“Oh sweetie, I’m just glad you’re ok.” She plops down in the chair next to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. “You feel ok, right?”
“Yeah.” More brilliant conversation. I’m wondering how much—if anything—she knows about what is really going on. I’m assuming, based on my dad’s previous comment, that Zach must have told her something. But then again, he made me swear not to tell anyone, so why would he? “I’m gonna be ok,” I smile.
Well, you know what happens next. All the poking and prodding and testing and evaluating—more than one human should be forced to endure. And who could forget Brown Middleton Rehab. Yep, still on the border of Hades. Then comes orientation and this is where things start getting weird. As if they aren’t already.
Remember the good old Accu-Read scanner?
When it’s my turn to go through it, I’m feeling a little cocky because everyone else is annoyed with it, but it’s old news to me. I step up; hold my card ready for the setup mode. I hear three beeps and look straight ahead, smile. Then, I hear a fourth beep, slightly different than the other three.
“That’s funny,” I hear the lady say. “The system switched to Active Mode.” I look around. She is sitting at a small table on the right, near a computer screen. “That’s the entry beep.”
More groans from behind. I shrug. And just about that time, I figure out what’s going on. The system already knows me. How cool is that? “What should I do?” I ask, playing naive.
“Hmmm,” the Lady says, tapping her nails on the table. “It won’t let me go back to setup.”
She looks up from her screen. “Have you already attended orientation?” She is clearly grasping for a quick explanation.
I shake my head. “No ma’am.”
She looks flabbergasted. “Well, must be a glitch. There’s bound to be some bugs.” She glances at the frustrated students apologetically. “We’ll have all those worked out by the first day of school. Ms. Turner, you may proceed to Station 3 for classroom assignment. Next in line, step forward.”
As I step away, I hear the three beeps and not a fourth, indicating the system has switched back to setup mode.
What a way to start the school year—again.
My problems, I realize, are just beginning the first time I see Zach. Remember? He walks into the computer classroom. Only this time, I expect him to come right over and sit next to me, which is absurd, of course. Everything is the same. He comes into the classroom and sits next to some pretty girl. Enter Cricket.
After school, we are standing on the front steps, waiting for our parents. There is Zach, just like before. He looks so beautiful—even more than before and I have to contain the added enthusiasm when discussing him with Cricket.
Suddenly, I see Dani coming down the sidewalk in her shades and a denim mini-skirt. I raise my hand to wave, but she’s not looking at me. She stops next to Zach and throws her arm around his neck, with a flirty giggle.
I don’t understand what I’m seeing. Why is Dani talking to Zach? This isn’t supposed to happen. Then the reality hits me like a blast of hot air: I have been all but gone for the last four years. A picture of Dani and Zach sitting on the park bench, at my party—four years is just long enough for two people to get to know each other really well. My heart sinks inside me and it’s all I can do not to cry right then and there. I put on my sunglasses to hide the tears as I watch Dani and Zach walk away together.
At least this time around I can dodge the embarrassment of having Alex bump into me right in front of all the Beautiful People, I thought. There had to be some sort of silver lining.
After school on Friday that week, I get a text from Dani: -Football game this afternoon—you up for it?
To tell you the truth, I’d rather go to the dentist than go to a football game, but I just now got Dani back, and I don’t want to disappoint her. -Aren’t you cheering?
-That’s varsity. I’m JV. Zach’s playing.
Wait a minute—Zach plays football? Varsity football? I guess a lot has changed, since that day in the park at my 13th birthday party. I have a sinking feeling that I’ve missed more than four years of my life. The last six months have changed, too. I don’t know what that means for Zach and me, but I am seriously not liking the looks of it.
I may regret this, but I text back, -Sure, why not. I have to get to the bottom of this new reality—the sooner, the better. Frustrated, yet somehow determined, I toss the phone on the bed and head to the shower to get ready.
I turn on the water as hot as I can stand it. My muscles ache and I feel a little weak, but other than that, I seem ok. I don’t really feel any different, other than being slightly uneasy about what’s to come. Surely Zach remembers, right? He’s probably just being cautious. After all, I was never supposed to tell anyone. He’s just waiting for the right moment, to reunite with me in secret. My heart flutters with the thought.
And yet, what if he hates me for having gone through with it, risking my life to save Dani—after telling him I wasn't going to? I lather up my hair with the sweet smelling apple shampoo my mom left for me, letting the suds slide down my body as I stretch my neck this way and that. I have to stop being so paranoid. Zach’s probably just busy practicing and whatever it is that football players do. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he won’t remember any of the time travel stuff and we can just get on with where we left off somehow. Wishful thinking. I close my eyes and imagine his soft, warm kisses, the way his hands fit perfectly around my waist, always pulling me closer, closer. I can’t stop smiling. As I get out of the shower and towel off, a thought stabs me in the gut: But what if he doesn’t remember me at all? What if he doesn’t remember us? He might forget about the simulations and the experiments and the data, but what on earth am I going to do if he’s forgotten about me?
“Shut up,” I say out loud. “Just stop it.” I won’t even go there. It’s not an option. Zach is mine. Always has been and always will be. I bend over, twisting the towel tightly around my head. When I come up, I survey my reflection in the mirror with a look of determination. What we have is unforgettable… Nothing is going to change that.
When I’m almost ready, I get a text from Cricket.
-hey what RU up 2
-going to the football game
-since when do you like football?
-since never…Dani asked me. Some guy she likes will be there. U want to come?
-yeh right. I’d fit right in with that bunch. No thanks. Think I’ll wash my hair instead..LOL
-k—CU tomorrow?
-sure have fun
I hadn’t considered, at all, the impact of all this on Cricket, on our friendship. Are she and I still the same? What does she know—if anything—about Zach? That will be a conversation for tomorrow, for sure. Maybe she can shed some light on Zach and Dani, as well.
Zach
I stop to pick up Dani before the game so we can get something to eat. I put my arm around her and keep it there, all the way to the car, opening the door for her. She slides into the seat with a sigh of exhaustion. I know there’s something bothering her, but I know Dani well enough not to ask just yet, so I just turn on some music and smile at here. Finally, she says, “I’m worried about Tess. She’s just not been herself lately. And what was with her running out in the middle of that storm anyway? She could have gotten herself killed.”
I put on my best optimist face and tell her, “Don’t worry, she’ll come around. She’s probably just having some residual effects.”
Dani curls up one side of her mouth. “Really Zach? So not in the mood.”
“For what?” I protest. I have no idea what she’s all up in arms about. “What are you talking about?”
“You and your big words,” she says.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I just meant she might still be having issues from the coma.”
&
nbsp; “No biggie. Anyway, that was six months ago. You’d think she’d be recovered by now.”
I shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Do you think she might have… mental problems?” Dani is starting to pick at her nails. She does that when she’s nervous. So I reach over and grab one of her hands and my cheeks start to burn. I retrieve my hand. “Sorry,” I say. I never know just how she feels about me.
“It’s ok.”
“It’s just—” Where do I start? There are so many things I’d like to say to her, beginning with a question: Tell me, again, why it is that we’re “just friends?” I missed the lecture day on that topic. My notes are incomplete.
She says, “It just sucks, you know? I just got my best friend back and she’s all wierded out. It’s like she doesn’t know me anymore. It’s just not the same.”
I can’t think of anything else reassuring to say, and besides, I’m getting a little jealous, so I just turn up the music and she gives me a grateful smile.
We stop at the deli for some sandwiches, even though neither of us is really all that hungry. We sit there in silence for while, nibbling on our food, which gives me time to admire Dani’s idyllic looks. It sounds absurd, but she truly looks like a goddess. Her hair is a design of perfect blonde ringlets, hanging to the center of her back, interwoven with some darker strands that set off the lighter ones like caramel on chocolate. With her slightly upturned nose, creamy complexion and perfectly arched eyebrows, she could rival anybody on the cover of the latest fashion magazine. Her eyes, though, are her best feature. They are large and brown with a hint of green around the edges, gold flecks inside, rimmed with blue glittery eyeliner. I realize I am staring at her and she curls up her lip on one side. “What?” She says, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
I shake my head. “Nothing…”
She pouted a little bit, lifting one eyebrow, the gesture of someone who was used to being looked at, and sort of enjoyed it. “Do I have something on my face or what?” She was good at deflecting an awkward moment, even though it was likely only awkward for me.
“No… you ok?”
She tilted her mouth. “I guess.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not really. It is what it is.”
“She’ll come out of it,” I say, and Dani gives me the sweetest look, which I enjoy—for the moment. I know it won’t last. She’s the only girl on the planet who can completely wrap me around her finger, then have the nerve to tell me I’m cutting off her circulation. She’s like my mom’s chocolate fudge—so sweet it makes my belly ache when I’ve had too much.
I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you the history of Dani and me. We met each other when we were assigned to be lab partners in biology class, sixth grade. This was a very big deal, because somehow, the fact that we had dissected a night crawler together brought us closer together, mainly because we both hated every minute of it.
When I turned thirteen, I developed a major crush on her. She didn’t know it—or care, for that matter—but after the accident that put Tess in a coma that year, we started talking and hanging out with each other, which satisfied my need to be near her, even though I was clearly only buddy material. After a while, she started collecting boyfriends like charms on a bracelet, and I pretty much gave up any hope of being anything more than a friend. When she tried out for cheerleading in eighth grade and made the squad, it was all over but the crying. She was on the fast track to Popular, and I was still the same old Zach.
Somehow we managed to stay friends. I was her closest confidant—I can’t tell you how many nights I sat listening to her tales of woe, from cheating boyfriends to girls that talked behind her back, to having not a thing to wear to the dance. It wasn’t until the night of Homecoming sophomore year that things started to change between us.
She’d just turned sixteen and her parents finally allowed her to date. Braden Cooper, a senior football player who had enormous forearms, a year-round tan, and spiky blonde hair, had asked her to the dance. He was the poster child for jocks everywhere. I didn’t understand what any girl would see in him, but he’d captured Dani’s interest because he was a small-town celebrity and he had a nice car.
Anyway, she sent me a text around 10:00 p.m. that night that they were “somewhere out in the boonies,” that Braden had given her some peppermint schnapps, and she wanted to come home, but he refused to take her. I wondered how she was texting me without him knowing, but then she said he’d gone to take a leak and had “gone to paint something on the tunnel.” She had told Braden she was cold and wanted to stay in the car. She was drunk, clearly, because her texts were nearly incoherent, but somehow, I got that much out of her and I knew the tunnel was a popular hangout. I’ll be there, I told her, wondering how I was going to manage the confrontation, hoping that I’d get lucky and there wouldn’t be one.
When I got there, some other cars had shown up and a crowd of Beautiful People were leaning on the hood of Braden’s car drinking beer—two other guys and a girl with jet black hair and tattoos that I didn’t recognize were standing nearby. One of them glanced over at me with an obnoxious laugh. “What are you doing here? Get tired of studying for your science test?” A ripple of laughter.
I mustered something like courage—adrenaline-inspired resolve, at best. “Where’s Dani?”
“What’s it to you?” Braden asked, swilling from his can, then tossing it aside.
I didn’t want to let him know that she’d texted me, but under the circumstances, I didn’t have a choice. “She sent me a message that she felt sick and wanted to go home.”
“Leave it to Mr. Good Guy to swoop in and save her,” Braden scoffed. The others snickered.
I started to walk over to the car, then thought Braden might get all bent out of shape if I touched it, so I stood there dumbly for a few seconds, waiting for someone to give me permission, trying to decide what to do. They just stared at me. That's when Dani got out. “Let’s go,” she said.
I was fully expecting Braden or one of his other minions to pounce on me, but thankfully, they let us leave in peace. Dani was shivering when she got in the car, and she reeked of alcohol.
“How much did you drink?” I asked.
“I dunno…one or two, I guess.”
“One or two what? Bottles?”
“Leave me alone,” she mumbled, leaning her head against the glass.
I was worried about taking her home in that condition, so I decided to pull over at the park for a while and let her sober up. Her parents weren’t expecting her home until at least midnight anyway, since they’d given her special permission to be out late for Homecoming. I groped around in the back of the car looking for a bottle of water I’d left there the day before and gave it to her. “Drink this, it will help.”
She took a couple of sips, then contorted her mouth into a frown. I thought she might be going to throw up, but then she just threw her arms around me and pulled me awkwardly closer. “You’re the best, you know that?” She slurred. “I love you, man.”
After hanging there for a few minutes, she got a semi-serious look on her face. “Do you have any regrets?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean regrets—in life—you know.”
I considered this for a moment. Of course, there were things I’d done or said in life that I wished I hadn’t. Like telling dad I hated him once in the heat of an argument over some television show I was watching that he didn’t approve. When regret delivers a physical stab of pain, like it did right then and there, you know it’s for real. Because my dad was gone now, and I could never take that back. “Yeah, I guess. I told my dad I hated him once.”
“That’s nothing. I’ve told both my parents that more than once. They know I don’t really hate them. It’s just they make me so mad sometimes you know?” She snugg
led her face into my shoulder. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant,” she said, with a furtive grin.
My chest was starting to sweat under my shirt, and my mouth was getting dry so I grabbed the water bottle and took a drink. “What do you mean then?”
She placed her hand on my chin, turning my head toward her. “I mean, I only have one regret.”
I was really getting nervous by this time because I was starting to feel warm all over and my stomach had this tingly ache that crept down my legs. “What’s that?” I asked, shifting my body in the seat to ward off the weird feelings that were taking over.
“I just wish I’d kissed you first,” she said, coming closer. Her face was right in front of me, and even though it smelled like schnapps, I forgave her for it because I was numb with shock by that point. Plus, I was struck completely speechless, which was a good thing, because she planted one on me, right then. It was a little sloppy and slippery, but man, I didn’t care. I had wanted to kiss her for four years. Perfection wasn’t an issue.
“Big mistake,” she half-whispered. “Not doing this sooner.” Then she ran her hands up my leg and I thought I was going to pass out on the spot. When her hand got to my groin, I had a flash of lust that made me want to climb over that seat and wrap myself around her. She had rendered me completely senseless. But then I thought about something my dad had told me once. “Remember,” he’d said. “A girlfriend is a friend first. Don’t ruin it because you want something more. If it’s meant to be, it will happen.”
I came to my senses, somehow, and placed my hand over hers. “Dani…”
“What?” She asked, innocently, her eyeballs sloshing in her head.
“You’re not exactly in your right mind right now.”
“I’m fine! Really…” She started in again, with her hands.
I found myself saying, “Seriously, let’s talk about this tomorrow,” but boy was I fighting the urge to say nothing and just go with the moment.
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