing my audition song, and always with my bedroom window wide open. But Nick had never been outside. In fact, much of the time he hadn’t even been home. Last night, in a desperate moment, I’d contemplated spraining my ankle in the front yard. Isn’t that how things started up with us the first time?
But then I remembered how much I hate pain, and nixed the idea.
Now I was sitting in the choir room preparing to audition and wondering if I was making a huge mistake. It was Nick’s words that gave me the confidence to do this. Mom and Ava have to encourage me. Nick didn’t have to say anything, but he did.
Now he was ignoring me, and I was back to being a hot mess.
Blowing out a ragged breath, I bounced my legs up and down, up and down, up and down. Ava placed a hand on me.
“Relax,” she said gently. “You’re gonna do great.”
Easy for her to say. She didn’t have to sing alone in front of the entire class. I loved singing, and I was good at it. But I always did it in a group. My hands were so slick and damp, I could hardly hold onto my sheet music. Michele was killing it in her audition, and the more she sang, the more nervous I became. I had no idea why people used the phrase “butterflies in your stomach,” because whatever had overtaken my stomach felt nothing like butterflies. More like angry gnats or pesky flies or fire ants. Anything bad and ugly and loud.
When it was my turn, I stood on shaky legs. They trembled as I made my way toward the piano. Everyone’s eyes were on me. My entire body quivered like I was having a seizure.
Awesome.
I inhaled in and out, in and out, hoping it would calm my nerves. It didn’t.
I was still trembling even when I started singing, and it affected my voice. My words trembled, my vibrato too pronounced. I stared at Ava, and she gave me an encouraging nod.
Come on, Remy, you can do this.
When I was a kid, my dad used to say to picture the audience in their underwear. That had never worked for me. I had to make the audience invisible; shut them out completely. It was the only thing that worked. As long as they were there, they freaked me out, clothed or not.
Closing my eyes, I pretended I was alone in my room. I envisioned sitting on my bed, belting out the words. My heart rate started to slow, the trembling subsiding slightly. Nick’s face came into view. I pictured his heart-stopping smile, his blue eyes and tanned skin.
Before I knew it, the song was gratefully over.
After making it back to my seat, Ava leaned over and smiled at me, her eyes sparkling.
“You were amazing,” she whispered excitedly.
“Really?”
“Totes.”
We both giggled.
Our choir teacher shushed us, and we clamped our mouths shut. It was Sarah Miller’s turn. She was a freshman, and I’d never heard her sing a solo. My stomach clenched. Would she be any good? I held my breath as the music started.
When she started singing, I exhaled. It’s not that she was bad, she just wasn’t great.
“Hey.” I leaned over and whispered, “Wanna spend the night tomorrow night?”
“Sure.” She winked. “Tomorrow you find out if you got the solo. So, we’ll probably be celebrating.”
“Or I’ll be drowning my sorrows in a tub of mint chip,” I muttered, glancing around. Everyone was staring at Sarah, and the music was loud enough to drown out our voices.
She jabbed me in the side. “You’re so getting it.” Bobbing her head forward, she raised her eyebrows. “I mean, listen to her.”
“Yeah, but did you hear Michele?”
“You were better, trust me.”
My stomach twisted. I hoped she was right.
“But I say we still go with the tub of mint chip, no matter what,” Ava said.
I smiled. “For sure.”
“Okay, I’ll bring it over. What movies do you want to watch?”
I bit my lip. “Actually, I was kinda thinking maybe…we could go to the game.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes widening. “The football game?” A couple students looked over. Sarah was seriously botching the end of the song. I felt bad for how relieved it made me feel. Ava lowered her voice. “Since when do you want to go to a football game?”
Since I traveled back to 1993, joined the cheer squad, and fell for the quarterback.
Luckily, Ava knew me so well I didn’t have to say anything at all.
“Oh, this is about Nick, huh?”
My cheeks warmed. No sense denying it. I nodded slowly.
“So, if we go, you get to watch your quarterback. What’s in it for me?”
I glanced over at Sam, sitting a few feet away. “The marching band plays at halftime.”
“And?”
“And that means that Sam’ll be there.”
“So?”
“For reals?” She’d had a thing for Sam for months. It was so obvious.
Blowing out a breath, she shook her head. “Fine. We’ll go the game, but only because you want to, not because of…” she whispered, “Sam.”
“Sure,” I answered sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.
SEVENTEEN
I was supposed to be studying. Instead, I’d been snapchatting with Ava for the past hour. We’d sent each other dozens of pictures of ourselves using Snapcha
t filters. I was taking a picture of myself as a cat when a notification came up that I got a snap from Ian.
My stomach dropped.
I clicked on it.
It was a selfie of him wearing a frown with the caption I’M SORRY.
Seriously? Even if I wasn’t over him and totally into someone else, I still would’ve been disgusted. Did he think this dumb picture would work?
Also, why was I still friends with him on here?
I guess I was too busy in 1993 to clean up my social media accounts. So, I did it now. I went through all of them and deleted Ian. Breathing a sigh of relief, I shot a text to Ava.
Me: Ian snapchatted me.
Ava: What did he say?
Me: I’m sorry.
Ava: Loser.
Me: Right?
Ava: What did you say?
Me: Nothing. I deleted him.
Ava: Good for you.
It would’ve been a huge accomplishment a few weeks ago. Before I’d gone back in time, I had been so into Ian. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have taken him back no matter what. But I sometimes wondered. If it weren’t for Nick, would I have fallen for Ian’s apologies? Would I have run right back into his arms?
Hopefully, I would’ve been smarter than that. But who knows?
Sliding off my bed, I walked to the window. Nick’s car was gone. I glanced at my phone. Biting my lip, I typed in Nick’s name. Nothing. Huh. Clicking out of that app, I went into Instagram and found him instantly. Smiling, I scrolled through his pictures. They were mostly of him and his friends, some football memes and gifs. I stopped when I came upon a picture of him and his sister. His arm was slung over her shoulders, and his smile was wide.
My mind traveled back to that night on his front lawn when he told me all about his sister. I wondered if that was all still true now.
Rubbing my thumb over the picture, I touched his face, wishing I could touch it in real life. God, I missed him so much my whole body ached. I missed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, missed the way his hair fell over his forehead when he laughed, missed the way it felt when he kissed me.
Oh, god.
My heart stopped.
When I was touching the screen, I accidentally liked his picture.