Class of 1983: A Young Adult Time Travel Romance

by Victoria Maxwell

  “Sea foam green? Really? And I’m pretty sure Silicon Valley pays straight into bank accounts.”

  “Smart ass,” said Jack. Magz felt the corner of her lips raise slightly.

  “Hey, I'm going to check out this new vintage store in town after school if you want to come, I walked by on the weekend and saw this cool Van Halen shirt in the window, but it was closed,” he said.

  “I’m kind of busy tonight.”

  “Too busy to go vintage shopping? That’s not like you. What’s up?”

  “I just have to do some stuff at home.”

  Jack looked at her suspiciously. “Please, please tell me you are not seeing Big Mick tonight,” he pleaded.

  Magz’s face turned habanero hot and she turned to face him, her ponytail flicking her painfully in the eye. Trying to ignore the stinging she stared him down. “Really? How could you even ask me that, after everything he put me through?”

  “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head and pushing his hair out of his face. “I shouldn't have said that. It's just that you would never normally turn down a trip to the vintage store. Not like, ever.”

  “So, what's this assignment?” Magz asked, changing the subject.

  “It's a writing task. Start by comparing and contrasting St C’s now and then. Then being when,” he tapped on the yearbook cover, “and write a short story about the then. We all got a different yearbook. What year did you get?” he leaned across the space in between their desks.

  “1983,” Magz said. “You?”

  “1984.”

  “That's the year Sixteen Candles came out,” she said.

  “Yeah? I don't think I've seen that one.”

  “How is that even possible?” Magz was sure she’d made Jack watch almost every eighties film ever made, at least the good ones. “Come over tonight and we can watch it if you want. No one's home. Again.” Magz tried to make a face like whatever.

  “Again? When do your folks get back this time?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Wait, I thought you were busy tonight?” Jack scrunched up his dark eyebrows.

  “Yeah, busy cleaning.”

  “So, this invite has more to do with housekeeping than my continued eighties film education 101?”

  “You'll really like the movie, Anthony Michael Hall’s in it.”

  “He cracks me up, everyone loves a nerd,” said Jack.

  “Sure,” said Magz, who actually really did prefer jocks and bad boys, much to her detriment.

  “Not everyone,” Jack said giving her a look.

  “You don’t have to come over,” she snapped.

  Jack looked at her with concern in his dark eyes, not even bothered she’d just been rude to him.

  “I shouldn’t have asked you to help me clean anyway,” she softened. “It’s a real mess.”

  “Of course I'll help you clean.” He smiled and affectionately grabbed her ponytail. She blinked and swallowed away the urge to cry. It wasn't because Mindy and Jim had ruined her stuff, wrecked her hair and slayed her self-esteem that she felt like crying, it was just that Jack was so kind to her. Magz could count all the people who were really seriously nice to her on one chipped pink nail-polished hand. And two of them were in this room.

  He gave her a kind look. She smiled back the tears and they both looked back down at their yearbooks.

  * * *

  Class of 1983. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she ran her fingers over the faded gold lettering, wondering what St C's might have been like in the 1980's.

  Magz pretty much lived most of her life in a vintage infused dream world which was far nicer than the real one she lived in. She walked around thrift stores pretending she was in another time. She listened to old records lying on her bed with her eyes closed, imagining that she was somewhere else, that she was someone else, somewhen else. She often hid everything out of view that belonged in her own disappointing decade and pretended for a few hours that her daydream was real.

  Staring down at the yearbook, she had that same thrift store feeling. She blurred out everything and everyone else in the room. She even managed to ignore the vibration of an update on her phone going off in her pocket. She was there. For just a few brief moments, for Magz it was 1983.

  She slowly opened the cover and began her journey through time and space in various shades of blue, black and pencil.

  Hello Jell-O, began one message. Magz loved it and couldn't wait to drop it into a sentence at her earliest convenience. The next part of the message included ‘O.M.G’ and Magz frowned. She would have to Google the history of O.M.G later, it must have been around longer than she’d thought. Some of the messages were super corny. Have a rad summer or all the best for the future. Magz wondered if she would really stop to think about what she wrote in this year’s yearbooks. A hastily, badly scrawled and inarticulate message could outlive her, probably would outlive her. Then again, she'd probably only write in Jack's book anyway.

  One message caught her eye and filled Magz with a Déjà vu type of weirdness.

  She ran her fingers across the pink penned message and got a rush of goose bumps.

  A giggle and a shout brought Magz back to the present and she rubbed at her arms to make the hairs go down.

  “Is this you Mrs. Willis?” Anastasia called out. Anastasia was an annoyingly clever pretty girl who always sat in the front row and seemed like a prime candidate for a sticky locker, but never was. Magz suspected that Anastasia was doing Mindy’s assignments, they clearly had some kind of deal, Mindy never paid any attention to her.

  “Let me see,” began Mrs. Willis as she put on the black rimmed reading glasses that dangled from the gold chain around her neck. The class went quiet as they waited for her response.

  “Why would you work in this dump for that long?” Mindy mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Mrs. Willis ignored her and grinned instead. “Why, yes, that is me!” She held up the book, smiling as she pointed to the picture. “Gosh, that was some time ago. 1980. I was Miss Bates then.”

  The memory seemed to take Mrs. Willis somewhere else, her green eyes began to sparkle as she sat on the edge of her desk and flipped through the pages.

  Magz giggled when she found Miss Bates’ picture in her own book. Mrs. Willis in her younger days had short black spiked hair and a big bright smile. She looked like Pat Benatar and Magz made a mental note to download some Pat Benatar albums later.

  “There’s a lot of nuns in here,” mused Jack.

  “Yes, the nuns,” said Mrs. Willis who was plenty far enough away from Jack that she really shouldn’t have been able to hear his comment. “There were quite a few nuns around in the seventies but by the early eighties we only had a couple left. They’ve all gone now, and you’d hardly even know we were Catholic these days. Even daily prayers seem to have gone out of the homeroom windows.” Mrs. Willis shrugged. “It’s a different time.”

  Anastasia's hand shot up again, but she didn’t wait for Mrs. Willis to notice before she spoke. “Have you always worked here Mrs. Willis?”

  “Wow,” said Jack quietly. “That’s over thirty years. I can't wait to get out of this place.”

  Magz nodded in agreement.

  “I've worked here most of my adult life. I had quite a few years off during the nineties.”

  “Why would you come back to this hell hole?” asked Jim.

  Mrs. Willis looked at him. “My husband became terminally ill and we wanted to be around friends and family before he went, and when he did go, I just stayed.”

  The class fell silent.

  “Sorry for your loss Mrs. Willis,” said Anastasia politely.

  Someone dropped a pencil.

  “It was a long time ago.” She slowly lowered her glasses. “I had so much happiness and joy with my husband that to be sad about his passing would be a dishonor to him and the beautiful, if short, life we had together.” Mrs. Willis looked over at Magz. “We had more years together than m
any couples in love are given.”

  Magz nodded as she looked into the slightly watery eyes of her teacher. She had no idea how a person who had loved and lost could be so beautifully articulate and wise. She had a warm feeling inside, even though they were talking about something so sad. Like life was worth living after all. Sticky lockers were not a big deal. Magz had her own problems for sure, but no one had died. She began to feel a little better about everything. This was the reason she loved Mrs. Willis' English classes. She didn’t just learn English here, she learned other stuff too. Life stuff.

  “But you,” Mrs. Willis went on, rising from her desk and waving the book in the direction of the class. “You have your whole lives ahead of you, so much happiness and tragedy still to come!” She slammed the book closed and threw it back to Anastasia who let out a yelp.

  “Is that meant to be inspiring?” Jack whispered.

  Magz shrugged. “I don't know, but it kind of is don’t you think?”

  Mrs. Willis grabbed the 1978 yearbook off Jim's desk and waved it above her head, the sleeves of her black silk blouse billowing out. “These books are a testament to the lives of the people in them, so please don't think of this as just an assignment. These people lived, some of them died. I don't want a report on the facts. I know the facts, I was there.” She threw the book back down onto Jim’s desk causing him to drop his phone and stop texting Big Mick about how stupid this class was. “Choose someone in your yearbook you can identify with,” she carried on, “or someone you find really interesting for no apparent reason. Who do you think you would be friends with? Who would you avoid? What events grab you? I want to know about a night out with your new friends in the sixties, where did you go? What music did you listen to? What did you eat at Dee’s Diner?”

  “Dee’s diner was around in the sixties?” Jack laughed. Jack loved Dee’s Diner, he thought the layers of grease just added to the flavor and was always dragging Magz out for a burger.

  “Yes Jack, Dee’s has been on that same corner of town since the fifties. If those walls could talk, my gosh, they would have some stories to tell. I was a regular there myself in the old days.” She smiled mischievously.

  “Did you grow up here?” asked Anastasia who appeared to be on some kind of question asking spree and was really starting to annoy everyone. Almost no one could care less about Mrs. Willis’ past.

  “Well, yes I suppose I did,” Mrs. Willis answered. “Let me tell you something,” she walked through the desks purposefully. “Teenagers in the past did all the things you do now, they got into all the same trouble you get into now, they just had to plan their misadventures face to face or call each other on landlines.”

  “What's a landline?” asked Mindy stupidly.

  Magz rolled her eyes.

  Mrs. Willis raised an eyebrow, ignored her and continued. “I want to know about the auditions for the school production of Romeo and Juliet in 1975. That was quite a show, the girl who played Juliet went on to become quite famous, and I can’t wait to hear all about the greatest night in history. It was 1982 and the year the Saint Christopher’s Chariots last won a basketball game!” The class laughed, Saint C's wasn't exactly known for their Basketball skills. They were the laughingstock of the district.

  “Tell me,” Mrs. Willis waved an arm towards Magz and Jack dramatically, “about the high school prom of 1983.” She stopped suddenly, her face losing all color as she stumbled back nearly bumping into Jim’s desk still staring in Magz’s direction.

  “What happened at the high school prom of 1983?” asked Anastasia.

  Mrs. Willis shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing always means something,” whispered Jack.

  After a short moment Mrs. Willis took a breath, stood back up, straightened her skirt and continued. “I urge you though, please do not Google anyone.” She said ‘Google’ like it was some kind of made-up word. “And definitely do not contact any of these people through email or otherwise. As far as you are concerned these people are still in the past. Contacting them is completely unnecessary and I'm sure they'd all be very annoyed to know that their personal information is being used for a historical fiction class assignment and I don't want to have to explain that to anyone.”

  “Can we like, Google the time and the place and stuff?” asked Tom, a dorky guy with glasses who had some level of cute potential but was definitely not living up to it.

  “Yes, of course! Do your research on the time period, that’s part of the task. Just spare me the phone calls from the kids I taught in the past. I really don’t want to speak to them.”

  She didn't know if he just stood out because someone had drawn a big pink heart around his face, but he certainly did stand out. Drawing love hearts around things, especially photos of cute guys was just so completely juvenile and so something she would do that it seemed like as good a reason as any to pick him. His name was Sammy Ruthven and even though his picture was grey and grainy she could tell he was a good-looking guy. He had light colored, probably light brown or dark blonde, messy longish hair and a relaxed and confident expression, like he was the most popular guy at school and all he had to do was turn up occasionally and he'd pass everything, have all the teachers wrapped around his finger, have any girl he wanted and win any sporting event he put his name down for even without playing. But he probably wouldn't even play sport because he was too cool to sweat. Hell, he probably didn't even sweat. Or did sweat, but just the right amount… Magz blushed and felt completely idiotic. Was she actually crushing on a guy from the eighties? He would be so old and wrinkly right now.

  “Did you find anyone to write about, Magz?” asked Mrs. Willis casually leering over her.

  “Maybe this guy,” Magz said, her cheeks still flushed. She tapped his picture with her own pink pen. “Sammy Ruthven.” Oh, it felt nice to say his name.

  Mrs. Willis' heavily made-up eyes grew wider and she looked a little like she was in pain.

  “Uh, is something wrong Mrs. Willis?” Magz asked.

  “Magz,” said the teacher grabbing Magz’s shoulder, red nails digging into her flesh through her yellow school shirt. “You are, Sammy Ruthven is…” Mrs. Willis raised her other hand to her mouth, stopping whatever information was about to come pouring out. She stood frozen as Magz looked around nervously, and slightly in pain, raising her eyebrows at Jack who also looked a little scared.

  “Sammy Ruthven is what Mrs. Willis?” Magz asked, putting her own hand on top of her teacher’s.

  Mrs. Willis looked down at their hands, one on top of the other and then pulled away shakily.

  Magz laughed nervously, she was totally weirded out. This wasn’t how teachers were supposed to act. Especially Mrs. Willis. She was always so calm and collected. One time, Jim had set fire to her wastepaper basket and she just poured her morning coffee over the side of her desk, putting it out. Then she suggested he go to principal's office on the way to getting her another one. She was fearless, unshakable. Totally dependable.

  Mrs. Willis glanced over at Jack.

  “Uh, I'm still deciding,” said Jack. Mrs. Willis nodded, turned and walked back to her desk, sat down and just stared out the window.

  “What the hell was that about?” Jack asked Magz.

  “I have no idea,” said Magz, rubbing her shoulder where she was sure to find nail claw marks later.

  Magz shrugged off the bizarre encounter, putting it down to Mrs. Willis getting old before her time, but it was sad that someone as cool as Mrs. Willis was going to lose it that early. She guessed teaching had finally taken its toll, not surprising really.

  Magz felt kind of sad as she continued looking through the pages of the book. All these people, where were they now? The sports teams that would never play again, school plays that would never be seen again. As she put her hand on a picture of a painting of Saint Christopher that someone very talented from the Art Club had painted, she felt something hard stuck behind the pages. The bell signaled the end of the lesso
n, and while the rest of the class hurriedly closed their books and scraped back chairs, Magz was busy, almost totally unnoticed, flipping pages in search of the object, her heart racing wildly at the thought of finding some uncovered little vintage treasure. She found it nestled in between some pictures of students looking down into the Grand Canyon. A key. It was strung on an old yellow ribbon. She stared at it blankly, reached out and rubbed it between her fingers, and then, not quite sure knowing why, she grabbed it and put it in her pocket.

  Three

  Chinese

  “That was weird huh?” asked Jack as they walked towards the worst sweet sixteen present ever given - Magz's soccer mom SUV. It was parked in the loser section of the student parking lot way at the back. Even the other losers had cooler cars than she did. Magz kicked up dust as she dragged her feet. Only the far back section hadn’t been concreted over, so you could tell a loser at Saint C’s by the amount of dirt on their shoes.

  “Mrs. Willis is getting old,” Magz shrugged.

  “I guess, but why did she freak out so much when you mentioned that guy in the yearbook?”

  “I dunno Jack,” Magz said wearily as she unlocked the car. She was so not in the mood for analyzing her teachers. All she wanted was get home and put on some sweatpants and a movie.

  “There must be some story there,” Jack continued.

  “Like what?”

  “Maybe something happened to him.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Maybe he was paranormal or something.” Jack’s eyes lit up making him look like a cute little kid on Christmas morning.

  “I can’t believe you just said that,” Magz laughed as she climbed into the enormous car. She threw her backpack onto the back seat and threw her books on top.

  “I wish I was paranormal,” Jack sighed. He threw his leather satchel in the back next to hers but kept his books on his lap.