by Liz Kessler
She pointed back at the office she’d just come out of. “You look pale. Want to come in for a chat? We can talk about the eighth-graders.” She laughed. “Your favorite subject!”
“Um . . .” I began. I had no words — for any of this.
The woman reached out to touch my arm. I flinched.
“Emily, seriously, are you OK?” she asked, frowning with concern.
It was the frown that confirmed it. I knew that expression so well. Even if it was on the face of someone who had changed almost beyond recognition since I’d last seen her. About an hour ago.
“Mandy?” I whispered.
“Um, yes!” she replied, with a nervous laugh. “Come on. Let’s go into my office and catch up. Nothing a good chat won’t fix, eh?”
She started walking back across the room. I got up and followed her, walking like a robot, trying to get my brain to make sense of any of this.
I couldn’t.
Just like me, Mandy looked about twenty years older than she’d looked the last time I saw her.
Was I dreaming? Was all of this a dream?
“Grab a chair,” Mandy said as we went into the principal’s office. I looked around. What were we doing in here?
Mandy saw me looking. She pointed at the stack of books and papers on the desk and grimaced. “Never ends, does it?” she said.
“What doesn’t?” I asked.
She pointed at the stack of papers. “They don’t tell you upfront that the job will be ninety-five percent paperwork.”
“The job?” I asked. “Which job?”
She laughed. “OK, vocation, then. Call it what you will. Now. Water? Or something stronger . . . ?” Mandy’s eyes twinkled with a hint of a smile.
Something stronger? What was she talking about?
Mandy reached up to open a cabinet. It had a bottle of vodka in it. “I know I shouldn’t — but, well, it’s been a tough first day back.”
Tell me about it.
“Want one?” she asked.
“I’m thir —” I began. I was going to say I was thirteen. But as far as Mandy was concerned, I was more like thirty-three. “I am thirsty” was what I changed it to. “I could actually use a glass of water, if you don’t mind.”
Mandy gave me a strange look. Then she shrugged and closed the cabinet. “You’re right,” she said. “We should probably be sensible.”
She brought the water over and sat down at the table with me. As I sipped, I tried to figure out what to say. Should I tell her the truth? I mean, if this was Mandy — some weird, futuristic version of her — then she was one of my best friends. She’d understand. Wouldn’t she?
I almost laughed out loud. Understand? How could she understand something that made absolutely no sense whatsoever? How could I explain something I didn’t remotely understand myself?
Maybe she could help me figure it out. We were clearly still friends in this weird alternate universe. Could I trust her?
Did I have any other option?
I wound a strand of hair around my finger. Then I said, “How did we get here, Mandy?”
Mandy laughed. “Good question. Who’d have thought it, eh? You, a teacher in the school, and me as the principal.”
I barely heard the end of what she was saying. I was too busy choking so hard I spewed water all over the table.
Mandy jumped up to get a paper towel. “Emily, are you sure you’re OK?” she asked as she wiped the table clean. “Has something happened to you?”
Oh, you know. Nothing much. Just, I made a wish on a stone and then it dragged me through a chasm in the seabed, up a river, and forward two decades, where I am apparently a teacher and you are the PRINCIPAL OF BRIGHTPORT JUNIOR HIGH!
I couldn’t put this off any longer. “Mandy, how old are we?” I asked.
Mandy laughed, maybe a little nervously. “Thirty-three last time I checked.”
“Thirty-three,” I repeated vaguely.
“Em, what’s going on here?” Mandy asked. “You’re acting weird. You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”
I bit my lip. “You’re sure about that?” I asked carefully.
“Of course.”
I thought about it for a moment. What did I have to lose? “OK, then,” I said. “I’ll tell you. But you have to promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“That no matter how far-fetched it sounds — how crazy, how impossible — you will not think I’m making it up, and you will believe me.”
Mandy frowned. “Of course I’ll believe you,” she said. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
So I did. I told her everything.
Mandy sipped her drink. She’d gone for the “something stronger” option once I’d finished my story. I’d stuck with my water.
“You don’t remember anything from the last twenty years?” she asked eventually. “Nothing at all?”
“How can I remember anything?” I asked. “I haven’t been here! As far as I’m concerned, the last twenty years haven’t even happened!”
“Em,” she said carefully, “do you want me to call the doctor? He’s a good friend. I could get you seen pretty quickly, today prob —”
“I don’t need to see a doctor!” I snapped.
Mandy pursed her lips and nodded tightly. I’d seen her mom do that. Usually when she didn’t believe us.
“It’s just — it’s impossible,” Mandy insisted. “The only explanation is that something’s happened to your memory. And if that’s the case, you need to see someone.”
I thought for a moment. Mandy was right. Time travel didn’t happen. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have happened. But, then, some people might say girls turning into mermaids didn’t happen either.
I decided to try a different tack.
“Mandy, we’re best friends, right? We still are, aren’t we?”
“I hope so. Especially since we just moved in together.”
“Wait. What? Really?”
“Yes, really. Look, that proves it. Something’s happened to your memory. You don’t even remember that we live together!”
“I . . .”
“I knew it would happen one day — although, to be fair, I thought it would be me before you.”
“What would happen?” I asked.
“One of us would crack under the pressure. Em, you need to go home.”
“Home,” I repeated numbly.
“Yeah, home. Midas Towers. You haven’t forgotten where we live, have you?”
I forced a laugh that probably sounded like a witch screaming and cackling over a particularly frightening spell.
“Do you have your key?” Mandy asked.
I patted my pockets. There was no key in them. “I guess not,” I replied.
Mandy reached around the back of her chair, feeling in a pocket of the coat slung over it. “Good thing I always carry a spare,” she said.
I took the key from her. It was a small fob that said apt. 2516. OK, that was good. All I needed to do was find Midas Towers and get to apartment number 2516 and I might stand a chance of getting through the rest of the day.
Except what was the point of just getting through today? I’d still have tomorrow to deal with and the day after that. I still had myself to deal with.
“Go and snuggle with Polo,” Mandy said.
“Polo?” I asked.
“The cat.” Mandy screwed her eyes up. “Em, I don’t like this,” she said. “I really want to call the doctor. I’m worried about you. You don’t seem right.”
I couldn’t take any more of this.
“Mandy, listen to me,” I said. “Please, for the sake of our friendship, don’t call the doctor. Just let me figure this out, OK?”
Mandy held my eyes for a minute before letting out a heavy breath. “OK,” she said eventually.
“Thank you,” I said, reaching out to touch her arm. “Look, whatever has happened here, I honestly don’t think I’ve lost my memory. I mean, I know it sounds
like I have — but it seems bigger than that.”
“Bigger?”
I hesitated for a moment. “Look, do me a favor. Play along for a minute, OK?” I asked. “Let’s pretend that I’ve actually traveled through time.”
Mandy glared at me. “Pretend you’ve traveled through time,” she said woodenly.
“Yeah. Hypothetically, OK?”
Mandy shook her head. “You never stop making me do crazy things, do you?” she said softly. “But, OK, for you I’ll do it. Just for fun. Because, you know, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I know that can make you do some strange things.”
“Stress?” I asked.
“Yeah, you know, the stuff with your parents . . .”
“The stuff with my parents?” I asked.
Did I want to know? Could I take another blow right now?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned that. I know we promised not to keep talking about it.”
I swallowed hard. I could feel something inside me tightening into a knot.
“OK, come on. Let’s pretend,” Mandy said. “You’ve traveled through time. When did you travel from?”
I took a breath. “The last time I saw you I had just handed you that brochure from Mr. Beeston,” I said. “The one about the Midas meeting. You hugged me. You were grateful. We were friends again.”
“The Midas meeting? Which one? There have been hundreds over the years.”
I swallowed hard. “The first one,” I said. “The one when they were looking for businesses to invest in.”
Mandy tilted her head a little as she stared at me. “Em, you’re talking about a meeting from years ago! You mean the one that started everything, when we were, like, twelve years old?”
“Thirteen,” I said.
“Thirteen, then. Yes, that was when everything started. It was the one where the Midas team asked everyone for ideas and said that they would invest in the top ones. And they chose the pier and amusements as their flagship investment. That’s the meeting you mean, right?”
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
“OK, so what exactly did you want to say about that meeting?”
“I saw you on the Monday before it happened. The first day back after winter break. I came over and gave you a brochure. I told you to get your parents to go to the meeting.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I remember. What about it?”
“The meeting was due to take place on Friday,” I went on. “In my world, that meeting hasn’t even happened yet.”
“In your world? What do you even mean?” Mandy pulled her chair closer. “Emily, I’m serious. Do you need me to call someone? I can get the doctor to come. He won’t tell anyone. It’ll just be between —”
“In my make-believe world — the one you said you’d go along with,” I said quickly.
Mandy’s eyes locked on to mine. I felt as though she were trying to bore through my head and into my thoughts.
Finally, she held up her palms in surrender. “OK,” she said. “OK, let’s say I believe you. What do you want to know?”
“I want some answers,” I said. “How did we end up here? What the heck has happened to Brightport? To us? To everything?”
Mandy let out a breath. “Where do you want me to start?”
I grimaced. “At the beginning?”
“OK,” she began. “It all started at that meeting. My parents went along, thanks to you, and they talked to Alan about —”
“Who’s Alan?” I interrupted.
Mandy hesitated. “Alan? You don’t even remember Alan Whittaker?”
“Oh! Yes. Mr. Whittaker.”
Mandy laughed. “Mr. Whittaker. Very formal.”
I wanted to remind her I was thirteen, but the only way to stop her dragging me to the nearest hospital was to keep up this idea that we were just talking hypothetically.
“Tell me about the meeting,” I said instead.
“So, Alan made everything happen. Or, rather, he got Midas Enterprises to make it all happen. They put millions into Brightport. They fixed up the pier, revamped the theme park, opened up shops.”
“Knocked down others?”
Mandy squirmed in her seat. “That’s always been a sticking point for some. I mean, they were good to my family. They literally saved us from ruin, so we’ve never felt that we can campaign against them. But you’ve never really seen eye to eye with them. And I don’t blame you. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, having a foot in both camps.”
“What do you mean?”
Mandy looked even more awkward. She ran a hand through her hair and picked up her drink, hiding her face behind it. “Look, they’ve had to make compromises, that’s all. And it’s been hard. I know you’ve made tough choices — but you had to, and no one blames you. Well, I don’t, anyway.”
Mandy put down her drink and went on before I could push her further. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. I was having a hard enough time dealing with what was going on. I wasn’t sure I needed to hear about the tough choices I’d had to make to get here.
“In the end, what they’ve done has been good for all of us. They’ve saved the town, put us on the map. Life has never been so good here, Em. I know you don’t always see it that way, but without them, Brightport would have crumbled — and taken my family and half the town down with it.”
“And everyone’s fine now,” I said, letting my voice imply that I was asking a question without outright asking it.
“Everyone’s great. Most people still work in town. Sure, they might work for Midas now rather than running their own businesses — but they get paid more for it and don’t have the responsibility.”
“And my parents?” I asked, holding my breath while I waited for her to answer.
“Your parents are fine!” Mandy said. “Well, your mom is. We — obviously — don’t see much of your dad these days.”
“Why obviously?”
Mandy’s face shut down like a door closing in front of me. “Well, you know, things are just . . . different. Everything’s changed. A long time has passed. But they’re good. You know. They’re OK.” Before I could ask anything else, Mandy hurriedly went on. “My mom and dad retired early on their investment. They’re three months into their around-the-world cruise as we speak!”
I shook my head. It was a lot to take in.
“And me?” I asked finally. “Am I fine?”
Mandy reached out to touch my arm. “Em, you’re more than fine,” she said gently. “You’re fantastic!”
“Really?”
“Really! You’re one of the most popular teachers in the school. You’re —”
“I’m what?” I nearly fell off my chair. Being a teacher was one thing — but being popular at Brightport Junior High? That was a step too far!
“You’re really popular,” Mandy insisted. “Everyone loves you because you’re fair and kind and you do your best for everyone.” She paused for a second, and then, in a voice that was gentler than I’d heard Mandy use for a long time, she added, “It’s what you’re like, Emily — and it always has been.”
I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. “But have I?” I mumbled.
“Huh? Have you what?”
“Have I done my best — for everyone?”
“Em, you do as much as is humanly possible,” Mandy said.
And that was when I realized there was a big chunk of unspoken stuff going on between us. She hadn’t mentioned me being a semi-mer. She hadn’t mentioned Shona, and she’d said that she “obviously” hadn’t seen my dad.
Somewhere among all these things about myself that I was trying to catch up on, somewhere inside all the facts that didn’t add up, the pieces that didn’t fit together, the external facts that didn’t match the ones inside me — somewhere among all of that there were truths that we weren’t talking about. I didn’t know if I even wanted to ask the questions.
I was even less sure I wanted to hear the answers.
I pushe
d my chair back and stood up. “Mandy, I need to go,” I said. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Wait — that’s it?” she asked. “You dump all this on me and then just up and leave?”
I paused. “I know. Sorry. Look, you’re right. I’ve been really stressed lately. I think my head’s just overloaded. I’m going to do what you said, go home and cuddle the cat.”
“Oh, and maybe feed him, too.” Mandy gestured at the paperwork on her desk. “I’m going to be home late, I expect.”
“Will do.”
Mandy walked me to the door. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” she asked. “Honestly, I can get the doctor over in two min —”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, forcing what I hoped was a reassuring smile onto my face. “I promise.”
And before she could say anything else, I opened the door, gave her a quick hug, and got the heck out of there.
I walked past the apartment building for the third time. It hadn’t been hard to find. For one thing, there were signs for Midas buildings everywhere. For another, Midas Towers turned out to be the tallest building in town.
It had been built at the far end of the promenade. Like the school and the jetty on the pier, it was gated and locked.
I couldn’t help thinking that no one trusted anyone else around here these days, the way security was. I guessed that was what happened: the fancier your lifestyle got, the more you had to lose, and the more you needed to protect it.
Anyway, I fumbled with the fob in my hand, wondering if it would let me into the gated area and if I’d have the confidence to breeze through and act as though I knew what I was doing.
It turned out I didn’t need to worry about it. “Good evening, Ms. Windsnap.” A very tall man with a bright-gold uniform and an even brighter smile seemed to appear out of nowhere. “I trust you’ve had a good day,” he said as he pressed a couple of buttons on a keypad and the gate opened in front of me.
“Um. Yes. Thank you,” I said. “You?”
The man tipped his hat as I walked into the complex. “Just grand, Ms. Windsnap. Thank you for asking.”
I walked along the immaculate path that cut through two immaculate lawns and made my way to the huge apartment block in front of me.